Disclaimer: This fan fiction is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended.

“So you have Pixie,” Logan rumbled. “I’d know that kid’s voice anywhere.”

And he inclined his head towards the intercom, where Daken’s voice could still be heard over his hostage’s weeping. His crooning threats enough to make the Wolverine’s blood boil.

“Yeah,” the feral growled, his tone gloating. “I have her by her little wings and her little throat and she’s not going anywhere- Are you, peaches?” His laugh floated over the open com channel and Logan repressed the urge to gut something. Slowly. “At least,” the feral continued, “Not unless she’s willing to leave her spleen behind-”

And with that a keening sob cracked the air, Pixie’s voice breaking in pain at whatever her captor was doing. The sound making Marie’s eyes widen in horror and the Jubes and Kitty gasp on the other end of the line. Logan hissed in rage, knuckles tightening and lips drawn back in a snarl at the wave of helplessness that washed through him-

And then he saw something flit across Marie’s face, almost too quick fer anyone else to recognise; A look he remembered from what felt like a century ago. From a thousand hair-brained missions, and a thousand nights in the field. Their eyes met, chocolate against hazel and in that second he knew-

She had a plan. His girl had a plan.

Rogue slipped out of the pilot’s seat then, gesturing for him to change places with her. Letting him sit in the pilot’s chair and then settling into his lap. Her hands on the controls, the safety harness wrapped around them both. He opened his mouth to ask what she was doing but she held a finger to her lips fer silence: Daken can hear what we’re saying, she mouthed, And I can’t isolate which frequency he’s using to do it. So just trust me, okay? Logan nodded- He’d never trusted anyone the way he’d trusted her- and tightened his arms around her. Making sure the grip of one arm was iron-clad around her little body, his other hand following hers to hold the jet controls. Her silence continued fer a second longer and then, once he was settled she opened the line to Stark. Barely paying any attention to Daken and his cruel little rant, nonchalantly drawling two words.

“Ladies,” she muttered. “Cancun.”

“Cancun?” Jubes asked, “What the-?”

“Cancun,” Marie repeated. Nodding.

And then he heard Kitty, her tone telling him that she knew exactly what Rogue was talking about. “Cancun,” Pryde muttered, “Got it, Roguey-”

And with that Kit shut off the com line, with Stark in mid-pout-

“Hold onta me, shuggs,” Marie breathed against him. “It’s about to get a little rough in here.”

“Well, clearly this is what we’re trying to avoid.”

And Senator Norman Osborne cleared his throat, speaking sternly into CNN journalist Tyler Bon-Scott’s mic. Gesturing above him, to where the Blackbird spun gracefully in mid-air, darting away from the Stark Industries jet and causing every teenager in the room to whoop appreciatively.

Callum ground his teeth at the sound.

“I mean,” the good senator continued, “These mutants claim that they’re no threat, and yet as you can see they’re willing to attack the private property of one of their most high profile defenders- A man for whom I have the utmost respect, a true American patriot like Tony Stark-” And he shot a shit-eating grin at the camera.

The rec room erupted into catcalls and jeers, the youngsters making their opinion of Osborne’s summation obvious. Colourfully obvious.

Callum sank down more in his chair.

“The… creature you can see endangering the skies above you-” Osborne continued as Bon-Scott’s cameraman focussed on the clawed, masked individual who could clearly be seen hanging on to the undercarriage of the X-Jet- “Has a file longer than both my arms with just about every government in the world. He calls himself the Wolverine, and the X-Men have been hiding him for several years, despite the fact that he is wanted in multiple jurisdictions for crimes ranging from murder and drug-trafficking to rape.” The room erupted again and even the blond Ice Dude (or whatever he called himself) scowled. “Not cool, man,” he was muttering. “Like Logan would ever do that to a chick-”

Someone switched the TV off then.

Callum turned to find himself staring at the weather goddess- What was it they called her? Blizzard? Hurricane?- and the thunderously unimpressed look she was wearing. It made him feel like floor lint just on general principles. “We’ve a situation, Bobby,” she was saying. “You saw the news, our girls are in trouble. So suit up, we’re going in-”

“And what about me?” Callum asked. Telling himself he didn’t sound whiny. He didn’t. “What am I supposed to do while you’re all off Kal-Elling it over Manhattan?”

The weather witch cocked a single, regal eyebrow at him and he suppressed the sudden urge to genuflect.“You’re a doctor, aren’t you?” she demanded. He nodded. “Then run down to the med lab and get fitted for a flak jacket- Hank could always use an extra pair of hands.” She didn’t even wait for his agreement, just stalked out of there.

“Welcome to the team,” Bobby grinned.

