Running. Across a vast stretch of grass and blue sky - that's all there was. And she ran, her legs powering as fast as she could get them to run. Fear confounded her and voices overwhelmed her. Whether they were hers, or Carol's, Erik's -she knew they were too cruel and cold to be Logan's.... Logan....
As she ran down a hillock the stark pillar-lined facade of Xavier's School for the Gifted loomed large. Soft music drifted from the house, muffled and tinkling. As her bare feet slapped up the steps, she reached for the front door, but it snapped open fast.
"Jesus!! Cyke... what're-"
Her voice died in her throat as she focused on the face of who was at the door. Scott... with no eyes, just burnt out hollow cavities where they should have been. And he didn't speak, he just clenched his statuesque jaw at her, stepping aside darkly. Before she could say much more, a painfully familiar sound drew her inside.
Inside, there were no tall wood-paneled corridors that reeked of old tapestries and wood varnish. It was a neat little house, with tasteful decoration and frills and modest wooden decking. The source of the tinkling music called her, and she stepped forward, her voice catching.
"Momma..."
At a piano sat her mother, eyes fixed to the keys, her fingers running up and down the keyboard in a mindless exercise.
"Momma... I'm sorry."
Her mother looked up, and as she did her face somehow changed... dark mousy hair flashing gold.
"Ya killed me Marie."
She shook her head, stumbling back, "No Momma!"
"Ya killed me!" the woman sobbed as she staggered to her feet and began after Marie. Marie stumbled back, arms flailing.
"Ah didn't Ah swear!"
"Ya left me and it KILLED me baby!"
Tears blurred her vision, the round comforting frame of her mother slipping to solid and lilting black contours.
"Ya touched my skin and I died and it's all causah you! And I'm gone! Like David and like Carol and like Logan! You're gonna kill him too!"
She shook her head again, "No - I'll never touch him! Never hurt him!!!"
And then it came... an awful groan. Spinning about, she looked to the floor. Her soul wretched in horror.
Logan lay in a spatter of blood, his body wrecked, marred with long open wounds that seemed too familiar. As she ran to his side, her gloved hands clutched his face, the hot stickiness of his blood seeping into them.
"Logan... no no... please..."
The empty hazel eyes glistened thickly, and then so slowly, dropped to meet hers...
The blood-curdling scream that ripped through Logan's ears blasted him from the light nap he was catching, his head laying back on the wall as he sat uncomfortably in the chair next to Rogue's bed. The sound lurched him bolt upright, and the sudden shock of fire and metal struck his arms as his claws sprung from his forearms.
Breathing frantically he clutched the chair he'd been sleeping on, fighting to calm himself. It was then he heard it... the soft sobbing.
"Logan..."
He sank down into the chair, relief seeping into him at the sight of Marie, head thrashing back and forth in her sleep. Bad dream... thank God.
"Hey, Marie..."
He shook her shoulder gently, secretly reveling in the soft silk of her hair that fell around it and caressed his hand. She shook her head, grunting lightly, her lips curling up in protest.
"Come on, Marie," he said, nudging her again, "Wake up baby..."
"UUh!"
Marie jerked upright, a soft gasping cry falling from her. Her eyes fell upon Logan next to her, fear rimming them
"Logan!"
"I'm here, Marie."
She whimpered, scooting off the bed and into the corner of the small room, her frame suddenly young and gangly as she hunched into herself, the black leather gleaming in the fluorescent lighting. She shook her head, sobbing into her arms.
Logan swept around the bed and crouched next to her, hands reaching for her shoulders tentatively.
"Hey... Marie-"
"No!" she bleated, "Get away!"
His face fell, "I won't hurt you."
"No!" she glared at him from behind her curtain of hair, "NO!"
"I won't I swear-"
A hand, naked, struck out from her curled form and she glared at him again, brown eyes brimming with pain, tears glistening on her face as she held her hand only a few inches away from his face. Logan didn't flinch at the proximity... didn't move. She spoke, her voice a thin breath that sent a shiver all over him.
"Ah can hurt you... So easily, so easily."
Her mouth closed to a pained pout, her bottom lip shuddering as her hand pulled back slowly, shakenly. Her eyes fell shut as she leant back against the wall, long sobs lifting in her.
"Marie, look at me."
She shook her head, silken strands of hair shifting at her movements. He reached forward, laying his palm against her head, his soul wracking with pain as she hissed and curled into a tighter ball, recoiling at his touch. He grit his teeth, placing his hand down again, gripping her upper arm most distant to him and pulling her around.
