“Well, fuck.”
The light from the nearly full moon shone in through the intact, though filthy window on one wall, casting just enough light for Logan to see just how dilapidated the place really was. He took in the banged up desk, the trash littering the cracked concrete floor, and his eyes came to rest on the filthy mattress in the corner. It was still bitterly cold, and as shitty as this hole appeared to his senses, at least they were out of the elements and would live to see the morning. Logan took in the Cajun’s suddenly tense body as his crimson eyes met his and then flitted over to where Rogue stood. She was still shivering, arms folded close to her body as her tired eyes settled on the mattress.
Logan sure as shit didn’t want the swamp rat to tangle up with Rogue on the mattress, but at the same time, he knew they couldn’t go without someone keepin’ an eye out for threats. They were too vulnerable here, and Logan would be a fool if he underestimated the enemy’s resources and desire to eliminate them as a threat. He’d already seen firsthand what those people were capable of. They were well-organized, and had the money and means to execute their plans. And since the rest of the team had abandoned them, they were stuck in this shithole, veritable fuckin’ sitting ducks until the snow let up and Rogue and LeBeau had a chance to warm up. There was no question; they’d have to take turns on watch. But, fuck, how were they gonna choose? He clenched his jaw as he thought it over, glancing back to Rogue as he did so.
It was still well below freezing, and there was no denying that Rogue especially needed to warm up. He also knew he was the best one to give it to her. The bleedin’ on her arm had slowed. But he could smell the stale scabbing over of her wound, and it was gnawing at him. She needed to get that thing cleaned, a proper dressing too. That had to happen first, before anything else. Logan had lived through enough shitty situations in enough shitty wars to know that infection was a real threat; as invasive and persistent as those fuckers on the snowmobiles.
“That arm needs tendin’ to, kid,” he muttered.
She furrowed her brow, offering him a defiant stare in response. “Don’t worry about it, Logan. I’ll be fine once I get a little rest. It’s just a scratch.” But Logan was already shaking his head.
“You keep sayin’ that like it’ll make it true, but it needs cleaning. Trust me, you don’t want a wound like that gettin’ worse.” He turned toward Remy. “Cajun, you see a first aid kit on the snowmobile?”
Remy shrugged one shoulder and slowly rubbed one hand over his face. Shit, Logan thought, he’s fading too. He knew the Cajun didn’t have his stamina, but then again, not many did.
“Not sure, homme. I can go check.”
Logan nodded and Remy turned to exit the small shelter, the rusted door protesting loudly. Rogue turned to glare at Logan, arms still clutching her body through the parka. The kid was tired, annoyed, maybe a bit scared, though she’d certainly never admit it, stubborn as she was. Her body was caught in a constant shiver though, and that had him worried, too. It made him want to wrap his arms around her now and let her take as much body heat as she needed to get warm. As much as she needed. As much as it took.
“I’m really fine,” she muttered, a definite hint of obstinance edging her voice.
“I’m calling the shots on this one, kid. And yer not fine. Ya need heat and rest, in that order.” He folded his arms across his chest as he eyed her, daring him to contradict what he knew she needed. She was too damn stubborn to cede his point, and the only sign of her annoyance was the clenching of her jaw as she breathed.
Remy returned a minute later with a small zippered pouch with a red cross embroidered on one side. The rending of the zipper echoed loudly in the small space, bouncing off the concrete walls.
“Come on, chère. Time to clean that wound. Remy don’t want you gettin’ anymore hurt than you already are.”
Rogue exhaled in defeat as she leaned on the edge of the desk and quickly unzipped the thick parka and then reached around to undo the zipper of her uniform. She efficiently rolled down the leather, exposing her skin, shivering harder with the sudden chill. Logan couldn’t help but inhale sharply at the sight of her pale skin marred by dark crusted blood. It was deeper than he’d thought. Fuck. She’d lost more blood than he’d expected too, her uniform was soaked with it, and it stained her arm where it’d run down in rivulets. He mentally cursed himself for not payin’ enough attention. No wonder she’d been shivering so hard.
