OK off on a different tangent for me…as usual, don't own them even though I love to play with them, so please pardon my humble attempts at trying to bring them more to life.

This will be another long – ongoing project, so for those who are enduring my other long and drawn out projects, updates will come as they can. Another dream induced idea – Gods Bless Morpheus.

This is TOTALLY AU, as far as I know these characters do not exist in Marvel universe, other than Logan and the rest of the Marvel crew. I am throwing canon to the wind (comic) anyway, and writing my own version of the past. Reviews are always welcome, but be aware this is completely OFF CANON, so flames about canon WILL be IGNORED.

I realize that the movie says "Sometime in the near future" but for my purposes sometime in the near future will start September 18, 2015.

Chapter 5

He pulled up in the truck. The bike was strapped into the trailer. It was too damned cold to ride it. The early snow this year had the roads slick and treacherous. His financial reserves were getting low again – time to restock the wallet. Laughlin was known for its cage. He climbed out of the truck, his jacket the only thing between him and the bitter cold. He pulled out his wallet and checked to see how much cash he had on him. Enough for the entry fee – and drinks, he'd have to eat something later.

Charlie, the bartender took his fee, fifty bucks to enter the cage, and his tab for his drinks while inside. He stripped, and popped his neck. He hated the pain, but had to admit to the satisfaction of beating the shit out of these backwoods jerks. They never knew what hit them when he entered the cage, and he didn't care.

The first five or six fights were just warm up. He was drinking a whiskey while the announcer tried to drum up some more warm bodies – when it hit him. A scent he knew. He didn't know from where but he KNEW that scent – cinnamon – and spice – and something unique. He glanced around but couldn't spot where it was coming from. A big guy entered the cage, and he turned back to the business at hand.

After the fights were over, he dressed and went to the bar. On the TV over the bar – they were talking about the mutant issue. Mutant – he had figured out, over the last few years that he was one of them. He noticed the girl at the end of the bar, her green coat barely covering her mahogany hair. He felt his heart lurch in a strange way – he didn't understand it, so he turned back to the screen. Across the bottom, the date read September 18, 2015. For some reason the date was important, he was trying to decide why when the ox from the cage decided to cause problems. He tried to ignore it until he heard her voice scream.

After Charlie pulled the gun – he seriously considered cutting them to shreds. But her face stopped him. He couldn't do it, not in front of her. He didn't know who this kid was, but she was pissing him off. He stormed out of the bar and out toward the truck. He stopped along the side of the bar, out of sight, and drained his bladder against the wall. He climbed into the cab, and looked at his hands. He hated those damned things. He didn't know where they came from, or why he had them, but they weren't natural. His healing – that was natural, his senses – those were natural, but those things – those metal blades in his hands, they felt like they were too heavy – too unbalanced – like they didn't belong.

He started the truck, and drove off. He had driven about five miles when he noticed the trailer was off balance. He pulled over and walked back. He poked the cover and when it moved he yanked it back.

"What the hell are you doin'?" He asked. She was curled up under a tarp, half frozen in the cold.

"I'm sorry." It seemed to echo in his head – like he should remember her voice saying those words. "I needed a ride and I thought you might help me."

"Get out." He snarled. His head was hurting – she smelled like he should know her but he didn't know from where.

"Where am I supposed to go?"

"I don't know." He snapped at her.

"You don't know or you don't care?"

"Pick one." He said as he turned to walk back to the cab.

"I saved your life." Her voice drifted to him.

"No you didn't." He slammed the door and threw the truck into gear.

He drove maybe a hundred feet – when he stopped the truck. He didn't even know why he did it. Why the hell should he care about some slip of a girl – she wasn't even old enough to fuck. The last thing he needed was a statutory rape charge. She climbed into the cab, he didn't even look at her, just waited for her to close the door and put on her seatbelt before putting the truck back into gear and driving on.

"You don't have anything to eat – do you?" She asked. He reached across and opened the glove box. He had been planning on the jerky for dinner – but he had earned enough in Laughlin that he could buy dinner tonight, after he dropped her off. She ripped into the package and with a blush bit into a large chunk of jerky.

