*Notes*: I originally decided to write this because there are so many gaps in Marrow's history. That annoys me more than anything else in comics. I'm not sure how old Marrow is supposed to be now, but I'm placing her at around 23 for my purposes. I tried to keep everything in chronological order and timed right, but there's a good chance some things are off. I also took a little license in some areas when filling in details. Slash implications come from Kitty/Marrow interactions throughout the series but X-Men Unlimited #22 is the biggest inspiration. And to end this boring ramble, this is really just a tribute to my favorite character since I don't think she gets near as much exposure as she should.

Eventually I lost count of the number of times I visited the X-Men during my year of recovery. Of course, none of them ever knew I'd been there.

I don't know where all my supposedly loyal friends thought I'd gone after the battle with Apocalypse. I guess they were all too busy with the Cyclops thing.

The truth is that I don't even remember how or why I left the X-Men. Maybe I walked away without a word. Maybe I said my goodbyes and told everyone of the new life I would soon begin. Or maybe S.H.I.E.L.D. took me straight from my home with the X-Men and gave them some kind of plausible explanation.

In the end it doesn't matter how it happened. I was gone. Brainwashed by S.H.I.E.L.D. for my own good.

Finding out that you're a sleeper agent who kills fancy robots for a crazy government agency and that the life you've been living is all a lie would do a number on anyone. Not even one of the greatest superheroes in the world could save me when I decided to end it all. Jumping off the Brooklyn Bridge didn't go exactly as planned but Spider-Man eventually lost his grip and I fell to my death.

But not really. Stupid mutant physiology and healing factor.

That brings me back to my year of recovery. Hemingway somehow found me after my dive and he and a few of the remaining Morlocks nursed me back to health in the tunnels.

Once I had healed enough to move and my brains were a little less scrambled, I began seeking out the X-Men.

I went to check on Petey first and just about un-did all the work I'd done to get my head straight. He was dead. A martyr for mutantkind. I should've known someone that good wouldn't last long in this world. He was the only X- Man who truly loved and accepted me. I never before thought a broken heart was real. I just thought it was some kind of stupid metaphor. My chest still aches for Petey.

Wolverine was the most difficult. It took every ounce of skill I'd developed in my hellish lifetime to be able to spy on him. It's almost impossible to remain undetected around someone with senses like that but I somehow managed it. I got scared and ran like hell back to the sewers a couple times when I thought I was on the verge of being discovered. If I ever make something of myself, I want the old man to know. I don't know that he ever thought much of me, but I truly respected him underneath all the growling and posturing... and that time I stabbed him through the neck.

The person I wanted to see most was Kitty. She was in college and living a normal life. I smiled for her. From the moment we first met, I knew she was the most perfect thing I'd ever lay eyes on in my entire life. Warm and beautiful without the porn star looks of the other X-Women. I knew I'd never have her but I will live off the fantasy of her love for the rest of my life.

I didn't need to see Storm again. Our issues are as resolved as they're ever gonna get.

I didn't want to see Remy, either. And not just because I didn't want to deal with the possibility of a sulky and jealous Rogue again.

I knew the truth about Remy soon after I met him. Or better said, after we met for the second time. I may have been a little girl, but the sights and sounds of that night have played back in perfect focus every hour of every day of my life. The echoes of screams. A broken angel pinned to the wall. An animal cutting into my mother. A strange man sweeping me out of that monster's path.

I remember him.

I knew why the X-Men chose to keep it a secret. They thought I'd kill Remy. As usual, they were wrong about me. Countless people over the years may have compared me to Wolverine, but I am not him. He is predictable in his rage and I am not. He applies the same code of honor and pride to every situation in his life but there are no rules, no absolutes, in my life. Adaptation is the key to my survival. I can live in sewers, hell dimensions, mansions, and government facilities.

I knew the truth about Remy's involvement in the Morlock Massacre but I did not want to kill him. The X-Men would never have predicted that. And I would never tell them that I knew because it was so much smarter to let them underestimate me like usual. I also admit to feeling a little moral superiority in my ability to understand what Remy did when even his closest friends abandoned him to die. I can't tell you how rare it is to feel like that when you've lived a life like mine.

Soon I was recruited into Weapon X. Sneaky bastards thought they were getting one over on me but I knew I was chosen because of that annoying comparison to Wolverine. For once it seemed to work in my favor when I was made beautiful while retaining the use of my powers in exchange for my services. I guess I shouldn't have bragged earlier about my moral superiority since I spent the next couple years being sent on assassination missions. I'm pretty sure most of them were bad guys, though.

And Weapon X gave me the opportunity I've been waiting on for nearly two decades. I fought Sabretooth and took him out. I doubt he's dead. They all come back. Except for the people I actually want to see again. Mom. Petey. Callisto.

Right now decisions must be made. I don't have a problem with that. Making the decision isn't hard, it's living with it that kills you.