God, she felt like a lump.
It was already near nine o'clock and she was still tucked under the sheets, comfortable despite the early-morning heat. When she'd first woken up, she shot out of bed, only to stumble back to the mattress. Logan had told her yesterday that she might need to take it easy for a little while, but she didn't think her head would still be giving her problems almost a day later.
And speaking of Logan - she still hadn't seen or heard from him and, as good as she could guess, she'd been awake for nearly half an hour. He hadn't come back to the cabin the night before either - unless he'd snuck in and then crept back out, but she couldn't imagine why he'd bother with that when he knew that they'd both have to get up soon anyway.
With a grunt, she pushed herself up from the bed, this time considerably more steady, and slipped her feet into her sandals before shuffling to the kitchen. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she pulled back the curtain to see an empty kitchen. She'd been half-expecting Logan to've made something to eat, but as far as she could tell, nothing had been touched since they'd done the dishes after dinner.
She called out to him when she still hadn't heard anything, hoping that, if he was somewhere in the near vicinity, he would hear her. Fear flitted momentarily across her mind that she'd imagined his entire return, but a look over her shoulder provided her with a peek at the corner of Logan's duffel that he'd left against one of the bedroom walls.
Frowning, she opened up the small cupboard and pulled out a piece of bread with a jar of fresh, blackberry jam. While she was munching on her sandwich, she thought about Logan and how he'd acted the day before and during the night. She'd been so happy just to see him yesterday, that she couldn't even think to notice if anything seemed out of place...but now that she thought about it, he hadn't acted quite right.
Then again, they were both different people now and even though she realized it on the outside, some part of her mind wouldn't let go of the notion that, no matter what happened to him, Logan would always be the same. She couldn't even imagine what it must've been like for him to've seen all of his friends like that and be completely helpless to do anything about it. Her mind grazed across what he'd said the night before, about being on the inside, and she couldn't help the sick feeling that welled up in her stomach.
She could've been that close to losing him and she never would've known it.
She couldn't even begin to imagine what her life would be like, if he never came back and she was left to fend for herself out her for God-knows-how-long.
Or if they'd found out about her, come for her while he was gone.
She jerked when she suddenly realized that she'd squeezed what was left of her bread and jam in her fist and made a mess of her hand and the table. Shaking her head, she eased her grip and tossed the little bit of sandwich out the open window for the birds to eat, then went over the wash bucket that she kept handy.
Her nerves were wound tighter than she'd thought and the repetitive action of the rag rubbing over her coarse palm did little to calm her. Frustrated suddenly, she wrapped her apron around her waist and headed outside to see if she could spot Logan anywhere.
She called to him once more when she got to the porch, but still saw no sign of him. Grabbing up the pail on the porch, she headed around the house to the worn path that led to the well and spring hidden in the woods. On her way, she noticed something she hadn't seen yesterday - Logan's bike was propped again the back of the cabin with an olive drab army tarp covering it. Stopping for a moment, she pulled one corner of it down to get a good look at it.
When he'd left her, he had a car, but it wasn't surprising in the least that he'd picked this up along the way. It looked fairly new, so he couldn't've had it for very long - he always put his motorcycles through hell, testing their limits like he did his own body, as if he thought they'd manage to hold out as long as he could.
Grinning when she saw the shiny black and chrome of the machine, she tucked the cover back down over it and made her way across the open field to the tree line.
She considered yelling out to Logan once more, knowing that he'd most likely be able to hear her, but decided against it. He might be out hunting, she thought, and she didn't want to scare off whatever prey he could be tracking down.
So, she trekked onward, idly wondering if she'd ever get used to the humidity that these summer days had been providing her with, until she came up to the edge of the field, stopping just before she reached the threshold of the woods. It was always sweltering amidst the trees and she hated the way the sweat pooled at her elbows, giving her skin that hot, slick feel as it grated over the tiny grains of dirt that got lodged in the folds of her skin.
She frowned and wondered if it was worth it.
But, with bucket in hand and no fresh water in the cabin, she crossed over the imaginary line she'd set and into the mild forest, headed in a two o'clock direction toward the mouth of the spring. Quietly she walked, though not in fear of being found, but for the lack of wanting to disturb anything. Despite the heat, the woods were always a peaceful place for her to come and she tried to imagine it as it was in the cooler months of early Spring or just after Fall had set in.
