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3261FIC: Remember Me 2/2

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  • rimmette@earthlink.net
    Aug 3, 2001
      You asked for it, you got it.

      Remember Me 2/2

      For disclaimers, etc., see part one.


      When she said those words, the white door burst open, and I was
      suddenly standing in a world of winter. There was a small country
      store to my right, and as I looked at it, I saw Logan emerge from the
      entrance. He was dressed in winter layers, but otherwise looked
      exactly the same.

      "Logan?" I asked, walking towards him, but he didn't seem to hear me.

      He turned and called over his shoulder, "Hurry up, kid."

      "Coming," I heard a young woman's voice reply, and then I saw her.

      From the white parka to the red scarf, the black hair to the warm
      boots, it was the girl I'd seen at the school. Even though she was
      the same in many respects, she was also very different. Her skin was
      a light brown, no longer deathly pale, and her cheeks were ruddy from
      the cold. Most striking, though, was her smile. It was warm and
      full of light. Happiness practically leaked off of her.

      She was carrying two bags of groceries, handing one to Logan when she
      reached him, then they both started walking towards me. Neither of
      them seemed to notice that I was standing there. In fact, they got
      within inches of walking right through me when I jumped out of the

      This can't be real. It must be some sort of memory from Logan,
      before she died.

      I followed them to their truck. It had a camper on the back, but
      when I tried to open the door and get in there, my hand passed right
      through the surface. The engine started and I knew they were going
      to pull away any second, so I just stepped right through the door and
      into the back of the truck.

      Walking up behind their seats, I settled myself down on the floor,
      waiting to see what happened next.

      "Seatbelt," the girl ordered as she put hers on.

      Logan just turned to her with a smirk and cocked an eyebrow.

      "Dad," she whined.

      "Mary Ann," he whined back in a good imitation of her.

      "Ok," she said, throwing off her seatbelt. "If you don't have to
      wear one, I don't either."

      "You don't have my healing abilities," Logan argued.

      "And you don't have my memory abilities," she argued right
      back. "You wanna go against me? Mutation to mutation? Ok, last
      accident, we hit an ice patch going 52 miles per hour. January 6,
      2002. 3:43 p.m. You rolled the Jeep three times, your body flew out
      of it on the second turn. You were unconscious for 2 hours 41
      minutes and 38 seconds, leaving us stranded in the middle of
      nowhere. The temperature fluctuated between 15 and 18 degrees
      Fahrenheit during that time. The damage to the Jeep cost $3,291.48.
      Do you want an itemized list of the repairs?"


      "Do you wanna hear about the accident before that?"

      "No darlin', you win. I'll wear the damn seatbelt."

      The girl, Mary Ann apparently, put back on her seatbelt with a
      satisfied grin.

      Logan put the truck into gear and we started moving. It took several
      minutes of driving in silence before Logan said, "I'm sorry about
      that, kid."


      "The accident... It must've been real bad for you being trapped in
      the Jeep 'til I woke up."

      "Yeah, well, I would've liked you to stay in the Jeep with me, but I
      didn't really get hurt, Dad. No worries."

      "With that memory o' yours, you probably remember every second you
      were alone."

      "Dad, I remember every second of every day. It goes with the
      mutation. Those were some bad seconds, but there's been a lot more
      good ones." Mary Ann's face turned up into that magic smile. "Hey,
      wanna quiz me?"

      "Sure," Logan said, allowing her to change the subject. "Let's
      see... What did I say two days ago, at 10... mmm 10:03 in the

      Mary Ann closed her eyes for a second, and then said, "Dammit this
      stupid truck. What the hell was I thinking..."

      "Whoa, wrong time," Logan interrupted her. "I was thinking of when
      we got that ice cream and I was tellin' ya memories of your mom."

      "Dad," Mary Ann said, drawing out the name into three syllables in
      the way only exasperated teenagers can. "That started at 10:47 in
      the morning."

      "So sue me. I don't have your memory, darlin'. Anyway, what were..."

      There was a loud pop as a tire blew and the truck spun out of control.

      "Dad!" Mary Ann cried out in alarm, bracing herself against the door.

