Written in the Stars
April 14th, 1912. 4: 33pm
by
Adréa



Disclaimer: The song is from Aida, so credit to Disney. The Scarlet Pimpernel... I don't know who it belongs to now, but it was written by the Baroness Orczy. Well, everyone else seems to own the X-Men. Marvel, Fox, Warner Brothers, Universal, etc. etc. Why can't I? Look! They'll work for twinkies and beer! It's true! They did this fic for twinkies and beer. Although I had to throw in a few steaks and peeps somewhere...

Author's Notes: I tried to make it not exactly like Cameron's movie! But some things kinda snuck in there and stuck. Be prepared for suckiness! (that even a word?) Big shout out and thanks to my best friend JenN who unknowingly gave be ideas and knowingly gave me every ounce of support she could.

Author's Notes2: I don't even own Amy and Jenn for they are based on people I know. I'm currently working on another fic involving them that would go much farther into their personalities, so sorry if you don't understand things or what not because they aren't well developed in this one. Now, on with the show!




The last thing he remembered was... Well, that was a toughie... If his dreams were any indication, the last thing he thought of was Marie... Sweet, perfect Marie.

Wait a minute... Marie? Nostrils blaring, he could smell her. She was close. One eye opened, then the other to reveal that he was scrunched down in a comfort chair with his legs on a stool. And Marie was sleeping soundly across the room in her bed. Odd thing was, he had absolutely no memory of getting there. Last thing was probably following her and her fiancé to her room.

What Logan wouldn't give to put that bastard out of his misery, and Marie's as well. She wasn't happy with him; Logan could tell that just by watching her during the tour. There was nothing there on her side of the betroth. And no more than a fancy and lust on his. No love, no true feelings. All it would take was one moment alone with him, and he'd be gone. Logan didn't think anyone would miss him.

Logan happily went over the many different ways to kill Graydon Creed when Marie mumbled something in her sleep and changed positions in bed. Her shift allowed for the covers to scrunch down to her waist, and her position allowed for quite an eyeful of her cleavage to be visible to Logan. The kind of thoughts and dreams he'd been having about a proper, white striped girl was in no way what he should be having. Hell, he'd take his usual nightmares over them.

Limbs ached in protest as he got to his feet and stretched, letting out a mighty yawn/growl. As if answering, Marie let out a sigh while still deep asleep. She looked so peaceful, so relaxed. Like one of those angel carvings decorating parts of the Grand Staircase. Only far more beautiful. No angel had anything on Marie, not even ones he saw in art museums.

Which made him wonder when the hell was he in an art museum to know that.

He was lost in thought when he noticed two chocolate eyes peering at him curiously. Marie's cheeks turned pink at having been caught staring. It wasn't nice or proper, after all. "Penny for your thoughts?" she asked softly, not trusting her voice any louder for fear of her parents being back.

"You don't want to know my thoughts," he replied just as softly, but his voice held concealed pain.

"I do... please..." she protested, moving herself into a seated position on the bed. "You seem to know much about me, and yet I know nothing of you."

"I'm not a person you'd want to know. I'm a... 'piece of gutter trash', as your father put it."

Marie gasped. "You heard that?"

Shit... he forgot about trying to conceal his abilities. "I've got good hearing." Still, he refused to tell her anything more. Then her eyes got bigger... and darker... and that lower lip of hers stuck out... Dammit, she was pouting as only women of a high class could do. And she pulled it off without him wanting to laugh in her face.

"Alright!" he whispered harshly, just wanting her to turn off the pouty look. He pulled out the chair for the desk and sat beside her bed. "What do you want to know?"

The girl's expression was almost that of whenever Chuck or Red used their powers, only hers was far more focused as she pondered. "What about... Logan. That's all I know of your name."

"'Cuz that's all there is to it, darlin'. 'Bout fifteen years ago I woke up in the Canadian wilderness with no prior memory. I found a hunter's knife nearby with 'Logan' carved on the handle. It felt familiar to me, so I figured it was my name. Beyond a few flashes of my life before, I've still got nothin'."

"That's so horrible... What are those flashes?"

"I can't say. They aren't good things. I've worked as a hunter for most of my life. Traveling from place to place, searching for work. I met my current employers in some dive in the outskirts of London."

"A hunter... No wonder you have such keen senses."

It was odd how he never thought of using that as an excuse before for his senses. "Yeah..."

"You have a girl somewhere?"

He chuckled some to bid him debate time. Should he or shouldn't he tell her... Eh, she was going to be married anyways. "I'm the type of guy who had a girl in every place I came to. Whether or not we even understood each other's language."

"Oh..." she didn't seem disappointed by the news, more curious really. "Any that you still think about?"

"A few... Not many. One girl in Japan. Her name was Mariko. She's really the only one I think about. Taught me Japanese and a few of their styles of fighting, which has come in handy at times. They have such a... graceful way of fighting hand-to-hand combat."

Her eyes got that far away look she was prone to when going off into her own little world. "Hm... Sounds fascinating... To join the world of another culture, another society. Learn new and different and exciting things. I'd love to do that..." Those eyes suddenly become sad. "But it'll never happen."

"It could happen. If you want it badly enough, you can make it happen."

"I'm not like you, Logan... I have a place, a responsibility. A duty to be wed and become the perfect wife."

"A duty to waste your life on something and someone you don't want? To be shown off at parties like some prized possession and taken to the occasional bed when a pretty whore couldn't be found?" He got off his chair and sat next to her on the bed. "You aren't property, and you aren't bound as much as you think you are."

They sat in silence while she considered his words. Wanting more than anything to believe them. "Could you teach me some of the things you learned? Like that hand-to-hand combat?"

When she looked at him with those inhumanly large eyes of hers, how could he say no. "Sure... But it takes meditation first."

"Why? What does meditation have to do with fighting?"

"Not much if you were just learning how to deal with a barroom brawl, but that isn't what you asked," he said with his signature half-grin. "Meditation is the first thing you have to learn in Japanese fighting technique, and even other cultures. Honing the mind and body and spirit together is top priority before anything else."

"Show me?"

Grinning just a bit more, he got to his feet and moved some things out of his way to give him more space. The floor was carpeted, so he didn't have to worry about his boots making noise.

Marie's gaze was centered and focused completely onto Logan's frame as it stood there and relaxed when he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. With a few more deep breaths, his hazel eyes revealed themselves. Beginning with a bow, he recalled some of the most basic training moves he learned and performed them without hesitation or falter against an invisible foe.

"I understand now..." she whispered during his session. Had he not had advanced hearing, it would have gone missed. His performance was ended with the customary bow even though there was no higher master there to discipline him.

"You understand?" he inquired.

"Why the meditation is needed. You were right when you said it was graceful." She was so fascinated with what he had done -- given her a taste of another culture.

For the next ten minutes, he regaled her with tales from Japan and other foreign countries he had visited in the life he could remember. She remained enthralled with each and every one, hanging onto all the words that poured from his mouth.

Until his keen senses picked up the turning of her doorknob. Logan realized his error in moving furniture and not moving it back, for there was currently nothing to block the door.



CHAPTERS:   Prologue   1   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9   10   11   12   13   14   15   16   17   18   19   20   21   22   Epilogue




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