DADDY


Xavier’s school for gifted youngsters. Vast garden around mansion was ruined. Earth was scorched; smoking craters marred once beautiful green grasslands. Mansion itself had collapsed, sturdy brick walls blown to pieces. Attack had been ruthless. Bodies of students and teachers lay scattered on ruins. After the new law government’s only goal was total extinction of mutants.

Heavy concrete slab fell off from a pile of stone rubble. First one hand, then other after that shot to surface. Battered man, dressed in black leather dug himself from underneath the pile. He lay for a moment under the night sky, breathing deeply and collecting his strength. He could detect only faint trace of life nearby. He could see her body. Marie. She lay under her husband’s body. Bobby had made a final, futile effort to protect her. He took in their scent. Blood and death. And underneath it something else. He crawled closer and could hear a heart beat. He pushed Bobby aside. It wasn’t his heart. It wasn’t her heart, either. It was much smaller. Quickly he scanned his surroundings. Only death was there. That left only one grim task for him. He pushed her clothes away from her swollen belly. Sprung one claw. He cut her open carefully, hoping that the baby was strong enough to survive from his crude surgery.

Logan watched sleeping child. What he didn’t know about childcare could easily fill up a library, but he had to try. He had made a promise to her, few months ago.

“If something happens, you take her and run”, Marie had told him. They had been sitting at the garden, contemplating the new law. And suddenly he had the feeling she had known what would happen. Why she chose him was at first mystery to him. Then he had talked with Bobby.
“She knows you. If there’s one thing you’re good at, it’s running and hiding”, Iceman had said. At first he had thought the snot tried to insult him, but there had been no malice in his voice. He had just stated the obvious. Wolverine fought fiercely, but he had enough sense to flee if going got too rough. And he knew how to disappear.

Baby crinkled her face in her dreams and reached a small hand to air. He smiled and brushed the small fist with his fingers. Small jolt, like electricity coursed through him. He hoped it would be enough. He had tried to feed her with baby formula, but it had made her sick. She had cried until he got enough. He had been too tired to care. He had touched her briefly, and she had stopped crying immediately. She had her mother’s mutation, with a small twist. She could turn it off, and it seemed that she used it for feeding. Many nights he let her sleep on his bare chest. That way she stayed warm, and could draw energy from him whenever she felt like it. He could only hope she didn’t get his nightmares from those touches like her mother had had.

She sits perched on a windowsill and stares out. Snowflakes are dancing in darkness, gathering slowly to ground covering it to a thin, white sheen. She’s waiting for him. He left two days ago to hunt. He should be back soon. She hears footsteps from the tiny cabin’s front porch. She tilts her head and draws in scent. Smile lights her face and she bounces to the door to greet him.

He’s tired. Two hole days, and all he has caught is two skinny rabbits. Maybe it’s time to start moving again. He opens the door and small slip of a girl jumps on his arms wounding her hands around him, and suddenly he’s not so tired anymore.
“Daddy! I missed you!” Aislin squeals and squeezes him tightly. He returns her embrace smiling.
“I missed you too, kid.” Daddy. It still amazes him. How he managed to raise this spitfire on his lap without fucking the whole thing up. For a moment he wonders what Summers would say if he saw them now. One-eyed wonder would probably just nod and lean back waiting some little thing to show his inadequate parenting skills. Or not. Scott Summers had been a tight-ass, but he had been straight to the bone.

“What did you get?” Aislin asks snapping him out from his memories. He lowers her to floor and starts shrugging off his jacket and boots.
“Not much. I’m beginning to think maybe we should start get going. We may have been here too long, and game was spare before we even settled here”, he says. Her face brightens even more.
“Are we moving? Could we go to some town or city or…” He hates it when she gets all exited and all he can do is crush her dreams to spot.
“There’s another cabin like this further north. Better equipped, though and easier to defend.” Light from her eyes disappears. He crouches in front of her and caresses her cheek with his hand, feeling a short stab of pain before she gets her skin back in control.
“I’m sorry. But this is for the best”, he says. Words are hollow, meaningless. She knows what they are, and why they must hide from the world, but that doesn’t make isolation any easier for her to bear. It was easier when she was just a child, but she’s nearly sixteen now, restless wolfling wanting to prowl around. He takes her hand to his own, and suddenly she opens up. His breath caught in his throat, heart on override, muscles convulsing. She lets him fall to floor.
“I’m sorry, daddy…” He hears her whisper before his mind spirals to darkness and there’s nothing.

Next time he sees her five years has passed. He’s fighting again. Dimly lit bar, metal cage surrounded with lit oil barrels. His opponents are gruff, drunk truckers. He knows it’s dangerous. More dangerous than it was before. If they found out he’s a mutant, they will call sentinels to finish him off. But there’s nothing else to do. There’s no reason to stay alive and safe anymore. For all he knows he could be all alone in this world, only mutant left for them to hunt. First year he tried to find her, find his daughter, but he trained her too well. She had his skills and knowledge, and her mother’s will to run. Slowly his futile search turned to something else, and he reverted back to his old habits, fighting, drinking and fucking. And now he’s in the cage, pummeling away fat, smelly bald man, when suddenly he senses her presence. He turns to gaze towards bar, and trucker uses his distraction to his advantage, dropping him with a jarring kick to gut. He stands up and finishes him quick. Before he manages to make his way to bar, she’s gone. But he has her scent now. One small glove lay on the floor, next to stool she sat on. He picks it up and stuffs it to his pocket. He pulls on his numerous shirts and jackets and collects his winnings. Exits through the back door. That’s were she left. Her footprints on the snow in front of him. He stops for a moment to light a cigar. He’s not sure should he follow. She made it pretty clear she had had enough. He decides not to, and shuffles through the snow towards motel.

He opens door to his room and flicks the light on and there she is. Sitting on a bed. Green hooded cloak covering her whole body. Brown long locks with two streaks of white and piercing blue eyes fixed to his. Looking the entire world like her mother.
“Hi, ‘dad’.” Her voice ice cold. She knows.
“Hi, kid. How’s it been?” He asks, closing the door.
“Found out some interesting things, ‘dad’.” Shit. She’s pissed. He shrugs off his jackets, sits next to her and starts to pull off his boots.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” She asks.
“Figured it didn’t matter.”
“Didn’t matter? You knew you weren’t my father, and it didn’t matter? I had a right to know!” Aislin shouts. Voice rankles his ears and he cringes a bit.
“Were you going to tell me? Or keep on pretending?” She asks. He doesn’t answer, walks to bathroom instead and closes the door. Takes the toothbrush. Then it suddenly strikes him. Toothbrush flies away from his hand, claws shoot out and he sinks them to wall. Rage is boiling inside of him. He pulls them back in, collects his wits and kicks the door open. Walks to her and yanks her up from the lapels of her cloak, pulling her face to same level as his.
“Don’t you ever tell me I’m not your father!" He growls through clenched teeth. He pushes her to wall, capturing her there with his body and presses his hand, palm open to her forehead and feels the pull. He concentrates to memories of her. As a tiny baby, sleeping on him. A toddler, taking her first steps, and how it made him proud. Little older. Her smiles and laughter, and how it made his heart warmer. How he wanted to protect and care for her. How he felt after she left. Darkness is approaching rapidly, his hold on her weakening, but he has to tell her, even if it kills him. He remembers her mother, so worried. Remembers Bobby, her father. Remembers their request. Gives it all to her. Opens his memory and pours it all to her. Everything. Lets go when she screams and closes the connection.
“I may not have bedded your mother, but I am your father”, he whispers and stumbles to bed with numb legs.

“Wolverine.” He glances girl beside him with questioning eyes. It has been a week and she hasn’t uttered a word. He has been driving and fighting, she has been tagging along.
“That’s what I will call you. Wolverine”, she says.
“What’s wrong with ‘daddy’?” He asks. He had grown rather fond of that particular calling.
“That doesn’t sound appropriate. You don’t look like one”, Aislin states peeking through side window. Snow and more snow.
“I have a name, if you don’t want to call me dad”, he reminds her. She smiles little sadly.
“Mom used to call you Logan. That belongs to you and her.” And he starts to wonder if he was a little too honest to his best.
“You loved her.” That wasn’t a question. He nods and fumbles a cigar. Lights it and takes a long drag.
“What happened?” Aislin asks.
“She was too young. Then she grew up and met your father. Iceman. They were good together.”
“What about you? What did you do? Did you ever tell her?” Girl is asking too many questions, but she deserves to know.
“I didn’t tell her. At first I was going to, but then she got pregnant. Who was I to ruin it for them? Then she… Then she died, and all I could do was to pick up pieces and run. They both wanted you to live, no matter what happened. And that I could give her.” He has a lump in his throat and tears sting in his eyes, but he refuses to cry.

“Why didn’t you tell me before that you weren’t my real dad?” Aislin asks, and now they are in territory he fears. He runs his fingers nervously through his hair and grabs the steering wheel tighter.
“Don’t know.” A lie. And even he can smell it. She doesn’t let it slip.
“Don’t lie to me. It’s rude.”
“I know it. But it isn’t a pretty story. I don’t want to tell it. I don’t want to remember it.” Now he is telling the truth. Telling her would mean that he should tell her about her parents and what happened to them and what he had to do. He had even now nightmares where his claws are piercing Marie’s flesh. Only in his dreams they pierce Aislin, too. And in his dreams he likes it. She is the last reminder of Bobby, and in his dreams Wolverine howls in triumph when his claws shred her small, fragile form to pieces. And that isn’t something a person wants to share with anybody. He wakes up from those dreams ashamed and nauseated. Thankfully Aislin gives up.
“For now. But some day you’re going to tell me.” And hell freezes over, he adds in his mind.
“What have you been up to?” He asks.
“I have been here and there. I saw Eric.” He has to pull over and turn the engine off. His hands are shaking too badly to drive. He is itching to pop the claws. Magneto.
“Eric, huh?” He grounds out, snuffing his cigar to his palm. Aislin grimaces.
“Must you do that? Yeah. I met him. He runs a bar nowadays.”
“How about his companions? Was Victor there?” He asks. Aislin shakes her head.
“He told me all his friends were killed. He looked tired.” Tired? Man should have been dead already. He doesn’t have any healing abilities. Old age should kill him. Should have done it already.
“What else?” He almost doesn’t dare to ask.
“He let me live with him for a while when I told him you were my dad. But then he got busted and I had to flee.” Right. Old geezer trying to make amends? Right. He jumps off from the car. Now he really needs to put his claws through something. There is forest. Trees. He releases his claws.
“Wolverine!” Aislin shouts after him, but right now he needs this. Needs the darkness. Snow and smell of pinewood. Small animals scurrying around. He howls and sinks his claws to thick tree trunk time after time, until his knuckles bleed and tree has folded to half. He sits on the ground, pulls his knees to his chest and cries. He is so fucking tired. Tired of running. Tired of hiding. Tired of this fucked up image of life he has tried to live because he once promised to keep her safe. Maybe he is finally loosing his marbles for good.

