A/N- Last chapter, so many of you are gonna hate me for this.

It was done.

She was gone.

The love of his life- his Marie, his beautiful darlin' was gone.

Suffering shock Logan wandered blindly into the room she had taken before her departure, stopping in the middle of the small area to inhale her gorgeous scent. His own had long since overpowered the magnolias and warmth in, what had been, their room.

Crawling onto the bed, he sat at the head, setting his legs on the floor, as he clutched her pillow to his chest like a child would a teddy bear.

It was done.

After seven years of madness, of bloodshed, of slavery…every crime he had committed just to be closer to his goal of her, and he'd been forced to send her away.

Seven years waiting for her and only three short months together… and now…


Now and forever.

Long unending loneliness.

He buried his face in the pillow and tried to drown himself in her scent, that of the only woman he would ever love.

But the intruder made that difficult- even if she was his salvation.

"Before you do anything, you should know that there's a secret door that leads from this room to a passage of tunnels, leads straight out of Magda, you better take it"

"Why should I do anything you tell me to?"

"Cause you're Rogue's friend, I don't want to cause her anymore grief"

"Right because getting away from you would cause her so much grief"

He allowed himself a rueful smile at the amount of sarcasm in the young girl's voice, you could say what you liked about Xavier and Summers, but there was no denying that they raised their students to have balls.

"I'd like to think so"

"Then you're crazy as well as evil"

He decided not to comment on the unnecessary statement, but raised his head to lock eyes with his intended killer.

What he saw flooded him with legions of pity.

Logan had avoided mirrors with a passion during his seven years of hell, not only because he hadn't been interested, but, more often than not, he had seen enough of himself in the shocked and uneasy expressions of those closest to him not to need to.

Seeing Jubilee now however, gave him a pretty good idea of how he must have looked.

Her hair hung lank to her elbows, unwashed and with graying streaks that revealed her emotional agony. Her skin was sallow and clung to her bones, making her yellow, milky eyes protrude from her face and her chapped and bleeding lips even more pronounced.

She looked emaciated, as if the desire for revenge had sucked all the life from her body.

Though from what he knew of desire- perhaps his assessment wasn't too far off.

What strength she lacked in body however, she made up for with the sword in her hands.

The Murasma Blade.

Forged in the forgotten temples in the hidden hilltops of Japan in the early twentieth century, the long sword with the golden handle blessed and cursed by several samurais had been created to combat the perceived threat of the intruding soldier cum student. Upon knowledge of his adamantium skeleton the sword had been reformed with carbonadium, the one time that a metal stronger than adamantium had been successfully made and survived long enough to be a threat. Logan had only been made aware of its existence when it had been stolen by the Yukuza, a long time enemy of both himself and those who had trained him. He had recovered it without any damage to himself but had demanded that it be given to Yuko, a fellow student whose supernatural abilities he trusted to keep the weapon safe from harm.

Over one hundred years later Logan had assumed it safely lost.

Apparently not.

He buried his face in the pillow one last time, drowning himself in the scent of his beloved, fighting the tears that threatened to spill at the thought of never seeing Marie again.

I love you!

He screamed that into eternity, willing his darlin', wherever she was, to hear that…to know that his feelings had never changed and…no matter what came after life, never would.

Taking a deep breath to prepare himself, he moved slowly, so as not to startle his intended murderer, placing the pillow back in place and sinking to his knees on the floor. He kept his eyes focused on the wall before him as Jubilee skittered back and then, obviously regaining her courage, prepared herself for the task at hand.

"Any last words?"

He chuckled at the cliché, like she would carry them on anyway.

Still, he raised his eyes to lock with hers,

"This world…I never had a string of good moments that weren't followed by grief or agony…my life was one long never ending battle for survival and at times I just wanted to give in…but then…I was rewarded with having met Marie, having been able to see the kind of life she and I could have had together had fate not intervened…it wasn't perfect…but it was enough that…for a time…I was happy"

He closed his eyes instinctively as the sword slashed through his neck, severing it from his body in one smooth cut. The blood spurted from the wound and in the moments before all oxygen left his brain he managed to open his eyes. Before him lay a body, quivering in the throes of death, the white shirt darkening with red.

Then he succumbed to the darkness.

And all that remained of the Wolverine was the small stream of blood that trickled onto the floor to mingle with Jubilee's.