Shirtless, he stepped into the cage. Sometimes, times like this, he could pretend it had never happened. He could pretend the last few years had been his imagination. A vivid, waking dream. The only thing that made that unreal, was the absence of his tags. So, he pretended he'd simply lost them. He was getting good at pretending.
At pretending he hadn't failed Rogue. At pretending he hadn't felt his heart ripped out of his chest when he'd killed Jean. At pretending he hadn't lost Charles, at pretending Scooter had never died.
At pretending none of them had existed anywhere other than in his mind.
It was back to square one. The same bar. He found himself looking over to the place he'd first seen her. He hoped, crazily, every time he saw a girl like her, it was her, but... it never was. He had no way of finding her. Charles was gone. Jean was gone. Not that that mattered, because she wasn't a mutant anymore.
His distraction had let his opponent land a few punches. He growled as he pulled himself forcibly back to the present. He swung his fist, but not nearly as hard as he could. He wanted to drag this out. He wanted to hurt, and be hurt. He wanted a distraction. He wanted to forget, to really and truly forget, and not just pretend he'd forgotten.
The fight was over too soon for his tastes. He rubbed at the knuckles of one hand, and he gazed through the wires of the cage, to the spot he always looked to. For a second, when he saw a shock of auburn hair over a black sweater, he thought it was her. "Marie.." but the girl turned, and when he saw her profile, he knew it wasn't.
He'd never felt such disappointment. He thought time would dull the ache, but it hadn't.
Why the hell hadn't he ever seen it before? That he had fallen in love with her, somewhere along the way. When had she gone from being the lost waif he'd picked up, to the woman who'd stolen his heart?
He fought his way numbly through three more opponents, and then the bar was closing. He settled onto a stool, and he just stared down the bar, to where she'd been, that night, years ago. He ran his fingers through his hair, and sighed heavily. "Baby, where are you?"
The bartender glanced at him. "Waitin' for someone special?" He continued to wipe the glass he'd been washing as he watched the Wolverine curiously.
"Yeah." He reached for a cigar, lighting it. "Doubt she'll show though." It was too much to hope they'd ever cross paths again. Why would they? It wasn't like she needed him, anymore. She was a human. She could live a normal life. Have boyfriends. Have sex. Have a life without him. He rubbed a hand down his face, nodding gratefully to the bartender when he set a beer down in front of him.
"Saw you in the cage." The woman settled down beside him. Dark hair, brilliant blue eyes, smelling of cheap perfume and sex.
He grunted in acknowlegement of her presence, but nothing else.
"I've never seen anyone fight quite like that before." Her hand boldly stroked along his arm.
"Taken," he growled, pulling his arm away.
"Funny, I don't see anyone else here." Indeed, the bar was nearly empty. "And I don't see a ring." She ran her hand down his arm to his hand, splaying her fingers over his.
He stood up, wordless, taking his beer and retreating to a table in the corner. He nursed his beer, staring at the door, as if he could will her to come in, to find him, to be with him.
He hadn't seen her since ... since before the bridge. Since she'd stood outside the jet, wished him good luck, and kissed him goodbye. He hadn't known then it was a forever sort of goodbye.
Three beers later, when he was the only one keeping the bar open, he sighed and rose. He didn't even sway as he made his way out the door, into the night, to the dingy hotel room that was like all the others. It was his old life ... like Xavier and his X-Men had never happened.
** ** **
Marie gazed out of the window of her apartment, gazing at the nightsky. Sometimes she regretted leaving like she had. But when she was cured, she wasn't one of them anymore. She didn't belong there, anymore. The question nagged her - where did she belong, then? Where did former mutants go?
She toyed with her hair. She'd taken to dying the white streaks, and had perfected the exact mixture of dye to match the rest of her hair. She figured her roots needed touching up, but...it could wait 'til tomorrow. Or the next day.
She wondered how everyone was doing. How things had gone down. She'd seen the news report, of course. Caught a glimpse of Bobby and John - though she only knew it was them by the display of their powers. The camera had been too far back for her to see their faces. Her heart ached for them, and she wondered how their battle had ended.
Sometimes, she still missed John. She wondered if he was still alive, somewhere.
She thought about Bobby, sometimes, though she tried not to. She figured he and Kitty were better suited for each other anyway.
Then, there was Logan. There was so much more she'd wanted to say to him before he left. But they'd been in a hurry to save the world, and she was afraid of what he'd say about her decision. She'd thought about it, long and hard, but how could she have not taken the cure? It wasn't like she could pretend to be normal. She wasn't like Kitty, or Bobby, or Piotr, or any of the others who could control their powers. She couldn't make her skin turn on and off at whim. She killed people when she touched them. Even if she didn't kill them, she absorbed them.
She hated having so many people in her head. They hadn't gone away with the cure, but they'd become quieter, and she had hope that one day, they'd fade entirely. She missed Logan's presence though.
Hell, she missed Logan. She knew she would though, and she tried to push the thoughts away. She knew Charles was dead. Jean was dead. Scott was dead. She missed them too, but in a different way. She didn't wonder what they were up to.
Sighing, she pushed away from the window. She was lonely, here. More lonely than she'd thought she'd be, since now she could touch and be touched. It just wasn't the same, living on her own. That was the only part she regretted - losing the company.
Not for the first time, she gazed at the phone, contemplating calling the school. But to what end? She wasn't a mutant. She had no place there. The place had too many memories, and not all of them good.
Restless, she turned on the TV, but the news disturbed her. There was no peace. No happy endings. She nearly clicked it off until she saw something that caught her attention. It was the very end of something, some story in Canada. It wasn't the story itself, so much as the flicker of an image. Snow, and a semi. The first night she'd seen him.