It looks like he has decided to stay here for the rest of night. She goes rummaging to his camper. There has to be food. She is starving. She finds a small packet of cereals, her favorite brand when she was a kid. Eating them she starts to go through drawers and closets. Clothes, old postcards, pencils, books, few pairs of worn out biker boots. Blankets and pillows. Something shining and black hanging on a coat rack. A black leather suit. Silvery X insignias on collar. Same insignia on belt. Black, sturdy boots and black leather gloves beside it. She pulls the suit out from the closet to get a closer look. Leather is torn from many places, and brownish speckles and blotches matt its surface. She takes a careful sniff. Blood. And there has been a lot of it. Sleeves have dried rigid with it. She takes out gloves. Leather has dried hard as steel. They have literally been soaked with blood. She notices three small holes on both gloves, between knuckles. Claws. His claws.
“Want to put those away?” Wolverine growls from behind her.
“No. Not yet. Why did you keep these?” She asks, pulling other glove on her hand. He yanks them away from her and shows them back to closet.
“Had my reasons.” He opens the fridge and takes a bottle of Molson’s from there. Opens it and takes a sip before sitting on the couch.
“What reasons?” She asks, taking the bottle for herself.
“You’re not supposed to drink.”
“Right, daddy. I’m twenty-one.”
“Still you shouldn’t.”
“Stop stalling.” Wolverine sighs and stands up, rummaging through top shelves. He pulls out a bottle of tequila.
“You take my beer. You’re going to need it.” She sits on the other side of the table, he sits on the other. At first he just stares his hands. Then he lifts the bottle and takes a big gulp from it. Then he starts to talk.

“All started in a secret compound at Alkali Lake. Government took away my memory and life and gave me these so I could do their bidding. So I could kill.” Claws tear their way out from between his knuckles and he raises his hand, examining them briefly before sheathing them.

“I escaped. Lived years in woods like an animal. Slept naked on the ground, killed animals and ate them raw. Finally some basics came back tome. I remembered vaguely I was a human being.” Small sip of liquor.

“I started to roam around, fighting in cages for money, sleeping in cheap motels, drinking and fucking around. At the same time I tried to find out about my past. Instead of it life found me. I was in Laughlin City, fighting, when your mother came there. She was a runaway. She was younger than you are now, sixteen. She decided to hide in my trailer. Nearly left her to the side of the road. Should have left. She might be alive now…” He lights a cigar and takes a sip from his bottle.

“Things happened. Charles Xavier took us in his school. Eric… Magneto was going to change some big shots to mutants. For that he needed your mother. He had this machine. She was already dead when we got to her. Luckily her mutation worked. Sucked socks off from my feet. I was in a coma for a week after I touched her. Marie…” Wolverine smiles for the memory.

“I fell in love with her long before that. In the minute I found her from my trailer…” He takes a long pull from his bottle, stands up and fishes another bottle from the cupboard.
“After the Liberty Island I knew I couldn’t keep my paws off from her if I stayed. Professor had found a promising lead to my past, so I took off. Stayed away nearly five years. Until she was legal. Imagine my surprise when she’s married and pregnant to another man when I returned. At first I couldn’t even be in the same room with your father. But in the end, Bobby was a good kid. Good man to her…” His voice trails off and he just stares the bottle in front of him.

“Shit. I’m not drunk enough. But might as well tell you the rest. Nearest town is few kilometers that way. There’s a bus station”, he tells her.
“What?” She is confused. He lifts his hands.
“After this story turns pretty ugly. If you want to take off, at least I know you won’t freeze to death.” He finishes his bottle and grimaces.

“They declared a new law. Anti-mutant. They had sentinels. They send them to Xavier’s. They attacked at night. We weren’t ready. They killed everybody. I got shoot first. I fell through the floor to basement and nearly whole building collapsed on me. It took time to dig my way out from there. When I finally got to surface, it was all over. They were all dead. I found your parents… Marie had been shoot to head. Bobby lay on top of her. At first I thought she was still alive…” Wolverine stands up, goes to closet and takes out the suit and gloves.
“This is my blood”, he says, indicating part of the suit that had covered his torso.
“This is Marie’s.” Blood encrusted sleeves and gloves.

“She was dead. But I could still hear a heartbeat. It wasn’t Iceman’s heart. I pushed his body of from Marie’s. Sound came inside of her.” His face is pale and his eyes look somewhere far away.

“I cut her open and took the baby with me. After that everything’s a blur. I was on autopilot for about a week. One night I just woke up and there you were, sleeping on my chest. Scared the living hell out of me. I knew how to keep you alive, but I wasn’t so sure I wanted to”, he confesses to her.

“I wanted to eviscerate you. You were not mine. But you were last part of her, and she made me promise so I couldn’t. And after a while I got used to you. It took a little longer, but when you first called me daddy you become mine.” Aislin smiles and moves towards him trying to throw her arms around him but he stops her.

“I still have dreams. The ones were I get rid of you. And I kind of like them.” His voice is harsh and he avoids her gaze. Ignoring his protests she hugs him tightly.
“I know you wouldn’t hurt me. Not on purpose. I love you, dad”, Aislin tells him and all he can do is to hold her and hope her trust isn’t vain.

“Where are we going?” Aislin asks. They have been driving nearly twenty-four hours straight. Wolverine glances her and clears his throat.
“Not sure. Where you would like to go?” He asks. To be truthful he has no idea where to go. He has kept driving in hopes that she would offer a destination.
“Are you going to fight?” Aislin asks.
“No. Too dangerous now.”
“Maybe we should look for other mutants. I have heard they have formed resistance cells and are fighting for our rights”, Aislin proposes.
“No. Had enough of that shit before.”
“What do you mean? They are fighting for you, too”, Aislin remarks.
“They can stop doing it. Haven’t asked anybody to fight my fights.”
“Fuck you!” Aislin spats. Wolverine snorts.
“It has been a while, but I still consider you as my daughter. Other ideas?” Aislin growls nearly as talented as him and he smiles.

“How can you claim that it’s not your war? You’re a mutant too. And look what they did to you. What they did to your friends”, she tries to wake up his conscience.
“I got my vengeance at Alkali Lake. And I have no friends.”
“What about what they did to mom?” Aislin pulls her last card.
“Leave Marie out of this. She’s dead. Even if I personally slaughtered every sentinel, she would still be dead. But I have to give you credit. You’re good. Few years earlier that little speech of yours would have worked.” Aislin slumps on her seat.
“What gave me up?” She asks.
“You. Just now. How long have you been tagging with the geek squad?”
“Nearly four years. When they heard about you, they wanted me to convince you to join. Real live X-Man. Guess I’ll just have to tell you’re too old and scared…” For that Wolverine starts to laugh.

They drive few more hours. Lights of a shaggy motel make him pull over and kill the engine. Aislin peeks through window.
“You really know how to impress a girl!”
“Cough up the money and I take you to Hilton”, Wolverine mutters.
“Hey! I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just… How can you live like this? Crappy motels, crappy bars and crappy food.”
“At least I have a roof over my head and something to eat. Everything else is luxury. I have some money stashed away, but it won’t last long if we stay on the road.” Aislin stares at his hands.
“From the fighting?” She asks. Wolverine grimaces.
“No. Stay put, I’ll go get us a room.” Stepping out from the truck he lights a cigar and shuffles through a snow bank towards motel’s office. Growling under his breath when he sees small piece of cardboard taped on the window. “No mutants.” Old man behind the counter smiles when he enters.
“Good evening.” Wolverine just grunts in response.
“Need a room?” Man asks craning his neck, trying to see his car on a parking lot behind him.
“One room. Two beds. One night. We’ll be leaving early.”
“Sure, sure”, oldie smiles and turns, takes a key from a hook on the wall and then stops.
“I’m sorry, but I have to ask you some papers.” Wolverine fishes his passport from his breast pocket and throws it on the counter. It is old, but still valid. Xavier’s last gift for him. Clean, respectable identity. Old man doesn’t even bother to open it. Muties don’t have passports.
“What about your companion?” He asks instead.
“My daughter. Papers are in the car.” Old man just stands there, holding the key.
“Maybe I’ll go and get them”, Wolverine huffs, takes his passport and tucks it back to his pocket. Something flickers on old man’s face. Smile fades.
“You do that, mister. You do that" he croaks. Wolverine turns and walks to the door. Before he closes it, he can hear old man picking up a telephone and dial. It takes all his strength not to run, but to walk slowly to his truck. He throws away his cigar and pulls himself on the driver’s seat.

“Were busted. Guy in there is calling sentinels.” Aislin’s eyes widen.
“What do we do now?” She asks, lips trembling. They both have witnessed destruction those giant machines left behind.
“He didn’t see my truck. But I bet they’re pulling in the roadblocks as we speak. We have to ditch this heap of junk and walk.” Wolverine opens the glove compartment, pulls out some papers and jumps off.
“Come on. We’ll take what we can carry from the trailer. Hurry!” He cocks his head.
“Fuck! No time for that! Run!” He grabs Aislin’s hand and pulls her after him, sprinting to dark forest in front of them. From behind he can hear sound of jet engines, approaching rapidly. Sentinels.

They have been running for hours. She can’t breathe, her heart feels like it could give up at any minute now and she can’t feel her legs anymore. Just when she thinks she can’t take another step even if the sentinels were right behind her, Wolverine stops. He listens and takes in scent from air, then lets out a relieved sigh and falls on his knees.
“We got away”, he is panting time after time, pulling Aislin to his embrace. Tremors wrack his body, and he runs his hands over her frantically, searching assurance from her.
“We’re fine. We got away in time. We’re both alive”, Aislin confirms.
“I won’t let them get you. They can’t take you from me. Not this time.”
“They won’t. You keep me safe”, Aislin whispers her reassurances to him and slips her hand to her jacket pocket. Bug is still there. She activates it. Small clearing where they are looks ideal landing site for chopper. After a while breathing is easier, and Wolverine has calmed a bit. He lets go of her and stands up.

“Decided to call the cavalry?” He asks with venomous voice. Now Aislin too can hear distant sound of the chopper.
“We have no choice. Sentinels won’t stop. They are tracking us right now”, she tries to reason. Wolverine looks exhausted. His shoulders sag and dark scowl twists his face.
“I could have…” He starts, but she hushes him.
“You can’t do a thing as long as I’m with you. You can’t put up a reasonable fight and protect me at the same time. We’ll go with my friends. You can rest, and after that decide what you want to do!” She shouts over chopper’s noise. It starts to land.

“This is Peter, and pilot is Amelia”, Aislin introduces strangers when they climb on the chopper. Wolverine doesn’t pay any attention to his surroundings. He slumps on his seat and closes his eyes. In a minute sleep claims him.

