Part 13- ‘A Faith You Can Understand…’
Marie shut her eyes tightly; the wind draft from the broken door blew in harshly and was making her eyes water. It had only been a few hours since she had put the Glock against her head and almost blown her brains out, since she’d struggled and overcome the voices in her head.
It had left her exhausted and at first she’d crawled into the back seat and slept soundly, curled up into a ball and forgotten it all. But it was cold and she’d woken up barely an hour later, shivering and wishing she had something to cover her bare legs with.
Logan had unceremoniously thrown his jacket at her and she was huddled into that, but it made little difference, she seemed to be freezing from the inside.
No matter how tightly she wrapped her arms about herself, or how she drew her knees to her chest, she couldn’t seem to shake the cold.
She threw her head back and sighed, what she wouldn’t give for a drink, she needed to be in a bar again, drinking her own weight in beer, lining up shots and throwing them back, drowning herself in whiskey and generally pissing the night away.
Alcohol was good, it would make her forget like it used to, it was a faith she could understand, passed out and staring at the ceiling it was an old friend, the one that had always stuck around who had put a warm arm around her, a familiarity and a comfort.
A good ol’ bottle of Jack Daniels would chase this cold away, God she needed a drink, she ran her tongue over her dry chapped and split lips, thinking she could almost taste the fiery warmth of an age old whiskey.
‘Hate to be the one to tell ya this darlin’ but looks like ya got a problem, ever thought of callin’ the AA?’
Marie smiled quietly to herself, her eyes remained shut and she whispered inwardly speaking to her. ‘So you’re back huh?’
‘That’s the thing ‘bout bein’ a raging schizophrenic kid, you’re never gonna be lonely.’
‘Thought you’d only come back when ah needed ya, and that ya’d come back kickin’ and screamin’?’
‘Yeah, ‘bout that, figured ya could do with the company, like all meathead’s Logan may be handy with his fists but ah guess he ain’t so big on the conversations.’
Marie looked over towards Logan; he was staring intently at the road ahead of him, his shirt ruffling slightly in the wind, and the tufts of his hair blown back by the breeze, they hadn’t spoken since he had nearly clawed her to death, and since she had shot him in the shoulder.
He had saved her life; he was saving her that many times she was beginning to lose count, he had proved that constant, but she wasn’t ready to give in yet, give in to those nagging feelings that told her she ought to forgive him by now, for his once upon a time rejection of her, that she ought to give in for all the feelings she had for him, but truth was she was still scared.
She would have run like a coward, from this truck, from this road and from him if she had anywhere else to go, she’d run and not look back, for so long she’d been filled with her doubts, the thoughts of being stuck, of being made to stand still again plagued her.
She hated the very idea of it, and she was scared, that he’d put her back together, that he’d been the one to fill a void, only to let her down again. At least when she fell apart, when she threw it away, when she walked away without looking back it had been a conscious decision, it had been her choice.
Letting someone else in far enough, even letting Logan in far enough to pick up the pieces was not an option she was ready to consider. In her darkest hours she had called for him, he had pulled her back and in those moments she was glad she knew him, but in the cold light of day it was all different. The defences were all up, walls, stone cold walls reaching high around her heart, and around her. She didn’t want to be dependant on him again, not like she had used to be, to live like that again was no option at all, it hurt too damn much.
She leant back in her chair and shut her eyes, ‘Leave Logan alone, ah was enjoying the peace and quiet, shame ya can’t take the hint.’
She laughed, ‘What’s the matter kid? Ya tuckered out, ya ain’t fighting me like before?’
Marie sighed once more, ‘Yeah well, we both know the score by now right?’ Her eyes drifted to the glove compartment, Logan had insisted they keep the gun locked away in there, and in the end she’d been too tired to argue, gladly putting the weapon away.
She’d do it again, so easily she’d put that gun to the side of her head, and pull the trigger, goodnight and goodbye.
But they had saved her life, in the forests being chased by soldiers they had showed her how; maybe just maybe they could give her what she needed, as long she could stay in control. It was a helluva risk, but Marie was determined to get the better of them.
‘Maybe ah’ve decided it’s better to have a voice up there that’s jus’ plain annoying rather than trying to drive me insane…’sides ah’m gonna need answers.’
‘Answers…?’
Marie nodded, ‘Yeah answers, and the truth this time.’