It was strangely quiet this morning, unusual for a summer day, but she thought then that even the birds needed a break from the indiscriminant warmth every now and again, too. With the well in sight, Marie quickened her steps, eager to prolong the time between now and when the sweat made itself at home for the day in her clothes.
The pool that the natural spring formed was at its usual level, and despite her prior eagerness to get out the woods as quickly as possible, she couldn't resist stooping down to wipe some of the cool liquid across her arms. It was soothing against the heat trapped there from yesterday's sunburn and she smiled. Logan had instructed her to watch out for snakes when around the water's edge, so, even while she was enjoying a partial respite from the high temperature, her eyes danced cautiously around the tiny bank.
And that's when she saw him.
She hadn't recognized him at first, but she'd seen something in the corner of her vision that looked out of place...but not really. As her eyes settled, focused on the distant object, she saw him more clearly and she stood.
He was sitting down, knees pulled tightly to his chest, partially covered by the overhanging dirt ledge that a small earth slide had created. As best she could tell, he was dirty, his black clothes smeared with mud, making an almost perfect blend with the earthen shadows.
At first she'd gone back to her earlier assumption that he'd been hunting and cursed herself for possibly coming between him and tonight's dinner, but the longer she remained still, the more she realized that he hadn't even noticed her. No, he wasn't even looking in her direction - nor any direction, as best she could tell. His eyes were glassy, she knew, even from this distance, so she left the water bucket on the pool's edge and made her way through the low, thick brush over to him.
'Logan?' she asked quietly, knowing far too well from past experiences that to startle him when he was out of sorts only ended up badly for both parties.
She stopped when she was about twenty feet away, hearing suddenly in her mind the baritone timbre of Hank's voice as he lectured in Biology class.
'It is not uncommon for animals to retreat, to 'go to ground', so to speak, when confronted with injury or perhaps defeat.
Not even pausing to wonder why that particular throw-away-thought made itself re-known, Marie found herself immediately skimming his body with her eyes, checking for any visible signs that he might've been hurt. She knew that, most likely, any wound would have disappeared by now, though blood...torn clothes...anything that might give way to what had happened...
But there was nothing.
She inched closer, keeping her hands out in front of her, fingers splayed wide in a show of deference in case he had any ideas about what she was trying to do - as well as giving herself a way out by having her mutation at ready. He still hadn't said anything to her, and combined with his appearance, there was no reason to believe he was in his right state of mind.
'Logan, it's me - it's Marie,' she said calmly, keeping a slow, steady pace toward him still. 'I'm not gonna do anything, okay? I just wanna make sure you're all right, sugar.'
By then she'd made it to him, and, less than five feet away, she knelt down, putting herself at eye level with him. From what she could tell, he was physically all right. He still looked a little bedraggled, but that was to be expected - she already knew that he didn't get any rest the night before.
When she shifted her feet beneath her, trying to ease some of the pressure of her weight on top of them, he looked up, alerted by the sound the crunching twigs and leaves made. Marie locked eyes with him, keeping both still and silent, waiting for him to make the first move.
While he continued to say nothing, he shifted a little, using his feet to push himself up a little higher on the dirt ledge he was sitting on. His hands slipped out from where they'd been tucked behind his knees and he reached for his neck, his fingers working furiously against the base of his skull.
'Itches,' he whispered in a frustrated growl as his eyes closed and hands fell back down to his lap. He shook his head from side to side, rubbing the back of it against a tree root that had been exposed and frowning more deeply with each passing second.
Marie was about to come closer when he suddenly slammed his head backward and into the dirt wall, causing bits of earth to shower down around him and her to stop in her tracks. Though he didn't appear to be in a feral state, she knew that he wasn't himself at the moment and couldn't risk putting herself in danger without knowing for sure he'd be able to help her afterwards. He'd never forgive himself if he hurt her when he was like this, she knew.
So, instead of trying to get closer again, she continued to talk to him, and hopefully get some type of response so she could figure out what was going on. The first thing that came to mind was to ask him what itched, but he only answered the question by repeating what he'd already said and brought his hands back up to scratch.
And that's when she realized that it wasn't dirt covering his fingers and palms - it was blood. His skin had been stained a rusty brown, his fingernails lined with the glossy black sheen that had caked into mud and coated a bright red once he brought his hands away the second time.