When he comes to his senses, he is alone in the chopper. He can smell oil, fire and unwashed bodies around him, and stench nearly makes him gag. He stumbles awkwardly out from the chopper and takes in his surroundings. It is a large hall. Floor is solid concrete. It is nearly pitch dark; only two burning oil barrels in one corner offer some light. Dozens of miserably looking mutants are gathered around burning barrels, huddled together, wearing rags and blankets. When he walks to them he can hear hushed tones whispering his name. Curious eyes inspect him, and hands reach to brush his legs when he passes by. He spots Aislin, talking with some guy. Peter. Wolverine walks to them. Peter turns to him smiling.

“Finally you woke up. It’s an honor to meet you”, he tells him. Wolverine just grunts in response and glues his gaze to Aislin.
“What is this place?” He asks.
“This, my friend, is all that’s left of resistance. Were expecting attack at any minute, now. I suggest you get ready”, Peter says.
“What do you mean?”
“Few minutes after we arrived, our radar spotted a sentinel. Our troops have been deployed outside of this building. We would appreciate it if you would accompany us”; Peter says and starts to collect weapons from the shelf on the wall. Wolverine stalks to Aislin, eyes blazing.
“I already told you this is not my war”, he growls with low voice, face only inches from her. He feels a hand on his shoulder, and spins around with vicious snarl, unsheathing his claws. Peter.
“You have impressive weaponry. I really wish you would change your mind. We need every help we can get.”
“Last time I sparred with those tin buckets, all my friends died. I would have died too, if it weren’t my healing abilities. My friends were trained fighters. Best possibilities of survival this group has if you escape. You have no way to bring down a sentinel”, Wolverine tells him. Peter smiles sadly.
“We have no way and no time to escape. And everybody in here is tired of running. At least with sentinels death is certain. No fear of imprisonment and labs.”
“Oh, shit! What kind of a nut job you are? Leave now, to different directions, and few of you might actually survive!”
“Survive for what? Until they come for us again? Nobody here wants to spend rest of our lives running. I know that’s what you have been doing and that you’re good at it, but what you do best is fight. And I think it’s time for you to fight again. They’re here”, Peter shouts last words over whining noise of jet engines. Sounds of battle echoes from the outside. Aislin and Peter are leaving with other mutants, leaving Wolverine standing next to a group of shivering children and women. He scans their surroundings. Building is old and rickety. One good shot from sentinels, and it will collapse crushing everybody still inside. He spots a sewer lid few meters away and rushes to it. It is old and rusted, but he manages to yank it open. He can smell only fresh water. Apparently this is rain sewage.
“Everybody, in here!” He shouts and points towards narrow opening on the floor.

He can hear explosions from distance. They have been running in sewer for a while, but now they just sit there. Children are too tired to run, and one of the women is pregnant. He cocks his head and listens. After explosions quiets down, he can hear nothing. No sound. It is too quiet.

“Wait here. I’ll go and see what’s going on”, he tells to his little group and starts to direction from which they came. He can smell smoke and blood. Faint traces of electricity. Nausea grips him when he reaches ladder out from the sewer and he has to swallow acidic bile that threatens to rise to his mouth. Instead of barfing he takes a firm hold of the ladder and starts to climb up. There can be survivors. He knows it’s a false hope. Sentinels never, ever leave survivors. But there could be. Should be. Aislin is up there. Shiver runs through his frame when he reaches the lid. He suppresses it and tries to lift heavy iron lid. It won’t budge. Something is blocking it from the other side. Concentrating and calling forth all his strength he finally manages to push the lid away. Site of clear sky greets him, and he knows he has been right. Building has collapsed. He climbs up, and sees what had blocked his pathway. Peter’s mangled body lies next to sewer entrance. He is still clutching his rifle. Eyes stare at Wolverine, not seeing, but seemingly accusing. Wolverine kicks the body so it turns over.
“I told you!” He grits through clenched teeth. He starts to rummage through piles of debris and scattered body parts. Task too familiar to him. When he finds her, he falls on his knees next to her. Half of Aislin’s head is missing. Iron fist clenches around his lungs and heart. So much like her mother had been. He chokes back tears that threaten to escape and takes her lifeless hand to his.

“Hi, kid.” Somewhere a bird starts to sing.
“I told you what would happen. Did you listen? Maybe. But sure as hell you didn’t get it.” Small cloud of smoke wafts past him.
“I don’t run because I’m scared. I was running because I promised that to your mother.” Wolverine wipes a bloodied strand of hair from her forehead.
“Guess I can stop running now.”

“It’s safe to go back. Collect all you need and go”, Wolverine tells them. They just stare at him with blank expressions on their face. Finally, after a long moment of silence, oldest of the women speaks.
“Where would we go? We have no other place. This was our home.” Wolverine shrugs his shoulders.
“I don’t know. Do what you like. There’s nobody left alive. Building is in ruins. Leave or stay, it doesn’t matter to me”, he says and starts deeper in the sewer.
“You really don’t care?” Woman asks from him. He doesn’t turn, but stops.
“I don’t. All I cared is gone now.” He disappears to darkness.

He sleeps in woods, hunts for food and eats it raw. All time he is moving slowly closer and closer to location of the lab where he was created. He knows it is again operational. After a long period of silence rumors about project X are spreading. Every mutant he encounters is telling the same story. They have found new subject to their experiments. New and improved model of weapon X is being created. After it is finished there would be no need for sentinels. Weapon X will take their place and wipe remaining mutant problem from the face of the earth. He tries to think who it could be. He has never heard another mutant with his powers, aside Sabretooth, and he is dead. A shape shifter? No. They can’t use other mutant’s powers; they just take their outer appearances. Energy drainer? Marie and Aislin are both dead, and he doesn’t think there are more mutants like them. Their mutation had been weird quirk of nature. He can’t believe a mutation so hard to control is common. Hank McCoy was dead, so it can’t be the Beast. It looks like everybody he once used to know is dead.

From a town near Alkali Lake he buys a pair of binoculars and camping equipment. Weapons he won’t need.

He lies on a snow bank, just few kilometers from the base. Place looks quiet, buildings are a big pile of rubble, but road there is kept clean from the snow and twice a day convoy of vehicles goes in and out. Apparently they have moved their operation underground. While watching the place and counting employees and guards he starts to remember bits and pieces of the time he has spent in here before. Memories of overheard conversations and piles of documents. After two days he has nearly complete map of complex’s lower levels in his head. After four days he knows he has no way to get in and out undetected. If he takes out guards on surface, personnel in lower levels will be alerted. If he snakes in past guards on surface, they will take him down on his way out.

“But do I really want to get out?” He contemplates, wrapped in his sleeping bag and staring the stars above. Maybe he should just blow up the whole place. Get it over with, once and for all. He doesn’t have any reason to stay alive anymore. No obligations, no family ties. But still it doesn’t feel right. Years ago Marie had kicked him back to the land of the living. Life is something he has learned to like and appreciate. Running away starts to sound more and more alluring. Just leave everything and hide.
“Shit.” He is scared. Mighty Wolverine. Maybe he will be wiser in the morning.

Morning comes accompanied with a shock of his lifetime. When he opens his eyes, Marie sits beside him, smiling.
“You came,” she whispers. Logan can only stare at her. His brain is creaming warnings. She is dead. He had cut her dead body open. His senses try to tell him otherwise. She sounds, looks and smells like Marie.
“I waited so long. They made horrible things. They made me do horrible things. But I waited. And now you’re here. I missed you!” Marie tells him, throws her arms around him and hugs. He can’t make his body move. He is frozen.

“Talk to me. Say something. Where were you all these years?” Marie shots him with questions.
“You are dead,” he manages to tell her and starts to pack his equipment. Finally he has lost it. He has been waiting for this day. Day when nothing matters anymore. Somehow it is a relief, to know you weren’t exactly sane anymore. He can just walk in there, kill as many as he can before they take him down. He knows killing him is virtually impossible, so chances are he could get all the way to lower levels before they manage to stop him. There is a remote possibility that he can take down whole base. Maybe, if there are no sentinels…

“There was a baby.” That stops him. Is it really Marie?
“I had a baby. I gave her to you.” It is Marie. He falls on his knees. Suddenly there is no air. His lungs refuse to co-operate. Dark spots start to spread to his field of vision. With mighty effort he shakes looming darkness away and breaths. Steady breaths. Cold air clears his head and he can see again. Marie is kneeling in front of him, question in her eyes.
“Her name was Aislin. She looked just like you. She died few weeks ago. I’m sorry.”
“How?” Marie asks. There is no accusation on her face, only curiosity.
“A sentinel,” he tells her and she nods.
“It would have been nice to know her.” Suddenly he wants to scream to her. How can she be so insensitive, so callous? It is her daughter they were talking about. But anger dissipates quickly. Aislin hadn’t been Marie’s daughter. She had been his.
“Come on. Collect your stuff. We’re leaving,” Marie pats him on the shoulder and stands up. She starts walking away, towards the forest behind them. He stares after her, thoughts racing. She is life. In other direction death waits.

Life According To Logan


He lets Marie take the lead. He’s too tired and numb to take care of himself, let alone make important decisions on behalf of both of them. His thoughts race around in circle, returning always to one and the same question. How? She had been dead. He hadn’t been exactly careful when he cut her open. How is it possible that she’s alive and talking to him? He doesn’t want to ask. He is afraid he won’t like the answer. So he makes an effort to think about something else. How she reminds him about Aislin. Same way they move, same patterns of speech. There’s not a single scar marring her skin. And how is it possible? Last time he saw her she had had half of her head blown off. And he should really stop thinking about it. Stop thinking about death. He should concentrate more to the question how did she get out. Nobody gets out alive. Only reason he managed to escape nearly two decades ago was momentarily lapse in security processes. It’s highly unlikely they would have made the same mistake again. So, how did she get out?

They have been walking for hours, Marie chattering about things he doesn’t really care, Logan following her like a big, lazy dog, slouching after her in a trail she has made in the snow. Suddenly she stops. He’s so out of it he just keeps on walking and nudges her to the ground before he realizes it’s time to stop.
“Hey! Watch it!” Marie shouts. He just shuffles his feet, eyes cast downwards. He hasn’t spoken in two days. Not that she has noticed it. She has been talking constantly. And Logan starts really miss Aislin. At least she had enough common sense to shut her trap when there was nothing to discuss. He isn’t completely sure about Marie anymore. More he thinks about it, this is probably just a new trick. Way to lure him back. Back so that they can cut him some more. Well, he has a surprise in store for them. He has a plan. He is going to be a good boy, and behave. And when they least expect it, he is going to slice and dice all of them. Starting with this creature that’s pretending to be his Marie. Who she can’t be. His Marie was like Aislin. Kind. Lovable. Pure. This thing crouching at his feet is more like Mystique had been. Vile and treacherous creature. Well, he has surprise in store for her, too… But while waiting for the right moment… He forces an apologetic smile on his face and offers his hand, helping her up.

