She could feel the blood on her face. Sticky layer of red goo with some snot and tears in the mix. Not a pleasant feeling, but she couldn’t bring herself to wipe it off with the rag he had thrown at her. If possible it was even more disgusting than the substance covering her skin. Old and tattered, odd hairs and dust sticking on it, foul smell of some kind of cleaning supplies wafting all over it. She wasn’t going to put it on her face, not matter how badly the blood sting her eyes.
She hurried after him when he started half walking, half running towards the end of the corridor. Was he trying to get rid of her? Good luck with that. She was going to stick with him until they got out of here. After that it would be good riddance for him. If it weren’t for the homicidal lunatics lurking around she wouldn’t even have to hitch a ride from only slightly less homicidal Wolverine.
“Hey, wait up!” He wasn’t listening. She was too tired to run. She’d have to make him slow down his pace somehow.
“Hey, ape-man! Wait for me!” No reaction whatsoever. He was still retreating with alarming pace. She’d lost him from her sights soon. Name rose to her mind unbidden from the depths of her murky memory.
“Logan, Wait!”
He stopped walking and whirled around, his left eyebrow hiked up.
“What did you say?” She jogged to where he stood and leaned against the wall, huffing out of breath.
“I asked you to wait for me… You walk too fast…”
“What did you call me?” She raised her gaze carefully from the toes of his boots to his face. Instead of angry grimace she met eyes filled with curiosity.
“Logan. Why?”
“My name’s Wolverine. Why did you call me Logan?”
“I don’t know. It just came to my mind…” An image of him, sitting on a plastic chair, telling her how he was here waiting for a friend. Her own voice asking how bad it was. Then it faded.
“I… I think I knew you. Well, not knew you, but I think I might have talked with you. Long time ago…” She stuttered. Wolverine grunted.
“I remember jack shit about what was before. They must have fried my brain before they gave me the ability to heal.” She nodded.
“They didn’t want us to remember anything. They kept me drugged for the same reason. Now that the drugs are wearing off, I’m starting to remember things. Bits and pieces, but more and more.”
“You remember being outside?” Wolverine asked, suspicion flaring in his eyes. She nodded.
“Not everything. I’m sure there are lots of things I still don’t remember, but I do remember some things. I can’t remember my name, or what I did, or how did I end up in here, but I keep getting these flashes… Like it’s all coming back…” Suspicion transformed to determination on Wolverine’s face.
“I’m keeping you. Once we get out you’ll stay with me until I get my head sorted out.”
“Keeping me? Wolverine…”
“Logan. Call me Logan. I like the way you say that name.”
“Logan. You can’t just keep me. I’m not a cat or a dog.”
“Shit. That did come out wrong…” Wolverine huffed and threw his gaze towards the ceiling. She could see his throat working furiously, then he turned to look at her again.
“I want you to stay with me. If you really remember what it’s like outside, I could really use your help.”
She could see from his face what an effort it had been to speak out loud those words. To admit that he needed somebody. To admit that perhaps he wasn’t the biggest bastard of them all. That even he could need help.
“I’ll make a deal with you. You get us out of here in one piece, and I’ll teach you what I know about the world outside. Okay?” She asked. Wolverine sighed and stuck out his hand. She stared at it for a moment before she realized what he wanted her to do. She grabbed his hand with her own, and they shook hands.
“We have a deal,” he said. She had to force herself to let go of his hand. Suddenly he didn’t seem all that crazy and homicidal anymore. Just another lost soul wandering down paths of this hell. Apparently missing more than one key components of his mental health she noticed when he suddenly grasped her hand to his own again and yanked hard, making her stumble down on her hands and knees at his feet.
“Get down.”
She was about to throw a snarky remark about his manners when bullets peppering the wall at their side made her squeak and hug the floor. Wolverine grunted, she could hear soft, wet thuds and him cursing.
“Oh, fucking Christ that hurts like a bitch! What does it take to kill those fuckers?” She raised her gaze. Wolverine was running towards a group of black clad men that were shooting at them. Most of the bullets were aimed at Wolverine, but few of them scraped dangerously close to her head.
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