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Ficlet: Dissolution 1/1

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  • teufelce@aol.com
    ok, this is a little ficlet that bit me while i was lying on the couch with the flu. it hasn t been beta d, but it demanded to be written. so, blame any and
    Message 1 of 1 , Jan 5, 2001
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      ok, this is a little ficlet that bit me while i was lying on the couch with
      the flu. it hasn't been beta'd, but it demanded to be written. so, blame any
      and all errors on the fever. yeah, that's it.... lol

      as always, any and all feedback is welcome and strongly encouraged. ;)

      Chris

      ~~~~~

      Title: Dissolution 1/1
      Author: Chris (teufelce@...)
      Genre: angst
      Rating: PG
      Pairing: Logan/Rogue
      Summary: Dealing with loss...
      Thanks to: Z and Jo - for always being there when I needed them. And even

      when I didn't. Thanks, mates.
      Disclaimer: The characters of X-Men (i.e. Logan, Marie, Scott, etc.) belong
      to
      Marvel Comics and Twentieth Century Fox Pictures. This
      story is for
      entertainment purposes only and no copyright infringement
      is
      intended.
      Archive: yes, just please let me know where.




      It was a cold, grey day. How fitting...

      They came off the jet, weary, bloodied and bruised. And I ran towards them,
      looking. Searching for your face... But you weren't there.

      They told me you were dead.

      Poor Storm... She looked into my eyes and tried to tell me. Tried to tell me
      that you were still inside when the building exploded. That no one, not even
      you, could've survived a blast like that. But I couldn't hear her words.
      Not over the sound of someone screaming in my ears... Over and over again,
      'no'. No. No...

      You couldn't be dead. Not you... You'd promised me you'd come back. You'd
      hugged me before you left, laughing and telling me that, since you'd already
      survived touching me twice, you could survive anything. Anything...

      And I'd believed you.

      I'd stood there, in the hangar, demanding to see your body. Jean wouldn't
      meet my eyes when she told me the building was demolished, up in flames, and
      they hadn't been able to look for one. God help me, if Scott hadn't jumped
      in front of me, Jean, I would've hit you. How dare you not bring him back to
      me. How dare you not bring back something for me to mourn...

      So I didn't believe them.

      You were still out there. Alive, somewhere, somehow. I knew it.

      And I clung to that belief. I held it to me each day, when I had to drag
      myself out of bed. Force myself to eat. Stare vacantly while I sat in on
      whatever class I was suppose to be in at the time. I would've forgotten all
      about classes, if it hadn't been for Jubilee. She never spoke about it.
      Just put my books in my bag and gently herded me to where I belonged.

      Belonged.... Such a strange word. I never belonged anywhere but with you...

      I held on that first week, never wavering. Always looking out the window,
      waiting. Waiting for you to come back and prove them wrong. Waiting for you
      to come back to me and make me whole again...

      But the week bled into the next, and then the third. And my fingers grew
      numb and I couldn't hold on so tightly anymore. It ended when Scott came to
      my room after dinner that one night. I sat at my desk, while he took a seat
      on the bed and stared at his hands. When he started to speak, I tried to
      drown him out. Tried not to listen. Listen as he told me how sorry he
      was... How he'd wished he'd been quicker, stronger, able to stop you from
      charging recklessly ahead of the others. How he wished he could've brought
      you back for a proper burial. How he wished he could take the pain away...

      And the tears started then. They started and they wouldn't stop. They fell
      down my face, splattering on my gloves, on the desk. Like a river, they just
      kept coming... Scott hugged me then. Not like you held me. No one ever
      held me so naturally, so unafraid, as you did... But he held me while I
      cried. And then he put me to bed, and waited. Holding my hand until I fell
      asleep finally. Still crying...

      The days were harder to face after that. The pain... It was so raw, so
      strong, I couldn't deny it anymore. You were gone and you were never coming
      back. I didn't know how to keep going. The others, they stepped so warily
      around me then. They didn't want to do the wrong thing, to say the wrong
      thing. They never said your name...

      It was the Professor who suggested I spend time in the gardens. He knew I
      couldn't bear to be with anyone else. Couldn't bear to look around and see
      the smiles, hear the laughter. Not when it felt like I was dying inside. So
      he told me to go into the gardens. To spend time there, reading, or
      thinking, or gardening. Whatever I wanted. Whatever I needed to do. Mostly
      I just sat. Sat and stared at the growing things. Even in the cold chill of
      early winter, leaves still clung to so many branches. And I hated them. I
      hated those plants. For their life. For their tenacity... I hated them just
      for being alive. For not being you...

      So I just sat there. On the cold bench. And stared. Lost in my own pain...

      Maybe that's why I didn't hear it at first. Maybe I didn't want to hear
      it... Motorcycles passed by the gates to the school all the time. After
      that first week, I'd given up on hoping, each time I heard one, that it was
      you. Coming back to me...

      But this time the engine didn't drone off into the distance. It got closer
      and closer to the mansion. When the roar suddenly cut off, I could hear my
      own heart thudding in my ears. And I could feel the pain surging up inside
      again. And I hated myself for hoping. So I drowned it all out. Wrapped my
      pain around me and let the world fall away again. It couldn't be you. You
      were gone. You were dead. They'd said so.

      "Marie." God, I must be going insane, because now I can hear your voice.
      Can hear the soft sound of my own name from your lips. This isn't real.
      This can't be real. I can't hope again... So I close my eyes tighter and I
      can feel my shoulders starting to shake. Can feel the tears starting again,
      tracing old familiar paths down my cheeks...

      Then someone is kneeling in front of me. Someone is taking my hands and
      holding them tightly.

      "Marie... open your eyes..."

      So I do. And you're there. You're there, kneeling in front of me. Your
      face so worn and tired. Barely faded scars crisscrossing it... Your eyes so
      gentle as they look up at me... And the tears come harder, and the shaking
      gets worse as I realize you're there. You're really there and you're alive.
      Not dead. Not dead...

      And then you're holding me tightly, whispering urgent words into my ear.
      About how sorry you are to have hurt me. How it'd taken you this long to
      heal enough to come back. But it doesn't matter. None of it matters. All
      that matters is that you're alive. The arms that hold me are warm, strong
      and alive. You're alive. And you've come back to me... Nothing else
      matters, because we're together. And I am whole again.

      The end.
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