Logan smelled Azazel a split-second before he felt the thump at his back. He reached back, trying to get him with the claws, but a dizzying sensation of nothingness overwhelmed him. In the next moment the gray smoke was singeing his nasal passages and he shook his head, trying to clear the smoke from his eyes.
He reached out and felt a jarring shudder through his forearms as the claws collided with metal. Squinting through the smoke he saw metal bars, and he slashed forcefully with the claws, expecting to cut through. Sparks flew, and an earsplitting screech of metal-on-metal filled the air, but instead of cutting through the force of the blow traveled back up his hands and arms, tearing at the intricate musculature and tendons.
Logan sucked in his breath at the blinding pain, wheeling around, but there were bars on every side -- so close he couldn’t even take a full step in any direction. This wasn’t a jail cell -- it was a coffin. He roared with fury, and as the smoke cleared further he saw Azazel, watching with amusement from a few paces away. He snicked in the claws and grabbed two bars, pulling on them with all his strength, but they didn’t budge.
“Save your energy, Wolverine. Did you really think Shaw would bring you here without a contingency plan in place? It’s solid adamantium, and it’s been here since before you even arrived.”
Logan roared again, the Wolverine snarling and howling in his mind at being caged. He could see more clearly now, and he ran his hands over every barred surface in a frenzy. There was no hinge, no latch, nothing.
“Like I said, solid adamantium. There is no door, Wolverine. I teleported you in, and that’s the only way out. Not that you’re ever getting out of there alive.”
Logan felt panic and failure choking his throat. They had been so close to escape, and he hadn’t sensed the trap in time. His blunder had sentenced himself to death, and Rogue to worse.
Azazel pulled a chair against the far wall, and pulled a pack of cards out of his pocket. He started shuffling them lazily, biding his time. Logan could make out his surroundings now -- they were in Shaw’s wine cellar.
“Do you even know what Shaw has planned? He’s insane -- if you let him go through with it he’ll rip this whole world to shreds.”
Azazel smiled, his eerie blue eyes glowing in his crimson face, his clawed hands never stopping the deft motions. “Exactly. Chaos and destruction. What could be more delicious? And I’ll have a front-row seat.”
_____________________
Logan heard the clatter of footsteps and leaped up, hands on the bars, waiting. Azazel jumped up from his chair, putting the cards back into his pocket.
Logan felt the last hope die within him as he caught Rogue’s enticing scent among the others. He watched in despair as Marcus shoved her roughly down the stairs in front of him, her arm twisted behind her back in his gloved grip. Her beautiful face was streaked with tears, her shirt and jeans torn and bloodied in spots.
Shaw and Emma followed behind, both of them practically glowing with smug satisfaction. Logan felt the growl starting in his chest, growing to a roar as he futilely pushed and pulled at the bars. The Wolverine was in a frenzy to reach Rogue, to kill Shaw and Emma -- logic didn’t enter into it. He snapped and snarled futilely at the pair, straining the bounds of the cage, alternately trying to slash the two of them and reach Rogue.
Logan watched the scene through a red haze of rage, Shaw looking on with a smirk while Emma’s lips parted with ecstasy, her eyes dilating with pleasure at the uncontrollable rage and pain the Wolverine was projecting. He slowly managed to rein in the Wolverine, suppressing him forcefully until he was able to speak.
“I’ll kill you, you sonuvabitch,” he snarled at Shaw.
Shaw laughed. “I never would have pegged you for an optimist, Wolverine. I do believe it is going to be the other way around.” He nodded at Marcus, who pulled Rogue a little closer. “The two of you have forced me to accelerate my plans, but perhaps it is for the best. The body that houses the Phoenix is failing, and all of that wonderful healing of yours might come in handy sooner than I expected, Wolverine.”
Rogue braced her legs, pushing back, but she was no match for the much larger man. Her feet skidded on the floor as Marcus pushed her inexorably forward. He yanked her twisted arm higher, and she hissed in pain.
“I won’t do it,” she ground out at Shaw. “I can control it -- you can’t make me absorb him.”
Shaw clucked his tongue, shaking his head. “Poor Rogue. I knew you were pathetic, but I hadn’t realized you were so dense. You never had control, and you never will. When I found you, you were sad and alone, scared to get close to anybody. Take comfort in that if you will. The life you lost wasn’t much to speak of anyway.”
The information seemed to hit Rogue with the force of a blow to the gut. She paled further. “The pictures...” She closed her eyes, shaking her head. “Of course. Just another part of the lie.”
“Shape shifters can be hired by the hour, my dear.” He stepped forward, nodding to Marcus. “Pull the glove.”
Marcus yanked the glove off Rogue’s right hand, her left arm still twisted behind her in his iron grip. She tried to grab for bare skin, but he swiftly caught her wrist with his gloved hand. “Ready.”
Shaw reached into a dark corner and pulled out two long shock batons. He threw one to Emma and stepped forward as Emma circled around the back of the cage. Logan’s head snapped back and forth between them warily.
Emma jabbed first, and as Logan swiped at the baton Shaw got him in the back. Blinding pain, the smell of burning flesh, and when his mind cleared he was crumpled on the floor of the cage.
