A Divided Mind

Author's Notes :

A reviewer wanted to know why I had Marie be helpless, and then just start researching and stuff to help her rapist.
First off, it's not just any rapist, it's Kurt, and before his brain snapped he was pretty well-liked by all, but now he cannot handle it and it's slowly slipping. She wants to help him, and she is scared as all hell to tell someone about it because she is afraid what they would think about her, that maybe she was dirty or weak or stupid. Things like that. It might sound strange or silly, but I'm trying to be a little realistic... only, you know, not, since it does concern mutants ;)

I don't like explaining it, because it shouldn't have to be. But there you go.

Logan's not thick-headed; he's just in a deep denial. But we'll see what happens.

To Yesterday: Okay okay, here you go, please don't hurt me. :P
To Feathers In Hair: I really do know what you mean, sometimes there are just some things that seem to weird for you to think that someone you admire (even if it's a fictional character) would ever do. The wonders of fanfiction are that, as an author, you can explore the possible and impossible, and delve into possibilities that may or may never be. I honestly don't think Kurt would ever do this but it's just a thought I had and wanted to explore it.

I hope no one else takes this fic seriously, it's just fanfiction after all and it means no harm to the characters or their creators. Thank you to everyone who reviews, good and bad. I try my best to get the chapters out, but seeing as how I have other fics I try to keep up with as well, it’s hard to dedicate time to just one.

Honorable Mention and Thanks goes out to CrowSkyler (recently registered AFF.net author and friend), and non-AFF.net author-friend Daedalic Lycaon for any and all inspirations they may give me. :)

My apologies for any typos you may see throughout the story, I don't necessarily have a beta-reader, though Daedalic Lycaon usually serves as mine, she hasn't read this story. Bah. Please eMail me and let me know if there are any typographical errors. :)

Also, I'm very sorry for taking so long with this installment. I don't plan these things very well, so it takes a while to get things to connect and whatnot. :/ I'm a horrible ficwriter, I know.
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Logan's face showed no clear emotions as he stared at Marie huddled in the corner, but a quick once over told him that she wasn't hurt or anything of the sort. The one emotion that drove him forward in life dominated his features, as he snarled and grabbed Kurt by the front of his vest and pulled him close to his face,

"What are you doin' with her?" he snarled through clenched teeth. There was no doubt why he was called Wolverine, his animal nature kicked in and showed itself very clearly when he was angry, rivaling Sabertooth's own animalism.

Surprisingly, Kurt did not flinch nor did he stammer, or, as Logan might have expected, did he even piss himself. That blue face was challenging him yet again, smiling softly with slightly creased yellow eyes,

"I was merely offering to escort her to the dining table, but you know how women are, they are modest creatures." he gestured with his digit-deficient hand.

"I'm not buyin' it, Nightcrawler. Gentlemen don't corner girls, I at least know that about etiquette." he spat.

A light laugh of mirth fell from Kurt's tongue, a sinister grin pulling across his face, "I’m surprised you know the word, let alone the meaning. At any rate, I seem to have suddenly lost appetite, Guten Abend." he disappeared, leaving Logan only grasping smokey tendrils.

Something like thunder was rumbling deep in his chest, he curled his hands into fists so tightly that the claws popped out. A small movement of white fabric caught his eye and the claws instantly sunk into their fleshy sheathes as he whirled to look at her.

"Tell me what's going on, you can't lie to me anymore." he struggled to keep his voice calm, but it wavered slightly with the raging mixed emotions pulsing through his veins like white water rapids.

"I swear to you Logan, you will know when the time is right, but please.... don't ask me right now." desperate to get to the bottom of things before she revealed the awful truth to anyone, she ran from the hallway and up a flight of stairs, no doubt taking the long way to her shared room.

Tears pricked the Wolverine's eyes, catching him off-guard and making him cry out in anger and frustration. Why was she doing this to him? Didn't she know he cared for her? That he... that he could very well love her? Such a word hadn't existed in his vocabulary for a very long time, that had to mean something to her, it had to.

But how was she to know if he couldn't even look her in the eyes? This was not life trying to be cruel to be kind, it was simply being cruel.

He stormed out of the manor, yanking his coat from the closet and going for a very long walk.