"I'm Rogue." She said. She looked around. "Were you in the Army – doesn't that mean you were in the Army?" She pointed to his dog tags. He didn't know where he got them; he tucked them quickly under his shirt. She was looking around the truck again and back into the camper. "Whoa – suddenly my life doesn't look that bad."

"Hey if you prefer the road…" He said ready to hit the brakes and dump her ass back in a snow bank.

"No – No it looks great – looks cozy." She said, chewing on another bite of jerky. She rubbed her hands together. He looked over, a sudden flash of what those fingers would feel like against his skin. He reached over and turned on the heater.

"Put your hands on the heater." She jumped back as he reached for her. "I'm not goin ta hurt ya, kid." The words seemed to echo in his mind.

"It's not personal – it's just that when people touch my skin…"

"What?"

"They get hurt."

"Fair enough." He looked at the road ahead. Her voice – her face – her scent they were all familiar – as if he should know her, as if he should know her importance, but he didn't.

"When they come out, does it hurt?"

"Every time." She was the first person to ask him that – to show any concern for him at all, in all the fifteen years that he could remember, she was the first.

"So what kind of a name is Rogue?"

"I don't know, what kind of a name is Wolverine?" She said, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

"My name's Logan." She just looked at him

"Marie." He nearly drove off the road. It hit him. Even her name was familiar. He was stunned. He COULDN'T remember – but he needed to.

"You really should wear your seatbelt…" He glanced over at her

"I don't need to take auto advice from a …." He hit the tree head on – he saw it as he flew through the windshield and into the snow. FUCK! He lay there a moment, letting his mind recover from the pain before he tried to move. His ankle was out of place and he was going to have to pop it back before it stayed that way. He stood and walked back toward the truck. She was staring at him through the shattered windshield.

"Are you alright – Kid – are you alright?"

She just stared at him, and then started struggling against the seatbelt. "I'm stuck." He started toward her side of the truck when he smelled it. Familiar – again but his brain just wouldn't give him a clue as to why. He hated this. The creature came at him out of the snow, and sent him flying. He stood up and shook it off, attacking the giant. His tags came out of his shirt again, and the giant grabbed them, a grin on his face. The final blow landed him on the hood of the truck and for the first time in a long time he blacked out.

When he woke, he was in a strange place, some strange woman poking needles into him. It took him a bit to accept they were helping him – and the kid. She was his – to protect. He didn't know why, but she was. He felt responsible – like she needed him. When she ran off – he followed, convinced her to give the Geeks a second chance. It nearly killed him when the bucket head took her. He had to go after her. They convinced him to work with the team – to let the Professor use his machine – fat lot of good that did, but they were able to find her – get to her.

He looked down at her in his arms – a sudden flash of her face, covered in blood – eyes open in terror. He pulled off his glove, forcing the image from his mind – he would look at it later, right now he had to save her. He put his hand to her face – but there was nothing. He looked at her – a sharp pain ripping through him, he couldn't lose her again – where that came from he didn't know – and then he felt it, her skin – pulling him in. He didn't try to stop her – he prayed she would take him all – end this nightmare – and again he blacked out.

He woke up – again, Jean standing over him, her hands hitting that spot on his stomach that made him twitch.

"That tickles."

"Hey."

"Hey."

"How are you feeling?" Used up and old.

"Fantastic."

"That was a brave thing you did." He wanted to call her a liar.

"Did it work?"

She nodded – "Yeah she's fine - she took on some of your more charming personality traits." He let out a painful chuckle. "But we lived through it. I think she's a little taken with you."

"Tell her my heart belongs to someone else." Jean was safe – he could love her from a distance – no one could stop him. Rogue – Marie no one could ever know how he felt about her – how he wanted her. She was a kid – it was wrong – vile – disgusting. Jean was safe.

"You know you and me…."

"How's the Professor?"

That was how he wanted to leave it – but she stopped him – at the door.

"You runnin again."

"Not really – have some things to take care of up north." He could see the doubt in her eyes. He reached out to touch the white streak in her hair.

"I kinda like it." He grinned, he wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and carry her up stairs, and he started to turn away. "I don't want you to go."

