As I sit here, listening motorcycle pull away outside, my mind starts to drift back through years. All those decades pass by, until I’m in my room again…
I know I shouldn’t be awake anymore. Dad will be angry when he comes home. But I can’t sleep. Not nights like this. Not when he’s somewhere out there, numbing his mind and body. I worry. I know he’s practically immortal, my superhero dad who once saved the world, but I can’t help it. Not when he’s been in a sullen mood all day long, throwing icy glares towards me, and trying to start fights with other residents. Not when I find blood from the bathroom floor just minutes after he leaves, slamming the door behind him and disappearing in to night.
He’s so sad and angry. Usually he’s nice, even smiling and joking with me, taking me out to watch baseball, helping me with homework and stuff. Then, once in a year this weird monster man comes out to play. I can usually tell it when it happens. I have learned to read the signs. He’s quiet at breakfast, just grunting halfhearted greeting, burying himself behind the paper with a huge cup of coffee. He really tries. He tries to make it stop. Makes an honest effort to act civilized, but usually before midday he’s so wound up that a simple “hello” makes him snarl. He’s angry at everybody, and especially to me. He never says anything, but more than once he has been sitting there, across me, only table between us, sickening black hate simmering in his eyes. Those horrible claws slowly inching their way out. When that happens, he usually leaves and goes to DR.
The Danger Room. His playground. He has taken me there couple of times, but he told me not to go there alone, because it’s dangerous.
“Little girl like you can get killed in there.”
I still remember it, clear as a day. We were sitting outside of those huge doors. We had just been in there. I was gasping and shivering, He was rubbing my back, trying to ease tension in my muscles. We hadn’t been there half an hour, and I was wiped out. He wasn’t even out of breath.
“Maybe we should wait until you manifest. No use to throw you to the wolves before you can at least defend yourself.”
“But dad…” This had been his idea. Not a bad one. I loved when we did things together. No matter what it was, he always treated me as his equal. Not bossy or pampering like my teachers.
“Hush. You turn fifteen next month. I would like to see you in one piece that day, not in full body cast in med lab.” When he mentioned my birthday, I shivered. It would be a good day. In fact, it would be excellent day. What I feared was the day after it. The day the monster would reign again.
I can hear front door opening. Heavy boots clunking to the kitchen. Scrape of a chair against the floor. I know what I will find when I go there. He’s sitting there, reeking of cheap liquor, in complete darkness, clutching a faded photograph in his hand and talking to it, like the person in that picture were there in flesh. That is actually scarier than any other thing I have seen him do during these days. That calm voice, thanking God, telling to my dead mother he made it through the day without killing me.
I know the right moment to approach him. When it’s safe again. When he tucks the picture back to his pocket, above his heart, and leans back in his chair. I can almost see tangible evidence, thick black, smoky tendrils of hate flowing from him, bleeding through his skin and disappearing to the shadows around us. I flick on the light, take a chair and sit to the other side of the table.
“The fuck are you doing up at this hour?” He asks, standing and going to fridge, starting to pull out cheese, ham, mayonnaise and everything else that makes mean sandwiches.
“Couldn’t sleep. Got hungry. Make me one, too?”
“You’ll rot your fucking teeth…” He grumbles, whips up huge loaf of bread and several cans of soda. Pulls out the leftovers of my birthday cake and clunks it to the table, too.
We do this every year. He’s slowly winding down, movements still little sluggish from all the booze he drank earlier. He makes us sandwiches; we eat them and drink the soda, then finish the cake after he has reminded me to brush my teeth before I go back to bed. We chat about not so important things. What I could wear tomorrow in school. What do I think of teachers in there. What movie we should go and see next Saturday. Couple times I have tried to propose I could go with some boy. Right. Like that day would come anytime soon.
“You have time to run after boys later. Humor your old man.”
“Dad! I’m fifteen!”
“And next year you will be sixteen. Seventeen comes after that. I can count perfectly well, girlie.” He winks at me and takes a bite from his sandwich. And I know this is the one battle I will never ever win. I’ll be probably old and grey, other foot in grave before he caves in and allows me to start dating.
“Look, I don’t want you to rush in to things. You have time. Grow up. Enjoy life. You have time to fool around and make mistakes later.” I know not to press the subject. Not to harass the beast still looming under his skin. We finish the cake in silence. I go to brush my teeth, he stays in the kitchen, and when I lay on my bed, I can hear water running and him moving around, arranging things and washing dishes.
Next morning he’s always little weird. Overprotective. And getting on my nerves. Usually by midday I’m angry enough to chew his head off, but it gets easier when evening comes, and he gets his feelings under control again. No more embarrassing moments when daddy dearest busts in the middle of English lit, demanding to know if I’m absolutely sure I’m alright. Thank God I’m not in a communal school. I don’t think they would understand him like Professor Xavier’s staff does. They just shook their head and smile little, sad smile when he whips me up from my desk, eyes roaming over my whole body, seeking proof that I really am alright.
Yes. I’m Tina. My dad is The Wolverine, resident psychopath who they reluctantly deal with because of his skills in battle. My mother is The Rogue. Young mutant with untouchable skin. She’s dead now. Died the day after I was born, succumbed under complications. And I have a hunch my dad blames me for her death as much as he blames himself.
