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Japan

Wolverine tugged the shackles around his arm. They clanked like steel and he smirked. They thought they could bind him with steel? -SNIKT- Chains fell to the floor and he moved to the bars. With two quick slashes he ‘X’d out a hole in the bars, stepping through it and scenting the air. There it was again, faint and elusive, but there. Mariko.
Wolverine cricked his neck back and forth, popping his joints. Whoever these people were, they knew him. From when he had no idea, but they knew him, which meant he knew them. All he had to do was remember. Yeah, right, Bub. If it was that easy why the hell didn’t ya just do that before?
He crouched low, listening. Trickles of water, a strange whirring sound, hissing, whispers. He moved, low and quick along the stone wall. He kept one hand pressed to the cool rocks, the other trailing behind him, claws extended, ready to go. He followed a narrow, winding staircase, noticing a faint glow coming from the darkened corridor. He sped forward, his feet silent on the ground, approaching the door with uncanny stealth.
“Took you long enough,” a deep voice said from behind the partially opened door.
Wolverine nudged the door open with the toe of his boot, staying hidden in shadow. He peered into the room and froze. On a bed, laying still and sleeping was the woman in his dreams. Her flawless features a little older, but much the same. Tubes ran into her arms, into her nose, the strange whirring and hissing sounds he had heard were coming from the ventilator. He stepped forward uneasily. “M’iko.”
The large man beside the bed stood, the silver of his suit catching the lights from the machines. “Ah, so you do remember her.”
Wolverine shook his head, his dark eyes not leaving the slight form. “Barely.”
“Come in, Logan-san.” The man gestured for him to enter.
Wolverine stepped forward, wary and watchful.
“Ever the hunter, I see.”
Wolverine shrugged. “You seem ta know me pretty well.”
“Obviously not.” The man responded. Wolverine noticed how his right hand rested on the hilt of the katana at his side, deceptively casual. He had a feeling that the man in front of him was a very dangerous enemy.
Wolverine approached the bed. Mariko lay so still, her chest barely rising and falling with the help of the machines. Looking at her made his chest ache. She was indescribably lovely, gentle looking and so very frail. Her dark tresses hung loose around her face, her lips pale against her even paler skin. He glanced at the bedside warrior. “What happened t’ her?”
The man scowled. “You happened.”
Wolverine shook his head. “I don’t remember.” He closed his eyes, breathing her in. Something flickered in his mind. Glimpses of a past that he had no recollection of.
~~~

“[You are home.]”
“[Yes, M’iko.]”
“[You were gone so very long this time. Why can you not tell me where you go?]”
He cupped her cheek. “[It is a side of me I hope you never see, my love.]”
“[I love you, Logan-san.]”
He smiled at her gently. “[I know, Mariko-chan. I know.]”
~~~
“She never stopped.”
Wolverine opened his eyes. “What happened, Keniuchio?”
The man looked startled. “So, you do remember?”
Wolverine was just as surprised by the use of the warrior’s name. “Bits and pieces. Nothing that tells me who the hell you are or she is for that matter.” He paused. “Where’s my companion?”
“The Kunoichi that was with you is safe. She is upstairs enjoying tea with Sunfire.”
Wolverine cocked his head. “You guys attack us, then offer us tea?”
“First, you came looking for us. Second, only she has been offered tea.”
“Right.” he gave the samurai a dark look. “You seem ta know me. Start talkin’.”
“You dare give me orders?”
-SNIKT- “I dare.”
“Did your time here teach you nothing? It is unwise to challenge your betters.”
Wolverine growled.
“I will not dishonor Mariko by engaging you in combat.” Keniuchio said. “Though it would give me great pleasure in removing your head from your shoulders, I made a solemn vow and I intend to keep it.”
At her name Wolverine looked back at the slight woman lying in the bed. “Were she and I married?”
The samurai gave a curt nod. “You were to be wed. The license, the ceremony, the rings. All was taken care of.” Keniuchio gazed down at Mariko. “Then you betrayed us all.”
“How?”