Seeing the blood, she shot next to him, heedless for a split second of what it might mean for her, and pulled his hands to the side, keeping them down and away from his head where he'd apparently scratched through the skin. 'Logan, talk to me - what happened?' she asked, her face so close to his and her voice at a pitch so feverish that he had no choice but to look away.
He struggled feebly against the grip she had on his hands, and, when he couldn't wrest himself from her, she realized how incredibly weak he was. Draping an arm across his chest, she held him securely while tipping his head forward in an effort to survey the damage that had been done.
She sucked in a breath through her teeth and had to close her eyes for a moment. His skull was an ugly mass of dirt and blood and leaves and whatever else the earth could conjure up. From what she could tell, from the collar to halfway down the back of his t-shirt, blood soaked the material, only making worse the muddy mess that he was slowly turning into.
'Shit,' she breathed as her hand hovered over his injured skin, unsure of what to do or what might hurt him.
'Logan, I uh...we need to get back to the house, okay?' she stammered out, finally pulling her eyes away from the torn skin that was allowing blood to trickle freely down his neck.
'Itches,' he repeated for the third time, still struggling to bring his hands up as he spoke.
'I know it does,' she answered, nodding while trying to keep his arms pinned and tug him out of his burrow all at the same time.
'No!' he shouted, the strength in his voice belying his earlier helplessness. He repeated the word then, almost snarling it as his fists tightened to a white knuckled grip and pounded against his thighs.
Startled, Marie jumped back, losing her balance on the uneven earth and taking the short tumble to her backside. She watched him for a moment, careful to note anymore sudden changes in his behavior before she pushed herself back to the squatting position she'd been in before. Taking him by the elbow this time, she urged him to move a little further, but he'd fallen into complete unresponsiveness.
'Logan, come on. We've gotta go to the house and get you taken care of. Come on.' Shifting to her knees, she wrapped her arms around his back and tossed his arm over her shoulder. It was almost pointless to try and lift him, she knew, but she had to do something - there wasn't anyone else out there and she still didn't know what had happened to him.
Had it been an animal? She didn't think so - there wasn't any other signs of a struggle on him - his clothes were intact and no other place on his body had been damaged, as far as she could tell. She was worried, he wasn't healing and had passed out on her, but sitting around in the woods wasn't going to do either of them any good. So, she conjured up every amount of strength she could muster and prayed for one of those adrenaline bursts that people get when they need to lift cars off of their children, though, somewhere in the back of her mind, she had time to wonder if that trait was solely available to humans, if her mutant gene took that option away.
Earlier headache forgotten, with a grunt of effort, she tugged him out from under the ledge and laid him down on his back. She figured that anymore dirt in his wound probably wouldn't matter with as much as he had caked over it anyway. Moving him those few feet had taken enough out of her so that she was seriously having doubts on whether or not she could get him from here to the cabin, so she tried rousing him one more time.
'Come on, sugar - wake up. Let's go...Logan?' While talking to him didn't do any good, shaking him did even less, but she kept on, hoping against hope that he'd come round. 'We've gotta get back to the cabin - back to the house. You've gotta wake up, all right?'
She felt a rise of fear start to well up within her when there was still nothing happening, but before she had time to react to it, she heard a twig snap right behind her. Whirling around as quickly as she could, she came face to face with the end of a machine gun.
Her eyes slid up the barrel, adjusting their focus with the change in distance until they rested on a clean-cut face partially-covered by the bill of a plain, black hat.
'I really don't think that's going to be possible, miss,' came a voice from behind the gun-pointer.
She watched as an older man stepped out from behind the young soldier and took a spot near Logan's head. That's when Marie noticed there were at least fifteen more soldiers, just like the one next to her, holding positions all over the forest. She looked up quickly to see several more men - and women - come falling into place around the dirt ledge to effectively surround her from all angles.
'You see,' the older man started up again, taking her attention from the soldiers and bringing it back on himself. '*This* won't allow that to happen.' As he spoke the words, his hand that was tucked into his pants pocket came sliding out and Marie could see that he was holding a sort of electronic box.
'What've you done to him?' she spat out, her voice more strong than she felt. She had no idea of what was going on, but they were in deep shit - she knew that much.
