Have you ever been hurt so badly that you can hear this dreadful high-pitched howlin’ all around you, only to drift into consciousness to realise that the sound you can hear is the sound o’ yourself, screamin’ with the pain? Pain that goes so deep it feels like it’s become a part of your soul, creepin’ through your system like an evil disease, torturing your very senses until you pray for the blessed release o’ death?
I have.
An’ believe me, I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.
I can’t remember much o’ the time between my journey to the cabin an’ wakin’ up alive an’ well back at the mansion, only that I spent most of it driftin’ in an’ out o’ consciousness, delirious as the fever ate at my body, sendin’ nightmares that were almost as hard to fight as the pain. I have fleetin’ images o’ something blue hoverin’ above me as I cried out in agony, clenchin’ my fists so hard that my claws would extend an’ rend the sheets. Other times, a soft voiced angel would sit at my bedside, readin’ stories from a leather-bound book, or just murmurin’ to me in gentle soothin’ tones, whisperin’ words that I didn’t understand but which banished the nightmares all the same, pavin’ the way for blessed sleep.
An’ then there were the times that the beast would exert its control, tryin’ to take over while the man lay at death’s door, rearin’ up from the depths to claw, an’ rend, an’ scratch, all the while howlin’ its bloody vengeance an’ declarin’ its dominance over those who would defend the man within. I have a feelin’ I was restrained durin’ these periods, heavy weights draggin’ me down onto whatever I was tied to, keepin’ me from movin’, from hurtin’ those who were only tryin’ to help me.
If not for my angel, I woulda given in, allowed the beast to dominate. It seemed too easy – give him the control an’ forget about the pain, forget about everything but the need to run free. Only my angel’s voice was able to call me back from the dark side o’ my soul – only she was able to convince me that there was something – someone – waitin’ for me to come back, to return from the worse times o’ myself.
But, for the most part, my healin’ factor kept me unconscious, slippin’ me into the healin’ coma that allows my body to repair life threatenin’ injuries without further interference from its worst enemy – me. Sometimes I forget that I’m not completely indestructible – I will fight until I can fight no more …… until I’m so shot up, cut up, burned out or bloodied that I’m unrecognisable. The healin’ coma is my body’s way o’ sayin’ ‘enough’s enough’. It shuts me down, renderin’ me immobile, allowin’ my body to heal. It’s slow, always painful, an’ leaves me with the devil of an appetite afterwards. But it’s effective ……. an’ it’s kept me alive for longer than I can remember.
This time is no different. Given enough time, I’ll recover from just about anything. I’m the proverbial bad penny. Whatever the bad guys do to me, I just keep bouncin’ back.
Pity the healin’ factor don’t work on my memories as well as it works on my body. Now that would be a neat trick.
I can tell it’s early mornin’ when I open my eyes, finally free o’ the burnin’ fever that’s been ravagin’ my system for god knows how long. The curtains are drawn, but the light is dim and the mansion is fairly silent around me – durin’ the day there’s a constant rumble of footsteps up an’ down the hallways, always a faint hum o’ background conversation. The first tentative notes o’ birdsong are just startin’ to register to my enhanced hearin’.
I’m in my room. My own room, not some sterile place down in the med-lab, with the stink o’ chemicals an’ antiseptic that always sets me off. Somebody’s obviously realised it would be safer to let me wake up here, rather than down in the lab, where I would be more than likely to come outta my coma with my claws unsheathed an’ a howl on my lips. Safer for me, yeah. But infinitely safer for them.
So, my room – an’ I’m not alone. I can hear someone movin’ around in the bathroom. An’ if the dominant scent weavin’ around me is anything to go by, I know who it is, too. Eagerness to see my girl again prompts me to sit up in preparation for swingin’ my legs outta bed.
Big mistake.
Pain! The moment I start to rise, red hot fire lances across my back, so severe that it forces an agonised gasp from my lips. I fall back to the pillows with a grunt. Jesus! What the hell was that? An’ why haven’t I fully healed?
