Chapter Twenty-Two: Moving On
Everything I know
And anywhere I go
It gets hard but it won’t take away my love
And when the last one falls
When it’s all said and done
It gets hard but it won’t take away my love
~3 Doors Down
“Scott!”
He looked up from his meticulous work on Logan’s motorcycle, his hands covered in grease. He didn’t know if Wolverine would come back, but if he did, Scott wanted the bike ready to go for him. If he could only get some of the rust off of the starter switch, he’d be in business.
“SCOTT!”
At his wife’s second bellow, he raised his face to call for her.
“Yeah? In the garage.”
Rushed footsteps echoed in the concrete structure a beat before his wife’s panting breath alerted him that she was in the room. He continued working on the bike, unable to think about anything else yet. It still hurt, like a knife to the heart, to think about Storm.
Her death weighed heavily on both himself and his wife. He could remember, with such eerie clarity the way she had screamed when Logan appeared on the mansion’s steps with a lifeless Ororo in his arms. Jean had put her hands to her face and let loose her grief so that even the Gods would know her pain.
Scott, for his part, had merely fallen to his knees. Logan looked up at him, tears coursing freely down his cheeks, sorrow and rage burning in his dark eyes.
She’s gone. He’d said brokenly. She’s gone.
All he could do was touch her cold cheek, his heart shattering in his chest while Jean wept from the bottom of her soul.
“Scott.”
His wife’s third call was soft, filled with understanding. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” she insisted, coming around to kneel beside him. “It’s ok. I miss her, too.”
A tight smile was all he could manage before trying to lose himself in the methodical work on Logan’s bike again. Jean watched him quietly for several minutes before reaching out to touch his forearm lightly.
“Scott? Look at me, honey.”
He did so, only because he knew she wouldn’t leave until he did.
“You have to stop this,” she demanded. “You have to stop him.”
Knowing instinctively what and whom she referred to, Scott shook his head. “I can’t do that.”
“He’ll listen to you,” Jean pled. “Scott, he’s going to die.”
“No, he’s not,” Scott countered. “He’s going to kill that bastard Trask and destroy the Sentinel base.”
“How can you have so much faith in him? He’s only one man, Scott.”
Scott looked away, swallowing hard. “Magneto is with him, as well as Mystique.”
Jean’s eyes went as wide and round as dinner plates, her mouth falling open in complete shock. He had done well to shield his thoughts from her, hoping that by the time she pried Logan’s plan out of him, his friend would be too far to stop.
“Magneto? Mystique? Scott! Have you lost your freaking MIND?”
At her shrill tone, Scott reached up, taking her chin gently in his grease-slicked hand. She quieted at the intimate gesture, prepared to listen to him without comment for a moment.
“If our roles were opposite,” he began. “If I had come to Logan holding your body, do you think anything in heaven or hell could stop me from avenging you? If it was Kitty or Marie, do you honestly believe I would sit by and do nothing?”
Jean’s lovely green eyes filled with tears. “Scott…”
“They need to do this,” he said softly. “And I don’t blame them.”
“I’m worried,” she admitted tearfully. “We can’t lose another X-Man.”
“Have faith,” Scott said, uncharacteristically pious. “He does have Charles and ‘Roro looking out for him, you know.”
His wife rewarded him with a slight smile before leaning in to embrace him. They stayed that way a long time, waiting for news of their Wolverine.
~**~
“Their base isn’t nearly as impregnable as it seems,” Mystique told Wolverine and Magneto as they gathered around the holo-map. “There are several exposed entrances.”
Lazy E, having joined the unlikely trio during a quick stop in New York, raised a brow while he rubbed his bearded chin slightly. He’d learned a lot in the last half-hour, more than he could possibly process yet. All he truly understood was that these people were going to kill the bastard responsible for ‘Ro’s death.
Like his small army he’d thrown together, that was all he needed to know.
“The south entrance and the sewer drain are the easiest,” the blue-scaled mutant continued.
Logan nodded, looking through the holo-map to Lazy E. “Think your men can get through the south entrance?”
“Bang our fists on our shields, make some racket?” E teased his friend with a lazy smile. “Consider it done, man.”
“Mystique and I will enter from aloft,” Magneto said, shifting the map. “Wolverine…”
“I’m walkin’ through the fuckin’ front door.”
“Don’t ya love it when he goes all growly and mean?” E asked of Mystique, pleased when she grinned at him.
“Dispatch as many guards as you can before meeting here,” Magneto continued, showing E a long hall that opened into what looked like a vast factory. “This is where Trask will rush for cover and where his robotic breed sow “ Mastermold “ is housed.”
“Ok, what’s with the names?” E butt in again. “Do I get a name?”