General Arrington leaned back in his chair, his feet were propped on the expensive mahogany table, and he looked around his bare office. The awards that ought to have been plastering the walls, the medals that should have been proudly displayed were instead shoved in their drawers, locked away in filing cabinets.
He was a different kind of soldier; his pride came from the hunt and eventually the kill. And he was damned good at his job, he had hunted in just about every country in the world, and he had always gotten his prey in the end.
That was where his pride, the thrill, the sense of being alive came from, and he craved it. In the jungles, sweat pouring into his eyes, the humid air making it fucking impossible to breathe, that was when he had come into his own. He had still been young then, it seemed a lifetime a go, but in the beginning he had remembered every enemy soldier he had taken down.
Remembered because in that close combat, in that stifling heat he had made sure to look every damn bastard in the eye, so they knew when they looked up and saw, they knew who he was. They would stare into the devilish red of his eyes, crazed with the heat, crazed with the thought of another kill, they saw he would press the Beretta firmly against their forehead, smack bang in the middle, and he wouldn’t blink, he never looked away, when he pulled the trigger, they would see, remember me, because I took it away from you, I dispatched you to hell.
The thrill was like something he had never known, something he never felt again, not until the next bastard he cornered. It became so he craved it, the hunt, chasing a single bloody minded objective, to find his man and kill him.
And his record was exemplary, beyond compare; he rose faster than any, his methods were unorthodox, crazy and just a little past the psychotic, but the army could never have too many crazed nut jobs, especially if they were fighting on their side. And Arrington was most definitely on their side.
This black ops had fallen almost inconspicuously into his lap, too much time in between wars had left him itching, had left him wanting, a junkie desperately needing a fix. He had heard of the mutant element, but had never paid it too much attention, seemed too much like chasing ghosts.
But then he had noticed Marie, little girl with potential, a mutancy like a sponge, and he felt alive again, a hunter chasing its prey. And she had made it so easy, willingly falling into the idea of a cure, practically handing herself over to them, to be cured, to be fixed.
The cocktail of drugs pushed into her system had worked remarkably well, other mutants, freaks of nature were being given a second chance but for Marie there was always going to be a different plan, she was too valuable; or rather her mutation was far too valuable to be wasted.
And then it had been the wait, the long impatient days waiting for the target to appear out of its hole, waiting for her to be isolated long enough to make her a sitting target. And inevitably she had done even that, choosing to cut the part of her life that had held her back, leaving the Academy, leaving them behind, running for the border and falling headfirst into their carefully crafted trap.
Falling headfirst into his arms, and he had taken care of her, those first few months when the procedures had been invasive he’d always stood by the side of her bed, watching as they pushed the needles and the drugs and everything else into her.
And those sneaky little touches he’d gotten, when the scientists were busy pouring over the bloods, or at their computer screens writing up their little reports he’d ran his hands against her skin that was deadly all over again, he’d feel it, the pull, the idea that she was drawing him in. Drinking him in, dragging him out piece by piece, it was like a slow death, and for some insane reason, because of it he had never felt more alive.
Better than the stifling jungles, better than the battle fields, better than all the medals and the congratulations, this girl was the ultimate weapon, the most beautiful death, the perfected killing machine.
And what would it be to have hundreds, thousands like her, weapons of choice, super-spy’s, super-soldiers, mutants, the ultimate killing machine, perfection, a race, a breed of army beyond compare…conquerors, invincible and immortal.
Marie’s brow furrowed trying to make sense of the conversation she was having, funny not so long ago they’d have probably put her in a strait jacket, hearing voices was one thing, talking to them was something fuckin’ else.
But she and they weren’t just voices; they were individuals, personalities, with traits and characteristics all of their own, they couldn’t be a part of her there were just too many of them, she couldn’t be split into so many pieces, broken in so many ways, because how in the hell would she ever be able to put it back together if that was the case?
How would she pull the strands together, could she pull them together, would she live long enough to? Thing was she doubted she was meant to.
‘Tell me the truth,’ she whispered, ‘who are ya really? How did this happen, ‘cause ah remember the glass cages, they’re real, ah was in them, they did poison me, they did kill me.’
‘Ok kid, deep breath ‘cause you’re gonna need it. Here it comes, ya were taken, the three day hangovers, they were procedures, tests, designed to prepare ya…’
‘Prepare me for what?’ Marie probed further, every word was a like a sledgehammer thudding in the back of her head.
