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FIC: 'Til Death Do Us Part 3/7

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  • rimmette@earthlink.net
    Disclaimers, etc. in part one. ***** Logan?! Jean cried from the back of the van as it sped down the street. Looking out the window, she saw that they were
    Message 1 of 1 , Apr 30, 2001
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      Disclaimers, etc. in part one.


      "Logan?!" Jean cried from the back of the van as it sped down the
      street. Looking out the window, she saw that they were now heading
      away from the mansion. Even without actively scanning his mind, she
      could sense the panic and terror emanating from him in waves. Still,
      Shelley needed medical attention, and it was her responsibility to
      ensure she got it.

      "Logan. Stop the van," she ordered as she made her way to the front,
      grasping the seat backs as he made a dangerously sharp turn onto a
      side street. He ignored her command so she used her telekinesis to
      push down on the brake, slowing their speed considerably.

      Logan roared and with a wet *SCHUKK* she heard and saw his bone claws
      emerge inches from her face. She could feel his powerful rage and
      knew that if she hadn't been one of his long-time friends, she'd
      already be dead. Immediately releasing the pressure on the brake, she
      backed away, allowing him to resume his attempt to break all land-
      speed records.

      ~Professor,~ Jean mentally called. ~Something's happened. Logan's
      emotions are out of control. Shelley needs help, and he's driving us
      in the wrong direction. I don't know what I should do. Should I scan

      After a pause, Professor Xavier responded, ~He's heading back to
      Mercy Hospital, and he needs you to stay with him. I'll send Hank to
      pick up Shelley. She's stable now?~

      ~For the moment, but what's going on?~

      ~His emotions are very strong. I can't get a clear reading, but
      something has happened to Anna and Rogue. Stay with him, Jean.~


      Logan barely registered the cars that shared the road with him. They
      were only obstacles to avoid as he made his way toward his goal.

      The smell of death still lingered with him, but he couldn't accept
      it. There were all sorts of new medical advances. People died and
      were brought back all the time. Marie and Anna would be fine. If he
      could just get to them, he'd see they were ok.

      What were they doing out here anyway? Marie taught late on Fridays
      and Anna... Anna had soccer practice. He'd forgotten. He always
      picked her up. Marie must've gone and... Guilt filled his soul as he
      realized, it was all his fault. He should've been the one to drive
      Anna home. If he had been there, maybe the accident wouldn't have
      happened. Marie would definitely be safe now, and maybe Anna would be
      all right as well.

      No. He wouldn't let himself get distracted. He just had to get this
      insanely slow van another few blocks, and he'd see everything was all
      right. They were probably just bruised and scratched up a bit. The
      smells in the Jeep had probably been from the person they'd hit.
      Everything was gonna be ok.


      Logan screeched to a stop in front of the Emergency Room doors and
      ran into the hospital. Jean left Shelley with a few reassuring words
      and a promise that someone would be with her shortly, then ran after
      him. By the time she arrived at the check-in counter, she saw Logan
      holding a doctor up to the wall by his scrub front.

      "You smell like Anna. Where is she? Where's Marie? What happened to
      them?" he demanded.

      Jean could hear a nurse call for security, and she ran up to Logan,
      trying to calm him at least a little, so they wouldn't be thrown out
      before they got any information.

      If Logan heard her, he gave no indication. His steady gaze was
      focused solely on the man in front of him.

      Jean turned to the terrified man in his grasp, sending out feelings
      of soothing peace in an effort to calm him down enough to get some
      answers, then she said, "Anna is eight years old with dark brown hair
      and hazel eyes. She was probably brought here within the last hour
      after a car accident."

      The man nodded. "Yes, I treated her. Bad case. She was bleeding
      internally. I sent her up to surgery about fifteen minutes ago."

      Logan loosened his grip on the man slightly, anger being somewhat
      replaced by grief.

      "Marie?" he snarled.