“You’ve got one, Lazy,” Wolverine smirked. His face was still hollow, still gaunt with loss. E wondered if his friend would ever recover.
“Yeah, but it’s not as cool as yours,” E raised a brow, turning to Mystique. “Or hers.”
Magneto shot a look to Wolverine, whom merely shrugged a shoulder. “You wanted back up.”
“When the time comes,” Mystique went on, heading off any more arguments. “Your men are to fall back, leave Trask and Mastermold to us.”
“Yeah,” E agreed. “That ain’t a fight I want part of.”
“Good, now that we are all settled,” Magneto switched off the holo-map, gesturing to the rear of the jet. “Get some food and rest. We have a long day ahead of us.”
E clapped Logan on the shoulder before moving off. He wondered, in the back of his mind, exactly what they planned to do to Trask. After a moment, E decided it was probably better he didn’t know.
~**~
He was staring out of the window, into the dying light. Another day had died and she was still gone. It seemed surreal most of the time. The pain inside would ebb and for a few precious moments, she was alive.
I love you, Logan. The memory of her voice invaded his mind, filling his soul with an unbearable ache. She’d said that just moments before her death, sitting in the warm circle of his arms.
Does that mean I can refer to you as “Old Man”? Logan closed his eyes, seeing her warm smile behind his closed lids that fateful day in the Canadian wilderness.
I will never leave you. He reached into the top of his uniform, drawing out the sliver of adamantium and the rings he had given her for Christmas. Emotion lodged in his throat, making it difficult to swallow as he succumbed to memory.
He saw her in the med-lab after the battle with Magneto. She was sitting on the counter, watching Jean and Hank work on him, long legs swinging carelessly. He could remember her scent, her sound, the feel of her. He never wanted to lose that. He would keep her alive in his heart until he joined her.
“Logan.”
Wolverine did not turn as Magneto joined him at the window, though he did open his eyes.
“We are nearly there.” The old man spoke cautiously, as though he knew he was intruding on something deeply personal.
“Good.” Logan grunted, keeping his strange necklace in his hand.
“I’m sorry, Wolverine,” Magneto said quietly. “For everything. Nearly killing you and…the loss of our darling girl.”
“Don’t mention it,” Logan replied softly. “If ya hadn’t nearly killed me, I might never have known what it was like to be loved like that.”
“No regrets?” The other mutant asked simply.
“None.” Logan shook his head, tucking his talisman into his uniform and turning to face Magneto. “She was a gift, livin’ on borrowed time. I’ll see her again.”
“Faith, Wolverine?” Magneto teased almost fondly.
“Somethin’ she taught me,” he countered. “Can’t quite shake it.”
Magneto’s answering smile was all the confirmation Logan needed. The old man knew exactly what he was talking about.
~**~
The battle was quick and ugly. The well-organized team hit Trask’s desert facility like a force of nature. They had no time to respond to the three-pronged attack, even after Wolverine “ claws extended “ marched through the front door issuing challenges as profanely as he could.
Warm blood dripped from Wolverine’s claws as he pounced up to Magneto and Mystique. For their part, they looked as winded and satisfied as he felt. Mystique’s usually pristine form was disheveled and splattered with blood. Magneto’s face rivaled any evil Wolverine had ever seen, twisted metal all around them telling the others exactly how pissed off he was.
“He is inside.”
Wolverine merely nodded. Magneto yanked the bolted and bulletproof door from its hinges, the grinding of metal on metal resonating through the empty corridor.
“Slice ‘em for me, Logan,” Lazy E called from his position down the hall, an M16 in his hands.
The trio stepped over the threshold, somewhat surprised to find Trask waiting in the center of the massive room. Logan took immediate stock of the situation. Long rows of robotic Sentinels lined each enormous wall.
Woven through the red and black monsters were various cords and cables. Some hummed with electricity while others seemed to be part of the computer’s neural network.
There were hundreds of them. Though the X-Men had already destroyed a dozen, Wolverine quickly realized that they had not done enough. There was still far, far too much at stake here.
“Ah,” Trask said suddenly. “What can I do for you three?”
“Die,” said three enraged mutants in eerie unison.
Trask made a simple movement with his hand. Hidden soldiers flooded the center of the room, meeting the mutant trio instantly. Wolverine and Mystique crouched low, matching smirks covering their faces as Magneto raised his hands.
Crunching metal rang through the room; Sentinels were pulled into themselves under Magneto’s assault. Trask shouted in alarm. It was then that Mystique and Wolverine fell on his soldiers.
On a feral scream, Logan threw himself into battle. Memories of his beloved Storm filled his mind, fueling his rage. He disemboweled three soldiers before anyone even got a shot off in his general direction. Taking several gunshots to the torso only pissed him off.