'You mean - he hasn't already told you? Normally he almost gives his cover away - he fights against it so hard that he leaks the information through sometimes. I guess this time the modifications worked a little better.'
Modifications.
The word rang sharply in her mind and immediately she knew what had happened. He'd practically told her as much yesterday afternoon - was that what this...General, or whoever the hell he was, was talking about?
'What've you done to him? Is he all right?'
Smirking, the older man had the gall enough to prop his foot up on a nearby rock, to rest his elbow on his bent knee and look almost bored. 'Well, not that you're in a place to be asking questions, and - speaking of place, you can sit back down,' he ordered, motioning her back to the ground as she was trying to stand. The gun was moved closer then, brushing the skin on the side of her neck and she felt her heart strengthen its effort to burst from her chest. 'We know just what that skin of yours is capable of doing, so we don't want any incidents on our hands, do you understand?'
Not even waiting for her reply, the smug bastard continued, his each and every word dripping with a superiority that he must've thought was innate to him. 'He'll be fine once he gets back to headquarters. Now that this mission's done, he'll be taken care of, restructured and put into holding until we need him again.'
The way he talked about him, about Logan, made her stomach lurch and hackles rise all at the same time. 'What the hell did you do to him?' she shrieked, finally giving in to the rain of emotion washing over her. She tried to scoot closer to him by shuffling on her knees, but a quick pop to her chin from the gun barrel sat her back on her ass once more and this time she knew to stay still.
'I'm afraid the process is fairly complicated,' the older man answered, not phased in the least by what had just happened. 'All you need to know is that it took him longer to get to you than any of the others.'
'What? What others? What are you talking about?'
Frowning, he lowered his foot back to the ground and moved to the other side of Logan's prone form, stepping over his head and sprinkling dirt from his boots all over his face and half-open eyes while doing so. 'I'm guessing you already saw the damage he's done to himself,' he started, using the toe of his army boot to nudge Logan's shoulders and head to the side and inspect the injury with his own eyes. He clucked his tongue and shook his head, letting his shoe fall away while the limp body lolled back to its original position.
'Does that every time,' he muttered with a sigh, sounding just this side of disappointed. 'But, like I said - you should know that it took him the longest to get to you. We started to worry if the new modifications we made to his neutralizing chip and retraining program might not've been up to par. He made it away from us yesterday - got out of the thirty mile range for the first time since we started his branch of the program.' He smirked and looked back up at Marie with an evilly proud grin. 'We found him, though. Just in time, by the looks of it - another six or seven hours and he would've told you everything.'
'Why isn't he healing?' Marie demanded, ignoring the man's callous comments in favor of watching Logan for any signs that he was waking back up.
'That's part of the modifications - oh, don't worry, he's still got the mutation, but while he's under the direct management of this' - he held up the box once more and Marie surmised that it was a type of remote control device- 'his mutations are limited.'
Taking a moment to motion to some of the troops standing on the ledge above him, he directed them to come down and handle the body. 'Only problem is, that damn healing factor of his tries to override the system every time. Almost beat us - but not quite.'
Helplessly, Marie watched as the soldiers unfolded what looked like a metal-laced stretcher and heaped Logan's still-lifeless body onto it. She cried out when they lifted him, reached for him as they started walking away, was angry that they were using the very same path out of the woods that she'd entered by. Logan had cut that for her and they had no right to trample through it.
There was a sharp prick in her shoulder, and almost before she could register it, her legs went numb. The strange sensation somewhere between coldness and warmth spread its way up her body until she could feel nothing and her eyes started to slip closed. The last thing she saw was the craggy face of the older man slithering into her field of vision. He told her that it was going to be okay, that she wouldn't ever remember a thing, but the words came first and then his mouth started moving. Before she could even begin to process what he'd said, or if he'd even said anything at all, he eyelids fell and she knew no more.
***
'Dammit.'
They say that hearing is the first sense to leave and the first sense to return when a person experiences a loss of consciousness, and though she heard the word, it was the tone - the familiar, deep, gravelly rumble in the voice that made Marie bolt upright.
'Darlin', lay back - calm down and lay back, okay?'
She turned her head quickly - the sun was shining straight into her eyes - and blinked several times to try and rid the searing whiteness from the backs of her lids.
