He grit his teeth when piercing wail reached his sensitive ears. Tried to shield his eyes from the sun and peered around to see whom exactly had let out that bloodcurdling scream. Kids were playing nearby. Football? Soccer? Perhaps golf? He couldn’t tell. It was one of those games that involved lots of yelling and running after round object. He moved further in to the shadow that the thicket offered, wincing when his stiff muscles protested.
Rabies. Fucking rabies. And Jean wanted to lock him up until it passed his system. That’ll be the day. Lock him up? To where? And why? As far as he knew humans hardly ever developed hallucinations or urges to attack. He would get sick. Sick enough to puke out his gut. Sick enough to piss and shit himself. Sick enough to scream and cry, and he as sure as hell wasn’t going to let anybody witness that happening. He’d take a hike until it was over and he felt good enough to return as soon as his cohort in crime brought him his gear. Speaking of which, what the hell was taking her so long?
He shifted and grunted in annoyance when once more somebody made a goal or got gutted on the game field. If Marie wasn’t here soon… Dry twigs rustling alerted him that somebody was approaching.
“Logan?” He opted to stay silent. It was Marie. She’d find him soon enough. It was already hard to swallow; he wouldn’t waste his energy to the effort it would take to produce coherent speech.
“Logan? Are you here? …Please, don’t bite me…” Bite? Had she been talking with Jean?
“Won’t bite…” He ground out through clenched jaw.
“Logan!” It was a happy sound. She was happy to see him, but nonetheless it grated his ears.
“Stop shouting…”
“Sorry. I brought everything you asked for. Here.” He grabbed the knapsack she offered and flung it over his shoulders. All ready to go. Except something didn’t quite add up. Marie wasn’t wearing her usual clothing. And the backpack she carried looked big enough to house a mule. Perhaps two if the need arose.
“I’m coming with you.”
“Th… The hell you are! Shoo!”
“I’m coming with you. I looked up rabies from the net. You’re no more dangerous now than you were before. And you’re going to need help.”
“G… Go to hell!”
“Stop stuttering and start walking. We have to get the hell out of here before they notice that we’re gone!”
“F… F… Fuck you…”
“Love you too, big guy. So, where are we going?”
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Later that evening he was quite relieved that Marie was from the Stubborn Side of Sears. At least he had a tent over his head and warm food to eat. Not that he was able to eat, but out of principle he felt miles better after he had splashed and gurgled a plate of chicken broth all over himself.
“Need to pee? Take a dump?”
“N...N…No.”
“Want more blankets?”
“No.”
“More pillows?”
He resorted to nodding when his vocal cords finally gave up. Marie dug out a pillow from the backpack that started to look magical. How else it was able to house such a collection of junk?
“Raise your head… Let me help a bit… There. Better?” He was too drained to even nod. He blinked. Twice. And tried to smile. It probably looked kind of crooked because Marie disappeared from his view. Then she returned and dabbled his chin with a soft cloth.
“Just a bit of drool. Don’t worry about it.”
Just a bit of drool? Jesus Christ on a crutch.
“I printed out few things while I was searching through the net.” Few things? The pile of papers she held out for him to see looked thick as a phonebook. Of course his double vision that was starting to turn triple-vision probably impaired his perception, but the amount of knowledge she had found was staggering.
“People usually don’t survive from rabies if it’s left untreated. But I think it’s safe to assume that you’ll pull it through. You survived me, what could be more lethal, right?” He thought about it for a moment. She was probably right. But why was she looking at him like…
“Rrright…” Actually he had no clue as to whether he was going to make it or not, but it was quite safe assumption. And she looked relieved when he confirmed it.
“I guess Jean already told you what to expect? Neurological symptoms, headache, stiffness, photosensitivity and the loss of bodily functions?” She prattled on, turning page after page.
“And hallucinations. But you tell me if that happens, right?” He blinked twice. He had no slightest of idea how he was supposed to alert her about hallucinations he may have been having, but again she looked relieved.
“Good. I wouldn’t want to end up kebab just because you thought I was Mystique…”
And why the hell had she come along if she thought there was a chance of that happening?
“Why?” One word he managed to force out without stuttering. At first he was afraid that she wouldn’t understand. She just looked at him. Then she put down the papers and rearranged the pillows under him slightly.
