FIC: The Forgotten Few, 12/?
- 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.