Disclaimer: This fan-fiction is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended. Still unbetaed, mistakes are all mine.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

He’d been in the Goddamn infirmary for hours.

Listening to Hank and Storm and even Ashida babble, when all he wanted was to know was whether Marie was gonna be okay. Smokey had disappeared soon as Rogue lost consciousness, a detail which had more than one of the egg-heads worried and ’Ro a little pissed. Fact was, the thing had morphed into Jean Grey before it vanished and the reappearance of his most famous near ex-girlfriend wasn’t helping Rogue’s case any. Or his temper. Words like uncontrolled psychic projection and rampaging thought form were being bandied about like candy on Christmas morning: He’d already threatened to gut Hellion for muttering about relationship baggage to Ashida, and Storm had all but characterised Smokey as a figment of a jealous girlfriend’s imagination before Kurt bustled her outta Dodge. So many voices, no many Goddamn opinions, but nobody knew what was going on, not really. And the only person who might be able to provide answers was lying in the Infirmary fighting for her life: They thought they were gonna hassle her for answers with her poorly, they were seriously mistaken.

They’d have to go through him first.

Logan crossed his arms angrily then, dragged his chair a little closer to her bed. Made to touch her and then thought better of it, considering the things he’d already forced underneath her skin. It’d been so long since he’d had to watch her in combat, he’d forgotten how damn nerve-wracking he found it- And how good she was. But then, thanks to him she’d had to be-

He pushed the thought away.

The memories were still swarming inside him, but he didn’t wanna look at them. Didn’t wanna face them. Soon as he did that he’d have to face the kind o’ man they made him, and that kinda man shouldn’t be anywhere near Marie, of that he had no doubt. He knew she’d seen some of them when she touched him- She’d whispered that one word, witch-breed, like it was something he should know though his mind wouldn’t let him focus on it. Which was usually a sign that his memory had been tampered with, and only an untrained bit o’ psychic blundering like Marie’s part could’ve touched off it without his consent. He’d have to ask her when she woke up- God only knew what she’d seen as she’d said it- And again he winced at the thought. In a way he dreaded her coming to and telling him what he’d done to her. Dreaded finding out just how much she knew. He’d come to depend upon the reflection of himself he saw in her eyes, her belief that he was a good man. It had been a relief after Jean, after everything, to have one person believe he wasn’t the bad guy. But now-

Now he was gonna have to face that he was the villain. Judging by his memories, he’d never been anything else.

And he certainly couldn’t be the good guy for her now.

Smelt Hank then, ‘fore he heard him. But then that was the usual way with Beast. The doctor stood quietly behind him, waiting. Stared at Marie fondly, same way he used to stare at Jubilee. “She’s going to be fine, Little Man,” McCoy informed him kindly. “She got your mutation just in time.”

Logan didn’t answer, didn’t turn. Just stared at her. He wasn’t a talker at the best of times, and now hardly qualified as that.

“I have ascertained what set her off this afternoon,” Hank continued calmly when he didn’t answer. “As you may have suspected, her wildcat-”

“Wasn’t her fault,” Logan interrupted roughly. He didn’t care what the geeks said- “Wasn’t her Goddamn fault. You got that? You’n ‘Ro are acting like she did it on purpose-”

“That was not my intention, Logan,” Beast retorted firmly. “I am not suggesting her actions today were deliberate. Or entirely her own: You had a hand in them too.” Anyone else would’ve paled at the look Logan shot him. But then Beast called him Little Man and lived to tell the tale. “I am just saying that I have an explanation for why things went… awry.”

“Awry?”

“Well, then… complicated.” He sighed, folded his hands together then. Logan stared down at his knuckles, where the claws came out. “Many big words and the use of Latin complicated. I didn’t put the pieces together until I started looking at your medical results side by side with hers- And by then it was too late.” Hank sat down on the edge of her bed then. Smiled tiredly at his patient. Once again Logan was reminded of how he used to look at Jubilation.

Once again he pushed the thought of young women he’d failed away.

“Do you know how her wildcat works?” Hank began conversationally then. Logan shook his head, pulled his hands in tighter. He really wished he could touch her, but he knew now she was outta reach. “When it acquires a mutation, it…flips it. Turns it sideways. As you may recall, when she got Pyro’s mutation she created flames from nothing. She also burned her skin. Neither of those abilities are inherent to John Allerdyce-”

“I was there, Hank, I don’t need a rerun.”

“And when she took JJ’s mutation, she created illusions on her own body, rather than projecting them onto somebody else.” Beast brushed her hair back from her brow then, careful not to touch that lethal skin of hers. Also careful not to raise his voice, since he could see how agitated Wolverine was getting. Logan always knew Hank was smart. “With you- With you the wildcat has done something similar. Your mutation is the ultimate in Darwinism, Logan. Your body is better adapted to survival than that of anyone else on the planet, as I’m sure you’ve been told before.”

He nodded but didn’t say anything. He remembered now, hearing those words in every weapons programme he’d ever volunteered for. He was the next step in mutant evolution, may Christ defend them all.