“You were there when I was hurting. I’m going to be here as long as you let me,” she whispered, flush creeping over her cheeks. She turned around fast and started rifling through the backpack once again, pulling out few more blankets and one, flat pillow.
“But we should both get some sleep. Wake me up if you need anything…” She huffed quickly; spread the blankets little further from him and lay to sleep her back turned.
“Good night, Logan…” He heard her whispering.
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He tried to sleep, but it was impossible. He turned on his hands and knees, cursing inwardly when his rigid back popped and crackled audibly. He needed to go, his stomach was churning, and his oh-so-understanding do-gooder would probably come and wipe his ass afterwards if he woke her up.
He scrambled to the bushes on his hands and knees. The most difficult task was to find a way to get rid of his pants, and he almost soiled himself, but managed to avoid that. Up to a certain point. When he tried to move further he lost his balance and fell on his ass to the steaming pile of his own shit.
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“Could you just ask me when you have to go? I could have helped you and you wouldn’t be sitting in a cold stream right now. This can’t be healthy when you have the fever… Oh, stop that, you big wuss!” Marie scolded him when he flipped her a finger. Very shaky finger. That was all he had left after the brief journey through the forest to a nearby stream so that he… No, correction, so that Marie could clean up his mess. And what the fuck was it with her? Why did she have to choose a spot that was already occupied? There must have been at least couple of hundred bees, all swarming around him, stingers digging in to his skin and eyes, making his tongue and throat swell and his skin hot and sensitive and why the hell she had to wrestle him so roughly?
“Oh, stop growling already. There. Finished. You think you could crawl up by yourself? I think I’m going to bathe myself as well now that we’re here. I left some towels over there…” He couldn’t listen anymore. Her voice, albeit low and quiet felt like it could shatter him at any moment. He forced himself up and limped away.
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It wasn’t much better now that he was alone. Crickets were tuning their violins and small breeze was rustling leaves and branches around him. He was nearly choking to his own saliva. It was impossible to swallow. Everything hurt. His brain felt like it was boiling, cooking with slow heat that was throbbing in his body. He was crawling on his hands and knees through the dirt and debris, rubbing his face against the moss and dead leaves to alleviate the burning itch in his eyes.
Suddenly the forest around him was flooded with bright light and infernal roaring noise. He curled over himself whimpering. Sharp scent of exhaust filled his nostrils, making him gag. A car. And another one after that. There was a road somewhere ahead of him. Not a good place to stay, but he couldn’t bring himself to move anymore. He managed to drag his battered body under a small fir. It offered very little protection and bristled and pricked against his skin like it was made out of steel bristles, but even that was better than staying out in the open.
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Bees were still buzzing around, trying to get in to his nose, mouth and ears. It started to dawn on him that maybe, just maybe they weren’t real. That maybe, just maybe he was experiencing one of those hallucinations Marie had warned him about earlier. Should he tell her about it?
“T-there’s bugs all over me…” He didn’t know if it came out right, if his swollen throat and tongue were capable of producing the required syllables anymore, but at least he had tried to warn… Warn? Warn who exactly?
Marie wasn’t there. She wasn’t anywhere near. He was alone in this overly bright and noisy world.
He scooted closer to the narrow trunk of his pitiful shelter, trying to squeeze himself as close to the ground as possible when something big roared past him. A large truck, blaring its horn for the good measure.
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He could smell it. Familiar scent wrapping around him, erasing the offensive stench of asphalt and fuel. Vanilla. Peppermint. He turned his head; his watering eyes finding nothing but darkness again. But the scent was escalating slowly. A hallucination? If that were the case, he rather liked this one more than bees that had been bugging him earlier. Though the scent of vanilla was slightly nauseating in its sweetness, the cooling feel of the peppermint soothed his aggravated sinuses.
Rather sooner than later the scents started to evaporate and retreat. He scrambled after them, abandoning the fir. Vanilla and peppermint had been a nice hallucination. He wasn’t going to let them go.
He was well aware of the horrendous ruckus he caused, stepping on dry twigs and plowing through thorny bushes. He knew he should have been more careful. Not to draw attention. But the scent was moving so fast, he couldn’t see or hear very well and didn’t the goddamned stink realize how much he needed it?