‘To reach your potential, to be what ya were always meant to be, fully mutant if ya like…’
Mutant…Rogue…Marie shivered at the thought of her other persona, the part of herself that she had hated for so long, the part that had kept her dead and afraid. She ached with the memories of a past that she had thought she’d finally been allowed to leave behind.
‘How…how was ah supposed to become fully Rogue? What ‘bout the cure…was that jus’ a whole line of bullshit?’ Marie’s voice shook slightly betraying the emotion she felt.
‘Sorry kid, nothing but a hyped up placebo, yeah it worked for a while, it was and is a cure, but it’s not meant for ya. Marie, they’d marked ya up long before that, like ah keep tellin’ ya kid you’re special.’
‘Yeah…’ Marie murmured, ‘and don’t ah fuckin’ feel it.’ She sighed and her shoulders sagged heavy, ‘but the cure, it’s still holding, Logan has touched me and he’s still breathing.’
‘The cure is an illusion Marie, only a temporary hold, think ‘bout it. It was important ya had to believe that, it was the only way ya were ever gonna let anybody close to ya. It works in doses, once a month in between the three day cycle your skin is as deadly as it’s ever been, ya just weren’t around to know it.’
‘Ya absorbed so many of us, took in so much, but once they woke ya up, ya knew nothin’ ‘bout it, and ya weren’t supposed to, not yet anyway.’
Marie frowned, ‘So how the fuck did ah end up with a head full of you?’
‘This last time was the final stage; ya were ready, almost complete, what went wrong is Logan, big dumb ox, sure knows how to get his size 10’s in the way. But kid, ya have to wake up, ain’t no use runnin’ from this now, ya need it, ya have to go back, things have come too far for all of us…’
Marie nodded silently, she knew, there was an inevitably to all this, she would only get so far, no matter how hard she ran, how much distance she put behind her, things had moved beyond being able to turn away, the changes inside her had been wrought too deep, something had been broken beyond repair.
She would have to go back, they would take her and she would have to let them. She turned to look at Logan, he smiled at her briefly before turning back to stare at the road. They had a month before the cycle started all over again; it was like a timeline hanging over them, tick-tick ticking away, time and the freedom she had fought so hard for.
She would have to go back, let them finish what they had started, or she would die. But she wasn’t gonna roll over and give up, not this time, if they wanted her she’d make damn sure they worked hard for it.
She chuckled, ‘Ah was kinda hopin’ ya’d say that.’
‘Oh yeah, ah thought ya wanted me to go back, let them take care of me?’
‘Sure, all in good time sweetheart, but meanwhile ah like the idea of a fight better, ain’t nothin’ like seeing blood spilt…’
Marie smiled, a cruel smirk, ‘Shit, you’re a real comfort ya know that?’
‘Ah try kid, ah try…’
General Arrington headed for the lower vaults of the mountain; his heavy boots thudded ominously over the cold stone sounds that echoed far and wide before being absorbed by the slate coloured rock.
He stood stoically before the steel titanium doors before walking over to the keypad, he place his thumb on the small metallic plate.
‘Fingerprint verified…’ the female computerised voice droned before a small camera protruded seemingly melting out of the wall and beeping twice.
‘Iris recognition required to confirm identity…’ Arrington leaned forward and pressed his right eye to the lens, he waited unblinking as the retinal scan passed over the unique map of his eye.
‘Identity confirmed…welcome General Arrington…’ The steel doors glided open without a sound, the hydraulics working effortlessly. He passed through a further set of doors, before stepping into the pitch black of the vault.
Walking over to the only illuminated object in the room, a small computer console sat almost innocuously in the centre of the room he typed in a short command, a few seconds later a light blinkered overhead and the hiss resounded in the silent room as a glass object was lowered from the ceiling.
He waited until the glass cage was lowered to the floor and set down before him. He smiled at the figure sat inside.
‘Good evening Professor Xavier…’
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Author's Chapter Notes:
‘That’s the thing ‘bout bein’ a raging schizophrenic kid, you’re never gonna be lonely.’
Marie decides to call a truce with the voice in her head to save what's left of her sanity...but can she really trust them? And is it really much of a fight when you already know how it's gonna end?
A/N: It ain't too much of a cliffie at the end right...right? But next chapter...whoo, prepare yourself for a biggie!
Marie decides to call a truce with the voice in her head to save what's left of her sanity...but can she really trust them? And is it really much of a fight when you already know how it's gonna end?
A/N: It ain't too much of a cliffie at the end right...right? But next chapter...whoo, prepare yourself for a biggie!