More weeks passed, and there had been no improvement. Thanksgiving had been three days ago, a quiet and somber affair. Logan hadn't even come to the table. He had spent the entire day at Celeste's side because, as far as he was concerned, he had nothing to be thankful for.

Yesterday, Beast had suggested turning the machines off. It had taken all four of the others to keep him from killing his teammate. *It's happened t'all of 'em*, he thought, *every female I've ever loved has ended up dead or wantin' ta kill me. He took a deep breath and stared down at Celeste's face. She was pale and gaunt, because she'd been fed through an IV for so long. Her hair had been cut shoulder-length, to make it easier to care for her. The sheets were pulled up to her chin, covering the clean white hospital gown she wore. He'd been the one to give her a bath, because he wouldn't let anybody else touch her for any length of time. Except maybe Beast, when he wanted to examine her.

Marie Leveau had come back several times, though never visibly. She stayed silent and invisible, watching her niece. Logan could sense her presence, although she never gave any indication that she was there. She was standing across the room now, watching. Since the night she'd tried to kill him with voodoo, he'd forgiven her. She'd come for his blood because she blamed him for her niece's condition. She'd been ready to kill him for what had happened to Celeste. If she tried again, Logan wouldn't stop her. She was right to blame him. It was his fault.

He waited until she left, and considered his options. He probably should let Beast turn off the equipment. It was wrong of him to want to keep her here, to deny her the release that death was to her now. He should be the one to do it.

*Snikt* He looked down at her one last time. Her head was tipped back at just the right angle to expose her throat. Memories ran together and suddenly she was Mariko, her eyes squeezed shut in agony, her lips pinched closed, in too much pain to beg for the coup de grâs anymore. Could he kill her a second time? He raised his arm high. One clean cut, and she'd be free. He brought his arm down.

He screamed as he made contact, and crashed to his knees on the floor. When he found the strength to lift his head and look at his handiwork, he saw Celeste untouched. He hadn't even made a mark on the soft white skin of her neck.

He couldn't even do this for her. Wolverine whimpered and scrambled to his feet, holding one hand over his heart as he left the room.

In the kitchen, Jean yelped and pressed a hand to her forehead. Waves of raw anguish assaulted her for every angle. She found the source in the Rec Room, staring sightlessly at the blank tv screen. She sat down next to him, and gently took his hand. At first, he was unresponsive, but, slowly, his fingers curled around hers. They sat quietly for many minutes, holding hands and listening to the wind howling outside, voicing their emotion in a way they could not.

Upstairs, in the empty Med Lab, the machines were beeping and spitting out readouts faster than they could be registered within the circuitry. The patient's brain waves had tripled their speed in the last ten seconds. *Must...save...him. There is no one....if I fail, my life is forfeit...wake up, wake up now...Oh, God...please, God. Someone comes! Must find the sword! She comes to destroy me!*

WAKE UP!

Celeste's eyes popped open, almost of their own volition. *Where? The sword! Where?! Must find...Oh, God!*

The room grew soft and light with pastel glitters. The masses of power congealed in the corners of the room, coming toward her. Celeste shrieked as it poured into her. The Charon Sword appeared at her hip, in the belt loop of her uniform. Power flowed, wild and raw and unstoppable as the Earth itself, in her veins. She was stronger than she had ever been; the outcome of this day depended on it.

Celeste leaped to her feet, oblivious to the IVs that ripped away from her arms. The tiny, inconsequential wounds healed instantly. *Logan, where are you, Logan....?* If she didn't go now, she would fail. Celeste ran from the room in a blur of dark movement.

Illyana appeared above the bed, one hand outstretched toward the daughter who had always been one step ahead of her. "That is my last gift to you, Celeste. Use it well. . . ."

Jean's head jerked up, and she recoiled in pain. What in the worl-? Celeste screeched and vaulted over the couch, landing in front of Logan. She stumbled and threw herself backwards, covering his body with hers. He made a questioning noise before all opportunity to react was gone. There was a sharp hiss as the blade of the Empire Sword slammed into Celeste's throat, intent on cutting straight through her and Logan. The blade bit deep, and blood flowed freely.

"Well, Sister. We meet again." A rough voice intoned.

"Hello, Ana. My, aren't we looking beautiful today?" Celeste watched Ana's face twist into an ugly mask. Celeste shifted uneasily. The wound was sealing itself, and if she didn't get the sword out of her flesh soon, it was going to become a permanent accessory.

"How did you guess it was me, Your Majesty?"

"You were the only one left. Soamna Thepis rarely works alone, and there is no one else who hates me so." Celeste mumbled uneasily. It was obviously the wrong thing to say. Her sister pushed the blade in further. "You bitch!" she screamed. Jean and Logan were paralyzed by their power, they had no choice but to watch as Ana's rage consumed her sister.

"You killed him!" she accused, "You killed the only man who ever loved me!"

Her teeth gleamed white in her dark face. "Allow me to return the favor!" She raised the sword high with a wicked grin.

