The sky was cool and blue that day. The wind was breezing through the trees gently, a simple caress. It was gorgeous weather, another perfect Saturday in fall.

What a joke.

The forest was what Marie chose to focus on. She forced her eyes away from the maples' bold colors, and instead contemplated the pines. They were black beneath and evergreen above, with a myriad of emerald shades in between. But all of them were dark.

The breath caught in her throat and she tore her eyes away. The world was too healthy for her to enjoy. Even the pines were verdant with life, in their own special way. The lumpy granite tiles beneath her feet stared her in the face, and she saw melancholy expressions in the stone.

It was like looking into a broken mirror.

Why had he gone? Why had he felt that he needed to go? She knew him well, though it wasn't with his permission, and she knew that he would have no trouble staying away until she was dead and gone. It wouldn't be his claws to do her in, which justified his escape for him, but the Rogue in Marie knew that somewhere, deep down, Logan understood that it was all the same.

She wanted to hide in a closet somewhere.

She wanted to go back to the streets.

She wanted to die.

Maybe he would find her out there, again, and bring her back to the mansion. He would stay for a little while, to make sure she was okay. He would decide that he didn't want to leave, after all. He would, he would...

He wouldn't.

He wouldn't care if she left.

He wouldn't care if she wanted to live on the streets.

He wouldn't care if she decided to die.

Because she knew that he'd see whatever choice she made as hers. And he was old enough, whether he remembered it or not, to have learned that people didn't usually wait for his advice. If he had known her thoughts right then, he would have kept his mouth shut and ignored them. Just chewed on his cigar and chugged at a beer. Marie felt his harsh personality strong enough inside her to know that he saw everyone around him as a lost cause.

It hurt that she was just another name on the list.

He had left in the middle of the night. Or maybe it had been right after dinner, or early in the morning. No one knew with Logan. His weight never mattered; he was as silent as a cat when he wanted to be. His truck had been gone, and so had his trailer, which explained why no one had heard him drive away. The pickup didn't roar like the Harley did.

And no one had needed to say even a single word in explanation.

He was gone.