Goddamn her stubbornness. None of this would be a fuckin’ problem if she’d just let herself absorb a little of his healin’ factor. He’d be able to take care of that gouge in her arm from the bullet in no time. But the kid already had so much of him in her head already, so much so that he couldn’t even fuckin’ warrant asking her anymore. She’d refuse anyway. She always refused, ten fucking years of refusing any offers of healing, which sent a pretty goddamn clear message to him. She didn’t want, or need, anything more from him. Logan couldn’t really blame her though. He was fucked up enough to know that the those two previous times, especially that last time, had left her shaken, changed. But, still, tonight had proven that she didn’t seem to mind touching the Cajun all that much. And that didn’t settle right with him. God fucking damnit.
Remy was sorting through the small first aid kit and smiled as he held up a couple of alcohol wipes and a sterile gauze bandage. He quickly tore one of the wipes open, and Rogue hissed as it made contact with the raw and bloodied skin of her upper arm. Logan shifted his weight into his heels, willing away the antsy feeling in his joints as he forced his muscles to remain still, feet firmly planted in the same spot. He watched LeBeau’s hands lightly touching the smooth muscled skin of her upper arm as he cleaned away the dried blood with the alcohol, the results of which smeared dark red across Rogue’s skin. He felt the wildness of Wolverine rising up to take notice of her blood, he growled, didn’t fuckin’ like it, didn’t fuckin’ want that other man touchin’ her.
Logan shoved the animal back down with difficulty, but he couldn’t help his eyes from traveling up the length of her wound over her naked shoulder, up the smooth arch of her collar bone. Her skin was practically luminous under the pulse of her neck, and curve of her breasts nestled in her dark green sports bra. Her chest moved up and down, her breathing slightly choppy as LeBeau continued to clean her wound and she mentally worked through the pain. Occasionally, she shuddered involuntarily, gritting her teeth and closing her eyes. And every time it happened Logan felt his fists clench, the itch of his claws burning between his knuckles as he forced himself to stay put. He wanted to be the one helping her, and he wanted to be the only one touching her.
He could still smell the Cajun on her after she’d fuckin’ touched him to borrow his powers. Logan hadn’t been able to help his demand that she ride with him on the snowmobiles. Sure, he’d keep her warm, but he also wanted her to have to plaster herself against him, and maybe smell a little more like him because of it.
“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Logan realized she was finally speaking, effectively yanking him out of his thoughts.
“It’s a nasty gouge, but you’ll live, kid,” Logan muttered. She gave him an annoyed look, and hissed a bit as Remy wrapped the gauze around her smoothly muscled arm.
“No, not my goddamn arm, Logan. The weapon they’re building. Or they wouldn’t have been so intent on killing us.”
Logan frowned at that. He turned to look at LeBeau again, thinking. They’d never had a chance to ask him what he and Kitty had found in the development lab before the shit had hit the fan.
“Cajun, you make out anythin’ from R&D?” Logan asked, suddenly curious.
The other mutant only shrugged as he finished up the dressing on Rogue’s arm and murmured, “I don’ know what I was lookin’ at. But the Shadowcat, she seemed worried before the explosion went off.”
“God, I hope she’s okay,” Rogue said quietly, almost to herself.
He caught Rogue’s eyes as Remy finished wrapping her arm. He knew what she was thinkin’. If Kitty had been worried, whatever they’d been sent to investigate was likely a lot further along than they’d anticipated. Shit. Once they got outta this fucked up situation, there was gonna be another one to deal with right afterward.
“All done, chère,” Remy murmured smoothly as he tucked one edge of the gauze into the dressing securing it as best he could without tape. Something inside Logan recoiled with anger as he watched Remy run his hand down Rogue’s bare arm and squeeze her fingers where they rested on the desk in encouragement before he packed away the unused supplies.
“So, straws or what?” Rogue joked, glancing across the room at the mattress still leaned up against the far wall, before staring up at the two men once more. She’d clearly realized that one of them was gonna have to stay up and keep watch. Logan still didn’t know what he wanted more - to keep her warm, or to watch out for her safety. Luckily, Gambit was the one to break the silence through a tired sigh.