I can hear them around me, hushed voices. Somebody’s tugging the blanket on my lap, taking it away. Hands around me. Lifting me carefully from my comfy rocker. They are taking me to bed. Usually I don’t mind, it’s easier this way, when they think I’m sleeping. But now I don’t want to go. I just want to sit here where I can see all those stars out on the black sky when I open my eyes.
“Let me be.”
“Oh, we thought you were sleeping. Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in your own bed?” I recognize that voice. Scott’s grandson. Adrian. Arrogant little bastard.
“Put me down, young man. I may be just an old woman, but if you know what’s best for you, you put me down. Right now.” Empty threats. But they don’t know it. They don’t know I’m burned out. And for the first time in years I draw in sweet scent of genuine fear. That makes my mind bolt back to the past again…
I was afraid. Scared young woman, clinging to his limp arm that hung over the edge of the gurney.
“Come on, Tina! You have to let go now!” Hank was trying to pry my hands off from dad. I couldn’t let go. There was so much blood. His skin was so cold. Every muscle stiff, every joint rigid. I could hear air wheezing through huge jagged tears on his chest.
There had been no fight. Not a damsel in distress, not some gloomy figure lurking in the dark. It had been a stupid accident in the middle of the day. Dad had been up on the roof, fixing the chimney with Scott. He had lost his balance. Scott had tried to grab him, but dad had known Scott wouldn’t have had the strength to keep him from falling. Scott might have fallen himself, too if he tried to save dad. So dad had curled to a ball, keeping his hands and legs near his body so that there had been almost nothing for Scott to grab a hold. He had fallen from the roof.
I don’t know why that had happened. Was it an accident, or his desperate attempt to get back together with mom? He had fallen on top of his hands, and when they turned him over… He had released his claws. Nobody could tell if he did it unconsciously or on purpose, but both sets had pierced him through his ribcage. That combined with massive internal bleeding caused him a shock.
I wasn’t crying. I couldn’t I could just hold his hand and stare at him mutely. He was as good as gone now. Lungs and heart punctured, brain squashed against his metal plated skull. And small voice started nagging inside of me. This couldn’t be the end. Shouldn’t be the end. In the end hero rode to the sunset with the girl. Granted, my dad was more like an anti-hero, and his girl was dead, but that was no reason to let him slip away, right? I could hear Hank huffing behind me.
“I’ll wait outside, Tina. Just call me when… Call me when it’s over.” I didn’t answer. My mind was fiddling with another, more important task.
I manifested on my eighteenth birthday, sitting next to the cold corpse of my father, in Xavier’s med lab. First I was there, and then I was flying high above the mansion, open sky spreading around me, gentle breeze ruffling my feathers. A sparrow. And at that moment, when I saw his soul speeding towards me, extending his hands and reaching for me, I became The Sparrow. He gave the meaning to my power when he wrapped around me, molding against my feathers, burrowing under them and making them strong.
“Take me there…” Greedy and eager whisper, forcing me forward. Higher and higher, until there was no air left to breathe. We didn’t need it. We kept going, his hands wrapped around my fluttering heart, feeding the furnace that was burning there.
“Faster!” His voice echoing inside of me. Then suddenly I could see our goal. Huge, shimmering Gate, wide open. The Limbo. And she stood at The Gate, on the other side of it, waiting for us. Waiting for him. Woman from the picture. Marie. I flew past her, and I could feel him tearing off from me. Like I was shedding my skin. I flew higher, and I could see them down below, wrapped up to each other’s arms. First time in years I could see Wolverine smiling. First time in my life I saw the love of his life, girl from his picture. Marie.
I tried to stay little further to give them privacy. It was obvious they had missed each other during these eighteen years. They were both crying. Hands grasping, seeking proof that other really existed. When they started to undress each other, I landed on top of a tall tree and turned my back on them. There was nowhere to go, I was linked together with him, bonded on this plane with a thin sliver of golden chain. Through that link I could hear, see, feel and taste everything he could. So, turning my back was more like a symbolic gesture.
That day I lost both of my parents, but gained a respecting ally from him. When we returned back to our own level, and woke up, him in his nearly healed body, me in my own, I could see only gratitude shining in his eyes.
“Little Sparrow…” He reached his hand and rumpled my hair, contended smile spreading to his face. I helped him sat up and together we limped out from there, his boots still leaving bloodied prints on the floor. He was nearly collapsing, and I was exhausted, but when Hank tried to come and help us Wolverine shooed him away.
We staggered to our suite. He went to shower first, to wash off the blood. I waited lying on the couch, trying to comprehend what had happened. Was this how my mom had felt when she drained somebody? It felt like small shards of him were still lodged deep inside of me. Feel of his claws when they slice their way out through skin and muscle. Taste of good Cuban cigar. Scent of vanilla and peppermint. Sound of their hearts, beating together. I could feel my wings, just under my skin.
Suddenly I was struggling to get free from this pathetic sack of meat and bones that tied me to this plane of existence. I was screaming and flailing, trying to push out, and then he was there. Bathrobe slung over his body, hands wrapped around me tightly. His hair and face still wet and soapy.