      "I'm... I've got it, darlin'," Logan said as he brought the truck to
      a sliding stop.

      He opened his door and got out of the truck, starting to swear at the
      faulty back tire when he froze, cocking his head to the side like he
      could hear something. If I concentrated I could hear it, too. Old
      snow crunching as people walked over it and the rustle of material
      rubbing against itself. It was coming from all directions and it was
      getting closer.

      "Dad?" Mary Ann asked from inside the truck, and Logan turned back
      towards where she sat with barely disguised panic in his eyes.

      He jumped back into the truck and was about to restart it when a
      tranquilizer dart struck him in the neck. It must have been made
      specifically for him because, despite his healing factor, he
      collapsed immediately.

      The world around me turned gray and blurry, fading into darkness as
      Logan lost conscious to the sounds of Mary Ann's frantic screams.


      The world came back into sharp focus a few seconds later, but now we
      were in a large lab and Logan lay naked on a white table. His eyes
      were open and he wasn't restrained, but he wasn't even trying to get
      up. There was an I.V. running into his arm so I could only conclude
      that he was being medically paralyzed.

      A mousy woman in a white coat came into the room and turned on a
      large X-ray panel. She pulled out X-rays and started slapping them
      into place. Having studied that skeleton for months, I recognized it
      immediately. It was Logan's, without the metal, and I had the
      terrible feeling that this was where he'd acquired his unique

      The woman pulled out a black, felt-tip pen and, after checking the X-
      ray carefully, started drawing a line down Logan's arm. Even though
      he couldn't move, Logan let out a deep growl at her, his eyes dark
      with anger.

      She ignored him and continued drawing lines, manipulating his body
      like he was less than human, a specimen to be used and studied. It
      took over an hour before she'd diagramed his entire skeletal
      structure. When she was done, she walked over to the wall and
      activated an intercom.

      "Professor? The subject is prepared for grafting."

      "Very well," an older man's voice came through the speaker with a
      tired sigh.

      The woman turned and left, and for a few minutes, Logan was alone,
      still exposed and helpless on the hard table. Then, a team of men
      and women entered the room, covered from head to toe in biohazard

      They were immediately intimidating, but that's not what caused Logan
      to start growling and mumbling through his frozen lips at the top of
      his lungs. When the door opened, faint crying could be heard from
      far down the hall interspersed with shrieks and whimpers. I don't
      know how, but I knew it was Mary Ann.

      When the doors closed again, the cries were cut off, but that didn't
      stop Logan. His eyes were wild, and I could tell he was struggling
      with every fiber of his being to get up and help his daughter. No
      matter how strong his will was, though, he couldn't move.

      The spacesuited people rolled a stretcher next to his white table.
      It had a metal frame on top of it, and after they'd lifted Logan off
      the table and onto the frame, they strapped him tightly to it.

      For a moment, I wondered why they were bothering with the restraints,
      but then I saw one of them remove the I.V. That's right. It'd
      probably get in the way of the metal grafting process. Without it,
      though, the paralytic drug will wear off and unrestrained, Logan
      would be able to move.

      They'd rolled the stretcher next to a tank filled with some sort of
      green liquid, when the door opened again. This time the whimpering
      was much louder as two men entered, their labcoats spattered with
      blood. Between them, they dragged a bruised and battered Mary Ann.
      Her clothes were ripped and torn, and the strategically located blood
      stains could only lead me to one conclusion. She'd been attacked and
      viciously abused.

      Lifting up her head, she saw Logan strapped to the table and
      surrounded by doctors, and her whimpering changed to crying, "Daddy."

      Logan growled and, finally regaining some movement, started pulling
      at his restraints.

      One of the doctors, a older man with square-rimmed glasses, yelled at
      the men, "What are you thinking, bringing her in here?"

      "Everyone's done with her. What do you want us to do?"

      "Her mutation's useless to us," the doctor proclaimed. "Dispose of

      "NO!!!" Logan screamed, regaining more of his strength every second.
      He thrashed against the straps holding him down as Mary Ann was
      pulled out the door, squealing, "Daddy!" with every breath.