Forest around them is deathly silent. As a matter of fact, he has never been in this silent forest. No animals. Not even their tracks. And he tries to remember when was the last time he ate something. They left the compound he was observing roughly about a week ago. First night he went to hunt. He had caught a small deer. They both had eaten. He had left the carcass to a bear he had spotted on his little hunting trip. That was his last, clear memory about food. He hasn’t been hunting. They have been walking from sunrise to sundown, sleeping nights under thick spruces, cuddled together to stay warm. No food in nearly a week. And she hasn’t been sleeping. At least not that he has noticed. He has fallen asleep every night before her, and she has been awake before him, waking him and forcing him to his feet.

And she’s talking again. Sound of her voice grates his nerves, so he shuts it out and concentrates listening to her hear beat instead. It’s slightly erratic but strong. He tries to walk in same pace with it, but he notices he’s starting to catch up with her and he slows his pace, falling few meters after her. He would like to tell her to shut her trap for a moment, but he can’t It would blow his cover; alert her that something is wrong. It could mess up his whole plan. So he grunts, nods and smiles occasionally when it sounds that she’s asking for something. And they walk.

One more thing boggles him. According to his calculations they have passed at least two towns, and four smaller villages. She has gone round them. As well adjusted, as she seems to be after her alleged trip in the lab, she should be craving some company. Ordinary people around her. She doesn’t seek shelter from number of people there would be. Instead she turns deeper in to the wild. He really doesn’t mind being alone with her, easier to follow his plan when there’s not too many extra pair of eyes watching, but her behavior is truly illogical. They should seek shelter and food. Instead they are turning their backs for them.

Does she ever shut up?

She was so happy when she found Logan. Last thing she expected to see when she walked out of that godforsaken place was him, sleeping sound and solid just few kilometers away from her. He is bit grouchy, but he is probably thinking about Aislin. After all, she was his daughter. He raised her and loved her. She feels kind of bad that she can’t mourn with him, but joy of being alive and free drowns that feeling almost completely.

Logan doesn’t seem to be surprised when she tells him about how she got out. Legacy. Somebody botched up some experiment, and virus spread instantly to whole compound. All mutants were released. She believes they were let out to spread the infection. At that point they still believed it worked only for mutants. Boy, were they wrong! Last thing she saw when she walked out was one of the guards, fallen face down to the ground, convulsing in agony and bleeding from every orifice. She knows all bigger settlements are most likely contaminated already. She asked about that from Logan. He seemed to agree with her, that they should stay away from people at least few months, to avoid the possibility of infection. She suspects she is immune, she didn’t get sick when all other mutants started to die from around her, but she doesn’t want to take the risk.

She is starting to get hungry. They haven’t seen any animals for days now. She asked about it from Logan. He just grunted and shrugged. Maybe they have died, too. So she eats what she can find. Mostly small seeds from pine cones when she’s walking. She joked about turning to a squirrel, but Logan didn’t find it funny. Maybe she should think before talking. Maybe he took it as an accusation. She hasn’t forgotten the promise he made for her years ago. He promised to take care of her. He probably hasn’t either. She keeps hoping that they will eventually find some kind of shelter. Not that she minds sleeping with him, wrapped up in his warmth, but she knows they can’t go on like this forever. They have been lucky. Nights are not yet too cold, and it hasn’t snowed. But how long will their luck last? Logan just shrugged and flashed one of his rare smiles when she asked him about the weather. His smile was kind of crooked, but she doesn’t care. Every reaction she manages to bring forth in him is a small victory.

Right now he seems to be wrapped up in some pleasant memory. He smiles. An actual smile. She believes they will get through this.

She has been quiet for several minutes now, and just stares at him. He panics. What? What now? What does she want? What does she expect from him? Why did she quit talking? Is this it? He glances around. Nothing. Just deserted forest. What is going on? Why is she smiling? His heart is racing and cold sweat breaks on his skin when she takes a step towards him. He forces his body to obey, to stay put. No matter what she does, he has to act naturally. Otherwise everything is ruined. Slight shiver runs through his frame when she suddenly bounces on him and wrapping her hands around his neck and legs around his waist. Every muscle in him freezes. He can’t breathe. Trapped. She knows about him. Claws ooze out from his hands, and then she does something unbelievable. She kisses him. Long, wet, sucking kiss, with tongue involved. Claws back in. He resists the urge to throw her off, and answers to her kiss instead. He knows how to play this game. But when his hands start to knead her buttocks and caress her breasts, she breaks loose from his embrace.

Caught in a moment? Right. Lie to me some more, he nearly spats, but holds his tongue. At least she is quiet now. He catches up with her and observes her from the corner of his eye. Shoulders sag. Hands are fidgeting. Rosy blush on her hollow cheeks. Those black botches around her eyes kind of ruin the picture, but they go actually good together with her outer appearance otherwise. Raggedy clothes, body straight from interment camp. Malnourishment, sleep deprivation, exhaustion… As a matter of fact, he seems to be all and all in much better condition than she. Good. In her current condition she won’t put up a fight when it’s time to put his plan in action. He snickers.

Every night he says good night to her. To Aislin. He said it every night even during those five long years she wasn’t with him. No matter how drunk he was, no matter which ho he slept with, no matter how stupid it was. He made it out of principle. So he does now. And every night abomination that pretends to be his sweet Marie, wishes him good night, too. It angers him. Gnaws his nerves. But he takes it as a learning experience. He can’t remember time when he would have been more collected, calmer. He is sure that after this little trek to Hell he’s going to have patience of a saint.
“Good night, Kid.”
“Good night, Logan.”

Even though she’s hungry and cold, his presence comforts her. He still doesn’t talk much, but she’s used to it by now. She worries only one thing. He doesn’t eat. She has tried to offer him pine seeds, but he doesn’t seem to care. He is still grieving. He has lost some weight, but his healing factor keeps him going. Generally he appears to be in better shape than she. But she has a good feeling about tomorrow. Today she saw a trail of a rabbit. She showed it to him, and he looked interested. Maybe there’s something to eat tomorrow. And maybe, maybe they finally find some kind of suitable shelter, too. Nights are getting colder. They should try to make fire next evening before they go to sleep.

He is getting tired and edgy. He knows he’s walking on thin ice. It might be good idea to take care of her now, when he is still capable of rational thinking. No use to carve her up if he doesn’t get information he needs out of her before she dies. But first things first. Time to start talking again. If he can make her talk, maybe she will accidentally blurt out pieces of information. Maybe he gets everything he needs from her by talking. That’s always a possibility. So later he doesn’t have to worry. He can really make her scream.

Reunion


Thoughts about interrogating and mauling her disappeared soon enough, when two men, desperate survivors from some plague-ridden town nearby, attacked. They knocked him unconscious and took her with them. At first he was going to hunt them down for taking what was his, but at the last possible minute he decided otherwise. Maybe it was better this way. Good only knows what it would have done to him. He still had a special place in his heart for Marie. He wasn’t sure anymore if he would have been capable to mutilate the creature that wore her face. No. Better go on and leave her behind.

First time in nearly two weeks he caught a rabbit. He was contemplating weather to eat it raw or try to make a fire to cook it, when a scream alerted him. World spun wildly for a second, then he heard it again. Marie. Rabbit forgotten he tore towards the sound of her pleading voice. He found her near their last night’s campsite. It was Statue of Liberty all over again. She had already stopped screaming and hung limply in the ropes they had tied her to a tree. Two men sitting next to that tree didn’t even have the time to realize what happened. He decapitated both of them from behind with a careless swipe of his claws and hurried to her.

“Kid? Marie?” Voice calling her. Calling her name.
“Oh, shit. Kid, wake up. Wake up. Why the hell isn’t this working? Marie!” A slap to her cheek. Somebody’s shaking her now. Like a saltshaker, a thought pops in her mind and she giggles.
“Please… Turn it on, turn it on!” Turn what on? All she wants to do is to sleep for a while. It’s so cold. Who stole all the covers? She opens one eye carefully. Logan’s face hovers just few inches away from hers.
“Take me in, kid!” He growls, bare hands cupping her cheeks, and now she can smell the blood, and she remembers what happened, and she turns it on. Relief flickers briefly on his face, but soon it turns to a pained grimace.

Touch is brief, but it repairs the damage they did to her when they cut her open and tore out pieces to roast and eat. It fills her with a sense of immense joy and relief. He has found her. Marie. His little Marie. His life. His everything. His voice inside her head babbles her name and incoherent scraps of sentences. His hands around her, shivering and weak, his erratic breath rasping and wheezing. He is tired, so tired, but it doesn’t matter. He missed her so much, and now he isn’t going to let her go. Not now, not ever. He crawls inside of her, rubbing her scent all over him, and finally finds a small corner and tucks himself there to sleep, snoring slightly, satisfied smile tugging corners of his mouth.

Road To Recovery?


“Hi.” He wakes up. They lay on a tangled heap in the snow, Marie half under his body, smile on her face.
“Hi, kid,” he croaks and clears his throat. He tries to sit up, he knows he must be crushing her with his weight, but she doesn’t let him.
“Don’t. I missed you.” He sighs and lets his head fall back to her stomach.
“I missed you.”
“Are we alright now?” She asks.
“Better than alright,” he whispers and snuggles even closer to her. His presence in her mind is rapidly fading, but it confirms his words. Tiny image of him, hauling branches and little sturdier pieces of wood to make a nest, pausing only long enough to give her thumbs up.
“Hungry?” He asks when her stomach growls.

They fall in to easy camaraderie on their way back to his campsite. Skinned rabbit has frozen solid, but he lops it to smaller pieces while she makes a fire with the matchsticks they took from the dead men.
“As good idea it was, to stay clear from settlements, I think it’s time to head back to civilization. Or what is left of it. We are not exactly equipped for life in outdoors,” he says, mouth watering for the delicious aroma of cooking meat.
“Is it safe?” She asks. He shakes his head.
“No. But we don’t have a choice. It’s a miracle you have survived on your own this long,” he says, poking the fire.
“I haven’t been alone.”
“Yes, you have. I wasn’t quite here. But now things are different. I look after you,” he renews the promise he made all those years ago. Stab of guilt pierces him when relief floods her face. Should have been doing that all the time.

After a few days they stagger to a small town. Place looks deathly silent. Pun intended. Few cars scattered on the streets, drivers slumped on top of the steering wheel. Instead of pure chaos he expected, townsfolk seem to have passed away relatively peaceful. No broken windows, no fires or ransacked shops. Just quiet and empty main street.
“But stay close. Just in case,” he says and wraps his hand around her shoulders. He doesn’t really need to tell it to her. She has been practically glued to his side for the past few days.
“Lets see… We need to find some place that sells camping equipment, first,” he mutters, scanning their surroundings.

After an hour they have suitable clothes, sturdy shoes, brand new tent and all the other items one could need for a long trek in the wild. Now all they need is food.
“And lots of it. From the looks of it Legacy harvested animals too. Not much of them left to hunt,” he says. They have taken several pouches of dried rations from the camping store, but they will need more. He has a pretty good idea that this winter will be rough and long.

