Scott glanced at the monitor only occasionally. The security camera in the cargo hold had been turned on for the first time in his memory, displaying a low-ceilinged, dimly lit room, its metal walls liberally gouged with claw marks.
It took nearly twenty minutes for the girl to calm down after they closed her in. At last, she accepted the futility of her efforts and sank to the floor, bone-white claws sliding back into her forearms. Scott marveled once more at how similar her mutation was to Logan’s. What were the odds? There was definitely something strange going on there.
The girl crawled behind stacks of crates and emerged into view next to Logan’s prone form. He didn’t stir at all as she peeled away his sticky, blood-crusted jacket and shirt, throwing them into the farthest corner of the room. She reached for his belt.
Scott cleared his throat awkwardly, looking away.
By the time he turned back, his teammate was fully stripped—and the waitress was down to her underwear. “Uh, Jean!” he said, his voice an octave higher than usual.
She looked at the screen, then quickly away. “Oh my God. Seriously? That’s just—what is she—I mean, we can’t just let her . . . molest him . . . oh, she’s . . . hm, maybe she’s just cleaning him off.”
Scott dared to peek at the monitor again. The waitress made use of a blanket and bottled water to clean Logan and herself. There was a great deal of blood, but she scrubbed them both down with the wet blanket before opening the second bottle of water and pouring it through her matted hair. They were still nowhere near clean, but better than they had been. She was visibly shivering by the end of it.
Jean fiddled with her seatbelt. Scott felt sympathy, and oddly, a hint of guilt coming from his fiancée. “God, poor thing. I didn’t realize she was so . . . you can see every one of her ribs. I don’t—I don’t think we should risk getting in there to give her another blanket, but I’ll go turn up the heat.”
“Good idea,” Scott said. When he looked back at the screen, the girl had curled herself against Logan’s side. Her shivering slowly abated.
Jean briefed the Professor. Ororo calmly monitored the weather. Scott tried to keep his focus on piloting the plane.
Yet over the course of the next hour, he found his gaze repeatedly drifting back to the monitor. At first, there was no sign of the normal waitress he vaguely remembered. The girl before him was little more than an animal. He was both appalled and strangely intrigued by her efforts at grooming his teammate.
Logan showed no signs of waking as the feral woman sniffed him, lapped at his neck and cheeks, and pressed her near-naked body into his for warmth.
As time went by, she stopped licking his skin and began instead placing gentle kisses.
She laid her head down on Logan’s shoulder and rubbed her hand in slow circles over his chest.
Finally, Scott glanced at the monitor to find her face buried in the crook of Logan’s neck, her shoulders shaking with sobs. He felt an unexpected pang of sympathy, wondering for the first time who this girl really was, and whether anyone was missing her right now.
The next time he checked, she was fast asleep.
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