Night Butterflies 1/?
- Title: Night Butterflies 1/?
Authors: Khaki (rimmette@...) and Loki (loki2@...)
Disclaimer: We own nothing, Stan Lee and Fox own everthing. We are
only borrowing these characters for a short time, returning them
relatively unharmed, if a little worse for wear.
Summary: This is a movieverse fan fiction that involves Logan,
Jubilee, and Rogue predominantly. It takes place three years after
the movie, when Logan returns to the mansion after finding out about
After three years of searching, of tracking down leads and traveling
all over the world, he finally knew everything there was to know
about his past. The knowledge upset him more than he'd ever dreamed
possible. He had become a murderer, an animal. He'd been the
government's plaything since he'd left home to fight in a war he had
nothing to do with. Deep down, he knew he didn't want to go. They
forced him to fight young men like him, to kill or be killed. So he'd
killed, and killed again. Logan couldn't remember for sure which war
it was, but the memories haunted him: the images of rotten corpses
in trenches, lost souls more dead than alive, tumbling in bloodied
mud among their fallen comrades and foes, the smell of death on the
living... Was it the Great War, during which so many young men turned
into uncaring killing machines, just like he did?... He couldn't say,
he didn't care. He had no family, no friends, nothing.
His life, since he'd lost his memories, had been dark and lonely.
He'd traveled from bar to bar, taking out his anger and impotent rage
on the drunks who foolishly challenged him. He'd always thought,
though, that one day he would remember his past, and his life would
get better. Since he couldn't remember it, he'd made up a past for
himself. He'd had a family, a wife, kids, people who loved him and
whom he'd loved. When he remembered, he'd be able to go back and be
with them. It was a lie he'd embellished over the years until it was
more real to him than his daily existence.
Now he knew the truth. Before he'd volunteered, he still couldn't
believe he'd freakin' volunteered, to have the adamantium grafted to
his skeleton, he had been a machine working for faceless men, killing
who they told him to, when they told him to. He was nothing.
As he lay on the threadbare and stained bed in the no-star hotel that
was his current residence, he thought about his dark, hopeless life.
There had been one bright spot, though. One week, where he'd been
noble. Where he'd cared more for someone else than he had for
himself. He clung to those memories like a drowning man to a life
Marie. She'd be about 20 now. He could imagine how the years had
turned her young body into a woman's. He remembered the way she'd
smiled when he'd left her so long ago, promising to return. He
remembered the anguish he'd gone through trying to save her, how her
life was so much more important than anything else. She brought
light into his world for the first and only time. He had to be with
At that realization, Logan rose from the bed, dressing quickly and
packing his meager belongings. It didn't matter that it was two in
the morning. It didn't matter that it was pouring rain outside.
Starting up his "borrowed" bike, he began the two-day, non-stop ride
back to Westchester, back to Marie.
He arrived at four in the afternoon two days later. The students
were playing on the grounds, school obviously over. Not wanting to
attract attention, he stopped the bike at the gate and sniffed at the
breeze. He immediately caught her scent, drifting from his right.
He didn't want to see anyone but Marie. He couldn't wait any
During his trip, he thought about what life would be like once he got
back. He dreamed about their future lives, and realized that no
matter how close they would be, no matter how much time they would
spend together, it wasn't enough. The pain was so intense, being
separated from her now. How could he bear being separated from her
for a day, an hour, a minute? He had to be with her, forever. He
knew what he had to do.
Creeping silently along the edge of the property, stalking her
familiar scent, he found her sitting under a tree by the lake, just
out of sight of the mansion. Pausing a moment, he watched her
sitting peacefully, her white-streaked hair catching the sunlight.
Oh how he loved this woman; she was his life; she was his salvation.
Leaping out of his hiding place, he landed, crouched beside her. She
startled, bringing up her hands to defend herself. He grabbed them
easily, pulling them down to her sides.
"Marie," he growled, then unable to resist any longer, he leaned over
and kissed her. The taste of her, the touch of her lips against his
was heavenly. He felt the connection open between them. The first
time she'd touched him, he'd resisted. The second time, he'd allowed
her to take what she needed. This time, he gave himself
wholeheartedly, speeding up her powers by actively willing himself
into her head.
Her eyes widened in shock, and she tried to pull away, but he had a
firm grip on her arms and the tree against her back prevented any
escape. He kept kissing her tenderly as he felt himself weaken. Oh
how he wished he had enough time to show her what a real kiss could
be like, but he was fading quickly, losing himself in her.
