Fic: The Long Hard Road Out of Hell 6/7 [Logan, Rogue, others]
- Disclaimers etc. in Part 1
This hasn't been fully betaed, but I'm impatient.
< > indicates thoughts
~ ~ indicates telepathic conversation
// // indicates memories
The Long Hard Road Out of Hell
Dr. Braddock arrived, a cheery British blonde woman with an air of
confidence about her. She and Rogue met for hours at a time, and Rogue
seemed to be improving slightly.
She no longer flinched at incidental contact, and none of the telepaths
could pick up any suicidal thoughts from her. They threatened to take away
her cigarettes unless she stopped burning herself, so she promised not to do
A week slid into two and then three. Dr. Braddock had to return to
England -- she had patients to treat at home, and she was confident that
Jean and the professor could continue Rogue's counseling on their own.
It was just the break Calhoun was waiting for.
He started whispering to her again, and thinking about all the things he'd
like to do to the other women at the mansion. When he picked up on Logan's
interest in Jean, he focused solely on her, unspooling lurid, violent
fantasies in which the redheaded doctor was the star and Logan was a
It was easy to begin burning herself again. She pressed the cigarettes to
her poison skin in places even Jean wouldn't look, unless she were doing a
full physical. On the insides of her thighs and on her belly. The pain felt
good, because pain meant she was fighting against the perversion in her
She also took to avoiding Jean -- it was easier not to face her after
Calhoun imagined pushing her down onto the dining room table and spreading
Rogue bumped into her after one of these episodes, and she shook so badly
she had to run outside. Logan followed. He found her on a bench in the
garden, lighting a cigarette.
"What's wrong, kid?"
"Nicotine fit," she lied, inhaling deeply and cursing his presence. It meant
she couldn't burn herself.
He let the comment pass. Something about Jean had upset her, and he'd get to
the bottom of it eventually. They smoked in companionable silence for a
while, watching the sky darken as the sun went down.
He slipped an arm around her when he felt her shiver, and she curled up next
to him on the bench.
It was almost like old times, he could almost forget that two and a half
years had passed since they'd last sat together like this.
And then her arms snaked around him and she pressed her lips to his collar.
He drew a deep breath and said, "Marie."
She slid a gloved hand down his chest and then up under his t-shirt,
enjoying the play of muscles as he tensed. "C'mon, Logan. It'd be fun." She
climbed into his lap, putting her knees on either side of his thighs and
rubbing against him. Her lips traced a warm, damp path down his chest as her
hands moved up and down his back. He thought he'd never felt anything as
good as the fine leather of her gloves on his skin. His eyes closed and his
head fell back and she hissed his name as she rocked into him. "I want to be
with you, Logan. You can even pretend I'm Jean if you want."
It was like someone had thrown cold water on him. He realized he was about
to take advantage of a young woman he loved very much while she was in an
extremely vulnerable state. He pulled her hands out from under his shirt and
lifted her off his lap.
"Keep it a fantasy, kid," he said gently. "It's better than reality ever
"Is that what you learned from fucking Jean?" she asked, pressing against
him, the coldness in her voice contrasting with the heat of her body.
"One of the things," he muttered, pulling away, remembering how disappointed
he was in Jean, in himself, at how easy it was to get her into bed. Somehow,
he'd both wanted to sleep with her and yet have her remain faithful to
Scooter. It was a bitter truth that he'd come to dislike her for being so
ready to betray her husband in a fit of anger for some hot sex with someone
who was almost a stranger. He'd come to dislike himself even more for
betraying a man who'd never wronged him, and for whom, in fact, he felt a
"You want me, though. I could tell." She sounded hurt, and he wondered how
he could explain.
"I do, Marie, more than anything. But right now, you're all messed up. And
that shit about Jean -- it can't be that way with us. You understand?"
"I guess," she said doubtfully, standing up. She wouldn't look at him as she
He sat there for a few more minutes, and then went in search of Jean.
"What's going on with you and Marie?" he asked bluntly when he found her in
"How do you mean?"
"She ran out of here shaking earlier when she saw you. What's that about?"
Jean looked puzzled. "Honestly, Logan, she and I have become friends in the
time that you were gone. She's like, like a sister to me and Scott. Unless "
her voice faded away as she thought. "I'll talk with the professor, but I
thought Calhoun's presence had faded since you've been back."