She wondered, if she went back there, would she find him again? She doubted it. What were the odds? Logan was a drifter by nature; he wouldn't go back there. Not to that bar. Even knowing it would be a wasted trip, she lifted the phone, calling in to work. Family emergency, she'd be out for a week at least, and she was very sorry.
Grinning, feeling like a fool, but excited all the same, she started tossing clothing into a duffle bag. It was probably the stupidest idea she'd had in a long while, but goddammit, she needed something, even if it was a wild goose chase.
** ** **
It took a few days, but she made it. The bar she'd first found him at. Things were the same, but so different. So much had happened to her. So very much. After she'd parked, she sat in her truck for a long while before she finally got the nerve to get out. Why was she so afraid? What would she find? He probably wasn't here. Then she realized that was probably it. She'd spent so much time fantasizing about their reunion. How she'd walk in, and he'd just... be there, with open arms, and he'd just... accept her.
It was stupid. A fantasy-stage she should've grown out of a long time ago.
Still, she hadn't driven all this way for nothing. She slipped out of the truck, locking it behind herself. She slipped her keys into her pocket, and made her way slowly into the bar. It was dark, and looked about the same as it had the first time she'd been there. Except ... Logan wasn't in the cage. It was, in fact, empty. Logan wasn't anywhere in the bar, and her heart sank. Well. What had she been expecting, really?
Shaking her head at her own foolishness, she started to turn away. "You lookin' for someone, kid?"
Kid. He used to call her that. She started to reply that she wasn't, but she stopped. "Logan. I ... don't know if you'd remember him."
"Can't say I know anyone by that name, kid."
She nodded, then realized he wouldn't know him that way. "Wolverine. Do you know where the Wolverine is?"
"Hell yeah I do. He left here for...just a sec." He pulled out a paper from beneath the bar.
Marie just stared as he consulted the paper. She didn't hear what he'd said, and she shook her head. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"
He laughed quietly, and passed a paper over to her. "This is where he's scheduled for the next week. I'm sure you can catch up with him."
Her hand was trembling as she took the paper. Part of her wondered if she was still in bed, dreaming the whole thing. Dark eyes focused on the paper. The next bar wasn't so far away from where she was, and he was there for two nights. She could make it. "Thank you. Thank you so much." She turned to hurry out of the bar, fumbling with her keys in her haste to unlock the truck. She nearly dropped them twice before she managed to slide the key home, and unlock the door. With a little squeal - how childish - she started her truck, and set on her way.
** ** **
Another cage. Another bar. Another series of fights. They were the same, bleeding together. It didn't matter where he was, who he was fighting. Nothing mattered. Just like before. It was better that way. Comfortable. No one depended on him. He didn't need anyone. As they carted his latest opponent out of the cage, he looked around at the crowd. It was a habit, though he couldn't understand why he kept doing it.
She was never there.
"Logan."
The single word was so quiet, he wasn't sure he'd heard it at all, even as his head whipped in the direction it had come from. It was her. Almost. Her hair was missing the white streak he'd grown so used to seeing. "Baby?" His voice cracked. Was it her, or was he so far gone he was having full blown hallucinations? He wouldn't doubt it. Not in the least.
But then she smiled up at him, that smile he recognized, and he couldn't get out of the cage fast enough. He collided with her, his arms tightening around her body, pulling her against him. He couldn't speak; words failed him. She was real, warm and solid in his arms. He lowered his head to hers, claiming her lips harshly, demanding, his tongue thrusting between her parted lips.
She wrapped her arms around him, submitted to the kiss briefly before returning it as hotly as he gave it. When she felt his hands on her waist, she rested her hands on his wrists, pulling her head back out of the kiss. "I missed you," she whispered.
"I want you," he growled. He had to feel her, to know she was real, really here. He was all set to take her against the wall of the bar, despite the people around them.
She could tell he was eager - well, that was an understatement - and she resisted slightly. "Logan...not here. Where's your room?"
He stared at her blankly, before the words sank in. His room. He lifted her effortlessly, and carried her out of the bar. He ran the short distance to his room, fumbling at the door before it finally swung open. He tossed her onto the bed, and he was strangely delighted to hear her laugh. He hadn't realized exactly how much he missed her, until she was gone.
"You never said goodbye." He hadn't meant the words to be accusing, but they came out that way. Almost petulant.
"I said goodbye," she replied quietly. "Before you guys left."
"I didn't know you meant goodbye," he protested softly.
"You didn't expect me to stay, did you? I had no place there. Not anymore. Not after..."
He shook his head. "I know. I just...I don't want to talk about it."
"You started it." But even as she said that, she was already pulling her shirt off.
"And I'm finishing it." He unfastened his jeans, pushing them down, baring himself to her.
"No fair. I had more on than you," muttered as she unfastened her jeans, shoving them down her legs, kicking off her shoes in the process. She glanced up to meet his eyes, and almost wished she hadn't. The pain there was so raw, so vivid. "Do you wish I hadn't come?"
"No. Jesus, baby, no." He settled onto the bed beside her, running his fingers through her hair. He could see the white at the roots, and a faint smile tugged his lips. "I just..." Just what? "I'm glad you're here. I can't do this. I can't live this kind of life. Not..."
"Shh." She pressed her fingers softly against his lips. "You dont want to talk about it." She kissed his lips gently, then harder as he moved his body over hers. "We can talk after, Logan. We can talk as long as you need to. After."
"After," he promised as he claimed her lips, thrusting himself deep inside of her, claiming her more completely.
Now that she was here, he would be all right. Everything, would be all right.