Part 9- ‘The Nights And Hands That Shaped Me…’
Marie knew she had to time it just right, too soon and the SUV would have simply swerved past the truck, too late and she would have been trapped inside, pinned against that tree and burnt alive.
She’d waited until the last minute, throwing the truck into an angle she had reached for the door handle, kicked the door open and thrown herself out. She landed hard, the momentum from her jump keeping her rolling, down the embankment, over the piles of snow and eventually slamming hard into the base of a tree.
The impact knocked the breath out of her, she could feel the cuts above her eye open up again, as well as new bruises, fresh scratches that had torn at her face. She tried to sit, pulling herself to her knees; she became aware of the sudden acute pain in her left shoulder.
Reaching tentatively she probed with her fingers, her shoulder was badly swollen, the entire left side of her arm throbbing, she rested her back against the tree, her hurt arm held limply by her side. She watched the truck explode, and above the wind, above the fierce howl of the storm thought she had heard Logan’s pained voice carry over to her.
He was alive, she had thought the worst when she couldn’t see him, the hole in the windshield sent her flooding back to her memories, and tonight she had almost reverted to that same scared girl she had been when she had first met Logan. Trapped in that car, the first time Magneto had come for her, and then she had looked to Logan for a rescue, straining against the seatbelt that wouldn’t come undone, and her breath escaping in shallow, panicked gasps as she fought for her life.
And she had heard his voice, screaming at her to get out of the truck before it exploded, that voice filled with such concern, fear and helplessness, he had looked on, unable to save her, unable to do anything but watch as she cried out for help. And she knew then in those few moments how much she would come to rely on him, how it would be that he would save her life more than once.
But tonight, she hadn’t let the fear take over; she hadn’t sat in the truck screaming for a rescue, she had known almost instinctively what to do. Time to save your self Marie, five months had taught her more than she’d believed possible, she was stronger than she’d ever been, no more needing, no more screaming for Logan.
She closed her eyes and pressed her head back against the tree, nights alone, days spent bitter and hating her past had taught her not to look back, ya don’t need them Marie, don’t need anyone. She’d proved that to herself so many times, the life she had lead so far, the hard drinking, the nights with strangers, the not caring, she had been able to survive and she would go on surviving, despite the SUV’s that came after her, despite the Kevlar jackets, and the false friends who betrayed her.
And despite Logan, she would survive; she was Marie D’Ancanto, so many things, but not a lost little girl anymore.
She smiled to herself, even as the entire left side of her body ached, she smiled, her eyes drifting close she felt her body sag, she needed to sleep, to rest, just to be left alone. Clutching to the hope that it was over, that sunlight would come, a bright sun would break through this storm and she would be free, a soul as unburdened and as light as a bird set free to sail high in the winds.
The snapping of a twig close by soon brought her back to reality, she wasn’t going anywhere. Her eyes flew open and she looked around her, the snow piled into her face and she struggled to her feet.
It was instinctive, a reflex she didn’t even have to think about it, she careened to her left, throwing her body to the ground and out of the way, because somehow, through some insane reason she had known the air that whistled suddenly past her ear, the sharp screech that exploded past her wasn’t the storm, but a bullet.
A bullet fired from a gun, a gun held by another Kevlar jacket, another soldier, another that had come for her.
Logan shook his head in disbelief; it couldn’t end like this, for fuck’s sake, not like this. She couldn’t be in that truck, she had to have survived, even as the flames reached far into the sky she had to have survived, she was Marie.
Little Marie, the girl he’d loved, the girl he’d let down so many times, the girl he had let down now. Where was the justice, the chance for redemption, the hope of better days after this? What had he done, wasted so many days, wasted so many chances, afraid, filled with a fear of this very thing.
This thing, that he would love her, but it would not be enough, that his love, his protection would not be enough. It had not been enough when Magneto had come for her, when he had killed her in that machine of his, and it had not been enough now. Whatever he was, Logan…Wolverine, he had not been able to stop this from happening, to stop this insane path of misery.
He dropped to his knees, grief and pain overwhelming him at last, a growl came, a low guttural utterance that grew, grew into a moan and eventually a howl, of despair and misery. He mourned her, Marie D’Ancanto, so many things, but now dead and gone….
Marie limped miserably further down the embankment, there were two of them, another two that had seen the fire from the first SUV, had seen her roll onto the side of the road, and who had followed her to finish the job that was started.
