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FIC: 'Til Death Do Us Part 4/7

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  • rimmette@earthlink.net
    Disclaimers, etc. in part one. ***** Jean was back on the first floor, heading towards the front desk, when she saw Scott at the entrance. Seeing him standing
    Message 1 of 1 , Apr 30 7:23 PM
      Disclaimers, etc. in part one.

      *****

      Jean was back on the first floor, heading towards the front desk,
      when she saw Scott at the entrance. Seeing him standing there asking
      the receptionist for help, she was struck by how quickly she could
      lose him, like Logan had lost Rogue.

      Breaking into a run, she quickly reached him, throwing her arms
      around him even as her body was wracked with sobs.

      "Jean? Jean, what's wrong? What happened?" Scott asked, but her
      choking, hitching breaths wouldn't allow her to speak.

      She could feel his worry growing so she opened their mental
      connection. ~Scott, it's Rogue. She died. There was a car accident
      and she died!~

      Scott reeled at the news like he'd been physically struck. He and
      Rogue had become close over the years. He'd come to think of her as
      sort of a little sister. But now, dead? No!

      ~What?... Accident?... Died?~ he asked, so stunned he couldn't form
      coherent sentences, even across their link.

      Through gasps Jean answered, "Rogue... and Anna."

      "They're both dead?!?" Scott asked, his voice rising in volume.

      "No, Anna's... in surgery," Jean hiccuped. "I'm... Logan asked me...
      I've got to... observe the operation."

      "Where's Logan?" Scott asked, his voice taking on the serious tone he
      used when he lead the X-Men into battle. He had to put on that mask
      to maintain what little control he still had over his emotions.

      "In the... morgue. With Rogue."

      Scott nodded tersely even though that statement cut into his heart.
      He had to be the strong one. Jean was already falling apart. "Ok.
      Get in to observe the surgery like Logan asked. I'll send him to the
      waiting room so you can keep him updated."

      "Scott. What... what are you doing here? How did you know to come?"
      Jean asked, still clinging to him, but regaining some composure.

      "I came with Hank when I heard there was something wrong. He's
      already left with the girl."

      Jean sighed. She had almost forgotten about Shelley and was glad
      that Hank was taking care of her. Now she could focus all her
      energies on Anna... and Logan.

      "Go, Jean. I'll deal with Logan."

      -----

      Scott was shocked by the image that greeted him as he entered the
      morgue. Logan was sitting on a gurney clutching Rogue to his chest,
      her head bobbing loosely on her shoulders as he stroked her hair and
      rocked her gently. Her face was a mass of cuts, her forehead and
      hair covered in brown, old blood.

      Logan was whispering something as he rocked, but Scott couldn't make
      it out over the voice of the lab tech. She was on the phone, her
      abandoned sandwich lying before her.

      "He's not supposed to be here... No, he's just holding one of the
      bodies... No... No... Look, are you gonna send someone or
      what?... Yeah, thanks for nothing!" She slammed down the phone and
      looked up at Scott. "Not another one! Look, you're not supposed to
      be down here. You have to leave, and take him, too, while you're at
      it."

      Scott ignored her, walking up to Logan and placing a hand on his
      shoulder.

      "Logan?"

      The man continued rocking, but now that Scott was closer and that
      mousy, lab tech had finally shut up, he could tell what he was
      saying. Logan was whispering over and over. "Love you, Marie...
      Please... So sorry, baby..."

      "What are you sorry about, Logan?"

      Logan stopped rocking, but didn't respond. Rogue's head lolled to
      the side, and her half-opened, glassy eyes met Scott's in an empty
      stare.

      A chill ran through him, and he said, "Logan, you have to put her
      down. Let her go and put her down."

      "Can't..." Logan whispered.

      "Logan, you have to..."

      "NO!" Logan yelled, gripping his wife's body more tightly to his
      chest. "If I just... If I hold on long enough, it'll work... She'll
      come back... It'll work."

      Scott shook his head. Rogue's injuries, her grey skin, blue lips,
      and sightless eyes proved that there was no hope. "Logan, she's
      dead," he said, his voice cracking with the effort to choke down the
      pain those words caused him. "She's not coming back."