"I'll be back for this." He slipped the tags into her hand and walked away – safely away from her alluring eyes and hair and oh so deadly skin. She would never know – how close he came to staying – to forgetting – to allowing himself to find a home. But he needed to know – why? Why she was important – why he couldn't remember? He climbed on Scott's bike, grinning – at least he had a decent set of wheels to start out with.

She greeted him when he came back, her body more developed – more confident. She introduced the ice cube boy as her boyfriend and he hid the pain in his gut. She had found someone – someone her own age, someone willing to try to find a way around her skin. He wished her the best. When she chose the cure – chose to get rid of it completely he didn't blame her – but it sure made things harder on him. He focused on Jean, on stealing her from Scott – he was the Wolverine and never backed down from a challenge. Her death was a setback – and he really did miss her. Her rebirth was a bigger surprise – and he didn't lie to her – before he drove the claws into her heart – he loved her – just not the way he loved Marie.

She had been dead two months – Marie cured for two months when the note came. Nothing special just addressed to Logan.

Come to Halifax if you want answers. I can give you some. Meet me at St. John's Church Cemetery, the Howlett graves.

Something about the name – and the handwriting made him think it was for real. He said goodbye to Ororo – and packed a bag. They didn't want him to go, thought it was a trap. Marie begged to come with him. He almost took her – almost. She was twenty one. He didn't. She and Bobby were trying to work things out since the cure, and he didn't want to be in the way.

He arrived in Halifax and looked for the church. It was an old church – with a graveyard attached. He found the sexton.

"I'm lookin for the Howlett graves." He said.

"You are the second one this week – big guy been hangin out there. Back of the yard, large stone – she was a pretty lady." He gave the man a puzzled look. How did he know she had been a pretty lady?

He walked through the cemetery, looking at the graves as he passed. He found the stones, two children, one eighteen months, one died at birth but the large stone – the mother – it drew his attention.

Melanie Marie Howlett, Beloved Wife and Mother, Born February 7, 1845, Died September 18, 1865.

"Remember her yet, Runt?" Came the voice behind him. He recognized the scent and popped his claws. "Ain't here ta fight – put them away." He turned. Sabretooth – dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with a leather jacket, hair pulled back – neatly.

"What do you want?"

"The kid – she bugged me, I knew her from somewhere – I just couldn't place her. And then I remembered this – and you – and her. I felt you needed to know."

"Know what?"

"Look at the stone – you will have to rub away the grime – but take a really good look."

He knelt down; there was a small oval cut into the stone, some kind of sealant over it. He rubbed, and slowly a face started to appear. Marie – in and old fashioned hairstyle and dress. Marie? Suddenly he gripped his head – not Marie – Melanie.

"This is impossible."

"I was there with you when she died. You loved her – and you killed for her and the kids. I think – in as long as I have known you, it was the only damned time I was scared of you."

He popped a claw and dug the miniature out of the stone. He held it in his hands, tears blurring it more than time had.

"Next time – I won't be nice – but this was too weird. You told me what the old man said – in India – after we killed Abbott. The woman and her children are doomed. Make her time in this world as happy as you can – for it will be short. You – sahib – are cursed – cursed to walk this world and never see Nirvana. Their deaths will be painful and frightening and alone and it will be one hundred and fifty monsoons before you will see her face again – before she has the courage to face life again." Logan looked up at him; he could hear the voice in his head repeating it as Creed said it.

He sat – hard on the cold ground - September 18th, 2015 – the day he met Marie. He looked up at Creed. "I need to go home." He said it softly. The big man just stepped out of the way. He put the miniature in his pocket. The whole way back to the mansion he tried to remember. As he pulled in the gate – he decided it didn't matter. She was there – and he loved her.

She met him at the door, tears in her eyes.

"What's wrong – kid?" He asked.

"Bobby's a jerk." She said, and started pouring the whole story out to him – finding Bobby and Kitty kissing – Kitty trying to tell her it wasn't her – Bobby trying to tell her it wasn't him. Halfway through the tale he gave up and pulled her against him, and kissed her hard.

"He don't deserve ya." She looked up at him in shock.

"Logan?"

"I shoulda said this a long time ago – I love ya, Marie." She just stared at him – and then threw her arms around his neck a huge grin on her face.

"Well your timin SUCKS!" She said, laughing.