“You’re crazy as bat-shit,” Tony told her.

Kitty ignored him.

“There’s no way this will work, don’t even think about it-”

Kitty continued ignoring him.

“If I don’t bring you back to Logan and Marie in the pristine condition I found you in they’ll both kill me-”

By this time Stark sounded kinda panicked. Kitty went on ignoring him. Though she did feel a teensy bit bad about it-

But that feeling would pass, she knew.

“Come on, this is crazy,” the billionaire continued, “I mean who the Hell jumps out of a jet in the sky over Manhattan? Who does that, Kitty?”

Finally she looked at him. “I do.” Jubes shot her a tight smile as she held onto the jet controls with a white knuckled grip. “Now get us closer to the roof of the Blackbird, and hold her steady for me-”

“Can do, chica,” Jubie chirped. “God’s speed-”

And with that Katherine Pryde let herself tumble backwards, phasing herself through the hull of the Stark jet, the hull of the Blackbird-

And into the arms of Daken Akihiro.

Who yelped.

Loudly.

But not as loudly as when she yanked Pixie out of his arms and phased the child through the metal suit he was wearing and out into the safety (she used the term loosely) of the sky below the jet.

Kitty let herself savour the moment as she saw the lights on the bastard’s stolen metal suit flicker and then grow dark, the weight of it dragging the asshole earthwards. Her own relative lightness (a fringe benefit of being phased) allowing her to float rather than fall. Daken shot her a look of purest loathing as he plummeted past her and she grinned. Waved at him. Then flipped him the finger just in case he hadn’t figured out that she’d taken his hostage and totalled his bestest new toy-

“Miss Pryde,” Pixie, “Can I just say: You bloody rock!”

Kitty couldn’t help the grin which split her face even as Daken rapidly faded into the distance.

“That is so damn true,” she told the girl. “Now be a dear and teleport us back into the Stark jet. Okay?”

This was all going so much better than planned.

Norman Osborne knew he wasn’t a nice man. Knew he wasn’t even a good man. But by God, he was a show man, and thanks to his feral little protégé he was giving the fine state of New York one Helluva show today: Dogfights, escapes clawed criminals, people appearing and disappearing in mid-air. A soon-to-be-massive-and-female body count and it wasn’t even noon! The cameras were lapping up footage of the Stark and X jets over Manhattan, beaming yet more evidence of how seriously the mutant threat should be taken into every home in America so that by the time Daken landed he’d look so bloodthirsty and terrifying that New Yorkers would be begging Osborne to protect them from the big bad Wolverine and his multicoloured friends. And the best part? The real Logan wouldn’t even be here to dispute Osborne’s version of events: Daken would see to that. And once they got Pepper Potts back Stark would keep his trap shut too- Showing the world that no matter how much better Ororo Munroe looked in an Armani suit than him, she’d been hiding a monster all these years. Osborne’s smile widened, turning gloating as he imagined the lead this would gain him in the polls- More pull with Director Fury, maybe even a big, comfy chair and an oval office in his future-

And he was so busy dreaming of a White House Christmas that he failed to realise that Daken wasn’t flying anymore. At least, not under his own steam. In fact, Daken was falling like a stone. Of course, the two jets were plummeting too but the Stark jet at least stopped its descent after a moment, levelling out and ascending-

While the X-jet began to move faster and faster towards the ground. Picking up so much speed that it was obvious it would soon crash. Not that this worried Osborne any: Because after all, if it crashed he was pretty far from ground zero-

And the bigger the body count, the bigger the headlines, he knew.

Like he’d said, he wasn’t a nice man; But he knew how to put on a show…

And Logan swallowed, tightening his grip on the both Marie and the X-jet controls. The sky spinning dizzily in the view screen before him, every safety measure in this over-complicated damn bird going nuts. As soon as Marie had given her mysterious message there had been a flash of something moving real damn fast and smelling real like Kitty Pryde and then-

The Blackbird had suddenly begun plummeting downwards.

Its weight dragging it out of the sky as every single system went offline.

Monitors flashing dangerously, that annoying-as-fuck computer voice announcing Massive Systems Failure as they fell through the air. Marie was wrestling with the joystick, trying desperately to force it upwards and regain control of the plane manually- Kitty’s phasing always through something always shorted out its electronics fer a few seconds- while Logan wrestled it along with her and tried to think of the best way of manoeuvring her so that he could take the brunt of the crash if it came to that. Making sure that whatever happened to him she would survive. He couldn’t understand it: The Blackbird had been built with Kitty’s mutation in mind: the safety overrides should have kicked in by now. And yet- The plane thrashed and bucked, rocking and rolling and making him dizzy. Tumbling through the heavens and he closed his eyes fer a second, trying to concentrate on the feel of Marie in his lap and in his arms in what were shaping up to perhaps be his last seconds on Earth-

And then suddenly he felt it.