      "The mother," Jean interpreted. "Brown hair with white streaks. Early-

      From the look on the doctor's face, Jean knew what he was going to
      say, but before she could stop him, he said, "I'm sorry. There was
      nothing we could do. She was dead on arrival."

      Jean expected Logan to slay the doctor where he stood, to howl in
      anger and pain, to destroy the emergency room in his grief, but he
      didn't do any of that.

      Instead, he fell limply to his knees, like a marionette whose strings
      had been cut. Holding his head in his hands, he slowly rocked back
      and forth, and Jean could hear him whispering, "No… no… no…" over and
      over again, almost as if he said it enough times, it would change
      what had happened.

      The doctor backed away from him, and waved the security guards away
      as well, leaving him to his grief.

      Jean stayed by his side, in shock at what had happened. Rogue, so
      young and full of life, was dead? No. Not like this. Not in some
      meaningless car accident. If anyone was going to die, Jean had been
      sure it would be in battle.

      How could someone be alive one minute and dead the next? Even after
      all her years of medical training and work as a doctor, she had never
      been good at understanding or accepting death. It was an enemy to be
      fought and defeated, not a part of life to be accepted. She had
      considered them truly lucky that they had never lost one of their
      team in all their years of battle. Now death had come to claim one of
      their own.

      Jean felt a tug on her pants leg as Logan reached out and grabbed
      her. Hugging himself to her legs like a child and still looking down
      at the floor, he whispered, "I… I have to… to see her, Jeanie.

      "I'll take care of it, Logan. Don't worry."

      Jean pulled herself away from his grasp, and went to the check-in
      desk as Logan wrapped his arms around himself and resuming his


      Logan shuffled down the hall like an old man, one hand dragging along
      the wall for support. He could smell the formaldehyde and other
      chemicals mixed with the scent of death from the moment he stepped
      off the elevator. There were no windows down here in the basement and
      the walls where a stark, cold off-white. Finally reaching the double
      doors with the sign "Morgue" above them, he froze.

      "Logan?" Jean asked, still by his side and ready to help where she

      "Could you do me a favor, Red?"


      "Check on Anna for me. See if they'll let ya into the operation. I
      don't trust these doctors." It was more words than he'd uttered since
      he'd heard the news. He didn't have the energy for speaking anymore,
      no energy for anything, in fact.

      "Are you sure? I mean... I could go with you if..."

      "Go on, Jeanie. Watch after my little girl."

      Jean nodded and turned back down the hallway for the elevators. Logan
      remained standing before the imposing doors, finally pushing them

      A bookish woman looked up from her dinner behind the desk, and after
      taking in his appearance, said, "Um, you're not supposed to be down
      here, sir."

      He didn't hear her, looking around the room in shock. They were
      obviously backed up, as there were several covered bodies on gurneys
      waiting to be processed. Marie's scent drifted from one of them.

      With shaking hands, he reached up and pulled back the sheet to reveal
      his wife's pale face. Her hair was matted with dried blood, the white
      streaks partially tinted with red. Her head was bent at an odd angle,
      and her eyes remained half-opened in a perpetual stare. Her
      expression surprised him, though, in that she looked almost peaceful.

      He reached out and gently turned her head into a more natural
      position, feeling the broken bones shifting in her neck. The skin
      under his bare hands was cold and lifeless. How many times over the
      years had he wished that he could safely touch her, skin-to-skin? Now
      that dream had been twisted into a nightmare.

      She was still wearing the outfit he'd seen her in this morning. It
      was dirty, grease-stained, and ripped in a few, little places, but
      the green material was still remarkably undamaged. How could her
      clothes have remained so untouched when the occupant was so badly

      Odd stains started appearing on her shirt, blossoming in little dots,
      and he realized he was crying. He hated showing weakness and had
      rarely cried in all his remembered life. Now, he sobbed openly for
      Marie pulling her body up into his arms and cradling her.

      "I love you," he whispered.


      See part four.
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