“Ah, ma chère. Your health is the most important. The Wolverine is correct - he is - taller. He can get you nice an’ warm, and Remy can be finishing up the night with you.”
Her scent flared with interest at Remy’s words, and Logan stifled a growl. He’d noticed her reaction too when she’d absorbed Remy earlier in the snow. Her scent had thickened with arousal and he’d fuckin’ hated that it was Remy that caused that type of a response in her. But by now, he was used to lettin’ her go about livin’ her life. Just because they were in the middle of this shitstorm didn’t mean he was gonna do anything different to mess up what she wanted.
Remy winked at Rogue before he turned his back to them both and settled in by the window keeping watch. The swamp rat had already realized what Logan instinctively knew. LeBeau may be a mutant, but his body heat was no more than a regular man, and Logan, well, Logan was different. He could keep her warmer for longer, at least enough to warrant taking the first shift.
Logan sighed before he moved over to where the filthy mattress lay propped up against the far wall. With an easy flick of his wrist, he tossed it down to the center of the small room. He didn’t like the way it smelled, but he couldn’t do shit about it. Rogue looked down at it in mild disgust before bringing her gaze upward once more.
“It ain’t much, kid. But it’ll do. Softer than concrete, right?” he asked.
Something deep and dark gripped him as he stalked over to where she stood. She looked at him hesitantly, a soft vulnerability in the brown of her irises. She was still partially uncovered, the dressing starkly white across her upper arm.
“Yer gonna need that jacket, kid. Best cover up,” he found himself muttering.
He noticed her blush, even as she started zipping up the uniform and coat once more. He turned from her then, giving her as much privacy as he could, and lowered himself to the mattress. He stretched out his long legs and placed his hands behind his head, forcing himself to appear relaxed even though he felt anything but. She stared at him for a moment, blinking.
“I won’t fuckin’ bite, Rogue. Just lay down,” he grumbled. She frowned slightly, even as she lowered herself to her knees on the mattress next to him. lt was an awkward moment as they both settled in, and he could practically feel the tension strung through her muscles, even though she had kept a small but careful sliver of space between them. Some time passed in silence as she restlessly shifted on the mattress, and he finally heard her exhale frustratingly as she tried to get comfortable. She was a twitchy thing, and Logan felt himself grow steadily annoyed at her inability to stay still.
“Settle down, kid,” he muttered.
“My arm is killing me,” Rogue said, her voice slightly rough with that sort of desperate fatigue. “And it’s freezing. How the hell am I supposed to sleep?” she asked, a definite note of annoyance in her tone as she turned to him sharply. The sudden movement caused her long hair to fan out, causing a wave of scents to move through the air toward him. The crisp scent of snow and ice, the underlying scent of smoke from the grenades and gas from the snowmobiles, and her own unique scent underneath it all; fresh grass, sunshine, the smell of good tilled earth and herbs. It was something that always spoke to the Wolverine, the clean smell of nature that emanated from her. Something he craved.
He frowned as he cocked an eyebrow at her. “It’d help if you got closer to me, kid. I’ve got plenty of warmth for the both of us. Once you get warm you’ll start to relax. Now’s not the time to be shy. ”
Even before she had fully complied, Logan was guiding her, turning her gently so she was on her right side, her back against the long line of his body. He turned into her body then, and he slowly lowered his arm around hers, careful to avoid the area where her bandage was beneath her coat and uniform. His lips were now a hairsbreadth away from the nape of her neck. Her scent was even stronger here, and with difficulty he forced himself to ignore the sudden impulse to use his teeth and tongue against that tempting pulsing throb of her heartbeat. She had stopped twitching, body becoming heavier, encompassed as it was by his own, but he still sensed notes of her restlessness. After a bit of time, he felt her sigh against him once more.
“I can’t stop thinking. My mind won’t shut off,” she mumbled. He felt the vibrations of her words against his chest, and he shut his own eyes as he struggled to find the right words. I can think of somethin’ to help tire you out, darlin’, why don’t you lift one of yer legs and I’ll rip off those pants and - Jesus fuck. The thought had been so fucking clear. What the fuck was wrong with him?