Hank narrowed his eyes, puzzling over his reaction, but said nothing. “The wildcat has been…using… your mutation to stabilise the effects of the Cure, as I told you,” he continued. “But it has also been adapting those mutations Marie comes into contact with in much the same way your mutation adapts your physical form. Those, like Kurt’s, which require too much remodelling are abandoned, while those, like JJ’s, which can be easily assimilated are kept. Modified. Hard-wired. What we saw today was simply the next step in that: Her emotions combined with yours to produce something through her secondary mutation which JJ’s ability allowed to be vented in physical form.”

“Small words, Beast,” he growled, teeth grinding.

McCoy shrugged. “You’re the battery, she’s the hardware, you’re both running the program through your link.” Hank looked at him over the rims of his spectacles. “Your link with an untrained psychic. As I said, she didn’t come up with Smokey all on her own.”

So it was his fault. Suddenly the silence felt like it had claws.

“I know you don’t like talking ,” Hank continued after a moment, “But for her sake whatever set you off this afternoon will have to be dealt with.” The kindly blue eyes came to rest on him, worried, and he shifted in his seat under their stern gaze. “She’s getting more powerful, becoming a better weapon. She needs to learn control, you both do. Though considering her luck,” Hank continued dryly, “Your Weapon X up-grade might be doing her a favour-”

“A favour?” Wolverine snapped, “You think that’s what I’ve done fer her? A favour?” He forced his voice low, trying to keep calm for Marie’s sake. But he was fighting a losing battle and Hank had to know it. “She remembers horrors, Henry. Shit nobody should have crawlin’ round inside of ‘em, they’re in her head now cos o’ me. And apparently they’ve learned to do tricks.” He pictured those last moments with Smokey, when she’d changed her form to become just like Jean. The claws popped out, cutting through skin with their familiar snikt and the pain was a relief, almost. Welcome. “I shoulda taken the hint four years ago,” he continued more softly, “Shoulda stayed the Hell away and kept the girl safe-”And he sat down heavily, face drawn, bones aching. Again feeling every minute of his hundred odd years of life. Jesus, he was a bastard, he thought then.

A beat. An ornery, angry, low-down and growling beat.

McCoy broke it. “Logan,” he interrupted courteously, “Could you kindly retrieve your head from your hairy, muscular buttocks and drop the self-pity for a tic? There’s a good man.”

Wolverine stopped. Blinked. Pulled his claws in.

And closed his mouth with a snap.

“Erik Lenscherr lost his family in Auschwitz,” Hank reminded him quietly. “John Allerdyce tried to murder Kitty because he was obsessed with her and couldn’t let her go. Victor Creed attempted to rape Marie because she had your dog tags on her, and Mystique has nearly beaten her to death. Twice.” The blue doctor folded his arms and set that famously tapping toe t’working. “With all that inside her mind, do you really think her main worry is you, Logan?” He opened his mouth to answer and Hank spoke over him. “Or is this simply an excuse to try your usual Little Man Disappearing Routine, (patent pending), hmm? Because believe me, she doesn’t need that.” McCoy shook his head, checked her vitals. “And neither, believe it or not, do you.”

It didn’t happen often, but Logan was suddenly lost for words.

Didn’t try to deny it neither, cos his next move probably would’ve involved upping sticks and running from her, if that was what she needed him to do. And judging by Hank’s look they both knew it. The silence stretched out as the Doc checked on her, the lack of talk allowing Wolverine to stew, which was doubtless the purpose of the exercise. Hank’s main, most irritating super-power had always been the ability to have a point, and it was vexing as Hell to see that knack in action: Beast was- he made a face even thinking it- right about this. He wasn’t the only factor here, though he was the one they could do something about. The past couldn’t be fixed, anymore than his claws could be. But Marie wanted him to stay and he’d stay. Although, if he did do- he had no idea what it would lead to, since he’d never stayed for anyone. Not even Jean. Another panicked thought occurred to him: What if Marie didn’t want him no more when she woke up? What if his past was too much for her to deal with? What if she only saw the monster who ran her through-?

“She’ll stick with you, she always does,” Hank whispered, reading his expression. “You just have to give her a chance, Little Man.” And he finished up his examination, patting Logan’s arm and making to leave the room quietly, his mighty super-power having done its job for the day-

And at that moment, Marie opened her eyes, sitting bolt upright.

For a second the image of Smokey appeared, faint and wavering, and Hank immediately hollered for Storm though it disappeared quick as it came. The bed started clattering about like something from The Exorcist as Rogue’s heart-rate sky-rocketed. Their link roaring open without her even needing to touch him now. Logan grabbed her hand, not even thinking about it as her anxiety flooded into him. “Witch-breed,” she muttered desperately, “Witch-breed. We have to help them, have t’save them-” She turned terrified eyes on Wolverine, helplessly projecting an image of wasteland and ice right into his brain- “Ah can hear him, can’t you hear him? Remy’s calling for me-” She closed her eyes, tried to push the image outta her- Frustration flaring at the attempt-

Without warning, she sent both men flying from the room.

He thought is before unconsciousness claimed him: Maybe she’s not so different from Jeannie after all…