'Just how long do you think I'll live?
A hundred,a thousand more?
Is it worth the pain,
Of losing everyone I Love?'
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He could still smell the cranberries in here, the stuff had kinda dripped off his plate. The red sticky berries had made a good sauce for deer but he still hadn't been sure it was meant to look like the blood of the deceased animal.
Marie had told him that as she'd set their plates down on the small rickety table in the shed. The presents had been opened to multiple screams and cheers, the extra hands had been very useful in the end, seeing as some presents were repeated. He'd managed in a way to stand apart from everyone but they hadn't really made a huge issue about it. Too busy with everyone else more than likely, breathing out cigar smoke in the small space, the cuban in his hand worth someones weekly wage here. He hadn't looked at the tag he'd just torn open the package taken it out here and kept it in here.
Even now as the smoke curled around his body he could feel the winter outside, the cold of it, the bitterness that was heading in off the ocean. Ro' had warned everyone about it ahead of time but the were fine, they had the back up generator. An him, he had a small gas heater out here in his semi-wilderness shed. Marie had labelled it that on Christmas day, she'd looked tired when she'd come to visit him out here. Her hands filled with dinner, her shoulder carrying dessert and a bottle of whiskey tucked into her pocket. He had to admit though, it had been good, just him and her, no agenda, nothing but company. Sure they talked about the school but she avoided the painful subjects like Jean and the Professor. Although she had said she might have some news about that later, about which direction the school was taking.
For once he'd actually enjoyed Christmas day, not missing out on the noise but having something calm and simple. Something and someone to be thankful for, although the conversation had taken a little odd turn when he'd been asking about the stuff the kids had been doing. He replayed the conversation in his head.
"A Mummers Play, it was Hank's idea." He'd quirked his head to the side and looked through her waiting for her to continue with a fork filled with food. Seeing him waiting she'd filled in the gap in conversation, "It's an old play, two kings fight over a maiden who's untouchable to either of them. The kings fight, one dies but comes back to life, the other wins the hand of the maiden until they fight again. Hank explained it better but the kids enjoyed it, they kinda lost the plot at one point an both kings ended up dead." She answered him with a smile and had told him that the kids had used the X-Men and the Brotherhood as the opposing sides. The silence had stretched out there for a moment until he'd asked which people they'd played.
Marie had been quiet and her gaze had become distant, her throat constricting a little making her have to take a drink to swallow. Finally when she had what she'd told him had made her blush and her scent go through the roof.
"They used Magneto as the one who killed the 'King'," she left out who'd played the king until he'd pressured her, thinking it would've been Scott. Her eyes hadn't met his while she'd taken the large plates away and ducked into the cooler bag for the dessert. Her voice sounding out as she raised the dishes onto the table, the words still echoing around his head days later.
"You, the King that died and came back again was you."
It was over the cool dessert that he put the pieces together, they'd made a play out of the incident on Liberty Island. So that would've meant that the maiden....when his gaze had hit hers she blushed skyward as she saw him work it out. Silence had reigned through the rest of the food, although the coffee and whiskey chaser had loosened her tongue later.
"The kids had little outfits too, I've never seen Magneto look so 'small' and you so...so...'determined'." She was laughing and he knew it was the amount of whiskey in her or she wouldn't have been so open about this point in their life. She never brought it up, ever. As if his sacrifice for her was too sacred to even mention, he'd nearly died for her and she *knew* that he'd never risked half as much for anyone else. It was too important to use in conversation between them, everyone has a history and that was a huge part of theirs.
She'd told him how they'd played the scene, 'Mags' bending the other kid over while the 'maiden' stood resplendant in her green cloak and dyed wig. The so called 'death' of him when 'Mags' had been taken down by a lightning bolt (which in reality had been Scott). The maid slumped and fallen in her cage, 'he'd' torn open the cage, touched her, brought her to life and 'died' only to be brought back to life by a fuzzy little blue kid mimicking Hank. The entire house had erupted in cheers and she'd slipped away to bring their dinner out here while everyone else went into the dining room to eat.
He'd watched her expressions as she'd described it to him, her face becoming soft, as if replacing the real fighters in the scene she'd seen. When he'd caught her eye he'd asked her what she'd been thinking about, her words to him had been simple and heartfelt.
"Ah'm just wishing it could've been that simple Logan."
He'd left off the questioning after that, sometime in the early hours he'd carried her back into the mansion. Dropping her into her room where he saw the haul of presents all around her room, several were open and they all looked the same. Clothing, scarves, gloves, small bits of jewellry she could pin to the clothing that covered her skin. It made his heart ache, that he hadn't given her anything, she'd been the one to recognise his pain and yet he'd not given her anything in return.