They didn’t intend to kill her, she had realised she was too important, they needed her alive, slightly broken perhaps but alive. The gunshot had been intended to scare, to make sure she ran in a certain direction, down the steep bank, away from help, away from Logan.
It was a trap, they were laying a trap for her, one would follow her down making sure she heard his step close behind her, the other would be silent, he would flank her from the left, cut a wide arc through the trees, running almost parallel to her, until at the very last moment when she thought she had outrun them he would appear. Right in front of her, cutting off an escape route, they would trap her, an animal caught in their snare.
But she was Marie D’Ancanto, and she was better, a better hunter, a far more elusive prey than they knew. She would escape their trap, she would out manoeuvre them, but how…how did she know?
Where was this coming from, the instinctive knowledge to ram the SUV on the road, the being able to read their tactics, she was Marie D’Ancanto, but she was not, there was a knowledge, memories imbedded within her mind that were not hers. This confident running from threats, this knowledge that if she suddenly cut through the clearing ahead of her, and flattened herself against that tree, she would be in his blind spot; all this was awareness that seemed almost intrinsic to her.
She didn’t even have to think about it, it was there, more than the simulations that were ran in the danger room, more than all her training with Logan, the comprehension was there before she even knew it; it was like second nature to her. It was almost as if she had done this before, and a voice, voices spoke in her head.
That voice, in the glass cage, beneath a blinding green light, that threw everything else into darkness.
‘Marie…’
Where are you…who are you?
She waited, flattened against that tree she held her breath, within her fingers she clasped the thick stump of a broken branch, her good arm was drawn back and ready, she counted the steps as he halted and checked his bearings…closer…closer…
Three steps…
Two now…
One…
Steady, he was just where she wanted him, she stepped out from behind the tree, her arm swinging, she was a brief flash before his eyes, she was Marie D’Ancanto, better than you can ever know, stronger than you will ever know.
The wood connected solidly with the soldiers jaw, she saw his head turn at an awkward angle, saw the blood pour from his lips, and heard him mumble his surprise before he slumped to the ground.
She threw away the wood, her hair whipped around her as she stared down at her hunter’s lifeless body, blood from the cuts above her eye trickled down her face, mingling with snow and dirt already stuck there, working its way into the scratches.
The cuts, the bruises…she was Marie D’Ancanto, and more…she was others, she was them all, every one you ever trapped, everyone you forced into those glass cages, every one you blinded by that God-awful green light…she was them all.
Who are you…where are you?’
We are here…we are you…
She reversed their trap, the other, the one who had run parallel to her in an attempt to cut off her escape route, he was trapped now. He had reached the far end of the embankment, but his colleague had not chased their prey down here, he was alone, with only the trees crowding in on him, the snow blinding and the dark pounding at his eyes, he was lost.
She watched as he looked around her, the confident air of a soldier gone, she could hear his erratic heartbeat over the howling of the wind, could smell his fear, the hand that had his gun drawn was shaking.
She stepped up to him quietly, her footsteps sure over the deep snow, her stance never wavering, her way clear, she was more, so much more than they could ever know. She was behind him in an instant, but still her approach had been silent, stealth an art form she had seemingly mastered as quickly as she had acquired it.
He hadn’t known she was there, she raised her foot quickly and brought it down hard in the back of his knee, her heeled heavy boots struck hard and he crumbled to the ground, opening his mouth to utter a guttural scream.
The wail of pain was lost in the screeching winds, he clutched at his kneecap, her force had snapped the leg in two, and she could make out the bone jutting from his trousers. He raised his gun to fire, she looked at him steadily, unmoving and unafraid, her heeled foot was lifted once more, and she finished him off with a roundhouse kick to the head that sent him stumbling back to the ground.
She picked up the gun he had dropped, the cold metal gleamed and fitted neatly into the palm of her hand. She looked at it closely, recognised it instantly, how, how did she know?
It was a Glock .25 21 six round, she emptied the chamber and watched the contents fall into her hand, hollow tip bullets, she knew the damage these things to do, and it was a sudden piercing pain in her chest that told her she had felt it once upon a time.
The full metal jacket of a bullet went straight in and out of a body, clean entry and exit wound, but these things, hollow tip bullets opened up once inside a solid object, the damage they caused was deadly, the pain indescribable.
And yet it was as if she knew, as she turned and aimed the weapon at the head of the fallen soldier she knew, the pain, the feel of this thing ripping up inside you, the feel of this bullet as it hit your chest as it tore open the cavities, deadly pain.