“Hush, Little Sparrow. Hush, now. Stay with me. Look at me. Look at me!” Hard slap to my cheek stopped my struggle, and I was able to calm down and face him.
“Learn to control it. Learn fast.” A command that I was willing to obey.
“I lost Marie because…” His voice trailed off, and suddenly I knew. I knew everything what had happened. Guess you could call suicide the ultimate complication caused by giving birth. And he knew I knew.
“We were so happy when we heard about you. She could have kept talking about you for hours. We had plans and dreams of what it would be like. Finally a happy family for both of us. When you were born, her world crumbled. Marie… She couldn’t touch you. We had thought you would be immune to her skin, but that wasn’t the case. She couldn’t deal with it…” Wolverine’s voice trails off. He doesn’t have to talk. Doesn’t have to tell me more. I can see it with my own eyes. The sight that greeted him when he walked in to her room, carrying me on his arms.
I’m out of words. So is he. We just sat on the couch, staring to nothingness, his hands still curled around me, my head resting against his shoulder. I’m starting to fall asleep. My eyes drift shut no matter how hard I try to stay awake.
“Just sleep now, Little Sparrow…” He whispers, hand soothing my hair, untangling long locks from knots.
I can still feel hands around me when I wake up. To my great disappointment they belong to Adrian. He’s carrying me towards my room. His grip is hurting my fragile bones, and I try to tell it to him, but all I can muster is a pained whimper. He doesn’t seem to notice, just mutters to himself something obscene about old bitches that should know what’s best for them. And I’m starting to get a bad feeling about this. I have no way of contacting him. No way to call The Wolverine, if something happens.
“What would Scott say if he saw you now?” My voice is quivering; I’m croaking like and old crow. Adrian snorts, clutching a pillow in his hands, hovering little hesitantly beside my bed.
“Grandpa is dead. He doesn’t have a say in this matter!” He suddenly shouts, trying to get courage to do what he was going to do when he thought I had fallen to a sleep again. For a moment he looks like he’s about to give in to his urge to flee, then new kind of determination hardens his eyes, and pillow lands on my face. I can hear glass breaking and wind from outside sweeps over me, making me shiver…
I learned to control my gift. It took me nearly a year; grueling work hours spent focusing and turning my thoughts and mind, until I was even able to transform not only my mind, but my physical appearance as well.
Despite his earlier promises Wolverine never took me to DR.
“That’s no place for a little bird like you. You could get killed in there.” And where would that leave him? New kind of hope was spurring him on now. No more long, cold and lonely nights. Every evening for the past year I had taken him to Marie, and we had spent our nights in Limbo. Every morning it became harder to drag him away from there. Those trips of ours had become a drug for him. A sedative. With the right kind of dosage healing, but we were out of control. He was getting an overdose.
“Take me there!” He was pounding behind my door. I know he could break in if he really wanted.
“No! I’m too tired.” A lie, but I was hoping he wouldn’t detect it. I had never lied to him before. Pounding stopped, and I could hear his footsteps, retreating down the corridor, towards his own suite. It couldn’t be this easy. Couldn’t.
I felt guilty. Guilty enough not to sleep. Taking him to Limbo was the one thing I could do for him. The one thing that he lived for. My birthday had come and gone, as had the feared day after it. He had spent that whole day in there, with Marie. When we returned next morning he had taken me to watch baseball. Just like back then, when I was still just a kid.
I flicked on the small lamp on my bedside table and tried to read. Book started shivering and tilting in my hands, letters melting to incoherent blur in front of my eyes, until it was impossible to stay awake anymore. I let the book fall to the floor and my eyes closed. Yet sleep stayed away. My body was there already, limp and heavy, but my mind was still on him, Marie and Limbo. Trying to find a way to make him realize we couldn’t continue like this. Eventually he wouldn’t want to leave from there at all. And I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t leave him behind. When we were flying, there was a link between us. Part of me would always stay with him if he decided not to come back home from Marie, and I wasn’t willing to give up that part permanently.
Sound of breaking glass roused me from my stupor, but I didn’t have the time to react. He was crouching on the windowsill, and next moment he was on top of me, knuckles pressing to the soft underside of my jaw, other hand tangling to my hair and bending my head backwards.
“Fly, Little Sparrow. Fly…” I was so scared and I had no choice. I spread my wings and we took off.
Journey to Limbo was nightmarish mix of terror and joy. I loved the feeling of wind caressing me, small particles of radiation flowing over me, making my grey feathers shimmer in all colors of the rainbow. At the same time I was painfully aware of his claws, pressing against my heart, inching deeper if I dared to slow down. I was a wreck when we reached the Gate. When he released me and went to her, I nearly fell from the sky. I had learned to shield my mind from him during these moments in here, but now I was too exhausted to do that. I could feel every frantic and needy thrust he made, like I was there instead of him. After a while he seemed to realize what was happening. His own shields, heavy and sharp as a razor, slammed down, nearly severing the link. I still knew he was there, but it was more like he was in another room.