I close my eyes, tryin’ to breathe around the dull ache in my bones, which is only now startin’ to fade. I hear my bathroom door open an’ Marie’s scent wafts over me, slidin’ down to my very soul an’ makin’ my breath catch with the realisation that she’s near.
Her footsteps move to my bedside an’ my nostrils flare as she leans over me, overwhelming me with her closeness. Something cool an’ damp is laid across my forehead an’, as Marie draws back, I open my eyes an’ look deep into the startlin’ green orbs o’ my lover, feelin’ myself spirallin’ away into their fathomless depths an’ hearin’ her breath catch in her throat as she realises I am awake.
“Logan?” Her voice is low, breathy, an’ laced with no small measure o’ hope.
“Marie ……” My throat is rough, dry an’ painful, an’ my response comes out as barely more than a croak. “Jesus ……!”
“Don’t try to talk, sugah. You’ve taken some damage to your throat.” Marie reaches for a glass o’ water on the bedside table. Slidin’ a hand under the back o’ my neck, she tilts me up so that I can take a sip o’ water from the glass. The cool liquid slides down my throat, quenching the fires that are burnin’ there. I’m normally not a huge fan o’ plain water – I’d much prefer a beer – but right now, this simple liquid tastes like the finest wine to me.
She takes the glass from my lips an’ rests my head back on the pillow. Her eyes never leave mine as she places the glass back on the table, almost as though afraid to let me out of her sight. I close my eyes momentarily as a wave of dizziness passes over me, an’ feel her hand tighten on my arm through the sheet.
“How ……?” Jesus, it’s never been this hard to talk before. I cough an’ try again. “How …… long ……?”
“How long were you out, sugah?” Marie thankfully fills in the blanks. “You’ve been unconscious for four days. You were delirious with fever for three of those.” Her hands busy themselves smoothin’ the sheets across my chest, almost as though she’s afraid to continue. “You were …… you were dead for six hours, Logan. We …… ah thought ah’d lost you.”
Dead? Memories of my strange encounter with the woman outside the cabin slip, unbidden, into my mind. The details are startin’ to grow fuzzy, but I can still feel the sense o’ belongin’ flowin’ from the simple dwellin’. An’ the woman? Who was she? She said she knew me, but how? Were we lovers? An’ if so, why did she send me back to Marie?
Was she dead too?
The confusion I’m feelin’ must be showin’ on my face ‘cause Marie places a cool hand against my cheek. “Sugah? You still with me?”
I nod, not trustin’ my voice. Marie smiles down at me, her eyes filled with such love an’ devotion that I want to enfold her in my arms an’ tell her that everything’s gonna be okay, but my body ain’t feelin’ too responsive right now an’ I can’t get my arms to move. I feel the bed tilt as she sits on the edge, an’ all I can see are her beautiful green eyes gettin’ steadily bigger as she leans down to kiss me tenderly on the lips. I can feel a wetness on my cheek an’ I realise she’s cryin’ an’ I somehow find the strength o’ will to raise my hand an’ tangle it into her hair, runnin’ the silky strands through my fingers as she traces my jawline with tiny pulse-shatterin’ kisses. Her breath is hot on my skin as she nuzzles into my neck an’ I tilt my head back to give her greater access, showin’ her my love with the greatest sacrifice a feral can make.
Complete submission to his mate.
My mate ……? The admission crashes into my thoughts with all the subtlety of a thrown brick, but somehow it feels right. This woman in my arms …… Marie …… she’s the other side o’ myself. She fits my soul the way no other woman has ever done before her. Or ever will again. There’s no goin’ back now. We’re bound body an’ soul. The Wolverine an’ his Rogue. The Beauty an’ her Feral ……
If Marie is aware o’ my sudden epiphany she makes no sign of it as she circles my ear with the tip of her tongue, makin’ shivers ripple through my body at the silky sensation. “Ah thought ah’d lost you,” she whispers, breathily, as she nuzzles closer. “You were gone so long an’ ah thought m’ah heart would surely break.”
“Marie ……” I croak, wantin’ to reassure her that I’ll never leave her again, but gettin’ cut off abruptly as her finger touches my lips.
