“Oh, my day just keeps getting better and fucking better!” We get to our feet, and Logan goes for the telephone in the control panel. After a couple of seconds, he slams it down. It’s broken.
“Fucking stupid, fucking thing. What’s the point of having a superhero bank balance if you can’t get an elevator to work?!”
“Now what?” I get to my feet.
“Shh, I’m trying to get Chuck.” He closes his eyes, then after a second or two opens them and rolls them sarcastically. “NO! We stopped it on purpose!...Whatever, just get us the hell out of here…She’s not right, remember? Thanks.”
He looks at me, and I can make out every feature in the dim of the emergency lights. Must be part of his mutation—sight as well as enhanced smell. Wonder if touch is part of the deal, too? Could be fun to find out.
“They’re getting on it. Won’t be long.” He’s very matter-of-fact about the whole thing. I’m guessing our previous discussion is not what he wanted. Well, stuff that I want to know.
“So, care to answer my half-question: what happened?” I slide down the wall and hug my knees. He follows suit and sits down against the opposite wall.
“Like I said, not working.”
“Liar. So who fucked up, you or me?”
“Marie, you don’t want to do this now. I don’t want to do this.”
“It’s not like we’re going anywhere. And besides, I’m guessing it never got discussed, right?” His head snaps up. BINGO! He went from sad to angry in one swoop. “So let’s discuss it.”
“Fine. You.” Shit, I have to admit I wasn’t expecting that! But I think he’s lying again.
“What did I do?” Please don’t say I cheated. Why would I cheat, for God’s sake? Look at the man!
“You got hurt, wouldn’t let me heal you, said you couldn’t cope with me in your head again, told me to fuck off. Simple.”
“Again. Liar. This mutation of yours is kinda handy. Wanna try again?” My tone is sarcastic, but I’m trying to keep sane here. All this is a little on the crazy side.
He huffs and crosses his arms over his massive chest. “You got hurt badly, your shoulder. There was a lot of blood. I lost it, Wolverine took over, and he grabbed you, and you started to suck him in. You only got a small draw from him, but you pushed him off, and it must have brought me to my senses. When I tried to heal you again, you went berserk. Started screaming and shouting, clawing at yourself, screaming not to touch you again. So I haven’t.”
Still not everything, and if he hasn’t touched me, then how do I have his mutation? Oh, I get it. “When did this happen?”
“About three months ago.” Again BINGO! I growl. Where did that come from?
“So third time is apparently a charm. What aren’t you telling me that I probably will eventually figure out myself but want you to tell me?” For 17, I feel very mature, but I guess that’s because I’m really 24. Weird.
“You stopped your mutation from taking me in, and it somehow switched with mine. I pushed out, you pushed out. I don’t get it, but Chuck seems to think that it’s some kinda karma thing, that we’ll eventually figure out how to reverse it.”
“Because our mutations fit together so well?” He nods but still won’t look at me. “How far have we got?”
He looks at me but doesn’t raise his head. In the dim light it looks really dangerous and incredibly sexy. “I haven’t touched you in three months and, in between you shouting at me and screaming, I kinda stay outta your way. How far do you think we’ve got?”
Shit. I did fuck up. “Do you love me?” He stands up sharply and tries to open the door with his hands. “Logan?” When it won’t budge, he starts to kick it. He gets three good kicks in before I stand up and touch his arm. “Logan, STOP!” He turns on me.
“YES, I LOVE YOU. Is that enough for you?” He runs his hand through his hair again and rests his head against the elevator door. “Yes, I love you. It’s just been hard lately.” He steps back from the door. “It’s hot.” I have to admit I’m hot, too. Especially now that he has a slight sheen of sweat on his tight tanned skin.
He rolls his shoulders and stretches his neck to the side. He lifts his vest with his hand to rub his stomach, and I notice something.
“Hey, where did you get those bruises on your ribs?” Some are purple and others lower down are starting to yellow. As I scan him again properly, I notice other things as well: a faded bruise on the side of his jaw, dropped shoulder probably due to a blow to the back, around seven stitches on the back of his head, and redness around his throat, as if someone has tried to strangle him.
“Don’t heal, remember? You do.” He leans against the opposite wall again.
I stand up and try to have a closer look, but he bats my hands away. I growl and push him to the wall and lift his vest up. After growling at him he lets me. They are fading, about two to three days old. I see the annoyance in his face, so I back up and sit on the floor again. He visibly relaxes.
“So tell me how. On the mission? Is that how I got hit on the head?”
“Marie, it’s a bit more complicated than that.” This is all a bit wrong. He doesn’t smell like he’s lying, but he’s not being honest with me either. “The mission was, um….” Now that was a lie.
“There was no mission, was there? Oh god! This is all falling into place.” I stand up and face him, running my hand through my messed-up hair, the same gesture he used moments ago. I can feel it inside me, trying to get out. “We go on a mission three months ago, I get hurt. Wolverine tries to heal me, and I take him in. You said I started clawing at myself and screaming.”
“Darlin’, you need to calm down.” He has his hands up, trying to calm me, why is he so nervous of me?
“We didn’t break up because I don’t want you to touch me, and we didn’t talk, we didn’t see each other, because it’s not a case of staying out of my way. I’ve been down there, in the lab, haven’t I? I’ve been Wolverine, haven’t I? HAVEN’T I?” I shout, growl and demand the truth from him. He flinches and I realise I could be scaring him.