Celeste's foot connected with Ana's jaw with enough force to tear her head from her neck. Ana fell backwards, crashing into the television screen. Slivers of glass rained down on her, leaving bloody scratches on her face and body. Celeste stood up and brandished her weapon with both hands.

"Allow me."

"I'll kill you!"

Ana screamed and her blade connected with Celeste's. They fought with all the pent-up animosity that had flourished between them throughout the years. Ana's power lie in the sheer volume of her rage. Celeste far outranked her in skill.

As they spun and thrust and deflected blows, Celeste talked. "Ana, you have betrayed us all. You have stolen the Empire Sword from the battleground. You are...umph...no better than a thief. Worthless- useless to your family and your people. Agh!...Did you watch him kill my mother?" Ana snarled and doubled her efforts. Celeste threw down her sword, spun around, and her foot swung out. It connected solidly with the Empire Sword, and stopped.

They stared at each other. "I shall fear no weapon but the Charon Sword," Celeste stated flatly, reaching out simultaneously to grasp a thick handful of thorny green hair. She pulled her sister's head back, forcing her to her knees, her neck stretched to an odd angle as she looked into Celeste's eyes. "Did...you...watch...my...mother...die?" She repeated in a dangerously soft voice.

Ana, realizing she had already lost, grew small and timid when faced with Celeste's icy poiteness. Tears gathered in her eyes. She cried out when Celeste yanked on her hair. "A princess shows no fear." she snapped. "Did you or didn't you?"

Ana sobbed quietly, nervously clutching the sword that rested on the floor. Celeste nudged the weapon with her foot, stepping on Ana's hands as she did so. When the tip of the blade pointed upward at a forty-five degree angle, Celeste forced Ana's head back so that she could see her face. "I will ask again. Did you watch him kill my mother?"

"No!" she shrieked, choking on tears and pleas.

"No? I do not tolerate liars any more than I do traitors."

Ana screamed as she felt herself being lowered toward the gleaming metal point. "No! I swear it, I didn't watch him kill her!"

Celeste relaxed marginally, silently thanking God. There was still hope. Ana could be saved.

Ana began to laugh. Celeste glanced down at her, confused. There was such joy depicted there, such sadistic glee. Callie recognized the expression. She'd seen it on her rapist's face.

"I didn't watch her die," Ana chuckled, "I killed her myself."

The wrath of God exploded inside of Celeste, bursting from her with all the heat of the sun. "A princess shows no fear," she said in a voice not her own, "but a queen shows no mercy."

Her sister screamed as, too late, she realized her mistake. She had underestimated her sister for the last time. Celeste's knee ground against Ana's back as she forced her to lie down upon the blade. The Charon Sword slid across the floor and into Celeste's hand. She raised it high and beheaded her sister in an instant.

Her sister's cries faded as she dissolved into a pile of flower petals. Celeste glanced up to find everyone staring at her. Logan and Jean were still on the couch, but the rest of Xavier's School for Gifted Individuals was clustered around the couch, gaping at the picture of broken glass and bloodshed, rose petals and revenge before them. Xavier opened his mouth. Callie shook her head, one finger raised to her lips.

A gentle wind blew through the room, stirring the flower petals into the air. They settled around Celeste and began to revolve in their own little orbit around her. Tiny white lightning bolts erupted from that circle. Another mini cyclone stirred the bits of glass from the tv screen and reassembled them before their eyes. By the time the panel was solid, Celeste had begun to glow.

The television screen slid back into place, and Celeste made her demands to Mother Earth, not caring whether or not she was in a position to do so. "I have killed again, in Your name. For You I have sacrificed my humanity and my family. I want your Power."

Her brightness increased, and the rest of them had to close their eyes. By the time the light receded, several minutes had passed. Celeste was floating in the air. The blood and swords were gone. There was no evidence that there had ever been a fight, no evidence that she had ever been sick. Celeste was wearing jeans and a green fleece shirt that looked familiar to Logan, even though he was sure he'd never seen it before.

She was glaring at him through accusing eyes. They were no longer dark and empty, but burned a feverish silver as they reflected her pain. There eyes met and minds slammed together like magnets. In a single second, all the memories she had hidden in her heart for almost a century were returned to him. He realized he knew her far better than she thought he did. As she had planned, it was her last gift to him.

Celeste looked down at the man she loved, holding hands with Phoenix, and two things became painfully obvious. I have no claim on his heart, she thought, I don't belong here. Her heart cracked like a glass figurine. Logan sucked in his breath to say something, anything. But Callie was beyond hearing. She turned and did the one thing he thought he'd never see her do.

She ran away.

She turned and disappeared, with nothing to mark her passage but a trail of rose petals. Logan made a blind jump as she faded from sight, but ended up clutching handfuls of empty air.

Blood pounded in his ears. Silence reined supreme for five whole minutes. Logan stared out the window, out into the cold, dark night, and made a promise of his own. "Ya can run all ya like, darlin'. You're still mine." He left for Canada the next day. She'd spent her whole life trailing him, so all he had to do was backtrack a little. He'd find her before the first snow fell.

Logan didn't waste time thinkin' about what he'd do if she'd already left this realm.