      He saw Logan stiffen as his words hit their mark. He expected rage,
      anger, violent protests that Rogue would be ok. He half expected
      three claws through the gut for his bluntness.

      Instead, he heard Logan whine, "I know."

      Scott watched as the man before him shook, his shoulders rising and
      falling as silent sobs wracked his body. Logan gently laid his wife
      back down on the bed, tears flowing freely as he positioned her just
      so, stroking one white streak lovingly.

      Scott did the only thing he could think of. He pulled Logan into a
      strong hug. Instead of pulling away, Logan hugged him back tightly,
      his gasping sobs more vocal now. Finally allowing his own grief to
      reach the surface, Scott's vision blurred as he joined Logan in his
      mourning.

      Hours could have passed as both men cried, unashamedly. Logan was
      the first to speak.

      "Why? If it had to be one of us, why her?"

      Scott pulled back to look into the other man's worn and pain-filled
      features. "I don't know."

      "I would've died for her. I was ready to die for her, but I can't!
      Why can't I die?!?" Logan jumped from the bed and started pacing
      back and forth among the other shrouded corpses.

      Scott just sat dumbstruck on the edge of Rogue's gurney, watching
      Logan fall apart.

      "I've tried! Don't you think I've tried! Almost every day for those
      15 damn years before Marie! I tried everything, but I always
      healed! Why!?!?"

      *SCHUKK* Logan released a single bone claw on his right hand and dug
      it into his left arm, cutting deeply into the flesh from wrist to
      elbow. Even before he had finished cutting, the wound had started to
      heal. In seconds, the only evidence of the wound was a trail of
      blood down his arm.

      "You see?!"

      Logan's self-mutilation shook Scott out of his grief-stricken stupor,
      and he acted. "Logan, you can't die. Not because of your healing
      factor, but because of your children. Mike needs you. Anna's
      upstairs right now in surgery. She needs you. They've already lost
      their mother. Don't take away their father, too."

      "Mike... Anna... Anna's hurt!" Logan said, rubbing both hands
      through his hair.

      "You have to go up there, Logan. Jean will come out and give you
      updates."

      Turning back to point at his wife, Logan said, "But, Marie. I
      can't... can't leave her down here. She wouldn't like... She wants
      to go home."

      "I'll take care of it, Logan. I'll make all the arrangement and take
      her home myself. Trust me."

      "Now!" Logan demanded. "Don't leave her here alone."

      "Yes. Now," Scott agreed. "I'll make the arrangements from here
      right now... Go. Anna needs you."

      Logan nodded returning to Marie's side one last time, he leaned over
      and kissed her softly on the lips before turning and leaving her to
      Scott's care.

      -----

      Logan paced. He couldn't sit. Not while Marie was dead, not while
      Anna was in danger of joining her. Jean had come out a few times in
      the last couple of hours. They'd had to remove her spleen. It was
      damaged too badly to repair.

      "It's ok," Jean had reassured him. "People can survive and live
      normal lives without a spleen."

      He had just nodded and told her to go back in. She had said that
      they were lucky this was a teaching hospital. The operating rooms
      were more like theaters, with seats where students could watch. With
      her credentials, Jean had been allowed to observe.

      Logan had been furious at the thought of some snot-nosed, pimple-
      faced students watching his daughter's suffering, but Jean had
      quickly assured him that she was the only one up there now.

      After a few hours, a young, blond woman had joined Logan in the
      waiting room. She told him her name and that her son was having
      surgery, but Logan didn't pay any attention to what she was saying,
      too caught up in his own worries and guilt.

      "Coffee?"

      Logan looked up at her, not pausing in his pacing. "What?"

      "I asked if you wanted some coffee. I was going to get some and
      thought..."

      "Sure," Logan said. He could use a cup, and it would get rid of her
      for at least a few minutes.

      He was back in his own thoughts when he heard, "Cream, sugah?"

      Freezing, his whole attention focused on her, he growled, "What did
      you say?"

      She stepped back, shocked at his reaction to her simple
      question. "I... I asked if you wanted... cream or sugar."

      "Black," he answered and resumed his pacing, shaking off the feeling
      her words had left him with.

      *****

      See part five.
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