Mystique darted around him, spinning with her martial artist’s skill. Bones crunched and cracked under her hands while Wolverine sprayed human blood all over the room. The men were screaming, some of them even fleeing from the three vengeful mutants.
Magneto’s powerful mutation tossed crumpled Sentinels out of the ceiling, bringing debris down on the massive room. Heeding his cautionary shout, Wolverine grabbed Mystique to protect her vulnerable body as metal and stone slammed into the concrete floor.
“Thank you,” she said simply and without ulterior motives.
“Welcome,” Logan replied.
They broke apart again, falling into the waves of human soldiers.
“Mags!” Wolverine called over his shoulder.
“Yes?” He replied calmly.
“Get these fuckers out of my way!”
Magneto chuckled. Wolverine readied himself again.
Suddenly, dozens of soldiers found themselves in the air, tossed almost carelessly across the room. They landed in a heap atop a pile of crunched metal.
The way clear, Wolverine fell into place in front of Mystique and Magneto. The three of them advanced on the now trembling Trask as a pack of wolves stalking prey. Wolverine knew there was hatred in his eyes as it bubbled to the surface inside of him. Roaring inside, he could feel the animal within screaming for blood.
“Mutants!” Trask shouted in terror. “You are all evil abominations. You will turn on all of humanity.”
“You have it all wrong, my boy,” Magneto countered easily.
“You killed someone,” Mystique continued. “A crusader for peace.”
“That made us mad.” Wolverine chimed in. “Very, very mad.”
Trask backed up quickly, almost running for what looked like a control panel. As he slammed one of the flashing buttons, Wolverine called to one of his partners.
“Mystique.”
She nodded and leapt into the air, landing gracefully directly in front of Trask. Though the hissing of hydraulics surrounded them, she pulled their foe away from the console and shoved him toward Wolverine.
As though by silent consent, Magneto and Mystique stood back while Wolverine met his love’s killer eye to eye.
The man shook violently as Logan gripped his shirt, bringing him down to the smaller man’s eye level. Wolverine’s mind swam with memories of his ‘Ro, mingling with the terrible recollection of her too sudden death.
“Why her?” He demanded on a heartbroken growl. “Why Storm?”
Trask, to his utter astonishment, looked confused. “Who?”
That, of course, only made Wolverine angrier. “Storm, you piece of shit! Mutant, controls weather. Why did she have to die?”
Confusion still marred the human’s dark face. Wolverine snarled, the sound caught wolfishly in his chest. Had Trask not singled her out? Had it really and truly just been a call of Fate? Logan didn’t know if his heart could take that knowledge.
“The house,” Trask said suddenly, recognition in his eyes. “The house on the school’s property.”
“Yeah,” Logan growled.
“They weren’t supposed to kill her,” Trask defended, swallowing nervously. “They weren’t supposed to kill anyone.”
“Well,” Logan swallowed thickly, emotion swirling in his eyes. “They did.”
“I’m trying to protect humanity here,” the man tried to defend himself.
A resonating crunch of metal brought him up short.
“Yeah?” Wolverine chuckled mirthlessly. “With hatred? Violence? He tried that.”
The feral nodded to Magneto, whom bowed his head somewhat demurely.
“She didn’t,” Wolverine continued. “She fought for non-violence and your damn robots killed her.”
Trask shook more violently. “No. Please. Have mercy.”
Logan snarled again, shifting his grip on the man’s shirt. “I don’t have any mercy. You killed that when you killed her.”
Without so much as a warning, Logan unsheathed his claws. Trask’s body shuddered violently as the lethal bone blades tore through his heart and lungs. Logan leaned forward, whispering against the man’s ear, enjoying the heavy weight of the man going limp over his claws.
“Rot in hell, you sadistic fuck. I’ll meet you there.”
Trask’s dark eyes reflected fear, true and stark fear, a beat before the life left them completely. Logan shoved the body off of his claws and stood, motionless for several seconds. He was finished. She had been avenged.
There was nothing left for him. His hatred and anger kept him afloat for so long that now, everything seemed even more hollow. He stared at the body for some time, not bothering to notice how bitterly silent the room had fallen.
Tears stung at his eyes, an image of his beloved Ororo fading from his vision. He fought the urge, looking up at Magneto and Mystique. They were, it seemed, waiting for his orders.
His eyes found the massive form of what he assumed was “Mastermold”. The robot that acted as a nearly sentient factory for creating Sentinels seemingly stared down at Wolverine with hooded, hollow eyes.
“Mags,” he said quietly. “Destroy that fuckin’ thing.”