Dropping her off in her room he'd gone stalking through the mansion now it was quiet, he'd been passing the library when he'd heard muffled voices. Thinking it could be an intruder he went to look, what he saw instead reminded him that he wasn't the only one who was alone.
Kitty and Bobby, wrapped up together on the large soft sofa in here, Bobby had a stupid plastic mistletoe dangling over them both. As if they needed an excuse to be together and it was the look of utter joy in their faces that rang the counterpoint to the sorrow and bitterness that he'd heard in Marie's voice.
Turning away he'd gone to his room, opening the door and finding a few more presents left on his bed. They'd been quickly identified, more booze, a knife (as if he needed more of them), cigars, a hip flask (Jesus did they think he was an alcoholic?). Yet it was the small one near his pillow that caught his attention, obviously a book he tore the wrapping off. Inside was a small volume of Japanese poetry, original language, no stumbling translations here. The pages were old, yellowed at the edges, thin black and white illustrations filled some of the pages. He stood there for what seemed like an age just flicking through the book when he caught a small piece of paper inside the volume. Written on thin rice paper the words small but perfect, they read 'I hope I got it right, your memories are a little confused sometimes. Not everything about your past was bad Logan, I hope you can remember that. Love and Merry Xmas, Marie.'
He'd slumped to the bed and sat on the edge of it, the scent of salt filling the air, his hands clutching the slim volume to his chest as if it were her. Too many times had he looked into the darkness and only seen the slavering beast he thought he was. Yet she'd seen all of him, and she'd found the man in the animal, seen the desire for control over his heart of darkness. Breathing in the scent of the book, reminding him of cherry blossom in spring. Of bitter green tea made in such a small space like the one he had now, a place out of the world, a sacred place to harmonise the inner and outer worlds.
Realising at last why Marie had been watching out for him, she *cared*, she *loved* him, all of him. It wasn't a crush, wasn't a love where she expected hearts an flowers, wasn't even sexual in a way. It was what the Shinto monks had told him on his journey through the country, that love comes from the joining of ones own nature to the will of the divine within. To hold the heart clean of ill will or sin is the best a man can do and she'd given him the space to do it. Even when he would've denied that he needed it.
So here he was, the New Years party was still going, the ice that covered the snow brittle and razor sharp. Laughter ringing out over the winter wonderland in front of him, he'd come out here to get away from the suits and the smiles. Another year was coming to a close, the voices of the crowd were filling the air as he breathed out a cloud of perfumed smoke. A voice just as rich met his ears and made him turn to look toward it's owner. "Yah should give those up ya know, not everyone round ya has a healin' factor like you do." Marie.
She was dressed in jeans, a huge jumper, thick gloves, boots, her ever present green duffle and a smile on her lips. The noise from the party subsided as he turned his senses to her, watching as she slid past him into the warmth of the small shed. Shrugging off her coat she saw the book of poetry on the small table, smiling she picked it up. Her fingers clothed in gloves running over the surface and flicking through the pages. Her eyes held a smile and he took the book from her hand and flcked to a page. Handing it back to her he motioned to her to try to read it, sometimes she had the ability to read several langauges if she concentrated hard enough. Her smile quirked at the side of her mouth as she looked at the characters on the page. Seeing her mouth the words as her mind worked it out, he knew what the lines said, he'd found them when he'd been out here earlier. It kind of said everything he wanted to say.
Her gaze lifted to his and the smile never wavered once, she opened her arms and hugged him tight to her, the book resting on his back. He was telling her in his own way that he appreciated her, for everything she'd done, for the time, the effort, the *care*. The words of the poem echoing around his head as he held her tight to him, the echoes of the New Year going of behind them. Jubilee's bright flashes fireworking into the cold night, his lips mouthing the simple words as Marie held onto him.
'Akiyama no,
momiji wo shigemi
madoinuru
imo wo motomemu
yamamichi shizaru mo'
(The Mountains in Autumn,
There are so many fallen leaves,
Looking for my lost beloved woman,
I cannot find the path.)
Marie had found him, found him, brought him back from the wildnerness he'd been losing himself in, given him a halfway home in a potting shed. Loved him without price, or cost to herself and that was the biggest present she could ever give him.
She sighed as he held her close to him, just enjoying the feel of someone next to his body. Realising that this was the closest anyone had been to him since summer. Losing his tears in her hair as he wished her a happy new year, she whispered the same into his shirt. Her tone a little sad but he didn't question why, all that mattered was that someone was touching him. Pity it was the untouchable girl that had risked everything to do it, but then that was who Marie was. Breathing her in he closed his gaze to the fireworks and let his own blood tell him how great the world felt.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Here we go, Christmas is over but the New Year holds it's own terrors.