Pillow is off from my face and I can breathe again. There’s a sound of scuffle, two figures grappling and struggling next to my bed. Then the other, bigger one seems to get the upper hand and throws the smaller one out from the open door, closing and locking it. Light flickers on and figure turns to face me. Wolverine. Wind tousled hair, grim lines on his face, whole body shivering.
“You alright, Sparrow?” Wind blows through the broken window and makes curtains billow and fly. Cold gust wakes up aches in my bones. I can’t make my throat work. Not a sound comes out when I open my mouth. I’m still too wrapped up around the fact that Adrian tried to kill me.
“You’re coming with us.” He decides and starts to shuffle around, collecting clothes and items he knows I will need, packing them to an old, tattered duffel bag.
“I thought you left,” I croak.
“Had a hunch. Looks like I was right. Took Marie to a motel. She’s waiting for us in there.” He’s in my bathroom now, voice echoing from the tiled walls.
“I can’t ride a bike.” My legs still work on good days, but mostly they are just useless weight.
“We’ll figure out something,” he promises, and I can hear from his voice he already has everything figured out. He’s just not going to reveal his plan to me before I need to know. He’s a regular 007 of the mutants. He emerges from the bathroom, duffel flung over his shoulder, and stops. Tilts his head. Listening.
“We have to go, now. Adrian alerted the cavalry.” He scoops me to his arms, and I know where we are going. I have just enough time to squeeze my eyes shut and grasp a firm hold from around his neck. He takes a few steps, other foot ending to the windowsill. Small shards of glass scrunch under his boot, muscles tensing, and then he leaps.
Again we are airborne, just like all those years ago. This time our roles are reversed, I’m hitching a ride from him, and instead of gaining altitude we are falling rapidly. Jarring thud when his feet touch the gravel. He stumbles a little, but keeps his balance. His bike is waiting just around the corner. He shrugs off his jacket and wraps it around me. Gets on the bike and pulls me between his long legs.
“Hold on, little bird.”
She’s watching me with morbid curiosity. My mom. Marie. Rogue to me. She really has never been part of my family. Just an extension of my dad. A woman that visits me once a year out of sense of duty. Now I’m misplaced, sitting on top of sickly yellow comforter on a bed in filthy motel room, and she sees me as a person. Those eyes scan every inch of me, taking in every detail. Then she stands up.
“Logan, we need to talk.” Five little words and they walk out, closing the door after them. Reminding me of another discussion decades ago.
I had been wondering how long it would take from others to notice what was going on. How long until they started questioning Wolverine’s actions. It took them little over a year. Year before anybody, even the professor noticed I had manifested.
“Logan, we need to talk.” We had been sitting in the garden. He was telling me about Marie, when professor interrupted us and dragged him inside, to his study. I wasn’t invited, but I followed them and sat behind the door to listen. I had a hunch about the topic of their conversation. And I was right.
“I know what you have been doing. You have to stop it.” Professor. Matter of fact like always.
“No.” Wolverine. Already pissed off.
“I will not allow this perversion under my roof any longer. If you wish to stay, you will leave her alone.”
“Fine…” Wolverine grunted and I could hear scrape of the chair against the floor.
“What are you doing? I’m not finished with you yet!” Professor.
“Yes, you are. And we’re leaving.” Leaving? To where?
“Fine. I will notify the authorities and let them take care of the situation…”
“What fucking situation?” I can hear Wolverine sitting down again. He sounds still angry, but there’s confusion in the mix as well.
“She is of legal age, but last time I checked incest was against the law in this state.” And that’s my cue to walk in. Because this is getting way too creepy and gross and I have no idea how Wolverine will react to that accusation. I don’t want him to gut professor.
“What is going on in here?” I ask when I enter. Professor looks surprised. Wolverine looks disgusted.
“We were having a conversation. It’s private in nature, so would you be as kind and let us finish it alone?” Professor asks.
“I heard your conversation. And I must say it made me sick. How can you live with that kind of filth running through your head?”
“Sparrow…”
“No, Wolverine. Somebody has to clear this mess before it gets even uglier,” I silence him and turn my attention back to professor who looks utterly confused.
“There’s nothing improper going on between me and Wolverine. My mutation allows me to help him, and that’s what we have been doing. I have been taking him to see mom. Frankly it disgusts and amazes me that you really believed he would be capable of molesting his own daughter. You sure do have high opinion of him…” I snort. I turn around and walk out. I can hear Wolverine getting on his feet behind me.
“Thanks a bunch, Chuck. After all these years… You will have my resignation with in an hour. I’ll leave tonight.”
I know there’s no use to try to make him stay. I don’t want to stay. I go to his room. He’s packing up. Just clothes and some small knick-knacks to his old and battered knapsack. He travels light.
“Take me with you,” I ask. He tosses in the pile of shirts and sits on the bed, shaking his head.
“Professor was right. It’s wrong. I shouldn’t have done it. I forced you. Used you.”
“Fuck you, Wolverine. I thought we were well past self-pity already! You have no right to say that after what’s happened!” I’m angry. How dare he? After all I have done for him and mom. How dare he just sit there and tell me it was wrong? When everything that has come out of our arrangement has been good!
“I used you, Tina. That’s plain and simple. I’m your fucking father, and all I saw in you was a way to get Marie back to me! It’s not right. I’m leaving.”