“Funny. And weird. Before this I couldn’t have done that,” she suddenly snorts when they enter to a market. He quirks a questioning eyebrow, taking a tentative sniff. Rotting food, rotting corpses, but nothing alive. Good.
“If you left something unguarded to a public place, it was most likely broken or stolen after a few minutes.” Oh, she meant their sledge. Well that was in the past. This is now. A world where you can leave a sledge filled with expensive equipment and other goods outside with no need to worry over it.
“Yeah. Look, there are some corpses in here. Do you want to wait here while I go see if there’s anything we need?” He asks, not really wanting to part her company for even a few minutes it would take.
“No. I’ll come with you.”

There really are few corpses. And first signs of a struggle and violence. These people didn’t die peacefully to the Legacy. They are literally shredded to pieces. Cartons of milk, broken boxes of eggs and few packets of now spoiled meat lay amidst the fallen bodies. They had been fighting over food. Winner didn’t stick long enough to collect his prize, or he lay now among other participants. Shelves in the market are nearly empty, but they hit a jackpot when he picks the lock to the storage room. Row after row tinned food. Meat, vegetables, fruits, even milk.
“We need another sledge.”

That night they camp just outside of the town. First decent meal in ages, full stomach and warm place to sleep. They are in heaven.
“How do you feel?” Logan asks. He lies on his back in the tent, Marie curled to his side, her head propped on his chest. They share a king-sized sleeping bag.
“Good. Tired,” she sighs, fingers rubbing his chest absentmindedly. He would like to take off their clothes, and rub her scent to every inch of his skin, but that can wait. He knows she would understand that urge, might even take it as a compliment for what it is meant to be, but it’s better to wait. He has waited from the moment he pulled her out of his trailer all those years ago. He can afford to wait some more. There are still things they need to discuss.

“Umm… Where are we going?” She asks when they are packing up their camp. He frowns.
“I haven’t really thought about it. What would you like to do?” He asks. He really doesn’t have a slightest idea, although he has been thinking to go and check up the cabin he was going to move in with Aislin. It would be a good place to live. And not too far. They have been wandering aimlessly, but out of pure luck to right direction. Two, three days more and they’ll get there.
“I have been thinking… I would like to go back to Xavier’s,” she says, and surprised gasp escapes from him.
“Why?”
“To say good bye. I wasn’t exactly in the land of the living when they took me from there. I would like to say good bye to everyone.” He nods. He can understand her need for closure. He had his when he found her again. It’s only fair that she can put her past rest, too.

“Maybe in summer we could go. I had a cabin here, close by. I thought we could check it out, and if it’s still standing, we could hole up in there over the winter,” he starts carefully. He really doesn’t want to return to the place where she died, where he died along her, but he will do it.
“We could both use some time off. Just lay low and enjoy life,” she admits, but he can hear slight disappointment in her voice. He knows he’s probably going to regret this at some point, when he hears his own voice continuing.
“… Of course we could go now.”

Trip To Battlefield


Journey to Westchester was long and hard. Several times they had to fend off crazed survivors. Couple times they lost all their equipment, but luckily they were easily replaced. Even though towns and cities meant greater risk to be attacked they stayed close to them, replacing supplies when needed. Either of them got sick. It was nearly summer when they arrived at Xavier’s.

“It was this bad?” She whispered, taking in her surroundings with disbelieving eyes. Nearly twenty years had passed from the battle. Nobody had yet claimed the land where mansion had once stood. Remains of it could still be seen. Part of foundation, pieces of wall here and there. Grass had covered the battlefield, but he had no difficulties to remember what it had looked like back then. He still remembered where every body had laid, position of every disfigured corpse.
“Yeah. It was bad. But at least they died quickly,” he croaked a partial lie. They hadn’t died quick enough.

Everything had started on a beautiful Sunday morning. They had been in Xavier’s office, for traditional tea and biscuits –breakfast. He still remembered.

“Careful, Logan!” He glanced up from the tiny porcelain cup he was holding and grinned to Scott.
“One morning I break one of these things,” he muttered, trying to cradle delicate cup as carefully as possible. Biscuits were like pieces of cardboard, tea wasn’t his thing, but he actually liked these get-togethers. Then, suddenly, the cup Professor was holding fell to floor, breaking to dozens of little pieces. His body slumped forward, and now everybody could see large, gaping hole at the back of his head. Next one to go was Jean…

He shivered despite of the warmness of the day. Marie didn’t seem to notice it. She was too busy scurrying around, trying to remember what it had been before. Before the fateful day. He could hear her talking.
“I think this was the rec room… Kitchen. Must be, because… Remember? How Kitty and Pjotr…” Sound of jet engines and explosions soon drowned her voice. He was in complete darkness, coughing up blood and concrete dust, trying to ease off heavy pillar that had pinned him down from his waist. He could hear people screaming. Wound on his chest had been healed ages ago, but pillar refused to let him go. It had been part of Cerebro at one point. His claws didn’t even make a scratch on its gleaming surface. When he finally managed to squirm loose from under it, there were no voices anymore. No screams and explosions. No moaning. No pleading. No whispers. Just silence.

He shrugged himself out of his memories.
“After they… Killed you guys, they demolished this whole place. Maybe to get rid of possible resistance groups. No Xavier’s School For The Gifted Youngsters, no people who remember it, no reason to protest and fight over what happened.”
“Can you show me where… Where you found us? I would like to say good bye to Bobby?” It was the first time she mentioned him.
“Over there. See that small branch?” He asked pointing to a right direction.

Setback


That night they camped out to where Ororo’s rose garden had once been. Marie had been silent and moody earlier, but she was getting back on track, making dinner and humming softly.
“I’m glad we came,” she said.
“Good.” He wasn’t. He had built a dam inside his mind and jammed that awful day behind it. Now that sturdy wall was starting to crack. Everything was coming back in brief gory flashes. Severed head there, torso ripped in half, unidentifiable body parts scattered everywhere.
“At first I missed Bobby. I cried for weeks. I missed our baby. I didn’t know if they had her, or what had happened.”
“Marie?”
“Yeah?” She turned her gaze from the soup she was stirring over the fire.
“Shut up. I don’t want to talk about it. I spent quite a few years forgetting.” Blunt, but it had to be said. For the sake of his sanity. Even now he kept seeing shiny metal, cutting through her, parting skin and muscle.

They ate in silence. She turned in early, blaming sudden headache.

It was still dark when she woke up. Logan hadn’t come to sleep. His sleeping bag lay empty next to hers. When she peaked her head out from the tent to look for him, rough hand clamped on her neck and pulled her out completely. She recognized the boots in front of her nose immediately. Logan. She rolled on her back. There was a glazed look in his eyes, and his breath came with labored bursts.
“Who the fuck you are?” He growled through clenched teeth. Something small and shiny tangled from his other fist. He shook it accusatory in front of her face.
“I gave this to her. Did a little digging. Found it from a corpse!” His dog tag.
”Answer me!” He dropped on his knee next to her and grabbed a firm hold from the lapels of her shirt. Nose only inches from hers, lips curled to teeth revealing snarl.

“I knew there was something. Something was wrong. Just couldn’t put my finger on it. Shows how smart I am…” He was ranting and marching back and forth in front of her tied figure.
“It clicked suddenly. You don’t heal. I had to heal you after Ug and Glug decided to take a bite from you. Still you look the same. You don’t age. You haven’t aged a day from when I last saw you, and that was twenty years ago!”
“Logan…”
“Shut up, bitch. You can call me Wolverine, like the rest of the crowd still alive and kicking. There were exactly two persons who had the right to use my name, and it looks like they are both dead. But I have to compliment you. I bought your act almost a year. They trained you well…”
“I don’t understand what you are talking about! You’re scaring me, Logan!” Tears streaked her face. He stopped and crouched next to her, brushing a platinum strand from her face and tucking it behind her ear. Flexing his fingers, making sure her eyes were locked to his knuckles. Claws started to ooze out with a soft hiss.
“Time to scream, darling…”

Damage Control


She closed her eyes. This was it. She was going to die. Not quite the way she had been expecting. She wondered briefly would he really make her scream. She knew he was perfectly capable of it.

His mind was reeling. Claws hovered over her hesitantly. Small beads of sweat formed on his forehead. Marie. Marie in his trailer, on the side of the road. Asking if it hurt, sitting next to him in his truck. Marie in Magneto’s machine, dead on his arms. Laughing and smiling, running around with her friends. Breaking his heart, standing next to Bobby at the altar. Slow healing, watching over her from distance. Deep, burning love for her and Aislin. Betrayal, confusion… He was so fucking confused.

She waited. Few seconds stretched to a minute.

Claws landed slowly on top of her shoulder, shredding cloth, but leaving the skin underneath unharmed. It took mere seconds to cut away her clothing. She bit her lip, making a firm decision not to scream. This was Logan. He would come to his senses. She shut her conscious mind, and retreated deep inside. Soft place, filled with happy thoughts, sunlight and friends. It was a familiar place to her. She had practically lived in there during all those years she had spent imprisoned to that lab.

What he saw when final shred of garment fell off from her made him stop. Tiny scar, nearly invisible. Just below her navel. White. Leftover from an old wound. Last thing his claws shredded were ropes binding her. He stood up stiffly and walked away.

At first she was too scared to move. She was too scared to open her eyes. Then something soft and warm landed on top of her naked, shivering form. A quilt. Hands wrapped it tightly around her; she was lifted up and carried back to tent. She was sure Logan would leave now, but he did quite opposite. He lay down next to her, wrapping his much larger body rigidly around her. She squinted her eyes open. All she could see was part of his chest. She could hear his heart, working overtime. He was shivering slightly.
“Are we alright?” She asked timidly, fearing for his reaction.
“Getting there, little one. Sleep now.”

Chirping birds woke her up. Logan was still sleeping. During the night he had rolled on top of her, pinning her efficiently to the thin mattress. Blanket around her restricted her movements.
“Oh, God… Please, wake up…” She hissed and squirmed. That only made Logan grumble in his sleep and taking a firmer hold from her.
“Logan, please… Wake up!” Panic reared its ugly head, and she found enough strength to struggle away from his grip. She didn’t have the time to think about state of her clothing, or lack of it. She dashed out from the tent, behind one, lonely rosebush next to it. Few more seconds and she would have wet the bed.
“Oohh…”
“Marie?” Her loud groan woke him up, and he scrambled out, hairs sticking wildly to every imaginable direction and eyes searching her.

“Right here. I just really had to pee.”
“Oh… I thought…” He shuffled his feet and picked up invisible lint from the canvas of the tent. She slipped past him, crawled in and started searching for clothes. Pants, bra and socks. Morning was a bit chilly so she chose warm, grey sweater and jeans. Boots on. After that there was nothing else to do. Time to face the music.

“You’re not exactly sane. Right?” She asked with a conversational tone, busying her hands with making a breakfast. Cold sandwiches and juice.
“Right.” He was kicking a small lump of grass, looking everywhere but to her.
“You were going to kill me last night. Right?”
“Wrong. I was going to cut you up.” She swallowed a lump from her throat.
“We should part company before you do something you regret. Right?”
“Right.”

