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I’m a fucking moron, Tony thought.

Staring at the moonlight streaked clouds out his window. Addressing the glass of bourbon in his hand- three weeks without Emma’s steadying psychic influence and he was back on the sauce- and trying for the thousandth time to fight back his wave of disgust at himself. Trying to tell himself that the deal he’d made with Mystique and her boss hadn’t been the most profoundly stupid thing he’d done in a life of profoundly stupid mistakes. But even he couldn’t make that lie fly. He’d had plenty of options: He could have just told Logan and the girls the truth when they were in the compound and taken his chances. Could have trusted them to save Pepper like they had so many others and tried to lend a hand. But he hadn’t. He… couldn’t. One downloaded image of beloved Girl Friday being held hostage and all his Iron Man bravado had disappeared. Because now he knew what they’d done to Emma- the feral who looked like Logan had shown him that- and if those people could do that to one of the toughest women on the planet then Christ only knew what they’d do to someone like Pepper…

And that being the case he didn’t give a flying fuck who he had to hurt to make her safe again. Even if it made him a treacherous, two-faced sonofabitch.

Tony sighed.

He glanced nervously at the in-flight camera relay then, checking Kitty and Jubes for maybe the thousandth time that night. Wondering when Mystique would make contact since she was following behind with Logan and Marie. The Blue Bitch had said she wanted to divide and conquer- not that Tony blamed her, putting Papa Logan and his girls together for transport would have been a jailbreak waiting to happen- so she was travelling solo. Probably stealing the Blackbird to haul in Wolverine and Marie, since that was bound to rub the X-Men the wrong way. He stared at the monitor for a moment, hand tightening tensely on his glass as he watched the two women sleep: He wanted to make sure they were actually out of it and not faking. Or, you know, armed. But so far they weren’t making a peep; The amount of drugs in their systems and the mutation-suppression collars he’d put on them would see to that. Tony knew intellectually that he was over-reacting: Every security measure his Big Damn Brain (ä ) could think of had been brought to bear to keep the two women incarcerated until he handed them over. But he also knew that every Big Damn Brain-enhanced doo-hickey would mean neither jack nor shit if either women actually woke up. Logan’s Angels had gotten out of prisons, Gorgon-run training facilities, Friends of Humanity compounds and even the Vatican Library without breaking a sweat-

So one tin can in the sky probably wouldn’t present any problems if they were conscious. No matter what his Big Damn Brain thought.

Well shit.

The onboard radio beeped then. An image of Mystique flaring into life, her lips set in an excessively over-done pout. “Concentrate, Stark,” Mystique all but growled, her arms crossing over her bare chest. “I ain’t got nothing you haven’t seen before.” It was weird, but in the little time he’d known her Tony has never seen her look that uncomfortable in her naked blue state.

Weird.

“Sorry,” he muttered sourly, “But looking at you is reminding me what happened to Emma. Talking to my wife’s murderer doesn’t exactly do wonders for my sense of Zen.”

Something flitted across her face, too quick for him to decipher. If he hadn’t have known better, he would have sworn it was… realisation? But the expression soon disappeared, to be replaced by another pout. “Am I supposed to feel bad?” the Blue Bitch purred instead. “It’s nothing personal, Anthony. You know that. Now, do you still have to girls?”

“Yeah, I still have Jubilee and Kitty. They’re asleep in the hold-”

Her tone was innocently suggestive. “Asleep?”

He gritted his teeth. “Yeah, asleep. Not everyone likes to play with their food the way you do.”

“Don’t know what you’re missing,” she cooed. “But that’s good. The boss wouldn’t want them uglied up before we get to New York-”

What The Hell?

“Wait a second,” he snapped, “You said Malibu. You said the drop would be at my place. At the Island.” That’s where Pepper was, that’s where he’d been planning to hand the hostages over. Somewhere nice and familiar and designed to respond to his voice alone in case anybody tried anything creative.

“Relax Stark,” Mystique muttered soothingly. “It’s just a tiny change of plan-”

The look he shot her was epically unconvinced. “But you said I get Pepper in exchange for them,” he muttered. “You said if I handed over Kitty and Jubilee then you’d give me back Pepper. That was the deal we made, you vindictive bitch.” He raked his hands through his hair, trying to rein in his temper. “I sold Logan and his girls down the river for you,” he was muttering. “I sold out Forge and everyone else I know in Nevada for this deal. And I swear if you’ve hurt Pepper then I’ll personally-

“What?” Mystique snarled. Her voice so loud the plane practically jumped. “What the fuck does the little prince think he can do to me?” She leaned forward, her yellow-eyed gaze furious.“Need I remind you that you have no cards in all this?” she was hissing. “You made your bed, Mr. Stark: Don’t whine at me about who you find lying in it. You’ll go where we tell you, you’ll do what we want you to, and you’ll mind your table manners while you’re at it. Because if you don’t-” She made a quick slashing motion across her throat with her finger. Smile widening. “And you can pray that I’m the one asked to do it, because if Victor’s given the job- Well, you’ve not seen anyone play with their food the way that man can.” Tony’s face went pale. “Now you are gonna make the drop in Manhattan,” Mystique continued. “You are gonna go to Stark Towers, you are gonna bring the girls to the roof and then you are gonna hand them over. And if you don’t, you are gonna have one very fucking dead girlfriend on your hands. Is that clear?”

