"Logan?!" Jean cried from the back of the van as it sped down the street. Looking out the window, she saw that they were now heading away from the mansion. Even without actively scanning his mind, she could sense the panic and terror emanating from him in waves. Still, Shelley needed medical attention, and it was her responsibility to ensure she got it.

"Logan. Stop the van," she ordered as she made her way to the front, grasping the seat backs as he made a dangerously sharp turn onto a side street. He ignored her command so she used her telekinesis to push down on the brake, slowing their speed considerably.

Logan roared and with a wet *SCHUKK* she heard and saw his bone claws emerge inches from her face. She could feel his powerful rage and knew that if she hadn't been one of his long-time friends, she'd already be dead. Immediately releasing the pressure on the brake, she backed away, allowing him to resume his attempt to break all land-speed records.

~Professor,~ Jean mentally called. ~Something's happened. Logan's emotions are out of control. Shelley needs help, and he's driving us in the wrong direction. I don't know what I should do. Should I scan him?~

After a pause, Professor Xavier responded, ~He's heading back to Mercy Hospital, and he needs you to stay with him. I'll send Hank to pick up Shelley. She's stable now?~

~For the moment, but what's going on?~

~His emotions are very strong. I can't get a clear reading, but something has happened to Anna and Rogue. Stay with him, Jean.~

Logan barely registered the cars that shared the road with him. They were only obstacles to avoid as he made his way toward his goal.

The smell of death still lingered with him, but he couldn't accept it. There were all sorts of new medical advances. People died and were brought back all the time. Marie and Anna would be fine. If he could just get to them, he'd see they were ok.

What were they doing out here anyway? Marie taught late on Fridays and Anna... Anna had soccer practice. He'd forgotten. He always picked her up. Marie must've gone and... Guilt filled his soul as he realized, it was all his fault. He should've been the one to drive Anna home. If he had been there, maybe the accident wouldn't have happened. Marie would definitely be safe now, and maybe Anna would be all right as well.

No. He wouldn't let himself get distracted. He just had to get this insanely slow van another few blocks, and he'd see everything was all right. They were probably just bruised and scratched up a bit. The smells in the Jeep had probably been from the person they'd hit. Everything was gonna be ok.

Logan screeched to a stop in front of the Emergency Room doors and ran into the hospital. Jean left Shelley with a few reassuring words and a promise that someone would be with her shortly, then ran after him. By the time she arrived at the check-in counter, she saw Logan holding a doctor up to the wall by his scrub front.

"You smell like Anna. Where is she? Where's Marie? What happened to them?" he demanded.

Jean could hear a nurse call for security, and she ran up to Logan, trying to calm him at least a little, so they wouldn't be thrown out before they got any information.

If Logan heard her, he gave no indication. His steady gaze was focused solely on the man in front of him.

Jean turned to the terrified man in his grasp, sending out feelings of soothing peace in an effort to calm him down enough to get some answers, then she said, "Anna is eight years old with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. She was probably brought here within the last hour after a car accident."

The man nodded. "Yes, I treated her. Bad case. She was bleeding internally. I sent her up to surgery about fifteen minutes ago."

Logan loosened his grip on the man slightly, anger being somewhat replaced by grief.

"Marie?" he snarled.

"The mother," Jean interpreted. "Brown hair with white streaks. Early-thirties."

From the look on the doctor's face, Jean knew what he was going to say, but before she could stop him, he said, "I'm sorry. There was nothing we could do. She was dead on arrival."

Jean expected Logan to slay the doctor where he stood, to howl in anger and pain, to destroy the emergency room in his grief, but he didn't do any of that.

Instead, he fell limply to his knees, like a marionette whose strings had been cut. Holding his head in his hands, he slowly rocked back and forth, and Jean could hear him whispering, "No… no… no…" over and over again, almost as if he said it enough times, it would change what had happened.

The doctor backed away from him, and waved the security guards away as well, leaving him to his grief.

Jean stayed by his side, in shock at what had happened. Rogue, so young and full of life, was dead? No. Not like this. Not in some meaningless car accident. If anyone was going to die, Jean had been sure it would be in battle.

How could someone be alive one minute and dead the next? Even after all her years of medical training and work as a doctor, she had never been good at understanding or accepting death. It was an enemy to be fought and defeated, not a part of life to be accepted. She had considered them truly lucky that they had never lost one of their team in all their years of battle. Now death had come to claim one of their own.

Jean felt a tug on her pants leg as Logan reached out and grabbed her. Hugging himself to her legs like a child and still looking down at the floor, he whispered, "I… I have to… to see her, Jeanie. Please."

"I'll take care of it, Logan. Don't worry."

Jean pulled herself away from his grasp, and went to the check-in desk as Logan wrapped his arms around himself and resuming his rocking.

Logan shuffled down the hall like an old man, one hand dragging along the wall for support. He could smell the formaldehyde and other chemicals mixed with the scent of death from the moment he stepped off the elevator. There were no windows down here in the basement and the walls where a stark, cold off-white. Finally reaching the double doors with the sign "Morgue" above them, he froze.

"Logan?" Jean asked, still by his side and ready to help where she could.

"Could you do me a favor, Red?"

"Anything."

"Check on Anna for me. See if they'll let ya into the operation. I don't trust these doctors." It was more words than he'd uttered since he'd heard the news. He didn't have the energy for speaking anymore, no energy for anything, in fact.

"Are you sure? I mean... I could go with you if..."

"Go on, Jeanie. Watch after my little girl."

Jean nodded and turned back down the hallway for the elevators. Logan remained standing before the imposing doors, finally pushing them open.

A bookish woman looked up from her dinner behind the desk, and after taking in his appearance, said, "Um, you're not supposed to be down here, sir."

He didn't hear her, looking around the room in shock. They were obviously backed up, as there were several covered bodies on gurneys waiting to be processed. Marie's scent drifted from one of them.

With shaking hands, he reached up and pulled back the sheet to reveal his wife's pale face. Her hair was matted with dried blood, the white streaks partially tinted with red. Her head was bent at an odd angle, and her eyes remained half-opened in a perpetual stare. Her expression surprised him, though, in that she looked almost peaceful.

He reached out and gently turned her head into a more natural position, feeling the broken bones shifting in her neck. The skin under his bare hands was cold and lifeless. How many times over the years had he wished that he could safely touch her, skin-to-skin? Now that dream had been twisted into a nightmare.

She was still wearing the outfit he'd seen her in this morning. It was dirty, grease-stained, and ripped in a few, little places, but the green material was still remarkably undamaged. How could her clothes have remained so untouched when the occupant was so badly broken?

Odd stains started appearing on her shirt, blossoming in little dots, and he realized he was crying. He hated showing weakness and had rarely cried in all his remembered life. Now, he sobbed openly for Marie pulling her body up into his arms and cradling her.

"I love you," he whispered.