“Shh,” she whispers against my ear. “Don’t talk now. Just concentrate on gettin’ your strength back. ‘Cause when you’re all well an’ mended, ah’m gonna fuck you till your brains explode.”
My mouth drops open with shock as Marie sits back, gigglin’ at my expression. What the ……? Did she just say what I think she just said? What the hell happened while I was away?
My Marie has become a hellcat.
An’ damn me, I think I like it!
She tucks a finger under my chin and closes my mouth with a click, her eyes sparklin’ with mischief. “Better close up there, sugah. Jean an’ the others are comin’ an’ ya don’t wanna look like a fish.”
Eh? As if on cue, there’s a soft tap at the door an’ it opens to admit the Professor, smilin’ warmly. Jean an’ Henry follow close behind, the latter wearin’ his fightin’ uniform. His fur is damp an’, despite being blue, there’s a flush to his face which suggests he was takin’ advantage of an early mornin’ Danger Room work-out before makin’ this particular house call.
“Logan, welcome back to the land of the living.” Xavier motors across the floor to park beside my bed, draggin’ Jean an’ Henry in his wake. “You gave us quite a scare, you know. Not quite out of the woods yet, I understand, but well on the road to recovery.”
“How …… how did you ……?” Once again, my raspy throat fails me an’ I slam my fist down onto the bedcovers beside me, annoyed with my inability to string a coherent sentence together. Marie pats my hand comfortingly an’ gestures towards the glass on the bedside table, but I shake my head. I will not appear weak in front o’ the Professor.
If he notices my discomfort, Xavier makes no mention of it. Instead, he nods, knowingly. “I think what you were trying to say is ‘How did we know you were awake?’” I nod, silently. “I have been monitoring your state of mind constantly since you …… returned to us, Logan. It was important for us to know the minute you regained consciousness. I have some questions to ask concerning the attack on you and Rogue. I take it you have no idea who those men were, or who they could be working for?”
I shake my head in the negative, and Marie shifts agitatedly on the bed, laying a protective hand on my chest. “Is this really necessary, Professor? He’s very weak an’ ah don’t think he’s ready for this yet.”
“He must be ready, Rogue, there is no time to lose.” Xavier’s tone leaves no room for argument, and Marie huffs, unhappily. “As I told you on the evening of the attack, time is of the essence if we are to track down those responsible and find out why the attack occurred. Who were they and why did they want Logan dead? Will they try again? We must know, Rogue. My own investigations have turned up a little information, but I need the details Logan’s own recollections can provide us with and I need them now. Do you understand?”
Marie nods slowly, an’ the Professor motors back slightly, leavin’ room at my bedside. “Henry, perhaps you could explain it all to Logan far better than I?”
The Beast steps forward with a huge grin plastered to his leonine but friendly face. “Logan! It is good to see you on the road to recovery at last. I am afraid our last meeting two days ago didn’t go quite so well.”
He pulls his jacket aside to reveal three slashes marrin’ the fur on his right side. Claw slashes. My face pales as I realise I am the cause.
“Did …… I …….?”
“Oh, think nothing of it, my friend. It’s all in a day’s work for one such as I, and my own healing factor should have sorted out the worst of it in a few day’s time, although it’s nowhere near the league of your own, of course. I mean, to actually bring one back from death ……”
“Henry.” The Professor’s clipped tone pulls the Beast back to the here an’ now, an’ he actually looks abashed as he digs into his pocket for a small pair of spectacles an’ props them on his nose. “I do apologise, Professor. I have a tendency to lose myself in my musings, do I not? To continue. Jean, the item, if you please.”
He holds out his hand and Jean drops a small grey-lookin’ piece o’ metal into it. Henry holds it between thumb an’ forefinger for me to see. “Do you recognise this?”
I do. It’s a bullet. But before I can say anythin’, the Professor speaks for me.
“He recognises it, Henry.” He’s obviously taken it upon himself to answer for me an’ save my throat, but he’d better not do any rummagin’ around in here. I take my privacy very seriously an’ I get particularly tetchy when it comes to people messin’ with my mind.