He shook his head slightly, losing that train of thought, even though his grip tightened instinctively around her. He was so fuckin’ close to her that his lips were practically hovering just beyond her ear, and suddenly he was murmuring to her whatever came in his mind.
“Just… let yer mind drift. Right, kid? Listen to my breathin’. Feel the rise and fall of my chest against your back. Tune out everythin’ else and follow it.” He could tell it was helping, felt her body slowly giving way. Her breath became even and slow as he kept speaking. “Feel it in yer nose, chest, and abdomen. And then follow it back out. Feel my warmth seep into your bones. Feel it radiate out toward your arms, legs, hands, and feet. And just, breathe.”
And then the rest of her body sort of melted into him, finally relaxed and comfortable. It was in the steady rhythm of her breath, the way she fell into herself, finally. Utterly trusting in her sleep.
The night stretched itself out as a quiet stillness descended on them all. Soon, the only sounds were that of their breath and LeBeau, who was still standing by the window, occasionally shifting his weight. Logan had to hand it to the swamp rat; the man knew how to stay alert, even in the throngs of bitter cold and overwhelming exhaustion.
Sleep didn’t come for Logan. He knew it wouldn’t. Her scent was intoxicating; he was swimming in it. He hadn’t been this close to the kid in, god, fucking years. Rogue was always one to keep her mind at an arm’s-length from the rest of her, but now that she was asleep, that tension fell away. Fucking hell. What the fuck did that mean? The Wolverine growled in the blatant answer to the question, but Logan was quick to stiffen at the same response.
Ever since Rogue had gone off to college and experienced a bit of the world, she’d come back a spitfire, hell on wheels. Now, she was dangerous. Powerful. Her mind and her body were quick, as was evidenced by the way she had taken up that fucking gun and had mowed over those sorry fuckers back at the research facility. It was fuckin’ unsettling, all that power. And there was no denying, that because of it, their relationship had developed an edge. It had sharper corners now. And goddamn him if it didn’t stir something deep inside him.
She’d always been the student to his teacher. The mentee to his mentor. And right now all he could think about was rippin’ off that leather with his fucking teeth. Get a fuckin’ grip. Jesus. He was a goddamn animal. One whiff of her, one brush of her hair against his lips, and he couldn’t think of anything else.
He willed his mind to focus. For a long while, he zeroed in on the sounds around him. The steady rise and fall of her breath, the thud of her heart in her chest. Occasionally she would whimper in her sleep, soft sharp intakes of breath that prickled that place inside of him that he kept shoving aside.
After more hours slipped away, he finally heard LeBeau fumbling around in the dark, doing god knows what, and Logan’s eyes snapped open. Fuck. He’d forgotten all about the swamp rat. He didn’t wanna get up, didn’t want to leave her side, but he knew it wasn’t fair for LeBeau to keep watch all night. He didn’t have Logan’s healing, and he needed rest, just as Rogue did. Logan grumbled as he pushed himself up smoothly from the mattress and tried to ignore the small noise of loss Rogue issued in her sleep as her unconscious mind noticed the sudden lack of warmth.
Maybe it was a result of the line of thought he’d been perusing, but he couldn’t help but give a low growl of warning as LeBeau neared the edge of the mattress. “You try anythin’ on my watch, swamp rat and I’ll make damn sure you don’t leave this continent with both balls intact.”
The Cajun stopped mid-stride and cocked his head as he appraised Logan, those fuckin’ red eyes glowing in the semi-darkness. “What’s it to you, homme?” he responded quietly. “You think you gotta protect ma chère here? She’s a woman grown, she can choose who she wants, and she don’ need the Wolverine to save her from big bad Remy.”
“Just keep yer hands - and yer dick - to yerself, Cajun. She needs rest, not for some smooth-talkin’ red-eyed creep to feel ‘er up,” he growled. Fuck this smug asshole for questioning him. He felt a tick in his jaw as he noticed LeBeau scooting closer to Rogue, taking the position that Logan had been enjoying just a minute ago. He didn’t want to fucking see that. It seemed wrong for someone else to be enjoying breathing in the heat from her body.
Logan strode over to the window, keepin’ one eye on Remy as he settled in next to Rogue, and another on the cold quiet night. The snow was comin’ down harder now, obscuring their tracks. Good, he thought.