Unsheathing his claws brought completely new level of pain to bear, but it made it so much easier to shoulder his way through the thick undergrowth that tried to block his path. He started getting closer to the scent. It was getting stronger with every step he took, until he could feel it coating him again almost completely, whispering over his skin and clinging to the accumulated sweat and muck.
There was something green in front of him. Dark olive, pale grass and deeper shades of moss. A tent. A crackling fire in front of it. The scent was strong now, beckoning him to step closer. In to the light. Marie. She was sitting on a fallen trunk of a tree, her gaze firmly fixed upon him. She opened her mouth to speak, then seemed to think it over, and instead of calling him scooted in to the tent. He could hear her moving inside. Then she came back out, dragging a pile of blankets and pillows with her. She arranged then behind the tree trunk, then patted the makeshift bed, gesturing him to lie down.
He crept around the circle of light the campfire cast. Tree trunk would shield his eyes from the flickering flames, but he’d be able to feel the warmth. More importantly he could smell the scent. He could smell it even if Marie retreated in to the tent they had shared earlier.
There were two pillows. He crawled between the blankets and settled as comfortably on his side as he could, curling his knees against his chest regardless of his protesting joints. Then took one pillow and placed it over his head to keep out light and disturbing sounds. And it was nearly heaven. It was Marie’s pillow, generously scented with vanilla and peppermint.
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Little later he felt something moving. His muscles were twitching. He wasn’t all that sure of which way was up, and which down. Or if there even were any directions left to make a difference. Everything felt the same. Smooth, round and white. Slight shades of grey in the mix. He discarded the pillow he had been scrunching against his temple and grabbed Marie who was sitting next to him, dragging her to replace both of the pillows. Her thighs were harder than the pillow that had been under his head, but it was now soaked through with sweat and lumpy. Her stomach was warm, almost too warm, but her scent was stronger there than in the pillow he had been clutching earlier and he buried his burning face in to her lap and cried shamelessly.
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“Feeling better?” Question floated through mist, rousing him. He cracked his eyes open, squinting against the light. Better. Definitely. As soon as he found the prankster who had had the bright idea to superglue his eyelids together.
“…Feel like shit…”
“Your fever broke few hours ago. You think you could drink a little?” He rolled his eyes until he caught Marie’s worried gaze.
“…Drink… Yeah… I guess…”
A bottle of water came out of nowhere, and suddenly he was so goddamned thirsty, parched beyond belief and his mouth tasted like something had crawled in and died in there. He tried to grab the bottle, but he couldn’t lift his hands. They felt like they were filled with led.
“I try to be careful. Just tell me if I’m doing something wrong,” Marie whispered, then tilted the bottle to his lips. Water poured forth, cold, slightly stale and tasting plastic. It trickled down his throat, and he almost managed to swallow. Some of it ended in his windpipe, making him cough and splutter.
“I should have brought some straws for this… Wasn’t really thinking…” Marie whispered, wiping his face clean with a soft rag. Then gave him some more water. Now he was prepared and gathered it on his tongue, letting it trickle down slower.
“Now… Could you put your claws away?” He heard her asking. Claws? Events of the night returned slowly. His erratic trek through the forest. Finding her again. Grabbing her.
“Are… Are you alright?” He tried to turn over to see. He couldn’t smell any blood, but his senses had gone haywire earlier, he couldn’t trust them right now.
“I’m fine. Just few small scratches. But try to put them away, okay?”
Now that he thought about it, concentrated past the exhausting feel of swirling and twirling… His hands felt swollen. Tendons straining and stretching. Elbows. He couldn’t feel his elbows anymore.
“…Can’t… Feels odd… Too numb…” He started struggling up. And she was able to hold him down. Weak as a kitten. Effort left him shivering and gasping for breath.
“Calm down. Calm down before you hurt yourself. Here, let me give you a hand with that…”
She picked up his left hand, her gloved fingers stroking his nearly dead muscles gently, reviving them. He let out a shaky breath when he heard a familiar screeching sound and felt the claws sliding back in to their sheaths. Marie turned her attention to his right hand, massaging until he was disarmed.
