He was heavy. All that weight bearing down on her, and for a moment she pondered whether she really should push him back on the floor. He’d heal. Then he shifted and his head turned, his face pressing against the side of her throat. She could more feel than hear contended murmur that left him from the contact. Instead of discarding him on to the floor she wrapped her hands around him tighter.
He wasn’t bleeding anymore, but his skin felt cold and clammy. Their clothes were soaked through from his blood and slowly drying to a rigid shell. They’d have to find some new clothes soon.
She heard a soft clink. It sounded like it came somewhere close. Too close for comfort. She craned her neck and tried to see the source of the noise. Corridor was silent. Nothing was moving in the shadows. Another clink. Something fell on her side. She picked it up. A bullet. With blood on it. Wolverine’s body was dispelling bullets still lodged inside of him. He grunted and shifted on her lap, even more small pieces of led falling from the ragged tears on his clothes. He’d be all right. She raised her hand and placed it on his forehead. His skin felt already warmer. More alive than dead. His breathing was evening out. Air was no longer rattling in his lungs.
“Shit… How long was I out?” He suddenly asked, shifting away from her and crawling up on his feet.
“Not long. Are you alright now?” She asked. He narrowed his eyes, then grimaced and coughed, spitting out yet another bullet.
“Yeah. Worried that you’d have to find your own way out?” He asked. She rose from the floor, stretching cramped muscles.
“A little… We aren’t going to get out like this, are we?” She asked. Wolverine shook his head.
“We have to find a map of some sort. Otherwise we end up walking in circles and getting our asses kicked to next week…”
“Correction. You get your ass kicked.”
“Fuck it. I can take anything they dish out. You can’t. And you have something I need. Have to get you out of here intact.”
She hid the sudden pang of disappointment. Yes. The deal. She’d share her memory with him, and he’d make sure they both got out of here. This was Wolverine. Not a guy you were supposed to develop tender feelings towards.
“A map. And fresh clothes would be nice…” She said, reaching for the nearest door.
Doors on this floor had only ordinary locks on them. She grabbed the handle and turned it, yanking the door open.
“Wait!” She heard Wolverine shouting, then a pair of hands curled around her and yanked her in to darkness. Door closed, and she was alone. Well, not completely alone. There was somebody with her, tearing off her clothes, panting and drooling, groping her from everywhere. She screamed and struggled. She could hear the door rattling on its hinges and Wolverine cursing a blue streak on the other side of it. Sharp teeth lodged on her collarbone and she fell on the floor, heavy weight of partly clothed sticky body pinning her down. Something hard was poking her thigh, and it took her a second to realize what it was. She renewed her struggles, but it was futile. Her attacker forced her thighs apart, and suddenly there was only pain. She was being torn open; somebody was at the same time chewing on her left breast, tearing off chunks of flesh. Her skin was on, but it was doing nothing. Nothing was happening. Strong fingers curled around her throat, sharp nails piercing her skin, and it became impossible to breathe or scream anymore.
There was a loud crash and suddenly the weight was torn off from her. She curled on her side, not caring what had happened. She was bleeding. Bleeding from so many places and hurting so badly she’d though it wouldn’t even be possible. She saw from the corner of his eye Wolverine, illuminated partly by the red emergency light of the corridor, dangling her attacker, bald and partly eaten fat man from his collar, teeth bared to voracious grimace, his fist pressed against the chubby underside of the baldy’s jaw. Baldy had stopped struggling and moving. She could see tips of Wolverine’s claws coming through his skull, like the baldy had suddenly grown three metal spikes from his skull.
“Nobody touches what’s mine…” She fell in to darkness.
“We should really stop dragging each other…” She muttered waking up from her back from a gurney that Wolverine was reeling after him as he went.
“I gave you enough to stop the bleeding. I’m sure as hell not going to touch you any more than it’s necessary.”
“I’m yours, huh?” She smirked, smacking her dry lips. Wolverine snorted.
“Yeah. You’re my memory, and I don’t fucking appreciate it when some walking stiff rapes it.”
“Walking stiff? I thought you said that they weren’t dead…”
“This one was. That’s why I couldn’t smell it before it was too late.”
“And that’s why my skin didn’t work… I tried… I tried to stop it, but it just kept going and… And…”
“Stop your blubbering. It happened. I took care of that bastard, you got your boob back and I don’t think there’s any internal damage anymore.”
“Internal damage?”
“Fucker tore you up pretty good. But I gave you enough to fix it. Couldn’t really check you up since your skin was on, but you’re not bleeding anymore.”
“Check me up?”
“Wasn’t going to stick my paw in to you when there were no guarantees that I would have recovered from it.”
“Oh…” She’d thought that there was not enough blood left in her, but she could feel the blush spreading over her cheeks from the mental image of Wolverine kneeling between her parted legs. When her demented imagination added surgical gloves and stirrups that kept her feet apart a giggle escaped from her lips. Wolverine glanced over his shoulder, his brows knitting together.
“What the fuck are you laughing about?”
“Nothing… Nothing at all…” She giggled some more, then suddenly her giggles turned on to sobs. Wolverine just grunted and kept walking, letting her cry in peace.
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