Hours passed. He wasn’t sure how many. But slowly, something changed, and the snow on the ground seemed to illuminate on its own. The sun would rise soon. The whole world seemed to shift just slightly with his realization, and his ears perked as he heard the change in her breath. It grew more shallow, she began to stir, restlessly. She was waking up. And then, like clockwork. There was a subtle shifting of her body, and her eyes blinked open, confused and drowsy in the early, pre-dawn light, even as Remy still snored beside her.
“You doin’ alright, kid?” he asked quietly. He didn’t want the swamp rat to wake up.
She groaned slightly as she sat up, body protesting as she tested the movements in her injured arm. “Ugh. My arm feels like shit,” she hesitated, then blurted out, “And I’ve gotta pee.” She sighed as she got up from the mattress, rolling her shoulders to work the kinks out. He couldn’t help but watch the movements of her body as she tried to loosen her stiff muscles. The uniform, while never really that comfortable to begin with, was always a pain in the ass to sleep in, the leather would ride up, bunch, and was generally all-around uncomfortable. She tugged at the sleeves of her coat and when that failed to force her uniform back into a comfortable place, she sighed in frustration as she jerked down the zipper of the parka. Logan watched as she pulled at the fabric, realigning it to its proper position, and couldn’t help but notice the press of her breasts as she tugged the uniform back into place.
“You sleep okay?” he asked, tryin’ to take his focus off her body.
She raised one of her eyebrows at him as she quickly zipped her coat back into place, and he let out a small chuff of air at her reaction.
“Yeah, definitely got my beauty sleep on that ancient stained creaky-ass smelly freezing mattress.”
“Well, kid. Sorry I don’t have yer usual coffee for ya. But there’s a plenty big bathroom right on the other side of the door if ya need it.”
“Thanks,” she said dryly as she headed for the bent metal door. She turned the handle and pulled, a creaking rusty sound echoing through the small room. But the door didn’t budge, having apparently settled again during the long night. She let out an exasperated sigh and turned back to face him. “You mind?”
He grunted as he strode over and easily swung the door loose from its frame. He held one arm aloft as she exited the room, shivering as a fresh blast of icy air stuck her face. “Stay where I can see ya,” he called after her as she strode out into the snow.
“I’ll pee wherever the hell I want, Logan!” she called after him.
Logan couldn’t help but snort in amusement, and he kept his eyes glued to her slight figure as she trudged further and further into the woods. She disappeared behind a large pine tree trunk and the thick falling snow finally caused him to lose sight of her.
He kept his gaze locked onto the tree where she’d disappeared, counting the minutes before she came back into sight. One minute. Two. Then three. How long does it take a girl to pee in the woods? He thought violently. He didn’t like that he couldn’t see her, but he’d respect her privacy all the same. He didn’t envy her, that was for damn sure. Havin’ to bare her skin to that fuckin’ freezing air just to relieve herself?
Four minutes. Five.
Six.
What the fuck? He stilled his body as his ears pricked at a sudden noise. Had she screamed? Or was that just the fuckin’ wind? The hair on his arms stood straight up, as he heard another noise. A faint snarl echoed across the snow and the bitter taste of adrenaline flooded his mouth as he tore out of the shelter, trudging through the snow as fast as he could. It’d fallen at least another foot during the night, and came up to mid-thigh.
“Rogue!” he called out, heedless of alerting another person to his presence. He didn’t give a shit if they heard him; he’d fuckin’ rip their guts out if they’d hurt her.
And then, from just off his right shoulder, he heard what sounded like a growl. Logan’s ears perked as he turned his head around quickly toward the source of the noise. Was it another feral mutant? Fuckin’ Sabretooth? Then he heard it again and fear ripped through him. Fuck. The air was tinged with electricity, like those final moments right before a knock-out bloody gruesome fight. And still, he didn’t see her.
“Marie?!” he shouted, desperation coloring his call, whipping his head this way and that. White. Everything was fucking white. He was sick of all this goddamn snow.