“Yes, you’ve been in isolation. There was nothing else we could do. No one could reach you.” I stare at him in complete shock. I’m numb.
“What was I like? Why isolation?” He rubs my arms and sits me on the floor. He sits with me and pulls me onto his lap.
“You would scream and shout at everyone who tried to get near you. Behave like an animal sometimes, and then be coherent enough to swear and say spiteful things, disgusting things, usually to me. Apparently my inner self doesn’t like me very much.” He holds me a little tighter, and I start to cry silently, the tears peacefully rolling down my cheek on to my vest.
“It all came as a bit of a shock. I never knew Wolverine was capable of speech or even knew he was human. Chuck says you brought it out in him. Other times you would just spit, kick, claw; you’ve got bone claws. My original mutation, apparently.”
“And what happened two days ago? Didn’t hit my head, did I?” He takes a shaky breath in and lets it out again. I can smell my own tears, as well as his sadness and worry.
“No, you didn’t. You went nuts again, tried to escape, and I had to tranq you. It’s the second time so far.”
“I gave you the bruises and the stitches in your head, didn’t I?” My voice is a whisper. My crying isn’t silent anymore, and I’m sobbing into my hands.
“Yeah, baby. It wasn’t your fault. But hey, you woke up without him this time. We’re not sure how, and I don’t care. I got you back.”
“Not all of me, though. We’ve had a relationship for two years that I can’t remember, and I’m just a snotty teenager not a woman to you.” He turns me round so I’m straddling his lap. “I hurt you again. I’m so sorry.”
“Darlin’, you never had to grow up because you’re already grown up. You stepped off of that statue the oldest 17-year-old girl in the fucking universe. The last three months have been really fucking shit without you. I never want to do that again. You’re my girl, and I don’t say it to you enough, but I love you.” Holding me close to him my mind starts to flash images.
“I like you holding me really tight. I wanted to do that after the statue, but Jean was so hell-bent on getting you in the jet…. OH… oh I remember, I remember something.” I sit back and look at him excitedly. “Jean and Scott got you in the jet, and ‘Ro helped me. I could smell everyone and everything including Jean.” He has a smile on his lips, and it only briefly reaches his eyes.
“God, she pissed me off. I was trying to sort through you in my head while Scott flew the plane. It was embarrassing. She was like….” I put on my best whiny voice, “Storm, help me get his uniform off.” I roll my eyes. “Pathetic. She had you in your jockeys before we got two miles away from Liberty Island.” He starts laughing, and this time it does reach his eyes.
“Marie, you’re a crazy person.” He keeps laughing.
“Guessing you haven’t done that in a while. Laughed, I mean. I’m sorry. Put you through a lot, haven’t I? Including beating you up, by the looks of your ribs.” I sit back a little. “Let me touch you, heal you.”
He laughs again and then looks really serious. “No, I’ll live. Only life or death, remember? We agreed.”
“Actually, no, I don’t remember. We agreed, huh? More like I made you promise, right?”
“Yeah, you drum it into me before every mission. No touching unless death is imminent.” He traces my bottom lip with his gloved hand. Even though, as far as I’m concerned, I’ve never been touched before, this feels so right with him. “I wish I knew what was in your head half the time.”
“Well, to know what is going on in my head, you would have to think outside the world that revolves around the tip of your penis!” He laughs at me again. “You know, technically, as far as the memory goes, I’m a virgin!” Laughing he rests his head forward on my chest and keeps laughing.
“Trust me, darlin’, that ship sailed a loooong time ago!” I smile and bite my lip.
“You?” He brings his head up and raises both eyebrows.
“Fuck, yes. You really think I would have let you screw someone else? You’re mine, kid.” Holding me tighter, he nuzzles into my neck where my hair is. “I miss this, you babbling on about stuff and me getting to laugh at you and see you smile.”
“So let’s just do that, then. I don’t know you, not really. I may be 24, or whatever, but up here….” I tap the side of my head, “the statue felt like last night, and I’m 17. I’ve only known you a handful of days. So why don’t we get to know each other again?”
“If you remember after the statue, then you remember all my memories, personality and stuff right?” I think for a second, and yeah, it’s all there, so I nod at him. “And I know all about you, so, there’s only one other way to get to know each other.”
I’m 17, a kid, but he makes me feel all kinds of good. He loves me, and he’s right here just for me. He’s taken beatings for me and from me, he’s died for me, and a whole lot else in-between that I can’t remember right now.
He traces my lip again and laces his other hand in my hair. Leaning forward our lips are so close to touching. The elevator is suddenly filled with the thick smell of arousal, filling my lungs and making me suddenly forget about my skin, or his skin, or whatever.
“Fuck it!” I lean forward and kiss him hard so he can’t break it. I kinda of like this feeling of impatience and control. The pull starts almost immediately. I’ve never felt this side of it before, but I don’t care. The taste of him is fantastic. He lets my tongue in his mouth, and I start to feel dizzy. We should stop but something keeps us going. He’s draining me, and I can feel the light slipping away, but somehow I can still manage to kiss him.
Suddenly there’s a jolt of what feels like white-hot electricity…… White light…….
Hot………. Pain………. This must be what it fells like to die. At least I got to kiss him.
Blackness…….
*******************END OF PART TWO
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