“Fine! I’m coming with you, because I’m not as sure as hell going to stay with bunch of people who see me as a victim of abuse!” I shout.
“They see that because that’s what you are. I’m going alone, and that’s final.” His voice is low and controlled, so I dare to take this little further.
“I won’t let you go! It’s not acceptable…” And suddenly I’m unable to speak. His hand is grasping my throat, pressing me against the wall behind me; cutting off air and my voice. He leans closer, rage shimmering in his eyes.
“Shut the fuck up. You don’t get to tell me what’s acceptable and what’s not. I’m still your father.”
Sound of door opening wakes me from my momentarily slumber. Wolverine walks in alone. Sits on the bed next to me and flicks the TV on.
“Guess it’s just the two of us…” He huffs, trying to sound his arrogant self, but there’s deep sadness in his voice. He turns to look at me and smiles through the tears on his face.
“I fucked it up. She’s gone.”
I don’t know what to say, so I just place my hand on top of his and squeeze slightly. Letting him know I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. He wipes his eyes to his sleeve and clears his throat.
“I didn’t tell her I was taking you with me this time.”
“What made you come back for me?” I ask.
“I knew Adrian was up to something. Could smell it on him when he came to open the door for Marie and me when we came to see you. Little prick…”
“Maybe it would have been easier if you just had let him do it.”
“Easier? Yeah. But for once I wanted to do something right instead of easy. I haven’t been much of a father to you.”
“Little late now. I haven’t needed a father for long time. But I could use a friend…” I whisper, almost afraid of his reaction. I know he won’t hurt me, but there’s hurt, and then there’s another kind of hurt. I know it from experience.
I refused to use my gift. As soon as his bike sped out of the gates I retreated to my room. Spend a month cooped up in there, going out only during nights to raid the kitchen. Lied on my bed, waiting for the familiar thud of heavy boots and knock on the door. They never came. Instead of them Scott came to see me. Picked the lock while I slept, and when I woke up he sat there, on an armchair next to the window. I hadn’t noticed it before, but he was an old man. Yet he kept his body fit and stance straight.
“Isn’t it time to finish this stupidity already?” He asked. I just stared at him mutely. I was hurting. Wolverine had left and I was all alone, and Scott was mocking me. Calling me stupid. I wanted to cry, but I grit my teeth and refused to do that. I wouldn’t acknowledge my hurt and defeat in front of anybody. I was Wolverine’s daughter. Wolverines don’t cry.
“Everybody is worried.” Right. That’s why I had gotten so many wannabe visitors during the past month knocking at my door? I kept the door locked out of habit. After Wolverine left and rumor of the reason behind his abrupt disappearing had spread through the population they shunned me. Guess nobody wanted to be friends with a girl accused of sleeping with her own father.
“Is this the kind of behavior he expects from you?” Fucking Scott. I hated him.
“Screw you! It’s none of your business!”
“I knew I would get you to speak eventually…” Scott smiled. I wanted to slap him. I wanted to kick him and scream. Instead I lunged at his lap and buried my face against his shoulder, bawling my eyes out. It was humiliating, but I was so alone and I missed Wolverine so much. Scott let me cry, just sat there and stared out of the window until I calmed and backed away from his lap, taking a seat from my bed again.
“Did he hurt you?” He asked.
“No. Not the way everybody in here seems to think. But I feel bad anyway. In here…” I said and patted my chest. Wolverine did hurt me by leaving.
And now he had gotten a taste of his own medicine. I wanted to be able to gloat and rub it in his face. He had left me all those years ago. Marie had left him now. But I couldn’t do it. In a way we were both broken. Our little dysfunctional family. I leaned against him and he draped his arm around my shoulders.
“What do you want to do next?” He asked. I didn’t have any idea. Up until now my days had consisted of sleeping on a rocking chair in front of a window. What did he expect me to say? Nearly blind and deaf, crippled by arthritis and old age. There was not much I could do.
“I could teach you how to knit?” I croaked. His whole body was trembling, and it took me a while to realize he was laughing. Not out loud, but he was definitely snickering.
For a moment he was dad again. Not Wolverine, but just dad. We were sitting on my bed and he was telling me about funny co incidents that had happened during the day at work. Then he stood up, and it was Wolverine again. Grim lines etched on to his face, diving to the mini bar. There was not nearly enough booze in there to get him drunk, but it looked like he was going to try anyway.
“You want some?” He asked. I shook my head.
“Might clash with my medication.” I hated the way my words made him cringe.
“I’m old. I’m dying. Sue me,” I snarled with my best imitation of him, teeth bared, nose wrinkled and fists raised. He sighed and sat on the bed again.
“I wish there was a way to stop it. When you were a kid, I kept hoping that you would inherit my mutation. I was thrilled when you got your own nifty tricks, but all those years on the road… All I could think of was that one day I was going to bury my own daughter.”
“Is this it? My burial ceremony?” I asked. He nodded.
“In a way. I want to learn to know you again before you leave. I know I don’t have the right to ask you to stay with me, but I was planning to head up North and…”
“Take me with you,” I asked.
