Scent.
It was the first sense he called upon when waking. It could provide him with a multitude of information before he even opened his eyes. He inhaled lightly, slowly, and a barrage of smells assaulted him. A familiar sweet and slightly flowery scent with hints of lemons, and something else met his nostrils. Something exotic, and hot. He inhaled deeply, air filling his lungs, filling his mind with the scent. He liked that scent. A whole hell of a lot. Dirt, and a lot of it. Trees. The somewhat harsh scent of pine. Water. The harsh, reeking scent of burning jet fuel. His eyes ran with tears as they flashed open and immediately his lungs rejected the fumes with several hacking coughs.
Then, a new scent mingled with the others; a coppery, tangy scent, like a new penny.
Blood.
He conducted a quick scan of his body, but there was no pain. If the blood was his, any pain he'd experienced was fleeting. His eyes flashed open, instantly scanning for a threat, for the slightest hint that danger was near.
But he could detect no immediate threat. No, the threat had already come, leaving wreckage strewn about the forest. With a sudden flash, it all came back to him, and he jerked upright. They had just been arriving at the site of their mission when a surface-to-air missile had exploded from the pine forest below. Though Storm was an excellent pilot, they hadn't been expecting to run into such danger, and she had been unprepared for offensive maneuvers. It was supposed to have been a recon mission only, no engagement scenarios had been discussed at their briefing.
The missile had blown through the rear of the jet and destroyed the navigational systems and engines. They fell from the sky in a wicked tailspin, gathering more and more speed until the blood had drained from their brains leaving them unconscious. None of them had been able to eject in time.
Logan's eyes darted around the forest frantically, searching for any sign of Rogue or the others. Adrenaline and something feral instantly flooded his veins, making his heart beat faster, his senses more alert. Blood flow increased to his muscles and he flexed them in anticipation of tearing this enemy into tiny bloody bits of flesh and bone. With a metallic twang, his claws unsheathed and he stalked through the wreckage, flinging pieces of the crumbled wreckage aside as if they weighed no more than tissue paper. Suddenly, he froze. A small intake of breath, a moan, and the sound of debris shifting slightly caught his ear. He strained all his senses toward the sound, and when he heard another cry, he bolted forward toward the sound of distress. Metal sheeting, insulation, and other various bits of jet were thrown out of his way as he closed in on the sound.
“Rogue? I’m coming, just hold on!” If he was any other man, his voice would have sounded scared. But he was the Wolverine. He was not scared.
He neared the origin of the sound, and he froze, momentarily stunned by the sight that met his eyes. Rogue was covered in blood. Her dark hair was matted to the left side of her face, the white streak stained pink by the amount of blood coursing from a gash in her forehead. Her eyes were shut tightly, a grimace of pain etched over her sweet, abnormally pale face. Her black leather uniform was shredded and burned. A thin piece of metal from the jet fuselage was sticking out of her chest, just under her right breast. It was close to the spot where he had inadvertently impaled her seven years ago. She'd just been trying to wake him from another one of those goddamn nightmares. Logan shook his head and tried to focus. Blood was seeping from the wound in her chest. He tried to concentrate on assessing her injuries without letting her know how badly she was wounded. Her breathing was labored and bubbling, like she was underwater. Her right femur had punctured her thigh, and blood pumped out, seeming to slow before his eyes. Femoral artery, Logan thought. Fuck. Fuck!
She was still strapped in to one of the jet's passenger seats. A moment of panic set in as he realized how close she was to dying, how close she was to being beyond his help. He knelt down and unlatched her seatbelt harness and then ripped a piece of the tattered remains of her uniform and quickly tied it tightly above the wound in her leg, unsure if it would do any good at this point.
She groaned as the pressure of the tourniquet met her raw and exposed nerve endings, and his eyes went to her face. A slight breeze lifted a strand of clean hair away from her face and her eyes opened. Clouded by pain as they were, he wasn’t sure if she knew where she was, or if she even knew he was there.
“Logan?” She said, weakly.
He jumped at her voice, and immediately leaned closer to her face. “I’m here, kid.”
“How-?" a strangled gurgle interrupted her and blood seeped from her mouth. She closed her eyes for too many seconds. Logan shook her arm, panic setting in. Her eyes fluttered open at the movement. "How bad?” She asked again, her breathing growing noticeably worse.
He knew by the scent of her blood and the sound of her slowing heart beat that it was bad.
“It’s hardly a scratch, kid. You’ll be back to your old self in no time.” And she would, he thought. One simple power-sucking touch and she’d be back to normal. “This is going to hurt,” he said, sheathing his claws and grabbing the metal shrapnel jutting from her chest.
Her eyes closed again, and she seemed to nod ever so slightly, in acknowledgement of what he had to do.
“On the count of three. One, two-” Abruptly, Wolverine jerked back his hand, and the metal came free from her chest, blood gushing from the empty space. Rogue let out a harsh cry of pain, and tears seeped out of her shut tight eyes. He grimaced at the sound, and immediately placed pressure on the wound. “Sorry, kid. I had to take it out, it’ll heal faster.”
Even as he spoke, he could feel his energy being sapped through his fingers where they met her exposed flesh through the shredded remains of her uniform. His veins strained against the pull of her body, and he dimly heard the snap of a bone righting itself, and the slightly sickening sound of flesh mending. The light at the edges of his vision began to fade, and his nostrils were filled with the same sweet, hot scent as before. Fuck. When did she start smelling so goddamn good? Logan had only realized how fucking good she smelled two days ago, the night of their briefing for this mission. But the beast within him, the Wolverine, had known it for seven long years. That was the last thought he had before he succumbed to the black.
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Story Notes:
Now complete!
There will be some dark events and angst as the main characters will be prisoners in a lab that experiments on mutants. But! There should be some nice Rogan action to help balance the scales.
The story takes place in a world where the events of X1 happened. However, I'm playing with some elements in X2 without following that story line at all.
Also, this is my first fic, so please be gentle :D
The story takes place in a world where the events of X1 happened. However, I'm playing with some elements in X2 without following that story line at all.
Also, this is my first fic, so please be gentle :D
Author's Chapter Notes:
Off with a bang.
Chapter End Notes:
Want to know what happened two days ago?