"LOOK at me!"
She sobbed, her body turned to him but her face twisted away. At his forceful command she panted, looking fearfully through mussed tresses, her eyes glinting.
"There," he said, voice hushed, "Now - do I look like the kinda guy you can just hurt?"
She nodded fractionally, "Yes."
"No, Marie," he said, "No."
"I can," she said quietly.
He pressed his lips together in a sharp look, "No, Marie, you can't."
"You think," she gave a tired laugh, "You think you moved me just now... I could break your neck like a toothpick."
He blinked at her, trying to battle the horror flickering over his features. There was such a coldness that settled over her, such a slick chill that ripped the humanity from her gentle voice. Her eyes peered at him emptily, till a warmth blushed in them and her face twisted in horror.
She screamed.
Clenching her eyes shut she sobbed, burying her face in her arms, and Logan pulled at her again, regardless of what harm she thought she could do, wrapping his arms around her and pressing her to his chest. With a determination he kissed her hair, embracing her tightly.
"I'm not gonna let anything happen to ya, Kid," he said, "You got that?"
She didn't answer. She hung in his arms as he rocked them back and forth, her sobs soft and pain-ridden.
It was going to be a very long ride.
Somehow, they'd gotten her changed into a long flannel nightshirt and leggings with socks and gloves, and she had a tray of food in front of her in the observation room. She barely registered as they bustled her about. Jean changed her, fed her, talked to her softly in tender tones. Every time she enjoyed Jean's treatment in the slightest guilt would splash through her and she'd hate herself again. She didn't know why she hated herself. She couldn't even tell what WAS herself, and what was - someone else.
From the corner of her eye she saw Logan standing with arms folded over himself, eyes boring into her. Were it any other moment in her time with him she would have blushed and turned away coyly. That was a time when she was softer, clean of the ruddy muck that was dripping inside her mind. Now she just stared blankly at her plate, feeling hunger but reveling in the ache it hollowed inside of her. A part of her damned herself to feel that hunger, to never abate it with the lush give of a morsel in her mouth, one of the few tangible sensations she had with her senses of touch.
Every now and again the dark ache within her would swell, and she'd let out an empty sob. Logan would clench all over and she didn't care. All at once, the pain would die in her, not letting her release, just letting her simmer and burn. She barely blinked. Her lips were chapped and dry from inaction, and tears were dried against her pale cheeks.
She was a little surprised when Logan moved from his post and sat in the visitor's chair next to her bed, taking her gloved hand tenderly.
"Marie..."
She didn't look at him. She didn't move.
"Marie, listen to me."
With a sigh he touched her face and she flinched, glaring at him.
"Gotcha."
She looked down to his hand - thin cotton gloves. She frowned.
"Jean gave 'em to me - she said…" He stopped. "Marie?"
She still glared at him, leaning back from him. He sighed, caressing her hand in his in a paternal fashion.
"Look baby, you gotta eat."
She looked away, but the gloved hand pulled her gaze back.
"You have to eat, Marie, you need to."
The tears filled her eyes again, and her dry lips cracked as she winced in pain. Her eyelids felt dry, like there was nothing more to give, her throat red hot and tender.
"I don't want it."
"If you don't eat you'll get sick."
"I know."
Logan sighed, bringing his head down to her hands. He looked up at her once more.
"Is it cause you're not hungry?"
She shook her head.
"Are you feeling sick?"
"No."
Her voice was cracked, cool, and the effect on Logan was noticeable. His eyes grew a little wetter, his brow tilting up. That dark plague inside of her rushed on his agony, whilst every single cell in her body cried out at hurting him. She felt him clutch her hand again, and then the warm press of his lips against her knuckles.
"I saw her Logan."
Her voice startled him, and he looked up to meet her eyes. They turned and met his very slowly, the brown clear and empty.
"I saw her in mah head."
"Who?"
Her bottom lids crept up as she winced. "Her."
He didn't move, but she felt his hand hold onto her tighter.
"I saw her, with her hand around your neck."
She sighed raggedly, her lips catching against themselves.
"And then I was her. And I wanted to die."
"Hey!"
His hands were at her face again, warm, tender and gentle, and she didn't want to look where they guided her.
"Don't touch me," she moaned.
He kept touching her, pulling her around to meet his gaze.
"No, Logan, I can't..."
"You can," he growled. "You're not her, Marie.
Her eyes rolled up to meet his, the action like that of a sick animal.
"You're you. You're Marie, you remember that!"
Her brows tilted up and a sob overtook her, she rolled into his arms.
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