“I can help with this,” Betsy approached from the hallway, Sunfire, obviously drooling, following. Both of her hands began to glow, two small psychic spikes protruding from her fists. “Wolverine?”
He nodded, kneeling.
“Silver Samurai?”
He gave her a long hard look. “If she so much as sneezes, Shiro, take her out.” He knelt beside Wolverine on the floor.
“Agreed.” Sunfire affirmed.
“Well, gentlemen…Nighty night.” Betsy plunged her blades into their heads, linking their minds. She grit her teeth against the psychic recoil, but held firm, locking the two men together.

~~~

The Yashida stronghold was damn near impenetrable, at least that’s what intelligence had been told. Seemed pretty accurate to Logan. He gave the guarded entrance a once over from his vantage cross the street, camera in hand, looking as touristy as was possible for a ruthless killer to look. He snapped a few shots, but he wouldn’t need them, he knew the layout of the mansion already. Mariko had given him the guided tour. He smiled as he thought of her. She was the first woman he could remember he actually liked being around. She was his exact opposite. Slight and frail and gentle and calm. She was lovely and sweet, and the perfect mark. White teeth flashed as he thought how easy it had been to get her to trust him. Just a few garden conversations and a few flowers and she thought he was her dream man. ~More like nightmare.~
Days turned into weeks and weeks into months, and his and Mariko’s relationship kept growing. Stolen kisses in the hallway, a casual touch of hands at tea, shivers in the moonlight. She was putty to him and willingly gave up the information he needed, unknowingly betraying her family to him. The assassin sent to kill Shingen Yashida, her father. ~Merciless assassin.~
It is in the garden that they shared so many stolen moments that he finds her after he had slain her father. His claws still dripping crimson onto the rocks at his feet. His teeth are bared and he can feel her fear, see it in her eyes. She is terrified of him. He can smell it. It makes him sick. It excites him. ~Beast.~
The word is in the air between them. Her broken cry into his tortured heart. Kill her. Get it over with, get it done. Finish the job. Just a job. He approached her, intent on doing just that when he sees the tears in her eyes. Her broken ‘I loved you’ reaching his ear, though he was certain she hadn’t meant it to. He growled at her to leave, to run and stay hidden. She refuses to move. Honor, she declares. She has it. The insult is obvious. He is a coward that lacks it. It shouldn’t hurt him, but it does. It kills something in him to know she thinks so little of him now. ~Fool.~
He leaves her in the garden, on her knees, weeping for the worthless sod that was her father and for the even more worthless man that she viewed as her husband. ~Bastard.~
Weeks passed and Mariko grew more and more despondent. Her family clan in chaos, fights over leadership and rule. Wars and murders. Chaos and destruction. All set into motion by the murder of Shingen. All caused by Wolverine. ~Monster.~
Mariko sat in the garden, bent forward, as if in prayer, her slender form a silhouette against the white orchids. Silver Samurai approached silently, not wanting to disturb her meditation. After a moment when she remained so still he approached, touching her shoulder. His sister fell to the side, long blade protruding from her stomach. Suicide. For he part in the dishonor of her family. In her hand she clutched the ring she had made for her wedding to Wolverine. Engraved with the name he had her whisper in their most secret moments. But she was not dead, at least not in body. Her heart was blackened beyond repair and her soul screamed for freedom. She was laid in her bed, and moved into the lower portion of the mansion. To all the world Mariko Yashida was dead, slain by the same monster that had killed her father. Rule of the clan fell to her half brother. ~Animal.~
~~~
Wolverine opened his eyes slowly.
Betsy staggered away from him, the look on her face saying it all.
The Silver Samurai stood. “In her last written request she ordered us not to track you. Not to harm you in any way. Claims you followed a warriors path, even though tarnished with betrayal.”
Wolverine was only half listening to the other man‘s ramblings, instead he was staring at the woman in the bed. He remembered her now. It hadn’t all been an act. He had loved her. Had wanted to believe they had a chance at a future, but knew they didn’t. Knew so long as his keepers had him, their was no safe place for her. He also knew she would never accept him. The real him, the feral. He had loved her, truly, but not the way he loved ‘Ro. Not with the same all consuming passion and love and protectiveness. His love for Mariko was a bright candle in the dark. His love for Ororo burned like a thousand suns.