“Can I ask you something?” He asked after they had eaten and were packing their camp. She nodded.
“Is this good bye?”

Cure


She had watched his retreating back until it was only a small dot in the distance. Then she had collected her stuff, slung backpack over her shoulders, turning exactly opposite direction. It had been a week ago. Hardest decision of her life. And still she could feel his presence, hovering at the outskirts of her camp at night, trailing behind her during days. Yet every time she looked, there was nothing there. And now she started to get worried for real. Last two nights something or somebody had clearly been watching her. She had found footprints and broken branches in the morning just few meters away from her tent.

“If it’s you, Logan, might as well come out!” She shouted, voice quivering. Dry branch snapped, but that was only response to her invitation. For the umpteenth time she cursed her foolishness. When she had traveled with Logan, she hadn’t seen the need to acquire any kind of weaponry. Her skin was enough to keep possible attackers at bay before Logan finished them off. Now she didn’t have the luxury of crazed bodyguard. She was truly alone. She had collected a pile of rocks next to her campfire, and she kept small knife at hand all the time, but she doubted they would be enough if her mystery stalker got tired just fallowing her around.

“What ever. I’m not going to sleep tonight, so might as well find yourself someone else to stalk. I have a knife. And I know how to use it.” She did her best to hide traces of fear from her voice and behavior.

Third night she was exhausted. Instead of sleeping her nights were spent watching over her shoulder, fearing possible attack. Days went by in a haze. She was forced to take small naps during the day, just few minutes at once, just to stay awake. She started to miss Logan. He had been crazy, but at least she knew what to expect from him. He had kept her relatively safe, if that final, very weird night wasn’t taken in to count.

Fourth night she realized something was really wrong. She had blamed her exhaustion and lack of strength sleep deprivation. When headache and chills started she was fairly sure she wouldn’t make it. It had to be Legacy. Who, or what ever was tracking her, had granted her death sentence.
“Fine. You won. Why don’t you come and collect your prize?” She croaked, voice broken and laid next to fire, closing her eyes. Small rustling sound. Heavy thuds. Warm breath and huffing over her face. Deep, rumbling echo. A sneeze and something slimy, sticky substance all over her skin. Retreating heavy footsteps. She opened her eyes and managed to get a glimpse from a huge bear before it disappeared to woods. Her eyes drifted shut and she fell to a deep, dreamless sleep.

“Gross…” She was covered in bear snot. And she was sick. Had been over a day, so she was quite sure she wasn’t going to die after all. She just had a bad case of flu. She wanted to go home. Warm, soft bed. Warm cocoa. Good book and box full of Kleenex. Long, warm bath. Bobby bringing her chicken soup. There was Jean too. Smiling and telling her everything would be all right soon enough. Jubilee hopped by. She tried to ask if she could hand her the box of chocolates from the side table, but she was gone before she got her voice back in working order. Professor played chess with Eric. They had a giant chess table with life-sized chess pieces. Magneto’s pieces were made of grey metal. Professor’s pieces were life-like images of every X-Man, every mutant she had ever seen. She asked if she could join to the game, but both men shook their heads. Magneto told her he needed her healthy and alive. She promised to get better soon. He tried to trick her to use her mutation, but she was cleverer than he gave her credit for. She ran off before old geezer got his hands on her. Suddenly Scott stood in front of her, blocking her way. He was telling her to go back. To turn around. Something dark and feral loomed behind his back. She tried to tell him Magneto was after her, but Scott turned his back on her and concentrated expelling the beast. Somewhere a baby cried. Not her baby. Why didn’t somebody go and take care of it? Her head hurt. Then Jean was there again, offering her some pills. They tasted god-awful, but she took them anyway when Jean told her with quite masculine voice to swallow them, they would help her get better. They filled her head with cotton and cobwebs, but it was improvement. She didn’t have the energy to deal with all the people rattling around.

When she woke up she felt hundred percent better. Fever and pain was gone. She still felt weak, but she was warm and relaxed. She lay in a real bed. There was an old, weathered looking man sitting on a chair next to her bed.
“Welcome back,” man said with quiet voice. Relief was evident on his bearded face. He looked a bit like a Santa Claus. Skinny, but same kind of thick white beard and hair. Kind eyes.
“I’ll go tell your friend,” he said and left.

She sat up slowly. World spun around her wildly for a second, but then dizziness passed and she could see again. It was a small room. From window she could see lots of trees. Weather looked nice. Sun was shining brightly.
“Sitting up already?” Old man was back.
“Don’t worry. Your friend will be here in a minute. I have some things to take care of outside, you can have some privacy,” he said, chose a thick book from the shelf on a wall above the bed and left again. A friend? Who was he talking about?

There was a knock on the door, then without waiting an invitation Logan walked in. He looked tired and worn out.
“I was going to leave you alone. Then I came by some people. They had a camp near New York. No food, no clothes. They had next to nothing, but they had stayed alive over winter, because they had each other. I promise I won’t touch you. You don’t even have to talk to me. But let me stay with you. Please.”

New Beginning


After holding her limp body against his, begging her to turn her skin on when she was too delirious to acknowledge his presence there was no way in hell he was going to let her go. When his well practiced and polite speech gave no result, she just stood there and stared at him, he decided it was time for desperate measures.
“Hell with it. I will come with you. You don’t get to vote in that matter,” he spat and walked out, leaving her dumbfounded. Old man, Peter, was sitting at the front porch of his tiny cabin. He closed the book he was reading when Logan stormed past him.

“Your friend seemed little agitated.” She had gotten dressed, and was brushing her hair when Peter walked in.
“He has some issues,” she said, trying to make sense of Logan’s behavior.
“He threatened to kill me if something happened to you. And he looks like a man of his word. You have no idea what a relief it is to get rid of him,” Peter sighed, putting the book away.
“He is a little overprotective.”
“Little? Do you know he has metal claws inside of his hands? He nearly stabbed me when I found you. Heard a terrible ruckus in the middle of the night. Went to see. There you were. He had both of his hands under your shirt and he kept telling you to turn on your skin. From the looks of it he had been doing it for some time.” Peter knew he would never forget that sight. Haggard, wild looking beast of a man, screaming and crying, nine inch metal claws protruding from his knuckles, hovering over young woman, baring his teeth like an animal.
“I’m so sorry. He had no right to threaten you…”
“Psah. Don’t fret it. But keep an eye on him. I have a bad feeling about him,” Peter warned her when she picked up her backpack and sleeping bag.

“We are back to square one?” She asked. They had left half an hour ago. True to his word Logan had stayed back, keeping his distance, and hadn’t uttered a word. His silence started to get on her nerves.
“Not that bad. But there are things that need to be talked through. That talk can wait up until tonight.”
“And you promise not to go all homicidal on me?” Tone of her voice was light, even joking, but they both realized she wasn’t joking.
“I won’t. Things have been a bit hazy lately, but I am getting better. I really am.” He didn’t know which he tried to assure more, her or himself. During the time they had spent at Peter’s he had managed to shut out malicious whispers from his mind almost completely. He could still hear them occasionally, but they were rapidly weakening. Dam inside of him had been repaired. It would be up to her to fortify it.

“Talk.” She looked up from the fire and drew a deep breath.
“From where do I start?” She asked.
“How about from the beginning?” Logan suggested. She smiled sadly.
“We will be here for a while…”

She still remembered the attack. Chaos and pure horror. There had been no place to run when Sentinels arrived. She had been standing at the front porch, trying frantically find a suitable route to escape, when suddenly Bobby had been there, his body shielding hers. There had been something wet and sticky on him. Later she had realized it had been his blood, flowing from the wound on his chest. When Bobby fell, Sentinel landed in front of her. Short burst of light and then complete darkness.

Apparently people that were responsible had needed lots of cellular material for experimentation. They had gathered all the corpses from the battlefield when fight was over. Bodies had been transported to some top-secret storage facility. Out of pure luck, or accident, somebody had brushed against her skin. Even when she was dead, her skin still worked. That had piqued their curiosity, and further examination was in order. To do that they needed her alive. They had had cellular material from another mutant. From somebody who healed fast. They had doped her up with those cells, and soon enough she was alive and kicking again.

They had actually treated her nice, as long as she co-operated. There had been people who listened her when she cried over Bobby. She had cried for Aislin, too, but that she had done in secrecy. She hadn’t known what had happened to her. Her best guess had been that the same people, who held her in captivity, had taken her too. But there was always a small possibility she was somewhere outside, free and taken care of. She couldn’t risk exposing her to her captors.

During those years they run several long series of tests with her skin. Some were very painful, some she didn’t even notice. Some of those tests didn’t go so well. When they had resuscitated her with gene therapy, some of those cells had bonded with her own, transforming a little. They stopped her aging process, but gave up their original task, healing. She didn’t mind, although some days prospect of spending next eternity imprisoned nearly drove her insane.

“First three years she had played nicely, out of fear what would happen to Aislin if she didn’t co-operate. When it came apparent they didn’t even know about her baby, she had been forgotten. Technicians came every week to check her vitals, but there were no tests run anymore. She had been planning to escape, but every time same thought managed to stop her. Where would she go? Even if she was a prisoner, she had relatively comfortable room, food and occasional company.

It took her few more years before she realized what was going on. They kept her drugged. Very mild sedatives, and some weird compound in her food to ensure she stayed docile and easy to handle until they needed her again.

She spent agonizing week pretending to eat, flushing all the food down to toilet, drinking foul smelling tap water. Her head cleared enough that she tried to escape. They caught her easily. She was put in storage to prevent new attempts. Cryogenic tank.

When she woke up from the stasis she had been transported to another laboratory, and it looked like testing would start all over again. Then something happened. People started dying from her left and right, dropping like flies.

“… And that’s when they set us free.” She stopped talking. Logan sat there, staring to the fire. Thought of her, his Marie, in a Lab. He didn’t know exactly how long he had been kept in there before he managed to escape, but she had been in the system for twenty years. And from the sound of it, last ten frozen solid. Brief image of her, covered in ice crystals, blue lips, blue, nearly transparent skin, motionless in a coffin made him grab her hand and pull her closer to him.
“I’ll take care of you. I promise.”

Not Yet


“What are we going to do now?” There was a sheer rock wall behind them. Ten highly suspicious settlers regarded them over barrels of shotguns. They had been passing their camp little too close for comfort. Logan pulled her behind his back and held up one hand.
“We were just passing through. We are unarmed.”
“Right. Heard about you from Pete. Unarmed my ass!” One of the settlers shouted. Big burly man in his forties.
“We are trying to get home. This was the safest route. I had no idea there was a camp,” Logan tried to reason with him. He looked like a sensible man.
“We don’t want muties near our camp. Takes weeks to get rid of that stench!” Sensible looking man wasn’t as sensible as he looked to be.
“Get down from my mark,” Logan whispered to Marie over his shoulder. He knew what was coming. He hoped his little ruse would work.