He swallowed. Nodded. “Crystal.” Bitch.

Just for a second Mystique’s face softened, her voice turning gentler. It was- Well, it was fucking scary. “She’s going to be fine, Stark,” the Blue Bitch muttered. “You both are. But you need to do what I tell you, okay? Just do what I say and everything will be ok.”

As if. But he nodded. Tony really didn’t think annoying her was wise right now. So he cleared his throat, nodded. “Stark Towers, got it. Bring the girls, got it.” Pray Pepper’s still alive, got it. “ETA is in about three hours. You available on this frequency if I need to contact you-?”

Mystique shook her head. “Don’t call me, I‘ll call you when I’m in position.” And without another word she broke contact. Leaving Stark staring into space and praying once again that the same fate which had taken his wife didn’t take the woman he actually loved-

Because Christ knew he couldn’t live with himself if he were to have caused that.

“Channelling yer inner Blue Bitch, darlin’?”

And Logan hauled the last of the gear into the Blackbird, a frown creasing his craggy brow. The air about him practically vibrating with the strength of his glare. He was pointedly not staring at Marie- her using Mystique’s mutation was setting his teeth on edge something fierce- and trying to pretend there wasn’t a sexual white elephant the size of Dumbo in the room with them.

Not that Marie blamed him for that. At all.

And not that it was in any way working, though she wasn’t ready to dwell on that pleasant notion yet.

A beat.

“Just making sure Stark believes he’s bin talking to the Porn Smurf, Logan,” she muttered tightly instead, checking the dash-board and making sure they were cleared for take off. Going through the take-off protocols, banking the jet as she took her up. She tried to silently remind herself that thinking about what had happened back there was not wise- That it didn’t matter what he’d told her, that it didn’t matter what she’d felt- But she couldn’t seem to convince herself any. And it wasn’t exactly helping her sense of Zen, epecially now she was flying a plane. Mystique interrupting them may have been the best thing that could have happened, she told herself: In the split second before she’d recognised the Blue Bitch’s scent she’d genuinely thought that Logan was trawling for a threesome partner, and the very fact that she believed him capable of something so sleazy was proof that their parting was the best thing that had ever happened to her-

But that didn’t help the ache in her chest that was getting worse with every passing second.

And it also didn’t help to know that no matter what she and Logan did together she’d never be able to trust him again, because that shit hurt.

Another beat.

“So, I got through to Remy,” Logan muttered then. Breaking the silence. His hands clenching tightly at his palms like he was fighting to urge to pop his claws, grimacing as he said Gambit’s name. Weird. “Him and Kurt are heading out to Malibu to check out Stark’s place-”

She twisted in her chair to look at him. “Kurt can bamf inside?”

“Looks like. Ain’t no technology can keep the elf out, and the target won’t even see it coming. In, out, and get Potts, no fuss.” For a second his gaze turned feral, his grin shark-like. And then just as suddenly that pissed-and-dangerous look was back on his face, setting Marie’s nerves on edge. Suddenly he wouldn’t look at her.“Besides,” he continued, more quietly, “Gumbo’s not in his happy place about people laying paws on his Jubilation and we both know he’ll blow the place apart brick by brick if he has to-”

Marie snorted. “Not exactly stealthy.”

“Gets the job done. Ain’t a man alive would do less fer the woman he loved.” And this time he did look up at her. Gaze sharp and dark. He seemed to be working up to something, though she couldn’t guess what-

And then just as suddenly he looked away. Gaze going down to his hands. Shoulders almost sloughing, his posture almost defeated but not quite. “I’m gonna go out back and start prepping gear fer the mission,” he told her. “Call me if ya need something gutted-”

And without another word he walked off, leaving her nonplussed and confused. Wondering what the hell was going on with him-

While in the back of the cockpit Logan pulled out a piece of paper, stared at his own hand writing. Callum Montgomery, it read, 0087638817- He wants to talk to her.

And fer the first time since all of this had started, Logan genuinely thought that the pain was gonna eat him alive.