“I will, my little Sparrow…”
Scott’s intervention made me come out from my shell and start living again. I was still having dreams, and those I hated with passion. In my dreams I went in to his room and asked, begged Wolverine to take me with him when he left. In my dreams he never said no. He took me with him every night. And every morning I woke up frustrated and alone. But now I had friends. Friends who helped me to get through the day.
I was dating Scott’s son, Alec. He was a nice man. But just nice. We were just dating. He didn’t really need me and I didn’t really need him. He wanted my body, I wanted somebody to take away the longing and loneliness Wolverine’s departure had left in me. My gift scared Alec. He didn’t have the guts to fly with me. After couple of months we broke off, but remained close friends.
“You never got married. Why?” Wolverine’s voice brought me back from my memories.
“There was nobody brave enough to marry Sparrow. Nobody brave enough to claim a girl who flew with the dead.” Pompous? Arrogant? Melodramatic? All of those, and ultimate truth. I had had many suitors in my days, but eventually they all fled when they realized the extent and purpose of my gift.
“Fuckers. Well, it was their loss,” Wolverine grumbled and took a swig from his beer, leaning his back against the headboard of the bed, urging me to lean on him. I shook my head and rubbed my wrists. Slight grimace sneaked on my face. I tried to hide it, but he noticed and cursed softly.
“What the fuck was I thinking about? Should have put some clothes on you before getting out from there…” he murmured, got up and went rummaging my bags.
“Here.” Two small capsules on his palm. I took them.
“I’ll get you some water…”
After downing my meds there really was nothing more to do than just wait that they kicked in. Wolverine was shuffling and fussing, arranging the bed, getting more blankets and warming my hands between his palms. He nearly knocked over the beer bottle he had placed on the bedside table.
“Calm down… I will be just fine…”
“I fucking hate this. I couldn’t cope when you were sick. Still can’t. I was never good at treating you. Small flue or something life threatening, it was the same agony for me.” Sounds selfish? You have to look it from his point of view. Whenever mom was hurt, he could heal her in no time. With me he had to wait and let nature take care of it.
“Well, if it’s any consolation, I won’t probably hang around much longer. Few months is quite accurate estimate…” Drugs were kicking in and I started to feel better. Good enough to sleep. My eyes started drifting shut.
“I’ll figure out something. I already had a plan, but have to think of something else now that Marie’s out of the picture…” What the hell was he jabbering about…?
“Look, daddy! Look!”
“What is it?” He’s kneeling in front of me and lowering his head. I open my palm and present him proudly something small and white.
“A tooth? Where did that come from?” He asks. I smile and show the gap where that tooth used to be. For a moment he looks at me worried. Shadow looms over us.
“It’s alright, Logan. That’s supposed to happen.”
“I fucking know that, Jean…” Dad growls and takes the tooth from me, pocketing it.
“But I’m supposed to give it to Tooth-Fairy!”
“Why?” Dad looks puzzled.
“She’ll give me a dollar for it.” Dad pulls out his wallet and dugs out two dollars.
“Here. Tell Tooth-Fairy she’ll have to wait until next one falls off.”
I must be senile. It took me good part of the next day before I realized what Wolverine was up to. He had been gone all morning, arranging us more suitable transport and I had the time to think about our conversation. It struck me like a ton of bricks. When he returned I wasn’t sure weather to kick his ass or settle and let him have his way.
“Did you even consider asking me what I wanted?”
“No. It’s not your call.
“Not my call? Wolverine…” I took a deep breath and dug up a word I hadn’t used since I turned eighteen.
“Dad, this kind of decision… Shouldn’t it belong to me? Shouldn’t I be the one to choose what I want to do? Didn’t I earn that right?”
“No. And this matter is not open for discussion. I’ll find a way to keep you alive.”
“Do you really think I want to spend eternity like this? Old. In pain and crippled. Useless husk. If that’s what you thought, think again.” He frowned and reached for my hand. I knew that gesture. Knew it well.
I had been out late with my friends. That one time I had decided to stay away until he had gotten his feelings in control. I didn’t want to see him sitting alone in the dark and speaking to a non-existent person. I didn’t want to see that monster retreating and turning to my dad again. I wanted to forget that the monster existed.
I tried to sneak in. Sun was rising outside. I thought I had been clever up until heavy hand landed on my shoulder and dad yanked me to living room. He was furious. He hadn’t slept, and I could still smell booze and cigar smoke on him.
“Where the fuck have you been?” There was an awful looking yellow tint in his irises, and his pupils were like small, black pinpricks.
“Where the fuck have you been, Tina?” He asked again, shoving me against the wall and retreating, sitting to the couch at the other end of the room.
“I… I was…” I was stuttering. I couldn’t make it stop. I was ready to wet myself if he moved an inch towards me. Because I knew I wasn’t chatting with dad now. Dad was on vacation. The monster was calling the shots.
“Talk to me!” He barked, baring his teeth. It was like somebody welded my jaws shut. I couldn’t force the words out of my mouth even when it looked like my life really depended on how believable explanation I could offer to his question. And suddenly it became too much. I had been too quiet, too long. He growled and lunged towards me, fist raised, and I could see flash of his claws before I closed my eyes and shrunk against the wall.