It was as if she had felt it…she knew.
Where are you…who are you?
We are here…we are you…
He heard the gunshot, he had seen the second SUV parked at an angle and he had rushed blindly to where it stood, the doors thrown wide open the soldiers long gone, and he followed their scent, blind hope flooding every one of his senses, he was right she was alive, and if he knew it, they knew it as well.
He found the first one, his head a bloody pulpy mess, Logan had stepped over him with disdain, knowing always knowing there was a second soldier out there, hunting her, hunting little Marie.
The gunshot resounded through the trees and acted as a homing beacon for his attuned ears, he stumbled into the clearing, only to find he was too late.
Marie, little Marie had dealt with the problem, he saw her tuck the gun safely away, lifting her shirt she pushed the weapon down fitting it snugly between the material of her skirt waistband and the small of her back, before pulling her shirt back down and concealing the gun.
He approached the second soldier tentatively not sure of what he would find, she hadn’t killed him, he was out cold, but he was alive, Logan breathed a sigh of relief, she hadn’t crossed that line, not yet.
He watched her as she walked, one arm hanging uselessly by her side, he moved to help her, to curse her for her stupid stunt, to hold her, to do…anything, but she just kept walking, it was as if she wasn’t there at all.
He watched her struggle up that embankment it was only when she reached the SUV that she stopped, throwing her back against the black truck, she sunk to the floor. The blood had dried and it stuck to her face, mixed with the dirt she looked as if she had been in a war.
Logan stared deep into her eyes, she wasn’t there, her expression was vacant, and Logan wondered if that was where she was, in a war…somewhere in there Marie was fighting, still fighting for survival, for a right to be free.
He knelt in front of her and took a hold of the top of her damaged arm, her expression changed at last, her eyes grew tired and she smiled gently at him, there she was, the girl he had thought was long gone.
He gently prodded at he shoulder and she winced, ‘is it broken?’ she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
‘No…dislocated.’ He replied, feeling his way along the top of the bone, he came to the joint and gently pressed just to make sure.
‘Dislocated huh…well ain’t that a bitch…’ she shrugged, and rested her head back against the door of the truck.
‘Look…Marie I have to set it back in place before the joint swells up too much, this is gonna hurt…’
She chuckled lightly, ‘What more than dislocating it in the first place?’
‘Probably, ya might wanna bite down on somethin’…’ he advised her gently, before looking around for a piece of wood anything to stop her clamping down on her tongue when he set the arm back in place. He’d seen men chew half their tongues right off when bones were being set, the excruciating pain blinded them to anything else but crushing their teeth together.
She clasped his arm with her other hand and held tight, he turned to look at her, that cold, hard look was in her eyes again, ‘just get on with it Logan, ah’ll be fine…’
He nodded at last, reluctant but knowing there was no point arguing with her. He gripped her forearm tightly, with his other hand he took a hold of her shoulder, he braced himself, took a deep breath and whispered, ‘on three….’
‘THREE!’ she screamed for him as he pushed the arm up and back, he heard the pop of the joint setting back into place and only then let go of her arm.
A fine bead of sweat had broken out on her temple and her eyes drifted shut, he caught her just before she hit the ground, she was burning up again, the fever had returned and she was out cold.
He prised open the back doors of the SUV and carefully set her down on the backseat; ripping off his own jacket he placed it gently over her. Slamming the doors shut he raced back to the drivers side of the car, stopping he reached beneath the truck, felt along the under chassis, along to the rim of wheels.
He found what he was looking for at last, a small black box, barely matchbox size; it had a small green blinking light in its centre.
GPS tracking system, they always hunted in packs, and as far as he knew more would come, more soldiers, more guns, taking the device he crushed it between his hands, bits of plastic and wires crumbled to the floor.
He climbed into the truck and started the engine, driving past the burning wrecks that were his truck and the first SUV he shuddered with the memory, knowing how easily it could have been her.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
The cuts, the bruises…she was Marie D’Ancanto, and more…she was others, she was them all, every one you ever trapped, everyone you forced into those glass cages, every one you blinded by that God-awful green light…she was them all.
Who are you…where are you?’
We are here…we are you…
A/N:See, I didn't make y'all wait that long, OK everyone just breathe...here comes another cliffie
Who are you…where are you?’
We are here…we are you…
A/N:See, I didn't make y'all wait that long, OK everyone just breathe...here comes another cliffie