Dinner was uncharacteristically quiet that night and more empty than usual. Three of the usual attendants had unceremoniously ditched, and no one knew why, nor did anyone ask questions. Dishes were cleared, food was put away, and everyone went to their rooms or other places for the night. The Rec Room had never been so uneventful on a Saturday night.
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Marie was sure she was safe that night. After that startling encounter with Logan, Kurt wouldn’t possibly risk anything for fear that Logan would burst in and literally rip him to shreds. It just wasn't a logical thing to do, if one knew cause and effect, they knew that to wait would be better. Marie suddenly wondered when and why she had suddenly become so philosophical and psychological.

'Leave it to Freud,' she thought sarcastically, quickly changing into light cotton pyjama pants and a random short-sleeved shirt. Kitty and Jubilee were at dinner right now, and though she doubted they would barge in at any moment, she would have rather be ready for bed and have an excuse about being sleepy, than to have to explain her absence at the dinner table, or Logan's absence, or Kurt's.

Suddenly she thought about Kurt, and all she had read that afternoon, many thoughts churning in her brain. No, it was a stupid thought. It was night time, Logan was out, everyone was at dinner, if she went to Kurt now and tried to absorb him and his thoughts, it could be dangerous. What if she took too much and he fell unconscious, and she was stuck with his appearance and his memories?

But, what if she had a breakthrough? What if she found something inside his mind that could help her connect his sudden spiral into insanity with something in his past, and help resolve it and maybe even help cure him? If she took the chance to understand him better, she could then go to Jean and they'd have a lot of leads to go on and Kurt's cure would come to them more easily because of it.

Her mind was reeling with the pros and cons, possibilities and hopes of what just one visit could do. She looked out through the window, at the moon which hung just above the trees, and felt a good omen suddenly come into her. It was now or never and as good a time as any to get it over with. If she did manage to absorb too much, she would at least have the ability to teleport out of there and to where the others were to tell them what had happened, right? So there was a definite way out.

Reasoning won over all else, and Marie pulled on a hooded sweater over her shirt, looking around her room carefully to run through her mind anything she may want to bring. All she needed was her wits about her, didn't she?

'A weapon,' her mind told her. Would she really need one? She didn't want to have to hurt him, but if it came down to it, she might have to in order to keep him from taking advantage of her again. She fished through a drawer until she found a pair of scissors, slipping them into the kangaroo pouch at the front of the sweater.

As she slipped out of the bedroom, her words to Logan floated back to her, 'you will know when the time is right.' It hit her suddenly how weak that sounded. When the time is right? Wasn't yesterday a good time? And the day before that?

Marie felt suddenly felt very foolish, and the pieces of Logan that still remained within her mind turned it into anger. Her face felt warm, and as she marched down to Kurt's room, she didn’t at all look down at the pair of scissors in the pocket.

Without invitation, she opened the door.

There was a light on somewhere, the only unsettling thing was that she couldn't discern where the light source was, but it was there and it wasn't too bright; it did its job. Marie blinked and looked around the vaguely familiar room, not seeing anyone immediately.

It was then that she suddenly remembered what she had been doing in that hall before Kurt trapped her against the wall. She wanted to find Ororo but it was no use, she was already in the dining room at that time. It was an unbelievable unfortunate event that messed up her entire plan, and not she was resorting to direct contact and a pair of scissors.

Closing the door behind her, she kept to the left side of the room to stay opposite the bed. She was too busy looking around the room to notice the figure sitting in the ragged chair, until, of course, he grabbed her wrist gently,

"Isn't this nice? You've come to visit me."

She jumped from surprise, looking down with wide eyes at the dark mass of shadows, seeing only yellow eyes staring back at her. She had forgotten about that other little part of Kurt’s mutation, where he could blend in with the shadows so easily. Professor Xavier had told them along with Kurt demonstrating.

"I've come to stop this, Kurt, I can't do this anymore." She pulled at her wrist and tugged it out of his grip surprisingly easily. Kurt didn't move or react and this made her uneasy. His voice was gentle and low,

"You don't want to help me?"

"What?" she said in slight puzzlement. "Of course I want to help you, that's why I am here." She turned to face the orbs of light looking up at her with indiscernible expression, taking a deep breath before continuing.