“Go back to sleep now. You need to rest.” He was about to protest, but when she started to comb his tangled hair with her fingers, massaging his scalp he gave in, rolling on to his side and snuggled closer against her, letting his eyes slide shut. He really was in no condition to argue with anybody, let alone his self-proclaimed guardian angel.
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He woke up later to the scent of fresh coffee, feeling already better. Good enough to sit up and take in his surroundings. He wasn’t in the forest anymore. He was in his room. Bathroom door was partially open and he could see muddy footsteps and handprints adorning every surface in there.
“Good morning, Logan.” He turned to look. Jean. Sitting on a couch near the fireplace, cradling a steaming cup of coffee in her well-manicured hands. He nodded.
“It’s good to see you’re feeling better.”
“Yeah… What happened?” He asked with a raspy voice.
“It started to rain. Rogue came and asked us to move you in here.”
“Oh… Right. Where is she?” He asked.
“Sleeping. She was exhausted.”
“Look, Jean… I know I shouldn’t have dragged her along with me…”
“Oh, shush. I don’t like the fact that you took off with a student, but she told me what happened. I can’t really blame you. It wasn’t your decision.”
“Wasn’t my decision? Jean…”
“She can be quite stubborn when she sets her mind in to something. I had to lie to her to get her to leave you and go to sleep. Not something I’m very proud of, but she was ready to collapse. But I must go now. I just came to see if you’re feeling better. Oh, and there’s breakfast in the kitchen. Bacon and eggs…”
He shook his head and rubbed his face. Jean closed the door behind her leaving him alone. Apparently he was all healed up now since she didn’t have any urges to slap chains on him.
He scooted off from the bed. The bathroom was a mess. It looked as if somebody had left a bucket of dirt and muck in there and thrown a grenade after it. There was no way he’d be cleaning the mess now. Even the small task of getting dressed was nearly enough to making him collapse.
He leaned against the doorframe, breathing deeply, trying to stop the world tilting and swaying around and underneath him. His heart was doing triple-time, nearly tripping over in its haste, but if he moved real carefully he could avoid those dark, black spots dancing in front of him…
It took him a while to realize that the spots he was seeing really weren’t there. It took him even longer to sniff out Marie. She wasn’t in her room as he had first thought. He wandered around, stopping to rest at any given opportunity, generally taking his time and behaving like a man of his real age really should even though he wanted to run. He had to find her. He needed to thank her. He needed to see her. He wanted… And goddamned, why the hell she had gone and chosen such a weird place to take a nap anyway? He certainly wasn’t going to climb up there now, was he?
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He was hanging on to the ladder for his dear life, swearing a blue streak for the sheer stupidity of her when it struck him. Marie was sleeping on a wide sill of the roof just outside of her window at the top floor of the mansion. Instead of taking the fireman’s approach to the situation he could have simply taken an easier route through her room to get to her. Well, now that he was here…
He pulled his carcass over the edge of the roof, falling huffing and panting on to his hands and knees.
“What the hell are you doing? Weren’t you supposed to rest?” Marie asked, stretching and yawning widely, sitting up from the thin mattress that had served as her bed.
“Uh… Just wanted to see you.”
“You could have used the door, you know.”
“Yeah…” Now that he was up here with her he couldn’t remember for the life of him why exactly it had been so urgent and frankly mandatory to see her, to be near her immediately.
“It’s good to see that you’re feeling better. Jean was quite worried at first.”
He didn’t know what to say. He turned and sat next to her on to the mattress, leaning his back against the windowsill behind him. Then automatically slid lower and to his right until his shoulder was touching hers. She didn’t notice, or she didn’t mind. Just closed her eyes.
“Well, I’m kind of tired still… I think I’ll sleep a while longer…” She muttered and slouched lower, her head landing on his lap. And there it was again. Scent of vanilla and peppermint, coming off from her in waves.
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It took a little awkward maneuvering, but finally he was able to lie down, Marie clutched against him, his face buried in to silky cascade of her hair, rather pathetic grin plastered on his face.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
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Author's Chapter Notes:
This one started as a revenge for my muse, but I really can't stay mad at him for long. So... It turned quite syrupy towards the end. Rating is relatively high due to bad language.