"What would that cocksucker have to do with this?" Logan asked.
"One of the things he made her do was attack Kitty."
"Shit," he muttered.
She ignored him and continued, "Theoretically, it's possible that he's
targeting me now. If his presence has manifested again."
"Why would that make her come on to me?"
"What?" Jean asked, startled.
"Outside, just now, she made a pass at me. And it was damned hard to
resist." He paced the kitchen, dying for the opportunity to meet the bastard
who'd done this to Marie.
"I think that's all her, Logan. She's got a crush on you, and even -- what
happened -- before you left didn't diminish that."
"It's more than a fucking crush, Red," he growled.
She inclined her head. "Yes," she said softly. "It is." She got up and put a
hand on his arm. "Don't worry, Logan. We have a session in the morning. If
she won't talk to me about it, I'm sure Charles will think of some way to
find out what's going on with her."
"You can't just -- you know -- look in her head?" he asked, sounding very
"That's a violation of trust, Logan, and you know it. She doesn't like it
any more than you do."
He exhaled gustily. "I suppose. G'night, Jean. And, well, you know --"
"I know, Logan," she whispered, and he walked away.
Rogue sat on the roof, sobs wracking her body as Calhoun whispered in her
mind. <He doesn't want you. He just wants the redheaded bitch. Make him
"No," she said.
<Yes. You're just a kid, sweet, little Marie. A burden. Worrying about you
is dragging him down.>
The Logan in her head tried to refute that, but since he *had* thought of
her as a kid, had worried about being obligated, Calhoun's poison found its
mark. She lit a cigarette and, raising her shirt, pressed it to her belly,
hissing with pain.
<If he doesn't want you, fucked up as he is, no one else is ever going to
either. Just end it, Rogue. End it now. Make him pay.> As she ringed her
navel with burns, Calhoun seemed to be making a strange sort of sense.
She thought about just letting herself fall off the roof, but he didn't like
that idea. <Go to his room. Startle him. Think of how much it'll hurt him
when he kills you -- he'll be a murderer, without a friend in the world.>
She ignored Logan's voice begging her not to do it.
Rogue re-entered the mansion and headed toward her room. She had to be
certain this time that she died. Pulling on tights and a bodysuit under her
nightgown, she climbed into bed and waited for the right moment to go to
He tossed and turned and heard his name being called softly. He was having
the nightmare again. Jean was above him, naked and flushed, as the door
opened and Marie walked in. He tried to explain away his betrayal as she
watched him with such pain in her eyes. He jumped, and in the way of dreams,
Jean turned into Marie just as the claws came out and slid into her torso
with sickening ease. "I love you," she whispered, falling to the floor,
He bolted upright, claws unsheathed, shouting, "No!"
And then he smelled her. It wasn't a nightmare. <Oh, God.> "No! Marie!" <Oh,
God, not again.>
He retracted the blades and she fell to the floor, smiling. "Thank you," she
The smell of her blood was overwhelming, and it made him dizzy with fear. He
could heal her; he could fix this. She was covered in fabric from head to
toe. He ran his hands up her legs, encased in thick black tights under the
cotton nightgown she wore. Her hands were gloved under the long sleeves. He
yanked the nightgown up, startled to see a series of round, black marks
encircling her belly button and marching up her sternum. He pressed his hand
to her stomach and cursed when he realized she wore a nylon body stocking.
"Fuck." She was going to die before he was able to heal her.
"Love you," she whispered and the echoes of his dream sounded in his head.
In desperation, he realized the only skin he could touch was her face. He
pressed his lips to her forehead, much as he'd done at the top of the Statue
of Liberty, and then slid down to taste her lips. He cupped her cheek with
his right hand as his left arm came around to cradle her limp body. "Come
on, baby. Please don't die. Come on," he murmured against her lips, feeling
the pull begin. He threw his mind into it, willing himself and all his
healing power into her
He wasn't aware of the others in the doorway, how Jean and Scott and Ororo
rushed in to try and separate them. All he knew was that he was going to
heal Marie, and if he had to die to do it, well, it was okay with him.
He felt rather than heard her gasp as her eyes flew open and she struggled
to pull away from him. He was weakened; he fell back against the bed,
passing out, content in the knowledge that she was still alive.
Thats one more kid wholl never get to go to school / Never get to fall in
love / Never get to be cool Rockin in the Free World Neil Young
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