Blow never came. When I opened my eyes he was standing in front of me, small beads of sweat forming to his forehead. Claws were hovering just above my collarbone and his hand was shaking. I dared to look in to his eyes. Instead of golden discs his usual brown pools met mine. Dad was back. Pissed off and scared shitless.
“Fuck.” He sheathed his claws and stumbled away from me.
“Dad?”
“Go to your room.”
“But dad…”
“Go to your fucking room! Now!” He snarled. That golden haze was bubbling to surface, mingling with brown.
“Lock the door!” I heard him shouting.
Three hours later he called me to dinner. We sat in the kitchen and ate, like nothing had happened. After we had eaten I stood and started to collect dishes. It was my turn to wash them. Dad stopped me. He grabbed my hand. I had never seen him so lost and desperate.
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why do I feel like there’s a but in there somewhere?” I asked. His warm fingers curled around mine, carefully. Like he was holding a bunch of straw. Too brittle, too fragile.
“Because there is. Your old man is a coward. I’m not ready to let go. Not even close. I won’t let you go. I’m sorry, but I’m not going to let you die on me.” He truly was sorry, but this was something mandatory. Something in which even dad didn’t have a say. That inner beast, monster, was calling the shots. Its possessive nature shone through Wolverine’s actions. I was his. His cub, and there was no way he would let me down without putting up a fight.
Wolverine had gotten us a camper. Well, maybe that’s a wrong word to describe the gleaming luxury liner. His bike was hitched in the back of it to a trailer. He was driving and I was resting in the back on a comfortable cot. Gave me a lot of spare time to think.
He had practically kidnapped me. Okay, he did it to save my life. For that I was grateful. I had accepted the fact that I was going to die, but Adrian suffocating me hadn’t even crossed my mind. I never liked that brat. Not even when he was a kid.
But back to my current problem. I was ready to die. Ready to let go. And now daddy dearest had found his parenting instincts and was determined to keep me alive and kicking. I had no idea how he was going to do it, but I’m sure he would find a way eventually. It was comforting, and in the same time quite terrifying thought. I had flown with the dead. He was challenging the Death itself. For the second time. First had been for my mom, in Death’s domain, and Wolverine had won. Now the battle would be fought at his home ground, and I had a feeling that the Reaper was going to get his ass kicked again. Shit.
Mom. Marie. Rogue. She wasn’t mom to me. My dad called her Marie. Everybody else had called her Rogue. Rogue would have to do for me, too. Other two choices were too personal. I had never really known her, and from the looks of it she wasn’t exactly thrilled of the idea of a child who was dying for old age.
Sudden jolt woke me from my thoughts. Wolverine had stopped the car and was patting his pockets. He fished out a cigar and his cell phone.
“I’m going to make a call. We are at the gas station. You need anything?” He asked.
“Bring me something to read.” I had to distract my mind somehow. My thoughts were getting too serious.
“Okay. Any magazine will do?” He asked. I nodded, staring out from the window. Weather looked chilly. There were children on the outside, playing in the snow. They were building a snowman to a small patch of undisturbed snow at the side of the gas station. It looked a little lopsided, ready to keel over, but I knew it wouldn’t fall. As long as kids stayed by its side it would stand tall and proud. They always did.
“Kid, listen to me…” Wolverine was back, still speaking, phone clutched between his ear and shoulder. Kid?
“Come on, Marie! Be reasonable…” Oh, he was talking with Rogue. He gave me the magazine he was holding and went out again. I could still hear his voice, but I couldn’t distinguish any words. From the way his voice kept getting louder I got the picture it wasn’t going well.
“Fucking brat. Grow up!” He snarled, climbing back to driver’s seat. Then he turned to look at me, mortified look on his face.
“I… Uh… I wasn’t talking to you. This isn’t going exactly the way I planned it…” He said, turned his attention to the parking lot in front of us and leaned back on his seat. When he next spoke, he nearly gave me a heart attack.
“I wish I could take it back. Let her rot in Limbo…”
That’s it. I was old and achy, but his words made my blood boil. I struggled up from the cot. Rage gave me strength to stand up and walk to him.
“Fuck you, dad. That is something you’re not allowed to say. You’re not allowed even to think about something like that. I gave good part of my life to bring her back to you. You don’t regret a trade like that.” Low growl echoed from his chest. Monster rising to the challenge. This time wolverine kept it on a leash.
“I have regretted it for some time now. Every fucking morning when I wake up and see her. I can’t keep wondering how I didn’t notice earlier how selfish and immature your mom was. And still is.”
“And now you’re planning to trade it back?” I asked. It was hard to believe what I was hearing. Was this the same man that had cried after her year after year? Offered his life, my life, just to get her back?
“Go… Go and read that fucking magazine…” In other words, go to your room and keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you. And once more I opened my big mouth. His hands were grasping the steering wheel, knuckles white as the snow behind the window.
“You’re the selfish one,” I hissed. He didn’t turn to look at me, but kept staring outside.
