‘This fight could be the last fight
No giving and no winning…
‘MARIE….!!!!’
It was the silent scream that echoed in his mind that finally jolted him into consciousness, sitting bolt upright, pushing away at the covers on the bed. The sheets were a mess, he’d thrashed around in his sleep like a man possessed, the demons in his mind leaving him restless, passing a shaking hand through his damp hair, sweat dripping from every pore.
He stared at the four walls surrounding him and realised he couldn’t breathe. His heart beating at a hundred miles an hour, like some damn freight train he couldn’t stop, stumbling into the headlights and hating it…hating it and this…this place. This damn Academy that kept him tied, these four fuckin’ walls that kept closing in, cutting off his breath, choking him, strangling him…hated it, hated this…hated her…hated her…Marie.
Marie, she’d died tonight, in his mind he’d seen her fall from such a height, saw her hit the floor hard, her body twisted in an awkward gruesome pose, a broken doll. He’d tried, God knows he’d tried to save her, he’d always try to save her, but she’d drifted away, like a whisper, a wisp of smoke that slipped through his fingers. He’d made a grab for her but came up empty, useless, hopeless, slipping through his fingers…and she was gone.
And all he had left was to stare down at that broken body, that two tone hair billowing out around her head and those eyes…God those eyes, vacant and unmoving but haunting him still, accusing him. There, always there…so he couldn’t breathe…so he couldn’t see…couldn’t sleep.
She was all seriousness when she piled into the seat next to him, clamping the seatbelt shut, pulling her hair into a tight ponytail, the two tones of her hair merging, as she tugged at her gloves. She offered him a slight smile as she turned to look at him at last, and he couldn’t help but look away. She’d changed, so much about her had changed, and looking at her just about killed him. Her gaunt expression, all that weight she had lost and that hollow, vacant expression in eyes that only a few months ago had been so full of life.
Her skin, paler than even he remembered it, full lips, rarely smiling now, it was killing her, this place was killing her and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Because she wouldn’t admit it, she always had to do the right thing, the brave thing, and that meant staying here, staying in a place that was slowly choking the life out of her.
And he hated it…God how he hated it, that stupid stubborn sense of duty that kept her tied to this place and these people. He stared as Scott Summers strode to the front of the X-Jet, strapping in behind Jean, whispering to his red-headed girlfriend, that quiet air of confidence they both had pervading, poisoning the air around him.
It sickened him that they couldn’t or wouldn’t see what they were doing to her, these missions, their patriotism, and their ideas of playing the hero. She didn’t need this, some of us aren’t meant to be heroes Marie, ah don’t wanna see you kill yourself saving the world.
He stared at her reflection in the window to his right, he wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake that expression off her face, that one of grim determination, the one she mimicked from Jean and Scott and every other Academy saint. Her smile slight and forced, trying her hardest to look as if she belonged, trying to make out like every other all-round American hero on this damn jet, with an imaginary flag and a damn patriotic anthem playing in the background.
Instead he settled back and watched her listen intently to Scott’s briefing, another mission, and another chance to prove you’re worth. The jet engines roared into life, lifting effortlessly into the dark sky. He stared down at the lights of New York, wondered at all the people down there, how they went about their lives, not knowing, not giving a damn about the hell the X-men put themselves through, day after day, to save them so they could go on about their useless business, thankless and clueless.
What did they know, about the girl sat next to him, killing herself day after day, and for what? So she could be allowed to fit in, to justify her existence? He looked at her once more, her eyes shut tight, trying hard to overcome the fear and the nervousness and the self-loathing. Well fuck it, fuck this and fuck them, he was through playing the hero.
Come on Marie, you’re more like me than you wanna admit, we don’t wanna save the world, we just wanna be allowed to get along in it.
He’d watched her stumble backwards, stupid stubborn girl, hating it, hating this…helpless, useless, stood frozen to the spot. Watching her, her hair billowing, the fight leaving her bruised and scratched, her mouth open in a frozen scream as she loses her footing, ground just giving way beneath her feet.
And he can see it all, in slow motion, achingly, painfully drawn out motion, he reaches out for her, his hand passing through the locks of her hair, a whisper, wisps of smoke, nothing…nothing he can do.
Only it’s not a dream, it’s real…this time it’s real…
One more mission, one more chance to prove your worth, only this time it’s too much, the price is too high. One last chance, he makes one last grab for her, even as she’s fast slipping away, throwing himself over the edge, one last chance, one last time to prove your worth….
Time heals all of the burned out bridges
Filled with nothing more than misery
I wear the mask of the embattled son
Trying to beg for something to believe- ‘The Last Fight’- Velvet Revolver