When she heard a soft hiss of his claws and saw him leap forward she dived down, squeezing against small twigs and moss. Shotguns went off nearly simultaneously, and then something heavy collapsed on top of her. Logan, she realized. Approaching footsteps forced her to stay quiet. She stopped breathing when somebody crouched next to them and prodded Logan’s seemingly lifeless corpse. She could feel sticky blood all over her. Then Logan’s body was rolled off from her.
“Both dead. Good. We’ll leave the bodies. Warning for the next who tries to cross our border.” Footsteps were retreating. She waited for several agonizing minutes before she dared to open her eyes. Forest was silent around them. There were no signs of their attackers, so she sat up and crawled to Logan. His clothes were filled with small round holes. He was soaked with blood. But he was healing. One by one wounds were closing, forcing led pellets out.

“Ouch. That hurt,” he groaned and sat up slowly, inspecting the damage. When he noticed her appearance he leaned closer, nostrils flaring, eyes scanning every inch of her.
“I didn’t get hit,” she assured him.
“Good. What about them? Those settlers. Did they get away?” Logan asked, standing up. She wrinkled her brows.
“In case you didn’t notice, they tried to kill us. We were the ones in danger!”
“Their camp wasn’t so big. They will need all manpower they can acquire if they are going to survive over winter. There were kids, too. I wouldn’t feel too good right now if I had killed even one of those men. After all, they had right to protect what was theirs.”
“So it was okay to kill us, or anybody else, because they have kids?” She asked.
“And they took our bags. We have nothing.”
“Not true. We are both still alive. And we can get supplies from the next town we pass. Won’t be safe, but I was starting to get tired of those sleeping bags anyway. Blue isn’t my color after all.” She stared at him for a moment.
“You bastard! You got hurt! It’s not something to joke about! If it was some penance you felt you had to pay, I can understand that, but next time… If you pull a stunt like this again, I’ll kill you myself!” First she had been accentuating her words with pounding her fists to his chest. Now she was crying and clinging to his shirt. And he had no idea what to do.
“Aww, fuck! Just hold me, would you!” She thumped his chest once more. He put his hands around her awkwardly.

All those long years on the road, thinking of her, missing her. Horrible bitterness and jealousy when he found out she had given herself to another man. Gut wrenching sense of loss when he had held Aislin for the first time over Marie’s lifeless body. And now this. He wanted to scream at her. Blame her for everything. And at the same time he wanted nothing more than to keep her close. Last vestiges of darkness started to evaporate. She was doing it. Sound of her heart. Scent of hers. Softness and warmth of her body under his rough hands. He pressed his face against hers, nuzzling her skin gently.
“I’m here, Marie.” She turned her head towards the sound of his voice, and their lips brushed together. It was a brief touch, but it was enough to pull her out from his embrace.
“I can’t do this. Not yet.” He smiled and nodded. Not yet he could take. He had time to wait.


Time To Stand On My Own


He lay in front of brand new tent, gazing stars above him. When they had set up their camp, they had agreed he would sleep outside for now. At least for a while. It had been Marie’s suggestion. He couldn’t blame her if she wanted a little distance, some barrier between them when she slept. His behavior had been quite erratic lately.

Two more days and they would reach his cabin. Most likely it had been either demolished, or somebody had moved in there. He had been nice to the settlers. He had been on their territory. But if somebody had claimed his cabin, he would throw him or her out. They both, he and Marie, needed a place to settle. Lay down their load and just live for a while. He had no doubts that when summer came they would wander around, but cabin would be a good outpost during winters.

His eyes started to drift shut. Fire crackled and he could hear Marie breathing in the tent. He concentrated to that sound, mimicking it with his own. He was nearly asleep when sudden gasp from the tent tore him wide-awake.
“Marie?” He asked quietly. Slight shuffling and sniffing. Zipper of the tent opened and her head poked out. At the last possible second she flinched and retreated back in.
“Are you alright?” He asked. More sniffling, and he could smell her tears. He sat up and parted the zipper.
“Can I come in?” She nodded and scooted on top of her sleeping bag, making enough room for him to crawl in and lay down next to her.
“Nightmare?” Another nod.
“Do you want to talk about it?” She shook her head.
“Come on. Let’s get back to sleep,” he whispered and urged her to lie down next to him. When he tried to put his arm around her she shrugged it off.
“Don’t.”
“Do you want me to leave?” He asked.
“No. Just don’t touch me.”

He woke up when birds started chirping in trees surrounding their campsite. He lay sprawled on the floor of the tent. At some point Marie had apparently decided touching wasn’t a bad thing after all. She lay on top of him, hands hugging his upper torso, legs aligned between his. She was warm and soft. Scent of their campfire clung to her hair. There were other scents, too. Sweat, blood and tears. And underneath it all Marie. Vanilla and peppermint. Mixing slowly with his own scent.

His back started to hurt. Floor was hard and cold. He tried to figure out a way to get up without waking her when she suddenly woke up.
“Hi.” He greeted her when her confused eyes met his.
“Hi. I got cold. I hope you don’t mind,” she explained hastily and wiggled away from him. He swallowed his disappointment, got on his hands and knees and crawled out from the tent.

She watched when he stood up and stretched his back. Even from this distance she could hear small creaking sounds his back made. Metal scraping against metal. Logan grimaced and bent over. She had seen him this way before. One winter he had returned to mansion on Scott’s bike, nearly frozen solid. It had taken days from him to recover from that experience. When metal covering his bones got cold it really hurt him.

“Are you alright?” She asked, laying her hands to his lower back. His skin radiated coldness.
“It was a cold night. I’ll be alright once we get moving.”
“How long to your cabin?” She asked, starting to pack their equipment. It was not much, but they had luckily found all the essentials from a small town couple days ago, soon after settlers had robbed them.
“Two days. Two more days and then we are home.” He straightened his back and started to help her with packing.
“Thanks… For keeping me warm,” she said, little awkwardly. He nodded.
“Nights are getting colder. Maybe it’s not a bad idea to start sleeping together. We can share body heat.” She paled a bit, but didn’t protest.

They kept up a good pace that day. Scenery around them started to look more familiar to Logan. Forest got a little thicker and darker, but on the ground level there was not as much undergrowth than there had been earlier. It was easier to walk.

“There should be a small pond ahead. We could camp there. If we start early tomorrow, we should be at the cabin by evening.”
“It’s still early. Can’t we continue?” She asked, clearly nervous. He shook his head.
“No use. And I would like to look around a bit. I could use some fresh meat for supper. There used to be rabbits around here.”
“Ok,” she whispered, and he could hear she wasn’t pleased.

There indeed was a pond. Crystal clear, nearly perfectly round. Soft grass grew around it. Logan remembered seeing a couple of swans in there years ago. Aislin had loved those birds. Up until she had tried to feed them and they had attacked her. After that she had studied them from distance. He smiled for the memory.
“What?” Marie asked. She had gotten suspicious and agitated. He started to regret his earlier proposal of sleeping together. She wasn’t ready yet, no matter what happened last night.
“Nothing. I just remembered something. Could you set up the tent? I’ll go and see if I can find us something fresh to eat.”

She had gotten quite skilled camper during their journey, and it didn’t take long to pitch up the tent and light a fire. After task was completed there wasn’t anything else to do, except to think. And that was the part she feared. She really didn’t want to go through everything that had happened between her and Logan. She still wasn’t quite sure weather to trust him or not. He was better. In fact, he had been his usual self for the past few weeks. No strange looks thrown to her direction, no quiet sniggering or sudden attacks. And how the hell had she been so stupid earlier? Stupid enough not to notice big flashing neon lights, advertising his insanity.
“I wanted it to be like it was before,” she whispered an answer to her own unannounced question.

At the lab only thing she had truly missed were the easy, lazy days at the mansion. Giggling and making out with Bobby. Helping Ororo at her garden. Fixing bikes and cars with Logan, listening his tales about his journeys. Safety and security. She had craved those things so bad that she had seen them in him, when in reality all he had had to offer was death and destruction.
“Not anymore. It’s time to stand on my own.”

When he returned to their campsite, Marie seemed relaxed, more at ease than earlier.
“No rabbits tonight. I hope soup is okay?” He said and retrieved a small tin can from his backpack. She shrugged her shoulders and took it from him, placing it near to the fire to heat it up. She didn’t comment his failure, and for that he was grateful. There had been several easy preys, but he had been too distracted to actually catch anything. His mind had kept replaying all the situations he had let her down during the year they had spent together, starting from when she found him outside of the lab, ending to a sight of her, shivering and feverish in his arms.

“About what I said earlier… About sharing body heat… We don’t have to do that. Not if you don’t want to. We can get more blankets and clothes. There should be a town close by,” he said, stirring the soup on his plate awkwardly.
“It’s just that… I want to keep you safe and well. I want to know you’re okay. I messed up for good, and I know there’s no reason for you to trust me ever again, but I wish you believe me. All I have ever wanted to do is to keep you safe.”
“I want to believe you. You have no idea how badly I want it to be true, but I can’t. Not yet,” she said.
“Let me show you how I feel.” She stared at his extended hand.
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Turn your skin on. Take what you need. It’s killing me to see you flinch every time I get near you.”

No Secrets


She clasped her shivering hand with his. His hand was warm and steady. There was no hesitation in his eyes.
“Are you sure about this?” She asked.
“It’s time to get things straight between us. No more lurking in the bushes. I need you to trust me if we are going to stick together,” he said, reaching with his other hand, tucking a strand of stray hair behind her ear.

She opened the connection. She had time to hear Logan’s pained gasp, and then he was pouring in to her. Steady flow of feelings and memories. At first she tried to sort them out, but finally gave up. There was so much of it. She could do it later. Instead she concentrated to feelings that filtered to the top of his thoughts. There was loneliness. Anger. Suspicion. Longing. Hate. Hurt. Grief. Fear. Then sudden emptiness. She tried to let go of his hand. His fingers curled around hers tighter. Something was coming. She could feel it. Something wild and feral, approaching rapidly. She renewed her efforts to break their connection. Her mind was a jumbled mess. She couldn’t concentrate enough to turn off her skin. Logan’s other hand, now trembling, grasped firm hold from her hair and pulled her face close to his.
“Stop fucking around. You need to know,” he ground out through gritted teeth. Then his lips brushed hers and they were kissing. She stood in the snow, in the middle of nowhere, next to his beat up camper, dressed to her thick, green cloak, and he was kissing her, hands cupping her face, warm, hard body pushing her against the side of the camper, and there was only love and caring.

When he came back to his senses Marie was sitting on the other side of the campfire, deep frown on her face. He sat up slowly, still feeling a little woozy.
“Got what you need?” He asked, hating the way he sounded, but he simply had no energy for the small talk. She nodded.
“Good. I’ll go to bed. After you sort it out, do what you have to do,” he said and crawled to the tent on his hands and knees. He fell asleep in a matter of seconds.