Wolverine stiffened, his nose detecting another presence.
…Ororo… As the room went black, he heard Betsy scream.



New York

Ororo tossed aside the fuzzy blanket she had drug upstairs from the couch, sitting up in the bed. She ran one hand wearily through he white tresses, heaving a deep sigh. She twirled her wedding ring around her finger, feeling decidedly more uneasy tonight than any night since Logan’s departure more than three days ago and still no word. With a small grimace she rose from the bed, padding to the closet and pulling out a sweatshirt and matching pants. She slipped on her white canvas shoes, and went downstairs.
She heard the sounds of faint music, realizing Jubilee had left her radio on again. Ororo smiled faintly. The kid was spunky, all right, and surprisingly Ororo found that she enjoyed having her around.
She left the boathouse through the front door, inhaling the damp night air. The night sounds relaxed her and she tilted her head, eyes closed, listening to the crickets and frogs, the rustle of leaves in the wind and the call of nature.
Ororo made her way along the grass, her sneakers squeaking slightly against the rain dampened blades, following a familiar unmarked path to the woods beyond. She and Logan had taken many moonlit strolls into the woods, holding hands, enjoying the night and each other. She flushed a bit thinking of the last time they had gone for a stroll and the way he had taken her on the ground, so feral and primal in the moonlight. So beautiful. Goddess, she missed him. Unbidden she felt tears sting her eyes. She wiped her eyes with a shaky sigh, making her way to their log. The large hollowed out log that they had sat on together so many times.
She sat slowly, her muscles aching, sore and tender. She knew she was running a fever, but knew she couldn’t tell Hank. He’d try to persuade her to get treatment, and she couldn’t. Not yet. Soon…maybe…
“Evn’in, Padnat.”
Ororo turned, a startled look on her face. “Good evening, Remy.”
Gambit flicked his cigarette aside with his thumb and middle finger. The red centers of his eyes were glowing faintly in the shadows, giving her ample warning that he was upset. “You’re sick,” he accused.
Ororo said nothing.
“Not even gon’ deny it?”
“I’m pregnant.”
Gambit glared at her. “It be more den dat, chere.”
Again silence was her only response.
Gambit strode forward, determination etched on his handsome face. “I can feel it now, Stormy. You do a good job in da day, I’m impressed, but now, you be tired and I can feel it.”
“Gambit--”
“How bad?” he interrupted.
Ororo gave him a small sad smile.
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
“No.”
She held her hand out to him. “Come here, Remy.”
Gambit twined his fingers with hers, pulling her into his arms, seating himself behind her. He rested his whiskered chin in her soft hair and inhaled. She always smelled good. Gambit remembered being a teenage boy and teasing her that she always smelled girly. She had tried so hard to work up a sweat and get dirty, to be one of the boys, but somehow she always managed to smell soft and sweet and feminine. “Tell me.”
Ororo shook her head. “You will hound me endlessly won’t you?
Gambit nodded. “Ev’ry day.”
There was a long pause before she spoke, her voice heavy with heartache. “During my and Cyclops’s capture we were interrogated.” She altered her position so that the back of her head leaned into his shoulder. “Mr. Smith injected me with what he called, ‘the cure for your retched kind’.”
“A cure?” Gambit was confused. “For what? Bein’ a mutant?”
Ororo gave a humorless laugh. “I don’t think he meant ‘cure’ in the literal meaning, brother. Whatever he gave me was a virus, a disease of some type.” she took a deep breath. “It’s not good.”
Gambit’s arms tightened around her. “Tell me,” he urged again.
“It’s a disease that is attacking me from a genetic level. It’s disrupting my system.”
“Ah, da loss of control over your powers.” he said softly.
Ororo nodded. “It’s destroying me slowly, from the inside out.” She tried to smile again, but failed.
Gambit kissed the top of her head, hearing the tears in her voice. “Is dat how you are able t’ ‘ave a bebe?”