Shaw smiled, flicking the switch again, and Logan felt every muscle in his body convulse as the shock ran through him.
“Now!” Shaw said, and Marcus shoved Rogue’s hand through the bars, pushing it firmly against Logan’s neck. Logan lay helpless, still paralyzed by the effects of the shock, looking into Rogue’s tear-filled brown eyes as he felt the tingle and then the buzz of her skin.
“Logan...” Rogue murmured despairingly, closing her eyes. And then her eyes snapped open again, as the buzz turned to a painful pull. He suddenly felt her hand curl around his neck of her own volition. “Trust me, Logan.”
For a moment the excruciating pull of her skin warred with the dizzy, spinning sensation of nothingness, and then suddenly they both ceased instantly. Logan pulled in a gasping breath, coughing on the smoke as he scrabbled upright, feeling the slick metal that had been underneath his feet replaced by wood flooring.
“What the fuck...?” They were the last words Marcus ever spoke, as Logan buried his claws in the man’s chest, pulling upward, slicing through his sternum with ease. He pulled the dead man’s hand from Rogue’s arm, tossing him backwards and pulling Rogue upright in the same motion.
As the smoke cleared the scents and sounds of the stable surrounded them.
Rogue's eyes were wide and dazed as he looked into her face and then pulled her into his embrace, his voice hoarse with relief. “God, Rogue...”
“It worked...it worked...” she mumbled with disbelief into his shirt.
He gave her another squeeze. “It sure did, darlin’. That was some good thinking.”
He pulled back, looking into her eyes. “We’ve gotta move,” he said urgently. “Azazel will be ‘porting all around the damn place looking for us.”
She nodded. “They’ll be looking for us at the south gate. The east gate is closest to here. We can leave the grounds there and circle around to the bike on the outside.”
He squeezed her hand. “Let’s go.”
They moved as swiftly as she could manage through the woods. He stopped farther from the gate this time, pulling her to a crouch again. He grasped her arms, pulling her almost roughly to face him, his voice low and urgent. “Give me five minutes. If I’m not back, go without me. Try the other gates -- ‘port if you can. Kill if you need to. Whatever you have to do to not let Shaw get you. Do you understand?”
She nodded. “Logan...”
He silenced her with his kiss, urgent and demanding, the taste of her warm and welcoming and delicious. He pulled back and yanked off his tags, slipping them over her neck. “If you get out without me, get to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters in Westchester, New York. Show Charles Xavier these, and he’ll give you all the help you need. Say it back to me.”
Her voice was rough with tears but steady as she repeated it. “Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, Westchester, New York. Charles Xavier.”
“Good.” He tucked the tags down the neck of her shirt, his fingers lingering against her soft skin for a moment longer than necessary until he felt the tingle that was uniquely hers. “Five minutes. Start counting.”
Logan stalked toward the guard booth at the east gate, wary of another trap but with the Wolverine hungering for blood. Two guards -- they had obviously been put on alert, but he smelled no reinforcements so far. He crept forward and pounced, slashing one across the neck. The other reached for his radio and Logan took off his hand at the wrist in a clean slice, cutting off his scream by burying the claws in his chest.
Within a few minutes he was back with Rogue, pulling her to her feet, his blood-drenched shirts still cooling in a sticky mass against his skin. He pulled her quickly past the guard booth, ignoring her gasp of shock at the carnage. She knows what you are now, a voice in the back of his mind whispered, but he silenced the thought ruthlessly. It didn’t matter, as long as she was safe. He would hack through every guard Shaw had if that’s what it took to get her to the fucking jet.
Luck seemed to be with them again -- the bike was right where Logan had arranged.
“You ever ride before?”
Rogue shook her head uncertainly. “I don’t know.”
He helped her get the helmet on. “Just hold onto me, and try to lean when I do. You’ll do fine, darlin’.”
He felt hope rising with every second they were on the open road, Rogue’s small firm body pressed tight to his back, her arms wrapped around him. He tore down the road as fast as possible, Rogue leaning with him as they whipped around the corners as if she were part of his own body.
The ramp was down on the Blackbird and Logan cut the engine and glided the bike right up it, skidding to a tight turn at the entrance to the cargo bay.
He ignored the shocked faces of the X-Men, barking orders even as he helped Rogue off the bike.
“Scooter -- get us in the air. ‘Ro -- radio in to the mansion. Evacuate the kids and all nonessential staff. I got busted somehow -- I don’t know how much they know but it’s a fair bet my cover is compromised.”
Finally he turned to Xavier, his voice a low growl through his clenched jaw. “You and I need to talk. What the fuck is a Phoenix, and what does it have to do with Jean?”
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000
Author's Chapter Notes:
Aw, people...why are you being so stingy with reviews? I was practically crying into my mojito yesterday. Instead of sulking (more), though, I'm going to try to win you back with two very quick and absolutely rockin' updates. Hopefully this will cause you all to drop everything else you are doing to pledge your undying love for me in review form. No? Oh well, at least drop me a line to let me know if you're still with the story. Pretty please? :-)
Chapter End Notes:
Please review! :-D