The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
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There was nothing like waking up to the gagging, suffocating feeling that came with being locked in a tank full of water. If there was a worse way to wake up, Logan didn’t want to know about it. The burning, constriction of his chest growing tighter and tighter as he tried to stop his body from reflexively inhaling breath after breath of water; the painful agony as the body screamed for a single bit of air, and the knowledge that you were about to die, that it wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last. Then, the gathering darkness, as the body slowly gave in to its inevitable end.
He awoke later, back in the cell, stumbling to his knees to immediately start vomiting wave after wave of water out of his body. When finally there was nothing left to expel, he collapsed back to the ground, letting the darkness take him away again.
The third time he awoke to find Hank staring down at him with concern. He sat up, every fiber of his body aching. He didn’t want to know what they had done to his body AFTER the drowning to make him feel like this. He looked himself over quickly making sure everything was still were it should be. Not a single scratch, not that he expected to find one.
“Don’t worry Hank. I’m fine,” he said gruffly, standing up and pushing the doctor back a step. It only took him a moment to realize the cell was missing one of its occupants, “What happened to the girl?” And then the smell hit him. The growl escaped him before he could contain it.
“There was an incident.”
Logan stomped over to the large puddle of blood and shredded flesh that smelled just like the girl and the Wolverine in him was raging, foaming at the mouth, the claws sliding out without a thought. A snort from the other side of the room caused his head to turn and he saw Sabertooth leaning against the wall, black hollow eyes looking out in their usual anger, but with something else.
“Incident,” he shook his head and walked over to stand next to Wolverine, staring at the pile of gore, “Damn girl freaked, started tearing herself apart, looking to rip the heart straight out of her own chest before I could even blink. Never seen anything like it.” His nostrils flared and Logan saw the blood lust slowly seeping into his eyes, a grin showing the large fangs, “Smells tasty though don’t she.”
If you were to ask him what happened next, Logan would have been hard pressed to tell you, but when he regained some sense of focus, Sabertooth was laying in the corner grabbing at his throat trying to hold the severed bits of flesh together. A wet, gurgling noise as he tried to breathe in through the gaping wound. Logan closed his eyes and tried to calm himself, but the smell of the girl’s blood was driving him literally insane.
“Can we get a fucking cleanup crew in here!” he bellowed, praying to some higher power that for once the damn lab clowns would realize their test monkey was one step away from the edge. He stalked around the small cell, Beast and Wild Child giving him a wide berth. They’d seen the Wolverine get angry before, but even they knew this was some new territory that he was entering into. He heard the familiar click of a collar being deactivated and turned just in time to see Sabertooth flying at him, throat stitching itself back together. He smiled.
He took the full brunt of Sabertooths leap and they tumbled to the ground. Both somehow ending up in crouching positions across from one another.
“Fucking touch me again runt, I dare you.”
“Anyone ever tell you, you talk too much Creed.”
Then there was nothing, but the sound of fists and claws and suddenly large arms pulling him backwards, wrapped tight around the waist, which was about the worst thing Hank could have done at that point because the Wolverine was fully out now and wanting a good blood bath. A quick slash of the claws across the furry forearms and he was once again loose and running over to where Wild Child was trying to subdue an increasingly violent Sabertooth with about the same success rate.
He had just gotten within mutilating distance when the electric shock from the collar dropped them all to their knees. The smell of burning flesh filled his nostrils and lightening danced behind his eyes, barely registering the slide of the cell door opening and closing as the metal that coursed through his body began humming with the high voltage current. A moment later the pain stopped and he felt the buzz of the healing factor kicking in.
Logan stood up, shaking his head to clear the last shards that still danced across his vision and the ringing in his ears. When he was finally grounded again he looked up. She was back. His gaze glided across her body looking for any sign of damage and finding nothing but miles and miles of the soft, porcelain white skin marred only by the healed scars of ancient battle wounds. She took a few shaky steps into the room before falling down and instantly his arms were around her, cradling to support the fragile weight. Large fully dilated eyes looked up at him vacantly in an obvious drugged haze. The girl’s body might be here, but her mind was definitely not at home.
Feeling the presence of the other three men surrounding them, he let out a loud growl and picked her up, bringing her over to his side of the room and laying her down gently on the cot before turning with his arms crossed over his chest, daring any of them to try something.
“Logan, if you would please permit me, perhaps I should look at the child, to make sure she is all right.”
He focused his glare on Hank, who was standing nervously at the edge of his part of the cell, obviously wanting to come over, but not wanting to risk making the Wolverine upset by entering his domain.
“Think you’ve done enough Hank. I’ll take care of the kid from now on.”
He could tell the Beast wasn’t happy with it, but not willing to push the issue when the Wolverine was still so close to the surface.
He heard Sabertooth laugh softly, walking over to throw himself down on the blankets he used as a makeshift bed, “Good luck with that runt and don’t think I’m done with you yet.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
With that, the moment was over, and calm was once again restored to the cell. Waiting until Hank and Wild Child were both settled back in their respective spots, he finally let himself relax and turned to kneel next to the cot. The girl was asleep, laying on her side, legs curled up, her hands together underneath the side of her face, the position making her look extremely young and he wondered how old she was. She obviously had a healing factor of some sort which meant anything was possible, she could be older then him even.
Her thick brown hair fell softly over her shoulders, with a striking white streak through the front of it. He found himself absently pushing a stray piece that had fallen over her face back behind her ear and leaned in, drinking in the soft scent of her like this. No terror, no pain, just something soft and clean and oh so addicting. When he realized he was practically nuzzling her neck he pulled back sharply. What the fuck was he doing?
He glared down at the sleeping form in his cot, HIS soft cot, that he had bled and fought for and now here she was in it and he was going to have to sleep on the cold hard floor and for some reason he couldn’t even feel the slightest bit angry at her over it. He’d been working with the X-men too long. He’d gone soft. He considered for a moment tossing her out of the cot and back over to Hank to let him deal with it, but she did look so peaceful there and her scent was for some reason comforting. Maybe he could let her stay just a bit, just to make sure she was okay, and then he’d let Hank have her back. He didn’t need the trouble. He had to look out for himself, for Hank, keep an eye out for a moment to escape. He didn’t need the extra baggage. He didn’t need her, he didn’t. And with that, he lay down and let the exhaustion of the day finally take him away into unusual soft slumbers, the nightmares that plagued him constantly, for the first time that he could remember, held at bay.