Fic: Broken
Title: Broken
Fandom: X-Men/Heroes crossover
Characters: Logan/Marie, Claire Bennet
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,043
Author's Note 1: Written for the crossover challenge at heroes_faves .
Author's Note 2: The bit in italics is a memory.
Author's Note 3: Many thanks to Katy Faraday for being a fantastic beta!
Broken
Every year, Logan packs a bag and sets out for Caldecott County, Mississippi. He arrives in a few days, stopping only to pick some wildflowers, specifically sunflowers. They were her favorite. She used to pick hundreds of the flowers to fill vases all around the house. Logan wasn’t much of a flower guy, but there was something about the sunflowers that reminded him of her.
The tombstone looks the same, the smooth granite seemingly unaffected by the passing of time. Anna Marie D’Ancanto, the engraving reads. Logan runs his fingers over the name, smiling a little. He remembers a time long ago, a memory of driving along a dark road at night in the old pickup. Through the front windshield, hundreds of stars shine in the clear night sky. Marie sits in the seat beside him, trying her best to stay awake, but he can see her eyelids beginning to droop.
“Marie, darlin’?”
“Mmmm?” she mumbles sleepily.
“Why am I the only one that you’ve told your real name to?”
She takes a deep breath and smiles at him. “Because it’s you.” She sighs, her distinct scent swirling through the small cab of the truck. “When I first met you, I immediately felt like I knew you. I felt safe with you.”
Logan chuckles. “You shouldn’t have.” he says. “I was a stranger with foot-long claws comin’ outta my hands.”
“Oh, I knew that. But it didn’t matter.”
“You’re the only person I know that can look me in the eye and tell me that it doesn’t matter that I’m an animal.”
“Logan,” Marie smiles, “How many times do I have to tell you that you’re not an animal?” She leans across the seat towards him and presses her lips to his.
Logan closes his eyes and bows his head. He can stand living through wars and experiments and god knows what else, but he can’t stand living without her. After Marie had died, he hadn’t wanted to live anymore. He had wanted to follow her into the dark, instead of being left in this world, alone. It’s only been ten years since she’s been gone, but it feels like an eternity to him. Logan is a broken man, trapped in this life without his Marie.
He gently lays the sunflowers beside the grave and gets to his feet, feeling even heavier than usual. When he gets to his car and pulls out onto the roadway, there are tears in his eyes. He swipes at them with the back of his hand, struggling to see the road before him. Before Logan realizes what he’s doing or where he’s going, he has pulled up to a small tavern on the outskirts of town. It looks harmless, like the sort of place where the people are kind and hospitable. He parks the car and goes in, seeking to numb some of the pain of remembering Marie.
Logan sits at the bar beside a petite blond. She doesn’t look much older than 17, but there’s a weathered, rough sort of look in her eyes. The blue dress she’s wearing complements her slim figure, and Logan can’t help but admire her beauty. If she were older, she’d be exactly the type he used to go for, but now he only goes for brunettes with white streaks in their hair. He has yet to find another one besides Marie.
The girl doesn’t seem to notice his presence; she just stares down at the counter in front of her and continues to polish off her drinks at an alarming rate.
After her fifth drink in six minutes, Logan catches her attention. “Hey, kid,” he says, “Ain’t ya a little young to be drinkin’?”
The blond only laughs. “Oh, I’m much older than I look.” She says, her voice even, seemingly unaffected by all the alcohol she’s just consumed. Her tone suggests that there’s some deeper meaning behind her words.
She seems to finally see him, not making any effort to be discreet in checking him out. Logan quirks an eyebrow as her gaze lingers on his trademark hair. “Hey, you’re that ‘Wolverine’ guy, aren’t you?”
“Mmmhmm.” Logan grunts in affirmation. “Call me Logan.”
“I’m Claire. Claire Bennet.” She smiles at him.
“Nice to meet ya, Claire Bennet.”
She clears her throat and combs her hands nervously through her long hair. “Is it true that you have…” She trails off, looking pointedly at his hands.
Logan smirks. “Adamantium claws?” he finishes for her. “Yeah.” Her eyes widen as he straightens his wrist, flexes the required muscles, and his claws slide out. He chuckles at her amazed expression and retracts them back into their resting place within his arms with a metallic chink. Claire continues to stare at his hand, at the spaces between his knuckles.
“When they come out, does it hurt?” she asks, her tone deliberate yet inquisitive.
Logan flinches, remembering all those years ago when Marie had asked him the same question. His heart aches to think of her. And before he can even think twice about it, he answers: “Every time.”
Claire looks up, a hint of tears in her eyes. “I can’t feel it anymore. I haven’t felt it in 50 years. I’d give anything to feel the pain again.” And then Logan understands; she’s got a healing factor, just like him. But unlike him, she can’t feel the pain of her injuries. Logan thinks of all the times he’s been hurt, of all the times he’s experienced the excruciating pain that comes with what he does.
“It could be worse, kid.” He says.
She looks back down at his hands. “Do you ever miss those that you’ve outlived?”
“Yes.” Logan says, his voice hushed as he thinks again of Marie.
When he looks up, there’s a faraway look in Claire’s eyes. “My parents have been dead for almost 20 years.” She lets out a huff of air, shaking her head slowly. “My little brother is about to celebrate his 65th birthday.”
Logan nods in understanding. “After a while, there ain’t no one left to miss. Then ya have no more connections to this world.”
“Then what do we do?” She asks, taking another long sip of her drink.
Logan shrugs. “We keep on living.”