The Professor gives me a barely perceptible shake o’ the head. Oops. I think he heard that.
Henry is waitin’ to continue an’ he gestures to the bullet as I return my attention to him. “We dug seven of these out of you, Logan.” Really? That many, huh? I kinda lost count after four. “One of the bullets lodged in your left lung, which is why you’re having trouble breathing. The one in the back of your neck is responsible for the damage to your throat. I’m sorry, Logan, but we’d already started the autopsy at that point, and there didn’t seem to be any reason to be gentle.”
Henry looks down at his feet, ashamed, an’ I almost choke. Jesus! Autopsy?
Jean reaches over to place her hand on his arm. Her face looks a little too pale at this point an’ I reckon I must have given ‘em quite the shock when I came to on their operatin’ table. Must remember ta ask fer details ……
“But back to the point, yes?” Henry makes a valiant effort to pull himself together an’ steps nearer to the bed. He holds up the bullet. “This little piece of metal is carbonadium. As near as I can ascertain from my research, it was stumbled upon by a group of Russian scientists who were trying to synthesise adamantium in order to create their own version of Weapon X.” Oh, Christ, no …… “Whether they were successful in this endeavour or not, is a fact I have been unable to determine. However, I can tell you that carbonadium is a more malleable form of your own prestigious metal. It is strong, but not indestructible. And Logan …… it cancels out your healing factor.”
Henry carries on speakin’, but I zone out, my mind dredgin’ up nightmarish images from deep within, prompted by his choice o’ words – carbonadium …… Weapon X …… Russian scientists …… I know this means somethin’, but all I can see are metal-coloured tentacles, twistin’ an’ writhin’ …… snow …… a flash o’ some guy in fancy body armour …… and then that god-damn glass Genesis tank blots everything out an’ suddenly I am drownin’ in green-blue liquid ……
“Professor!” Marie screams as I fling out a fist in my panic, ejectin’ my claws an’ narrowly missin’ Henry’s leg. He leaps back out of harm’s way as Marie throws herself across my chest, holdin’ me down, shoutin’ at me to sheath my claws, heedless o’ the danger she’s puttin’ herself in. An’ through it all, I can hear the Professor’s voice in my head, talkin’ to me, calmin’ me …… chasin’ away the nightmares ……
I’m pantin’ hard by the time I come out o’ my panic. Marie is still pressed across me, but I have sheathed my claws an’ my chest is heavin’ from my exertions. Marie cautiously pulls back as she realises I’ve quietened an’ I grimace, apologetically.
“M’okay ……” I rasp.
She presses a soft hand to my cheek, her face a mask of concern, but it’s the Professor’s eyes, not Marie’s, that draw my attention. They’re blank, turned inwards as he searches within for answers to what has just occurred – searchin’ my memories. Jesus, he saw ……?
My suspicions are confirmed moments later when he raises a hand to his forehead. “It is clear that you know something of this carbonadium, Logan, but as usual, the information is locked away where you are unable to access the information freely. However, you have given me much to think upon and I am sure this will prove most helpful once I have had the chance to meditate on what I have seen. The man wearing body armour, for instance, seems most familiar ……”
He breaks off an’ looks around as Jean moves forward an’ places a hand on his shoulder. She nods towards me. “I really think we should call it a day for now, Professor. Logan needs to rest.”
“Of course, of course.” Xavier actually looks embarrassed to be reminded of my condition. “I apologise, Logan. Rogue. We will depart at once.”
This is makin’ me look weak but, for once, I ain’t gonna argue. My wakin’ nightmare has left me feelin’ achin’ an’ shaky – the hand that I unsheathed the claws from hasn’t healed properly an’ blood is oozin’ from my knuckles. Marie takes my hand an’ wraps it in a clean tissue almost as soon as I notice, hidin’ the damage. To be brutally honest, I’m feelin’ kinda woozy – my head is poundin’ an’ I would appreciate some peace an’ quiet right about now.
Xavier is already beginnin’ to motor towards the door. “Come, Henry. We must look into this some more. Meet me in the War Room in fifteen minutes.”