"Kurt, what you've done to me, I don't know what compelled you to do it, but I know whatever it was it's not you. You're sick and you need the help you deserve, but before we can get you some, I need to know why. I want to see what's doing this to you, what you are feeling. Please... let me inside your mind."

She reached forward slowly, concentrating her powers to reach out, and as soon as her fingertips grazed his scarred cheek, she could feel tiny little tendrils tugging, shifting to work and pull him in, to absorb what he was and who he was, and where his mind went.

An onslaught of images, memories, was catapulted into her, along with emotions she could barely register, just as she vaguely registered the spasming form in front of her. Each new memory was like a fresh tenterhook, slicing into her brain, showing her the horrors of what he was forced to do in the circus and afterwards, just to survive. At the point of an especially disturbing image, she broke contact, overwhelmed by the sensations and memories that were not hers, stumbling back to sit on the bed.

Marie pressed her hands to either side of her head and began to concentrate again, concentrating on taking control, the tendrils recoiling back into her as she tried to make sense of what she absorbed.

Humiliation, fear, shame, hate; these emotions connected to their respective memories. Humiliation in the circus, acting like a demon, then afterwards, overhearing what some of the performers, and audience, really thought of him. Fear as some weren't satisfied with his performance in the ring and demanded something more 'private'. Shame that he had let his mother or God down in some way that would have made them so cruel to him. Hate at everyone, but more importantly, hate at him. For not fighting back, for not finding a better way, for taking the abuse. How he could just let it all happen so passively confused and angered him even more. A new emotion flooded her now, forgiveness, coupled with pain. The scars carved into his skin as he prayed and he hoped that for whatever he had done, his faith would be proven as he carved the sins into his body so he would never forget, and never make the same mistakes.

She felt and saw all of this as if they were her own memories, tears spilling out of her eyes silently at the terrible past Kurt dragged behind him. She looked sideways through blurry vision, and in a mirror saw two golden orbs staring back at her. She blinked; the orbs flickered. They were her eyes; his eyes. Marie turned her head away to look at the figure breathing shallowly in the chair, still alive despite how much she drained from him.

Was this what drove him slowly mad? The silence he received from the One Above towards his promises and begging and crying and self-mutilation? Could the spiraling fear of losing your faith trick your mind into thinking that by sinning, you could become a saint? This explained why he said she was his angel. This is why... oh god... she buried her face in her hands... he was so misled, his fraying mind had turned everything upside-down in his eyes. What if it could never be fixed? What if he had to be locked up?

Marie hadn't realized she was sobbing until she felt an arm wrap lightly around her shoulders. They weren't Kurt's arms, they lacked the muscle. She felt dizzy and was glad for the support the arm gave her.

"Shh, it's okay, Marie." A soft, motherly voice. Jean Grey. Her hand lightly stroked Marie’s arm, looking down at the shaking girl with great concern, wondering what had happened. An idea passed through her mind and she pursed her lips, her voice stronger,

"Was it Logan? Tell me what that bastard did to you and-" she was cut off suddenly by Marie shaking her head quickly.

"What? It's not Logan?" Jean asked in revealed surprised. Could it be she had accused him for nothing?

"Honey, Marie, please talk to me, what happened?" It was apparent that she didn't notice Kurt at all. After all, he had not made any sounds, nor was he moving much either. She had walked by and heard only Marie, saw her sitting on the bed with her shoulders shaking, and she went straight to her.

As if in reply, Marie brought her warm and wet hands away from her face to look at Jean, revealing the still-glowing orbs that were her eyes. But that wasn't all; Jean gave out a gasp,

"Marie, what did you do??" she asked in awed horror. Upon the girl's pale skin of her cheeks and forehead were intricate designs, somehow carved into her skin. The thin lines were dripping small rivulets of blood. The warmth and wetness on Marie's hands were not tears as she thought they were, but her blood.
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A/N: I don't know what kind of ending this is, but I hope it's better than the cliffhanger I had for chapter three...? I will try to get chap. 5 started as soon as I can, I still have yet to think up a title for chapter 5, but that can always wait until the end. Thank you for reading. :)