“No, I don’t think so. I don’t know how exactly. And neither does Henry. His best guess is that Wolverine’s child has a healing factor as well, and is fighting my powers.” she shrugged. “But now that my body is also rejecting my powers it makes the odds of a successful pregnancy that much higher.”
“What did da good doctor say ‘bout you, chere? Is dere medicine or treatment?”
Ororo bit her lip.
“Padnat?”
“There…is.”
Gambit grinned. “Great. Den you’ve already taken care of it.”
“Yes.”
Gambit stiffened. “You jus’ lied t’ me.”
Ororo frowned. Boy, Logan was right, she sucked at lying to those she cared about. “There is a treatment that Hank thinks will help with the disease.”
“Why do I get da feelin’ der’s a big ‘but’ comin’ up?”
“But the medicine and treatment puts the baby at serious risk.”
Gambit was quiet, then, “Der will be ot’er babies.”
Ororo jerked away from him. “You don’t know that. And what makes his life,” her hand cradled her abdomen, “any less valuable than mine?”
Gambit pulled her back into his arms. “What aren’t you telling’ me?”
Ororo pressed her face into his shoulder, tears staining her cheeks. “I can’t…”
Gambit closed his eyes. “You’re not jus’ sick are you? You’re dying.”
“Yes.”
Gambit couldn’t breathe. “What…what about after da baby is born? Den we could get you started on da treatment, den we could--”
Ororo touched his cheek. “Remy.”
He grit his teeth. “Non.”
“Remy. Look at me.”
He opened pained eyes.
“In all likelihood, I won’t make it full term, which isn’t much longer now. I’m farther along than I look. He’s tiny, but a fighter, and I need to help him. I’m giving this child a fighting chance, brother. It’s the least I can do…”
“Stormy…”
“Oh, Gambit.” Ororo felt her walls crumbling, the weight that had been bearing down on her finally breaking her. Her lower lip trembled and teardrops sparkled on raven lashes.
Gambit felt his chin quiver and he knew, knew that this moment was the hardest moment he had ever faced. To try and be strong for her, his baby sister, while all he wanted to do was scream and wail in rage and anguish.
“I’m ‘ere for you, padnat.” Gambit leaned his cheek into her hair.
“I’m glad, Remy…” Ororo closed her eyes.

Undisclosed location

“Wake up.”
Cold water sluiced along his face. Wolverine opened his eyes, the overhead light making him wince. Damn. He had a fucking headache from hell. He pressed his finger tips to the bridge of his nose, fighting to focus.
“You clear headed, Wolverine?” Nick Fury stood in front of him, glaring daggers with his one eye.
“What the fuck, Fury?” Wolverine growled from the seat he was occupying on the jet. “Where the hell am I?”
“That’s irrelevant.”
Wolverine noticed the gun in Fury’s hand, his face grim with determination. “What’s goin’ on, Nick?”
Fury scowled. “You’ve been compromised.”
Wolverine scowled back. “Say again.”
“You have been compromised. By an elite team of Japanese assassins known as the Hand. They wiped out the Yashida clan as well as did serious damage to the Yakuza and several other smaller clans. ”
Wolverine shook his head. “No…I was just there.” He frowned. The smell of gas, flames, Betsy screaming… “Where’s Psylocke?”
“Psylocke is being detained for questioning. It was her that pulled your ass out of the flames.”
“Sunfire? Silver Samurai?”
“MIA.”
Wolverine swallowed. “Mariko?”
Fury looked away. “No.”
“I see.” Wolverine ran a hand through his hair. “Did you know?”
“About you and her? Yes.”
“Hnh.”
“I owe you a few. So, I’ve removed any traces of you from the Yashida house.”
Wolverine acknowledged this with a grunt.
“General Fury, ETA is ten minutes.”
“Thank you.” Fury answered the messenger without turning. “Psylocke has resigned with SHIELD. I suppose it would be too much to assume you are doing the same.
Wolverine thought of Ororo. “I’m goin’ home ta my wife.” His only.
Fury smirked a little. “With a wife like that. Don’t blame you.”





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