Felt the thud of something really heavy hitting the cockpit roof above his head. Sliding down along its length and then coming to a halt. Heard something electronic being yanked at and saw an element (he’d go out on a limb and say an important element) of the jet’s machinery go sailing past the view screen to his right. Followed by another and another, each doohickey looking more important than the last. Instinctively he bared his teeth and snarled, the plane’s descent forgotten at the realisation that something was fucking with the safety of Marie. And him, but it was Marie who was important here. Logan sniffed, senses straining, every muscle aching with the urge to fight and protect the woman before him-

And that was when he saw them. Claws. Three of ’em.

Tearing at the roof and peeling it like a tin can.

Effectively fucking the hull integrity of the plane so that even if Marie did get its spinning trajectory under control they were both screwed anyway. And not in the fun, I-didn’t-know-that-was-legal-in-the-state-of-Nevada way. The other way. The we-will-soon-be-sitting-in-the-arms-o’-Baby-Jesus way. Well, shit. Fer a second all Logan could do was watch as the skin of the Blackbird was peeled further back, the metal screaming in protest even as Marie tried desperately to wrestle control of the plane back from gravity. Her little hands holding onto the joystick in a death grip, her face white and sweat-streaked and masked in pain. Fear flooded her scent fer the first time she saw the claws and in that second Logan made his choice. It was the same choice he’d made two years ago: Him or her.

And he chose her.

So he snarled, pulling himself out of the harness and zipping it tightly back around her even as she opened her mouth to protest, the wind snatching her words from her throat. Her gaze filled with confusion, not knowing whether to concentrate on this new threat and save him or try to steer the plane as near as she could to a less populated piece of land. Fer a split second he stared into the chocolate brown eyes he’d loved so much fer most of the life he wanted to remember- Love ya, Marie, he mouthed, always have done, always will do.

And with that he reached forward, yanking at the claws- And Daken- And pulling him into what remained of the plane. Flipping him onto his back at the back of the hold and bearing down on him with a howl of fury woulda made the Devil piss his pants. The feral stood up, grinning from ear to ear and discarding the remaining pieces of Stark’s stolen prototype even as the jet spun wildly, twisting and turning fit to make Logan sick. The younger man snickering at the lighter shade of pale he’d turned. “You know,” he hissed, “I’m going to enjoy-”

“-Killing her, murdering her, yadda yadda yadda,” Logan snarled. “There’s a smack-down ’tween you and any o’ my girls, my money’s on them, asshole-”

“Why, because you trained them?” Daken sneered.

“No, because they’re all fucking amazing. And a dick like you don’t stand a fucking chance.” And with that he darted forward, slashing with everything he had. His sense of balance compensating as best it could fer the tossing and turning of the plane. Daken parried, blow fer blow, kick fer kick. His technique flawless, his strength easily an equal of Logan’s own. But then Daken wasn’t fighting fer the survival of his mate, Logan was, and that was the only home court advantage he’d ever need. The two fought, snarled, bit and gouged. Daken obviously surprised to encounter so much resistance- Apparently kidnapping kids like Pixie was more his style- while Logan pulled every nasty, dirty manoeuvre he’d ever known or forgotten to keep him away from his girl. His claws parting Daken’s flesh like it was butter, concentrating on the body parts he knew inflicted the most damage on himself. He drove his claws into the younger man’s side, gouging and twisting his hand before flicking his wrist upwards until it hit resistance- hello there, kidneys- and pulling out. Taking something dark and organ-like with him fer a souvenir. Daken gasped- surprised perhaps at the pain- and Logan used his split second distraction to grab the bastard, one hand at the scruff of his neck, the other yanking his balls, and tossing him towards the back of the plane- And good and far away from Marie. The younger man landed messily, his limbs settling so haphazardly that Logan knew at least a couple of them were broken fer the time being and he pressed him harder, knowing he would only have a few seconds before the asshole recovered completely. Diving so that he had him pinned, slashing and cutting. Daken getting in as many blows though his ones really didn’t hurt that much in comparison with the thought o’ failing Marie- boyfriendboyfriendboyfriend- Fuck the boyfriend, I’m not letting her go again- and the thought of his girls getting hurt. As if from far away he could hear Rogue yelling, “Mayday, mayday, this is not a drill, Ah repeat this is not a drill, ya haveta evacuate the area around Central Park Lake now-” even as the plane dived further. Building up momentum and speed. “Jubes,” she was yelling hoarsely, “Jubes, Ah need you to try something for me-”