“And me?” Mystique asked, raising a blue brow.
“Burn this place to the ground.”
“The men?” Magneto asked, gesturing to those still alive.
Wolverine felt himself slipping over the edge into darkness, but that did not stop him from turning his back on the injured. He walked toward the door, sheathing his claws quickly.
“If they can outrun the flames, let ‘em go.”
~**~
One week later…
He was tying the duffel to the back of his restored motorcycle as Cyclops came out of the house to him. His friend held a cup of coffee in one hand, pausing to listen as birds chirped in the early morning sunlight.
No one questioned him when he’d returned to the mansion with Magneto and Mystique. No one bothered to ask why he simply let Magneto go at the end of it all. He and the old man had an understanding, of a sort. He didn’t expect Magneto and Mystique to surface again for some time. They would go underground, for a while anyway.
Logan wondered if either of them would ever stop mourning for ‘Ro. He seriously doubted it, at least on Eric’s part.
When Cyclops reached him, the younger man smiled from beneath his ruby-quartz glasses.
“Morning.”
Logan returned the gesture as he pulled on the straps of his bag, tightening it to the seat carefully. “Mornin’.”
“Got everything?” Scott leaned against the garage wall, sipping his coffee carelessly.
“Think so. Wasn’t much left.” Logan replied, finishing up and facing his friend.
“I know,” Scott cleared his throat. “Um, I wanted to give you this.”
He reached into his back pocket, drawing out something that looked as though it had been burned. In a heartbeat, Logan realized it was Charles’ posthumous letter to Ororo.
“Where’d ya find this, One-Eye?” Logan took the letter reverently.
“On the porch,” he answered. “I think someone wanted you to have it.” He raised a brow, nodding to the clear blue sky.
Logan swallowed over the lump in his throat, carefully opening the letter. He didn’t mind that Scott was there and hoped his friend wouldn’t be offended if he did not read aloud.
My dear Ororo,
I miss you. Oh, how I know I will miss you. Don’t cry, my strong girl, waste no tears on a man who lived his life as fully as I have.
Though you no doubt find this letter writing of mine morbid and bad for my karma, I find that I have a something important I must say to you. Death, you have told me so often, is only the beginning of a new journey. I hope, in the wake of your grief, that you can understand this.
As I go on to my new adventures, I will say that I have loved you, my daughter. As I love Logan and Scott and Jean and all of my other children, I love you as well. You have been my companion these many years, leaving my side only to become the companion of a man that holds your heart in his hands.
Oh yes, I knew, even years before this letter, that you and the Wolverine were evenly matched. I have watched, with such awe, as you have found one another. I only hope that you have many years together or, at the very least, your time together is meaningful.
Take care of him, child. Our Wolverine desires love and comfort more than any other I have ever met. Should you have to leave him behind, someday, watch over him as I will.
I remember, so clearly, the night they told him you had died. Such fear and grief I have never felt from any living being. I knew then, when you came back to us, that you had been given another chance. I thank all the gods in the heavens that you did.
Take care of one another. I will be watching over you, my child, until you join me.
All my love,
Charles
Logan gently folded the letter and placed it back into the envelope when he finished. It shouldn’t have surprised him, how well Chuck knew them both. The man had been psychic, after all.
“Thanks, Scott,” Logan said gruffly. “Means a lot.”
“I know,” Cyclops replied, emotion tingeing his tone.
They regarded one another over the bike for several silent moments. History mingling with their memories of new friendship and heartbreak. Logan knew he would likely see Cyclops again, but it would never be the same. They both realized that Logan would never return to the X-Men. His life as a mutant rights crusader was over.
To his great surprise “ and pleasure “ Scott offered him a hand over the bike. Logan clasped it without pause, holding on to his friend’s hand for a moment longer than necessary.
“Take care, Logan.” Cyclops smiled again.
“Yeah, you, too.”
Their hands broke apart as Logan swung his leg over the bike seat. He roared the engine to life, easing the Harley out of the driveway without so much as a pause. Something told him Cyclops was watching as he rode into the bright sunlight, but he never turned around.
He said goodbye to the mansion, to the X-Men without words or gazes. He felt the break with clarity and ease. It was just…over. Just like that.
As the bike took the long, winding road through the forests of northern New York, Logan glanced over the edge, seeing the mansion sprawled below. His gaze was drawn to the heavens, to the wisps of cloud brushed through a sapphire sky.
Storm’s face seemed reflected there for a moment, and he smiled, the ache in his heart diminished for a moment.
“Come on, baby,” he said to the woman he knew was looking down on him. He gunned the bike’s engine until it screamed, pulling the front wheel off of the ground as speed surged in his veins.
“Let’s go for a ride.”
