'I never noticed,
Didn't see until it was too late,
How much you presence made life worthwhile,
All that is left of you fits in my hand.'
************************************
There were too many kids, he'd been onto Ororo to get some more safe houses sorted out in the city, for the older kids at least. They were being stretched to capacity here and tempers were fraying.
He was on room duty, making the few remaining rooms in the far wing habitable, he had his room out here. He got some peace and quiet, he did the room allocations on his wing and he'd made sure to include the kids who had gifts like him. When a loud noise hurts your hearing for three days you tend not to get stereo's balring out at all hours.
The few that were left to clear were along the far edge of the floor, it was only when he opened the door that the memory of her rose in his mind like a ghost.
Marie.
She'd left soon after they'd gotten back from Alcatraz, there had been so much to do and so many things that had been vying for his attention he hadn't noticed her abscence until he'd seen Kitty with Bobby. Kitty's laugh was higher than Marie's had been and he'd taken a step back and asked Bobby where Marie *was*. Bobby had paled and told him that Marie had been gone for a month, she'd left when he'd been gone with Ororo to sort out the will and the trust fund for the school. He'd been so busy he'd never even noticed her empty space in his life.
Shaking himself he set his hand to the task in front of him, he had to do some work to the bathroom and the floor in here. There were three kids who had 'mass' issues that were heading here, everything needed strengthening. Putting down his tools he began moving the furniture out into the hallway, starting with the large dresser. The pale envelope that slid onto the floor passed unnoticed until his boot slid on it. Grabbing the thing he lifted it to the light, the flap was unsealed but it had a letter inside. Pulling it out he let his eyes scan the page covered in neat handwriting, not recognising the hand that wrote it but the first few words made the difference between a stranger and a loved one.
'He doesn't even know I exist anymore, I'm a ghost, a fixture of the house, someone to sit with because it's what's 'expected' of him.
I could stand there completely naked and painted bright blue and he wouldn't even see 'me'. Mind you that's a hard thing for me to do anyway, not with everyone inside me clamouring for attention. God how I wish I could just step off the world and finish all this. To have died up there would have been better than this half life, this listlessness, constantly battling voices that scream at me when I try to sleep.
Momma told me to write to God when things were bad an how many letters littered the back roads of god knows where on my way to here. Written on the back of candy wrappers, hell even toilet paper once if you remember. Anything not to have the thoughts unspoken you know, anything to have them recognised as something worth feeling.
I should feel lucky, I mean I died, Jean told me I was dead for a few minutes, she 'felt' me die. She watched as Logan did his best to help me but part of me can't help wondering what she meant the day after. She told me that I should 'leave him his space, let him recover' even with his thoughts running through my head it was enough to see the hope in her eyes. That she'd be the first one he'd see when he woke up, she got her wish an me....well I'm alive. I'm grateful I really am, but what do I do now? What happens now, where do I go from here, knowing what I know, feeling what I feel, would he even understand if I tried to tell him or would I get another lecture about leaving him his 'space' from Jean?
I just wish you'd answer me sometimes, having a God is no use if you don't help me out sometimes.'
The pages were brittle, the lines faded but he knew the hand that had written them, Marie. Her mind was on here, a prayer to a God she still hoped could help her, even after all that had happened to her. She'd still held out hope, still wondered what else was out there for her. He'd tried to remember the days after Liberty Island, the thing was he'd remembered that she looked okay, she'd been smiling but that could have been what was expected of her. Reading this was an insight into who she'd really been, what she'd really felt. The room was forgotten and he began tearing the furniture from the walls to find any others she'd hidden from the eyes of the world. Her silent prayers to a God she hoped would listen to her, when everyone else had abandoned her, including him the one who'd told her he'd protect her no matter what.
*********************************
Evening found him out by the lake, a bottle in between his knees and a sour air around him. Three extra letters as well as the first one he'd found, their pages aged by dust and heat. He could sense Ororo coming and by her footsteps she wasn't happy with his sudden downing of tools. Before she even got close he just held up the most recent letter to her to see, when the weather witch didn't take it he got up and forced it into her hands. His eyes dark and threatening as he crowded her, stinking of whiskey and anger, frustration making his muscles twitch in their need to express the emotions he was bottling up in his body.
When he did speak to her it was mono-sylabbic and they held the weight of comtempt within them.
"READ IT." Ororo finally let her gaze drop to the cream pages, the letterhead of the school emblazoned on top of them. Ororo began to read the page but Logan's grip around her wrist tightened, his voice growling out his words as the clouds scudded across the sky in her fear.
"OUT LOUD, YOU'LL REMEMBER IT BETTER!" The bitter hatred filled the air between them as she began to read the words Marie had left behind, her final prayer to a God that had abandoned her.
"I know I don't fit here anymore, ever since the day the cure was televised, ever since I ran to make my choice of life instead of a prison.
I'm the enemy, the mutant who doesn't want to be belong, who isn't happy being 'different'. Thing is I went, I stood in line, I waited with the rest of the scared and afraid.
But I didn't do it, I couldn't, my momma's face would just pop up every time I moved forward. Her voice telling me to thank you for making me the way you did, that God didn't make mistakes. I nearly stopped her until Logan got in on the act, his faded voice from Liberty telling me to hold on. To 'trust my instincts' and I did, when the white coats came for me I was already gone and running back.
Used my head though, got some spray plasters and covered everything that showed. It worked too, everyone touched me, everyone except those that mattered. I don't blame Ro' for hating me, just like I don't blame Bobby for dumping me. They were making a choice just like I am now.
The only thing I'm happy for is Logan, he's found a home here, they need him more than I do. Hey I still have his voice in my head when I concentrate on it, even like the taste of beer some days. Ro' needs him, the kids need him, he's strong, capable much much more than I ever could be. So I'm going, fading away into the background again, there's so much going on they'll never notice another empty bed. I'm sure the next tenant will need it more than I will, never got to see Alaska, maybe this time I'll make it. That is if you don't put another man in need of rescue in my way, don't think there's enough soul in me left to do that again.
Say goodbye for me, maybe someone will find these when they take over the place. Burn them after you've read them, a prayer only lasts as long as it's being read and I pray for Logan to be happy, to find a place he can settle even after everything he had to do.
I loved him, I really did, but it wouldn't have been enough, no one is, not even Jean would have been. He's the wind, the mountain, the snow that's coming down outside. He's everything, just like you are and as lolng as your there, he'll be as well. And it'll have to be enough."
Ororo let the letter drop from her sight, her head dropping as the weight of the words reached her heart. The loss of one soul, the sorrow etched in pencil on cream paper, of her lapse of thought and sight, her damnation of the one she thought she'd known. It had been a lie, everything, her whole act, the laughter and playfullness with a brittle edge to it if she'd only looked for it.
Logan picked up the rest and thrust them into her chest, the crumpling paper being wetted by her tears. Logan's angry growl rumbling through her as she took hold of the rest of them. His angry words echoing in her mind as he smashed the empty whiskey bottle on the ground at her feet.
"Save it for someone who gives a fuck what you think." He left her under the trembling sky, soured with her own guilt trying to understand her part in the loss of someone Logan had needed more than Jean.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Be warned this is a SAD fic, no death but some emotional baggage and regret....
I suppose it's one of those days again...
I suppose it's one of those days again...