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FIC: The Forgotten Few, 12/?

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  • Luvofcourfeyrac@aol.com
    Marie wasn t sure what made her more nauseous; the stench radiating from unwashed prisoners surrounding her, or the ever present reality that Logan, the man
    Message 1 of 1 , May 6, 2001
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      Marie wasn't sure what made her more nauseous; the stench
      radiating from unwashed prisoners surrounding her, or the ever
      present reality that Logan, the man she loved, had abandoned her and
      her friends...fed them to the dogs!
      His betrayal had severely altered the way Marie saw people.
      Until that point, she had, despite the mutant holocaust ruling her
      life, found people to be generally good. A few small, inconsequential
      pieces of information given to the public by an influential man in
      time of need was bound to result in the swaying of their feelings
      toward their mutant brothren. Masses had, since the dawn of time,
      been seen as fickle groupings, ready to turn at the blink of an eye.
      Wrapping her arms around her knees, Marie rested her chin on
      them, attempting to look around the crowded box car. There was no
      light, save that which streamed through the roof through several tiny
      slits. They served only to provide enough ventilation to keep those
      inside alive, and in several instances, they even failed at that.
      At night, the darkness spilled in, covering everyone in a
      thick cloud of black, so that if it weren't for the moaning agony
      around her, she would think herself alone in this trechery. She tried
      to keep her mind on more happy thoughts, straying as far from the
      realization that she could well be dead come the end of the week as
      humanly possible. Instead, she thought back to a time when all the X-
      Men remained. Days when nothing threatened the world, and they were
      free to lounge around the Mansion, often playing baseball, having
      picnics, or just sitting alone in silence, reveling in the peace that
      momentarily reigned over their lives.
      Inevitably, however, her memories forced her back to the day
      Logan left them. She'd woken up early and found the heat that was
      usually against her missing. She thought she'd heard a door close,
      but even now she wasn't sure if that was just her imagination. In the
      end, she'd searched the entire area several times, not truly
      believing that he would have just left. Still, there were only so
      many places he could have been, and when he didn't turn up in any of
      them, the truth had hit her hard.
      The look on Bobby's face as she told the others was
      heartbreaking. He had, as the leader, taken the responsibility onto
      his shoulders, despite the fact that it was her urging that had
      caused him to give in to allow Logan enterance into their safe haven.
      Somewhere, she thought that, even if he were against them, their
      hospitality and sense of family would affect him in some way. In the
      end, she made them look like fools.
      When they were dragged out into the streets, the thought of
      escape had reached her mind at some point. An instant later, however,
      she thought about the past year, the countless weeks of hiding away
      in the attic. And despite knowing the horrors those captured faced,
      it suddenly seemed better than escaping and being on the run again.
      Knowing that no matter where you went, someone was close behind you,
      watching your every move, waiting for you to mess up. She wanted to
      be able to move without fearing that a board would creak and someone
      would hear it and report her...
      Logan was there when they were herded into a transport truck.
      He was standing, hood pulled over his face to hide his presence to
      them. Still, she'd spent enough time with him to know when he was
      near. She had chanced a look at him for a moment, but he turned his
      head away as though ashamed with himself for having done this to them.
      Arnold Frank was separated from the X-Men. Marie didn't have
      to wonder what happened to him...it was a known fact that anyone
      housing a non-registered mutant was automatically charged with death
      upon their arrest. For that reason, she kept her eyes on her feet as
      they drove him away.

      It all seemed like an eternity ago and, she thought, maybe it
      was. Another lifetime ago, far from the one she was now faced with
      having to live. Despite her condition, being locked away like an
      animal, a faint chuckle rang through her as she wondered what Logan
      was doing at that moment. She still cared about him, of course, even
      though he'd thrown her to the wolves in a fit of self pity. Her
      laugh, growing louder by the moment, made her wonder if several days
      in a cell with strangers, given only her future to contemplate, had
      driven her to mad extremes.
      A rough jab to her ribs finally made her fall silent.
      Clutching her hands together tightly, she looked up at the roof of
      the boxcar and, closing her eyes, prayed to God that her friends
      would survive this. For if they didn't and she herself did, their
      blood would rest forever on her hands...a fate even the strongest of
      men couldn't handle guiltlessly.
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