~It's all right, baby.~ he thought to her. ~It'll all be over soon.~
Her struggling increased as his limbs grew weaker. Soon, his body
was too clumsy to remain upright and they fell to the side. He
pulled his hands up to her face to caress her cheeks as he stopped
kissing her, laying his head down against her face so their skin
still touched. His body was so heavy now. He could feel the metal
lining his bones, weighing him down. Soon, very soon, he would be
free of it all.
Marie started to cry and scream, pushing at his heavy body, not
strong enough to shift his weight off of her.
"No! Logan! Stop!... Help!!!!"
He heard her the scrape of rubber wheels on concrete approaching
fast, then a flash of pain, then nothing.
Jubilee had been rollerblading around the property when she heard
Rogue's shrieking. Reaching the lake, she saw the hulking shape of a
man lying on top of her friend. She immediately went into action,
paffing the intruder. The fireworks hit whoever it was squarely in
the side, throwing him up and over Rogue's body.
Scooting her rollerblades over the grass as fast as she could, she
found Rogue laying on the ground, tears on her face, staring up at
the sky, unseeing.
"Rogue? What happened? Who..."
Remembering the man she had paffed, she turned around and rolled the
limp body over. It was that guy that had saved Rogue so long ago,
Logan. His shirt was singed and burned, and so was the skin
underneath. Remembering her first-aid classes, she checked the
ABCs: airway, breathing and circulation. No heartbeat, no pulse,
she had killed him.
No! She immediately started CPR, hoping that Rogue would get help.
Jean and Scott hear Rogue's screams and Jubilee's fireworks from the
patio of the mansion. When Jean did a scan of the terrified girl's
minds, she knew something was desperately wrong. Rogue's was a
confusing jumble and Jubilee...
~Jubilee?~ she mentally called.
~Dr. Summers, it's Logan. He doesn't have a pulse. I tried CPR, but
I can't get his ribs to move,~ Jubilee said, a tinge of panic in her
Jean went into full doctor mode. ~Keep up the rescue breathing,
Jubilee. I'll be right there.~
Forgoing the elevator and running down the stairs to the med lab,
taking 2 to 3 steps at a time, she pulled out the emergency medical
packs. Scott had followed her, alarmed by her frantic behavior.
"Jean, what's wrong. What can I do to help?"
"Grab a stretcher and bring it out to the lake," Jean yelled as she
ran down the hall.
Running back to the lake and pushing through the crowd of curious
children that had gathered there, she yelled, "Everyone out of here
She vaguely heard 'Ro's voice calming the children and instructing
them to leave, but her full attention to Jubilee and her patient.
Logan was deathly pale and still. He looked like he was already gone.
"Keep going, Jubilee," she said, as she started the battery charger
on the portable heart stimulator and pulled out her needles and
medications. She wanted to ask what happened, but Jubilee was busy
breathing for Logan and Rogue was completely out of it. She'd have
to take her best guess and treat Logan accordingly. The minor burn
on his side looked like Jubilee's handiwork. It wasn't healing so he
must have touched Rogue, too. She administered adrenaline and
grabbed the heart paddles.
Cutting and ripping through at least three shirts (who needed to wear
that many layers?), she finally reached bare skin.
Setting the charge to 100, she called, "Clear."
Once Jubilee removed her hands from Logan, she triggered the paddles,
shocking his heart and causing his body to jump. Nothing. His heart
hadn't even beat once in response to the stimulation. The metal in
his skeleton must be conducting the charge away from his heart.
Increasing the charge to 300 and then 400, she continued to
administer the shocks. Nothing. She gave Logan a larger dose of
adrenaline and shocked him again.
The monitor spiked as it registered a heart beat, then another one.
Soon, the readings showed a steady sinus rhythm. Still, he wasn't
"Jubilee, stop for a second," she said. "I need to intubate him."
Putting the plastic tubing down his throat and attaching an air bulb,
Jubilee was now able to keep him breathing by squeezing and releasing
Scott had arrived minutes earlier with the stretcher, and now they
wrestled Logan's body onto it. They wheeled him over the open grass
field, past the shocked students, into the mansion, and down to the
Remy, who had finally heard the commotion and come running, stayed
behind with Rogue, who still hadn't said a word or come out of her
Jean spent the next half hour, hooking Logan up to a mechanical
respirator, cleaning and dressing his burn, and connecting IVs and
montiors. She then affixed her specialized pager to her belt. It
would let her know in an instant if Logan's vital signs changed in
He'd been gone for three years. What was he doing back? What had
happened out there by the lake? She needed answers and she wanted
~Jean, now that you're done, will you please come to my office?~ the
professor's mental voice asked.
Jean psychically acknowledged, and left the injured man behind.