“Aye, Professor.” Henry bounds out of the door immediately, presumably to get changed, and the Professor pauses at the entrance to my room, lookin’ back. “Rogue, would you like to be relieved? Jean will stay with Logan if you require rest.”
“No, Professor, ah’m okay.” Marie smiles down at me, tenderly. “He’s my responsibility.”
“As you wish. Come along, Jean, we have work to do.” Xavier motors off down the hallway, oblivious to the fact that Jean has hung back. Or maybe not. He is a telepath after all, right?
Jean moves closer, bitin’ her lip thoughtfully. With a cautious glance to Marie, she takes my hand in hers, mindful o’ the bloodied tissue that is still wrapped around it. I scent a spike o’ jealousy from my girl, but her outward demeanour remains unchanged, no doubt lulling Jean into a false sense o’ security. The redhead had better watch herself – my little hellcat will have her eyes out if she tries anything funny.
Jean leans over me, her green eyes dominatin’ my vision. I used to be captivated by those eyes – longed to have ‘em look at me the way they look at Scott – but I’ve learned that eyes full o’ lust ain’t as meaningful as eyes full o’ love. I’ll take Marie’s eyes over Jean’s any day.
I startle out o’ my reverie as I feel the soft touch o’ Jean’s lips on mine an’ I swear I hear a low growl rumble from Marie’s throat. “I’m pleased you’re going to be okay, Logan,” the redhead whispers, silkily. She pulls back slightly an’ smiles. “God knows the place would be too quiet without you. And who’d keep Scott on his toes?”
I snort through my nose as she releases my hand an’ stands up, walkin’ slowly to the door, where she turns around an’ eyes me speculatively, as if a thought has just occurred to her. “Try not to get shot up again, Logan,” she purrs. “I’d miss you panting after me.”
After deliberately throwin’ that mornin’s words back at me, she grins, slips through the door an’ closes it softly behind her.
Marie is starin’ after her, arms folded, a petulant frown on her face. “Brazen hussy!” She snorts, beginnin’ to straighten my sheets, a little too roughly. “She’d better not be gettin’ any ideas, that’s all ah can say.”
I capture one of her busy hands with my own an’ bring it to my lips. “No …… chance ……” I croak. “Yer …… mine now …… Marie.”
I think I’ve surprised her. Her lips form a perfect little ‘O’ of wonderment an’ a blush colours her cheeks. I let a growl rumble in my chest an’ her blush deepens, prettily. Never underestimate the power of a good growl.
She coughs to cover her embarrassment an’ begins to peel the tissue away from my damaged hand. The cuts have healed now an’ she dabs away the remainin’ blood with a clean tissue. “Well, ah think that went fairly well,” she declares, a little too cheerfully. “O’ course, we coulda done without you springin’ your claws again, but at least ya didn’t shred the pillows this time.”
The pillows ……? Christ, I musta been a handful while I was healin’. My normal nightmares are bad enough, but fever induced nightmares ……? Christ!
Marie’s expression softens as she notices my distress an’ she pats my hand, lovingly. “Don’t worry about it, sugah. We all know you couldn’t help it an’ Henry was the only one to get clawed anyway, an’ he can take it.” She slides my hand back under the covers an’ pats them around me. “Get some rest, sugah. Ah’ll look out for you while you sleep.”
I growl warningly in my throat – I’m the Wolverine, fer Chrissakes, an’ no one mothers the Wolverine! – but she grins back at me unabashed. “Quit the growlin’, y’hear? Your scary feral routine doesn’t scare me!”
Well, it damn well should do, but somehow I can’t find it in my heart to press the argument. My eyes suddenly seem to want to close o’ their own volition an’ the point I wanted to put across don’t seem important no more.
As my healin’ factor takes it upon itself to shut me down once more, her words echo in my head – I’ll watch out for you while you sleep – an’ being the big bad Wolverine don’t seem such a big deal right now. ‘Cause that’s what mates do for each other. Right?
They watch out for each other.
An’ suddenly it feels as though a great weight has been lifted from my heart ……