The same sound came again. This time, more clear and off to his left. The animal in him rose up, now just underneath the surface, responding to the threat of violence. Several hearts beating, wild and erratic. The sound of panting, the origin of the noises constantly shifting around him.
The animal was itching, claws out, ready to bury them inside the warm innards of the threat. And then he saw one. A flash of light grey overlaid on white. Another sniff of the air and he realized. These weren’t feral mutants, these were simpler, more base creatures. They were animals. A fuckin’ pack of wolves. Two to his right, one ahead. Another one rounding on his left. A fifth somewhere else. Rogue...nowhere. Where the fuck was she? Logan snarled, whipping around in the snow. They were surrounding on him, one on each side. That’s why packs were so fucking useful; they could overwhelm you from any angle.
Logan tried to calculate the best strategy, weigh his options, but he was fighting the Wolverine’s desperate rage too. He could feel the restraints slipping, the chains were threatening to snap entirely. And then. He smelled it. The sharp tang in the air. Coppery and pungent. Blood. Fucking goddammit her fresh blood. It wasn’t just the slow trickle of a bullet graze either. It was a gush of warm life leaching out of her and he still didn’t know where the fuck she was. And just like that, the chains gave way and Wolverine roared as he took in the puny threats surrounding him. He charged the nearest beast, his snarl of rage and violence rebounding off the frozen trees, as his claws ripped and shredded through warm flesh and bone.
His instincts reared up and took over, Wolverine rising to the challenge of fighting with the more primitive beasts surrounding him. The claws whirled through the air, the weak morning sunlight flashing off the adamantium before they were covered in the blood of the animals. He defeated them almost too easily. Every bite, every searing jolt of pain, was worth the effort to put them down quickly. It meant he could get to her that much faster.
A whining yelp from the last beast sounded across the snow and Wolverine snarled as he sniffed the air, desperate for a hint of her scent. There. It was coming from the east, behind a group of mature larch trees. He tore through the snow, leg muscles burning with the efforts at rendering the icy landscape. A flash of red and back from behind a tree. He sniffed again and frowned as he continued forward. He could sense Rogue, but there was something different, something sharper about her scent. It was wild, and the Wolverine was intrigued by the dissonant edge to her usual notes.
Another growl met his ears and he released the claws again, intent on gutting anything that had hurt her. He skidded to a stop near a cluster of pine trees as he whipped his head around furiously. Where? And then…by the edge of the bank of a frozen stream, he saw her.
Blood spattered and steamed in the snow turning it from virgin white to ruined red. A broken, limp form, fur jutting out in places was draped across her body. And then, the steady thud of her heart. Still beating. He exhaled in relief. As he made his way toward her, he realized the wolf that had attacked her was dead. But it wasn’t the wolf’s blood seeping into the ground, it was hers, and she’d lost a lot of it based on the deep pockets of red marring the snow.
He could only snarl as he rushed by her side, only to freeze in his tracks at the growl that met his ears.
She was laying prone, flat on her back in the cold damp ground. The blood was coming primarily from her right thigh, her uniform had served as little protection from the attack and he could make out the deep gouges and puncture marks left by the wolf’s jaws.
Rogue’s head jerked toward him and he couldn’t fuckin’ believe what was staring back at him. Her eyes were dark, opaque, and he saw an unending void in them as they locked eyes while she slowly rose up. Then, she gave another harsh growl in his direction, the curl of her lip ticking up, her legs seeking purchase in the frozen ground. The slow shifting of muscle and skin as she heaved the last of the wolf’s body aside, and then she was stalking toward him. Purely feral, entirely animal. And he knew in that moment exactly what had happened.
She’d killed the fuckin’ thing to protect herself. By touchin’ it. Fucking christ.
Another snarl, and Logan couldn't help but growl back. The deep timbre of his growl put hers to shame as it reverberated against the quiet morning of the forest. But she didn’t stop her pursuit. She maintained that slow saunter toward him, her eyes fathomless as her intentions were broadcast in the language of her body.
So that was how it was gonna be. That kinda language.The kind that didn’t need words. About damn time, was the last coherent thought he had. He’d make her understand. Make her realize, and the Wolverine snarled with satisfaction.
She was his.