Pain.
White-hot motherfucker goddamn that hurts like someone’s picking me apart with tweezers and a sledgehammer.
I open my eyes and shake my head, trying to clear it. Fear-scent nearly overwhelms the stink of burning plastics. My shoulders are killing me. I stare down at my hands, at my claws, spread out impossibly. Feels like they’re dislocated.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Clenching my hands into fists, I twist my wrists. I remember molten metal, injected under my skin as I try to retract the claws. No fuckin’ way. I have to manipulate the claws back, shove ‘em where they need to be and goddamn, that hurts.
Finally, I can get up, get off the car. I pass by a set of chairs and her scent hits me.
Rogue.
The motherfucker has her.
"You picked the wrong girl, Mags," I snarl, the firelight gleaming off my claws like blood.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000
Story Notes:
Written for Pheral, who asked for "…a bit on after Wolvie gets his claws pranged in the train, and before we see him splashing his face with water in the next scene."