'Marie? Talk to me, tell me where you are.'
She could hear the barest hint of panic in his voice, but her mind was struggling to get a grip on her surroundings and she couldn't make the rest of her work quite right.
'Hold on.'
She hardly registered the words before she felt the solidness she hadn't even noticed was there disappear from behind her only to be replaced with the hard-packed dirt on the ground. Her world was slowly spinning to a halt and when she dared open her eyes, she expected to see the fiery sun blaring back at her once more, but it was blocked out just in time by the towering shadow above her head.
'Drink this.'
Her sense of reality was coming in spurts, like a movie or CD that was skipping, words and seconds of time were missing and she was having to piece the parts together in her mind. One moment, he was standing above her, the next, there was a coldness brought to her lips and she could feel his sturdy hand wrapped in her hair, holding her head up.
The water brought her back to herself, but no sooner had she begun drinking, the ladle was pulled away.
'Not too fast - you'll get sick. Come on, let's get you on the porch.'
She had to clamp her eyes shut once more as she was lifted and the sensation that she was tumbling down a hill returned. The wooden slats were warm against her back, but the sun was no longer a problem and she opened her eyes to finally see Logan, propped up on one knee next to her hips.
'You all right?'
She started to answer, but the words froze on her lips before she could spit them out. The terror she was feeling inside must've come through clean on her face because within second, Logan was on the alert.
'What is it? What's wrong?'
The questions spouted out even as he looked around, sniffed, tensed his arms in ready to spring the claws.
And that's when it hit her. They weren't in the woods. They weren't surrounded by those army men. Logan wasn't covered in mud and bleeding and he was talking to her. He was all right and she was all right and everything was okay.
Her face crumbling, she sat up, only to collapse on his thigh, cradling his leg to her chest while the silent tears trickled from the corners of her eyes.
'I thought...I thought...'
Her voice hitched and it was all she could manage to get out right then, but she got the feeling that it didn't matter. She felt Logan's strong arm come up around her back and pull her closer to him, careful to keep her skin from touching his.
'It's all right, darlin'. Ev'rything's gonna be fine now.'
The deep rumble to his voice passed through his chest and into her ear and she let the noise soothe her heart. 'I was so scared - I thought you were hurt.'
She felt, more than heard him laugh, and enjoyed the way he squeezed her a little tighter. 'Now you know as well as I do that that can't happen. An' I'm back now, so you can stop worryin' about me.'
She knew that he had no idea what she was really talking about, but it was okay. They were both going to be fine and that was all that mattered right then.
Allowing herself a few more brief moments in his arms, Marie finally sat up, wiping her face clean of the tears, only to have it mix with the dirty residue on her hands. Logan smiled down at her, brushed a few errant strands of hair back from her face and tucked them behind her ears, allowing himself that instant of touch before he took his fingers away.
'Jesus, kid - you'd think you'd forgotten how ta take care of yourself out here,' he chided softly. 'You know when it's hot out like this ya hafta take breaks. Don't even have a wet towel on your head,' he added, frowning slightly at the thought of what could've happened had he not returned at that exact moment. It would've been too much for him to've come all this way only to lose her in the end.
He kept his eyes trained on her, watching as the creases in her brow became more pronounced and confusion flitted across her face once more. He smelled worry, and...fear?
Her hands came up to his face, hovering above either side and giving him the sensation that pins and needles were poking lightly into his skin, but he said nothing. He gave her the time that she needed to work out what ever questions she had in her own mind before making her voice them aloud. Her movements were careful, slow and deliberate and when she slid gently away from his half-embrace, he thought nothing of it.
He continued to watch her, his own eyes full of questions now, but he waited until she spoke first.
With her hand providing a trembling cover for her mouth, she shook her head and sent waves of that earlier fear his way.
'Logan?'
It came out shaky and he couldn't keep quiet any longer.
'Darlin' what's wrong?'
He knew now that it was more than just the initial shock of seeing him again after so long, and it had him almost in a panic, so when she came back with the question that she did, he could only tumble back on his ass and laugh. One would think that something would've seriously been wrong with the look of horror that had absolutely taken over her face.
'My hair?' He ran a hand quickly over the buzz-cut he'd given himself only a few days earlier and shrugged. 'Got hot.'
He had to cover his ears she screamed so loud.