      Logan yelled and swore at them, frantically trying to escape as they
      transferred the metal frame to the tank. His shouts cut off abruptly
      as he was immersed in the green liquid, but from the bubbles rising
      in the water, I could tell that he was still screaming.

      Then the doctor that had ordered Mary Ann's murder lifted a scalpel
      and started cutting into Logan's thigh along the marked lines.

      The room shattered around me in millions of pieces, and I was
      suddenly back in the black room again. Logan was dressed and curled
      up into himself on the floor weeping openly.

      Amidst the tears, I could make out a few of his whimpers. "My
      baby... my precious child... my Mary... my darlin' Mary Ann."

      "Logan," I said, placing a hand against his shoulder, but he flinched

      "Daddy?" a quiet voice whispered.

      The girl, Mary Ann, was standing a few feet away from us. She was
      dressed and clean again, her white coat pristine in the darkness of
      the room.

      Logan let out and unintelligible whimper and half-crawled, half-ran
      towards her, pulling her into a tight hug.

      "I'm sorry... I'm sorry," he whispered over and over.

      "It wasn't your fault," she answered, tears flooding her
      cheeks. "You tried."

      "I failed. I couldn't protect you."

      For endless moments they didn't say anything, just allowed themselves
      to grieve clutching each other tightly. Then, Mary Ann pulled away
      and cupped Logan's face in her hands, wiping his tears away.

      "I love you, Daddy. Remember me."

      Logan reached up and held her hands to his cheeks. "I love you, too,
      baby. So much."

      Even as I watched, Mary Ann's coat became less white, her face less
      solid. She was fading away.

      "Mary Ann," Logan said, fear entering his voice. "Darlin', don't
      leave me."

      "Remember me," she whispered and then disappeared.


      When I opened my eyes, I found myself back in the rec room, staring
      down at Logan who still lay on the floor, his head cradled in Rogue's
      lap. I could feel wetness on my cheeks, and I could see tears on
      Logan's face as well.

      "Logan?" Rogue asked, her voice a mix of nervous tension and hope.

      "Mar..." Logan blinked up at her like he was trying to clear his
      vision. "Marie."

      "Logan are you ok?" she asked. Then, looking at me, she asked
      again, "Is he ok?"

      Logan sat up, pulling away from her without answering her question.
      Then, he stood and walked shakily out of the room without a word to

      "Jean?" Rogue asked, and I answered her question.

      "He'll be ok, Rogue. Just give him time."


      Logan spent days alone in his room. When he finally emerged, he went
      directly to Piotr. I noticed him approach the group of teens in the
      foyer watching the TV. Rogue was there, but Logan only gave her a
      tight smile and walked off with Piotr, not sparing her a word.

      It was obvious that she was deeply hurt by his actions, but I
      understood his need to be alone. I only hoped that he would explain
      it to her and soon.


      The next day, I was wandering around the garden maze, hoping for a
      little quiet contemplation, when I heard them.

      "That Piotr kid drew that."

      "It's the same girl as in the other picture, isn't it?"

      "Yeah," Logan answered.

      Either I'm downwind or he's just too preoccupied to notice that I'm
      here. It's the only explanation why they haven't left yet.

      "She looks different in this sketch, so happy."

      "Her name was Mary Ann Logan. She was my life. Her mother died in
      childbirth, and we were all the family we had."

      "You remember? You know who you are? Your past?"

      "Uh huh. All of it."

      They were both quiet for a moment and then Rogue asked, "What
      happened to her?"

      "She..." Logan paused, probably trying to collect his emotions. "She

      "Oh, Logan. I'm so sorry."

      "I couldn't protect her, but you don't have to worry about that. I
      won't let it happen again. I swear, I'll protect you, Marie."

      "I"m not worried, Logan," Rogue answered, and I could hear the tears
      in her voice. "Tell me about her. I want to know everything."

      "She was born on May 14, 1986, That day was the most amazing of my
      life. Her mother was..."

      Logan's voice drifted away as I walked towards the exit to the maze,
      giving them their privacy.

      I knew he would be ok now. He was doing what she asked, remembering


      The End.