“No paffs, chica, the plane won’t take it-”

“The plane will take it, just hear me out-”

And then, just fer a second Daken got the upper-hand, a nasty haymaker-with-claws punch piercing Logan’s shoulder. Marie’s voice dying as unconsciousness claimed him fer a split second. Blackness cradling him in her arms. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, I’m out… And then- Logan forced himself back to consciousness, just in time to see the bastard heading towards the cockpit and his girl. Claws blood-streaked and hungry, a smile lighting up his face and making him look scarier than Hell. Marie was unbuckling her seat-belt, eyeing the bastard warily as she moved forward- don’t even fucking think about it, darlin’- and Daken pulled his claws back, ready to slash her-

Which was when the missing walls of the plane exploded in a riot of colour, Jubes’ paffs stretching and pulling so that they weren’t globes but a transparent field. A field which wasn’t exploding, but was managing to stabilise some of the hull’s integrity. Holy fucking shit, he thought with wonder, my girls are good. Daken blinked, surprised, and in that split second Marie reached out fer the hull, her skin turning to metal as she called upon Colossus’ mutation. Silver flowing from her hand to coat the Blackbird- including the parts which were now mainly paff. She shot Daken her bestest shit-eating grin- “Wonders of auto-pilot, shuggah-” and with a snarl of rage the feral darted towards her, claws raised. So angry he was beyond caring what happened to the plane and himself if he could remove just one person who was getting in his fucking way-

Logan didn’t hesitate, he tackled the bastard with all he had, smashing him into the pilot’s chair even as the Blackbird started to slow its descent, its course evening out. The tumbling stopping as they got nearer the ground. Fer a split second he coulda sworn he saw Storm in the view screen, and beside her a pretty green-haired kid he recognised as magnetic- manipulator Lorna Dane, but that didn’t matter; Nothing mattered except the thought of keeping Daken away from Marie. The feral was pulling his claws back, ready to land a killing blow while Rogue tried desperately to keep in contact with the hull of the jet- Petey’s mutation only worked through hand-to-hand contact- And yet somehow shy away. Unable to even remove one of her gloves with the other hand full and her concentration caught. Logan gave it all he had, drawing on every last ounce of strength he possessed to get in between them, and even as Daken landed that final blow he smiled, relieved at being able to save his girl despite the fact that the younger man had just skewered him through-

Through- I’m through, but she’s fine- She’s fine-

And then-

To his horror Marie fell forwards against him. The metallic wall she’d forced into existence fading out. Fer a second it seemed as if time had stopped, as if nothing could be real as the image of this beautiful, brave young woman failing against him with Daken’s claws in her belly from Logan’s wound- Daken’s claws having gone through Wolverine to get to her- Logan couldn’t breath- No, please no, pale flesh cut and she’s only sixteen and it’s all my fucking fault, please no- And Daken was laughing in his ear and someone was howling hoarsely and on some level Logan knew it was him. She reached out fer him, both her little hands braced against his chest and pushing away so that she could get out of the reach of Daken’s claws. Falling messily against the remains of the Blackbird, blood like an angry, unnatural thing spilling outta her. That beautiful skin going so fucking pale. Fer a split second her gaze flickered up to his and Logan held his hand out, begging her to touch him, to take his healing factor and make herself whole again-

But she didn’t.

“Won’t hurt you, shuggs,” she muttered. “Ya wouldn’t survive it. Not after what- what the Blue Bitch did to you…” She let out a single long, whispering breath, one bare, elegant hand falling to her side from where she’d metalled up the plane- And then she went still. Not breathing. As terrifyingly absent as she’d been on the Statue of Liberty all those years ago. Logan felt a fist crush at his heart, felt something like madness that was love and loss and pain mixed together howl through his chest. He turned, wanting, needing to hurt anyone and anything there was fer him to take this feeling out on-

And that was when he noticed the X-Men standing before him in the view screen. Either Storm or Lorna having brought to plane to a stop without it even registering fer him. Pity on all their faces, horror etched across Jubilee’s. Daken grinned bloodily up at him, his smile malignance personified-

And with that a tall, thin young man in a white coat darted into the plane, a thunderously unimpressed look on his face and Bobby Drake on his heels. He was carrying a med-kit, his expression horrified. Laying hands on Marie like he owned her, like- Like he was her mate. Fer a second Logan glared in the newcomer, the faint whiff of Marie his clothes still contained setting off every protective, jealous instinct he had despite the fact that he‘d no right to it. And then-

“Do you mind stepping away from my girlfriend?” the newcomer snapped, gesturing to Marie. “Or do you really want her to bleed to death?”

Like an automaton Logan moved away.