Images of him with a tiny baby. Changing diapers. Baby grasping his hand with chubby fingers. Strong, protective feeling.

Rage. Clawed hand hovering over the sleeping toddler. Child sucking her thumb and reaching for the hand in her sleep. Claws retreating before she hurts herself.

Little older child. Long hair. His hands braiding it. Fire crackling in the background. Hint of sadness and worry.

Anger. Shame. Frustration.

“Daddy! Look what I can do!” Giggling. Lots of giggles.
“Hang on. I don’t want you to fall off.”
“Faster! Faster, daddy!” A swing. Small, fragile back under his palms.

“Why can’t I go? Please, daddy, let me go! I want to see other people!” Hurting now. Sudden urge to tell her to leave but can’t. Have to protect. That was the deal. Can’t mess this up now.

Fear.

Failure. Failed her for the second time. Aislin’s gone. Shouldn’t have let her go.

Lost. Alone and lost. No reason to live. No reason to die.

NotMarieNotMarieNotMarie!ShutUp!

First cut across her stomach. Not too deep, don’t want to kill her too fast. Maybe little scratches over her breasts, too. Just deep enough to make her bleed. But first have to cut off her hair. Can’t have her looking like her. That’s a no-no. Have enough nightmares as it is, thank you. Could of course fuck with her before I start. Wonder how she would react?

Shut up!

… Marie?…

Have to make her better. Can’t fuck this up now. Have to make it work. Come on, kid! Wake up! Don’t you dare to die on me now!

MARIE!

Relief.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. Sorting out the mess that was his head was giving her a headache. She had gotten everything to the right chronological order. Now only question was should she open that can of worms, or just rely to the last image he had sent her.

He woke up when she entered. Instead of going straight to her own sleeping bag she cuddled next to him.
“Some things I didn’t quite comprehend. There were some… Some things you could have left out,” she said, fiddling with the buttons of his shirt, avoiding his gaze.
“I wanted you to know everything. There shouldn’t be secrets between us. Not anymore,” he said, pulling her closer and wrapping his arm around her. She allowed it and laid her head on his chest.
“There were many things I liked. And I’m so sorry for what I put you through. If I had known about your feelings…” She started, but he hushed her.
“You chose Bobby. That’s long gone now. At first I was so fucking jealous I wanted to skewer him, but when I saw how happy you were… I learned to accept it. Raising Aislin opened my eyes for good. You know, she once asked me why didn’t I tell you how do I feel.”
“You said you thought you didn’t have the right to do that.”
“Yeah. And I didn’t. But I think now I have that right. I love you, Marie.” She scooted higher until she could see him face-to-face, and pressed soft kiss on his lips.
“And I love you. But honey? I have a headache. Can we go to sleep?”

He woke up when something soft and warm touched his lips. He didn’t open his eyes, but tightened his hold around her and answered to her kiss, deepening it. This was what he had dreamed for years. Waking next to her, holding her. His hands started to roam over her body, hesitantly.
“Good morning,” she whispered when they finally broke their kiss and he opened his eyes. His hands had settled to her waist, and he was just staring at her.
“Say something.” She started to get uncomfortable under his gaze. Instead of talking he rolled them over, ending on top of her and lowered his head to another, more heated kiss.

His heart was hammering in his chest. His whole body was trembling. He couldn’t remember last time he was this nervous.
“Marie, I…” She hushed him placing one delicate finger to his lips.
“I want this. I know you want this.”
“Yeah. I’m just not sure what to do. What do you want? Talk to me. Tell me what to do,” he nearly pleaded. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled his head closer, nibbling his lower lip gently.
“I want you to put all those fantasies I got from you to good use. You can forget gloves and scarves, we don’t need those anymore, but…”
“I don’t need fantasies when I got you,” Logan whispered, rolling over again so that she was straddling him. She placed her hands on his chest, and for a moment they just stayed there.

“We probably should get up and get going. I don’t want to go further with you, not here, not now.” He finally broke the silence.
“Awww… First you get the girl all worked up, and then dump her? Way to go, lover boy!” Marie giggled and slid off from him. Logan smiled sheepishly.
“It has been a while. Couple of decades. I want us to take things slowly. We have time. With them messing up your mutation we have forever. And my idea of our first time doesn’t involve tent and cold water to wash up afterwards. At my cabin, if it still stands, I have a bed. There’s bathtub. There’s kitchen and fireplace. Real walls and roof above our head.”
“You really have given some thought for this, have you?” Marie smiled, her heart fluttering in her chest. Logan’s smile faltered a bit, and he coughed and cleared his throat.
“First time I thought about you, about us like this, happened when we sat in my camper. You asked me about my claws. Did they hurt when they came out. So, yeah… I have given some thought for this.”

Sentinel


She was running. Had been running for what felt like hours. She was aching all over. It was hard to breathe. She had left cabin behind her ages ago. She was crying and it made it difficult to see, but she couldn’t stop. Logan had stayed behind to buy her time to get away, and he was probably as good as dead now. Life had a tendency to kick you in the gut just when everything seemed to go smoothly. She tripped over a sturdy branch and fell on her stomach. She didn’t have the will or the energy to get up and continue. She just lay there, crumbled heap of torn clothes and lacerated flesh.

Sentinel had been standing there for years. Waiting patiently, guarding the perimeter. It was old and rusty, but still fully operational. There had been visitors in the cabin, but they all had been right kind of visitors. No mutations it could have detected. Not before now. Two targets had been approaching. It had detected them two days ago. It had waited patiently. Patience had been rewarded, when targets approached the cabin.

He had been preoccupied, thoughts swirling around Marie, and things he was going to do to her, with her. She had been laughing and teasing him. She was so beautiful. Sun put a soft glow on her skin and smile had lit up her eyes. They had made it to the cabin. It was still standing. In surprisingly good shape. Swing he had installed for Aislin when she had been just a little kid still hung on the front porch. He had pointed it to Marie, and he had been about to tell her how much her daughter had loved that swing, when all hell had broken loose.

“Ohh, shit…” It was hard to stay on his feet. When you got shot in the gut and you had to keep your intestines from falling out, it made you keel over. Sentinel let out a series of low beeping noises. He knew it was scanning for life signs. He turned his head to look at it. There was a small, flashing red light in the middle of its forehead. Scanner. If he could reach it and break it, they would be quite even. Sentinel would be blind. He remembered Danger Room scenario with secondary X-Team and grinned wryly. This time there was no Peter to throw him in the air. He had to find a way to make Sentinel crouch.

Sentinel was firing now non-stop, forcing him to seek cover rather than attack. Every shot scorched earth little closer of him. It was learning his moves. He knew he had to act fast. If he waited too long, behemoth would have him all figured out, and after that there simply was no way to surprise or fool it. Then he saw something that made his rapid heart beat hitch up a notch. Small patch of rust. Smack dab on top of armor covering Sentinel’s power cell on its stomach.

It was a long shot. He had better chances to reach it, but if he was wrong, and it wasn’t rusted through, he would be toasted. Sentinel would tear him to shreds. He started to count seconds between the scorching hot blasts machine was firing towards him. One, two, three… Four-second window to charge.
“How the fuck do I get close enough…” He muttered. Small scraps of moss and dirt rained on him.
“That was close.” He looked up. Sentinel was towering over him, holding a tree on its other, gigantic hand. He nearly made it. He sprinted towards the cabin, when tree came crashing down, heavy branch knocking him out of balance and he fell. He curled to a ball and rolled back on his feet, then dashed blindly towards his opponent. Claws out. He leaped forward, putting all his weight behind them, trying to align every ounce of metal and muscle behind thin blades. Hard, jarring thud and screeching noise. Blades started to sink in. Suddenly something made his whole body spasm and convulse, and he knew he had made it. He had beaten the Sentinel. Then darkness fell over him and there was nothing.

Home


She didn’t know how long she had lain on the ground. Long enough to stop crying. Long enough to realize she had to go back. Sentinel might be there, waiting for her. But there was a slight possibility that Logan was there, still alive. She still remembered Danger Room’s watered down version of a sentinel. How Logan had stopped it back then. She got on her knees and stood up, turning back.

It was hard to move. Almost impossible to make cramped muscles to work, but he finally managed to roll off from the Sentinel. Getting claws back in was completely another issue. All skin and flesh from his hands up to his elbows had been almost literally burnt off. Metal bones gleamed wetly on the moonlight. Sight and smell of it made him gag. It didn’t hurt. Not yet. But he was already healing. Tissues were knitting themselves back in right order rapidly. He was itching. Soon that itch would turn to burn.

“Oh, fuck…” He tried to brace himself, but when first blood vessels grew back, he started sobbing. When first nerve endings crawled to their rightful places he was already screaming, cursing the Sentinel for letting him live, and praying for any possible higher deity to take away his consciousness. He was dimly aware there was somebody with him, holding down his trashing body. He realized it was Marie. She had returned. He tried to wrap his arms around her, smearing her with blood. Friction sent new bolts of pain and fire coursing through his system and he had to let go. His heart started to skip beats, and it was getting harder to breathe. Then blessed darkness took him over again.

When he came to, there were soft lips on his own. Steady flow of air. Then they went away and something hit his chest, hard.
“You’re not fucking going to die on me now! You hear me!” Lips were back, forcing air in to his lungs. Then they went away again.
“You fucking promised me bed and a fireplace! I have waited long enough! Wake up!” Sharp kick to his ribcage made him groan and roll on to his stomach. Squeal of joy, and something soft and light landed on his back. Marie, wrapping her hands around him, burying her face to the crook of his neck, now crying. He tried feebly to untangle her, to turn over and embrace her, but it looked like she was unable to let go, so he let his head droop back against the ground and just laid there, collecting his wits, listening sharp pinging noises Sentinel was making while cooling off.

“Kid? I do need to breathe eventually…” Logan’s voice was hoarse, and she realized she was nearly strangling him in her relief. She loosened her hold and helped him to turn on his back.
“I thought you were going to die,” she gasped. Logan grinned and reached the side of her face with his hand, now fully healed.
“Not a chance. I did promise you that bed and fireplace…” He craned his neck and chuckled softly.
“Only it looks like you have to settle just to me at the moment.” One powerful blast from the Sentinel had blown up the cabin.
“At the moment you’re all I need,” Marie whispered smiling, and leaned closer, brushing his lips with her own. He pulled her closer and deepened the kiss, rolling them over so that he ended on top of her.
“Good. I need you now.”

There was no warm fire crackling, soft bed or foreplay. They tore of each other’s clothes with trembling hands, both in a hurry. Kisses they shared were frantic; more licks and bites than actual kisses. When he sunk in to her, she locked her legs around his waist and just held him in place, enjoying the possibility to be this close to him, to feel him pulsing inside of her, alive. He buried his face to her neck, and she could feel wetness on her skin. He was crying.
“Turn your skin on… Just for a sec…” He choked.

It was utter bliss. No coherent image, just deep feeling of belonging, and one word. Home.