"Yep – I'm a couple years late – but you were right on time." He'd explain to her later, once he got everything settled in his mind, right now – he picked her up and carried her to his room – She was his Marie, and God help anyone who tried to take her from him again.

Later that night, she was tossing in a nightmare. He was afraid he had caused it. He had been surprised – he had figured she and Ice Cube had done SOMETHING while he was able to touch her skin. Her cry and the scent of blood had drained every bit of need from him. Her mouth kissing him, and begging him not to stop had spurred him on, making sure she was screaming his name before he drained himself deep inside her. Now she was tossing – turning – her voice whimpering.

"Maggie – no – not my baby – no PLEASE!" It was a cry that cut him to the core.

"Marie – wake up – baby – wake up." He shook her shoulder.

"NO – GOD NO! ABBOTT NO! Not the baby NO!" Suddenly she sat straight up in the bed.

"Marie!"

"Logan – oh my God – who the hell did THAT come from!"

"What?"

"With all the people in my head – I get weird memories sometimes – dreams. But that was different."

"Tell me."

"I don't want to – I think it might hurt you."

"Baby – please – I think I need to know." She looked at him strangely.

"I was sittin in a room – a little girl was playin at my feet, her name was Maggie. Suddenly the door burst in and four men came in. I think one of them was named Abbott, anyway they grabbed the baby from the floor and threw her back down. I think her neck snapped – but they bashed her head in with a poker anyway." He winced – a flash of a tiny blackened body in his arms. "They grabbed me – and one of them pulled a knife. They cut open my stomach and pulled out a baby – they let him cry – let me see him before they rammed the knife into his skull." Logan nearly gagged – a flash of a tiny body in his hands, the knife obscenely sticking from its skull. "As I lay there bleeding, they threw up my skirt and started ta…"

"Enough!" He was seeing her body – cut and bloody, clothing torn and her body violated as he carried her from a burning building. A scream that had been locked in his throat for one hundred and fifty plus years ripped through the room. Marie jumped in shock.

"Logan – are you alright?"

He looked at her – alive and breathing beside him in the bed, her streaked hair the only difference between the two women – and her skin, skin he could now touch. The door burst open, Storm and Colossus and Kitty and Bobby standing in front of a crowd of students. They quickly sent the children back to bed – Logan's nightmares were a known thing at the school.

"I would like an explanation." Storm said sternly.

"Me too." Bobby said, staring at his girlfriend sitting naked in Logan's bed.

"Can we get dressed first?" Storm nodded. He looked at Bobby. "You snooze – you lose bub." Bobby raised his hand to freeze Logan but Storm stopped him.

"We will discuss this – downstairs."

"Logan – Ro can make me leave over this."

"Darlin' if you go – I go, ain't you figured that out yet. Love ya – now it's time ta face the music." He picked up his coat to grab a cigar and found the miniature. He pulled it out of the pocket. "This might help." He laughed – but refused to show it to her.

Downstairs – Storm and the others were waiting in her office.

"This is highly irregular – at best – Logan. At worst you are taking advantage of a student and a team member."

"I love her, Ro – it took me damned long enough to admit it – longer to act on it. And you can't argue with destiny." He put the portrait on the desk – Ororo gasped at the likeness. "That was my wife – one hundred and fifty plus years ago." Marie looked at it, then at him, doubt filling her eyes.

"Darlin' I loved ya before I knew about that. I've loved ya since Laughlin. I told ya – I'm the one who is late."

"What do you mean – Logan – and what was that dream tonight?"

"The woman and her children are doomed. Make her time in this world as happy as you can – for it will be short. You – sahib – are cursed – cursed to walk this world and never see Nirvana. Their deaths will be painful and frightening and alone and it will be one hundred and fifty monsoons before you will see her face again – before she has the courage to face life again." He said the words slowly; afraid that he would remember something else – something that would hurt his girl.

"That's bullshit."

"No – Marie we met September 18th, 2015 – she died September 18th, 1865."

"My Goddess!" Storm whispered. Even Bobby was stunned.

"I guess this would be as good a time as any. Marie d'Ancanto – will you marry me."

"No ya big jerk – why the hell would I make the same mistake twice." She laughed at the look of shock on his face "Of course I will – Logan I love you."