“Don’t you think I know it? I fucking know it. Never pegged your mother the same kind of bastard that I am…”
I managed to crawl back to the cot. Wolverine waited until I was settled before heading back to road. I felt sick. His great plan. How to fool the Reaper. Let Rogue drain me. He would get two in one. Jesus! My hands shook, but I forced myself to pick up the magazine he had brought for me and pretended to read it.
I had to find a way to get away from him. I knew now where we were going. We were going to visit mom. I discarded the magazine and dragged my bag from under the cot. Opened it. Clothes, toiletries, some knick-knacks and books. No meds.
“Looking for something?” I could hear his voice and small rattle. He kept his gaze on the road and one hand on the wheel. Other was curled around three little plastic jars. Door number one locked.
“Still not talking to me?” Wolverine asked. We had just eaten and he had given me my evening meds. Just enough to keep away the pain. Still not talking? What the hell there was to talk about? I had already told him what I thought about his horrendous plan. He had already told me my opinion didn’t matter.
“I called her again yesterday. She agreed to meet us at the cabin. Just to talk. Nothing more, yet. We still have time.” Yet. But what prevented him to go through with it anyway?
“Okay. I’m going to sleep now. Unless you need something?” He asked, discarding his jacket.
“Have you thought about it? What it would mean?” I asked after long moment of silence. Camper was pitch black and I couldn’t see a thing, but I could hear him shifting in his cot.
“Yeah. You get to live.”
“I would be inside of her. In her body. She doesn’t want that. I don’t want that.”
“There’s enough room for both of you. She managed to purge everybody else from her mind.”
“What makes you so sure she wouldn’t do that to me? She doesn’t even like me that much.” Clothes were rustling and suddenly he switched on the light.
“She’s your mother.”
“How do I make you understand this… She’s my biological mother. Woman who gave me birth. But she’s not my real mother. She doesn’t know me. She doesn’t want to learn to know me. She wants to forget that I exist and go back to the happy life with you. And I don’t blame her for that. I’m willing to give that to her. To you. Which brings us to the other part of the dilemma…”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Wolverine asked. Now he started to look pissed off. His solution to problems. Get angry. If that doesn’t solve it, go berserk and throw in the claws.
“If she drains me and takes me in her head, next time you’re fucking her, you’d be fucking me too.” And I was so goddamned sure this was it. The one and only thing that would make him to back out.
“We do not fuck. In Limbo it was possible, don’t really know why, but out here her skin… It’s just not possible.” Like I really wanted to ponder the finer aspects of my parent’s sex life or the lack of it, but that brought up another question.
“How the hell did I come to this world, then? I’m sure even you have heard about flowers and bees?” I asked. Wolverine smirked.
“Test tube. That’s all it takes. Had to try it quite a few times, but finally we managed. You have no idea how happy we were…” He got dreamy look on his face.
“So… It’s still… Remember that little chat we had with the professor? About incest?”
“Yeah. What about it?” Wolverine asked.
“Jesus! Do I have to spell it out for you?” I huffed. Wolverine’s brows knit together and he frowned. Sure sign he wasn’t catching my drift and he hated it.
“You can’t love mom and me the same way. That would be gross. Ergo we cannot share the same body and stay with you. This isn’t one of those situations where everybody wins. This time somebody has to loose. I’m taking the dive, because I invested so much that you and mom could be together.”
“…And who said anything about you two sharing her body? Get in, get comfortable and kick her ass back to limbo,” Wolverine grunted, turned off the light and silence fell again.
Christ! She was supposed to be the love of his life. The very reason for his existence. The one thing that kept him going. And there he was. Suggesting I should kill off Marie.
“You’re basing your plan to the hope that my mutation comes back when I take over her body. What happens next?”
“You’ll take me to Limbo and leave me there with her. Come back here and live your life again, the way it should have been. Without insane daddy meddling with it.”
“I can’t do that. If I cut the link when we are there part of me will get stuck in there. I would stay forever between Limbo and real world,” I remind him.
“And if I cut it?” He asks.
“You would be trapped in there forever. I would get out, but I wouldn’t be able to track you down later if you wanted to come back home.” And that thought scares me even more. He’s not the stick around kind of guy. He would eventually go insane. Well, even more insane than he already was.
“I’m not planning to come back. So, it’s settled. Marie drains you, you kick us to Limbo and I cut the link. Everybody’s happy. Can we go to sleep now?”
I fucking hate him.
Next morning he woke up disgustingly cheery mood. I hadn’t slept and I was ready to shred him to pieces with my gnarled fingers. He just laughed and ruffled my hair when I told him how much I hated him.
“Good. Easier for you to let go. I will miss you, but when I know you will be dancing upon my grave makes it easier to bear. Breakfast?” Did I already tell you what a complete, ignorant jerk he is?
We stopped to a small diner and ordered breakfast. His appetite hadn’t taken any damage from our conversation. Huge pile of pancakes with bacon and eggs. Toast, butter, cheese, little sausages and hash browns… I could stomach only tea and couple biscuits before I had to stop.
“Are you sure you’re eating enough?” Wolverine asked when I pushed the tray away from me.
“Why? Scared that I try to starve myself?”
“No. But worried. With the kind of medication you’re taking you have to eat. You will get sick from those capsules if you take them to empty stomach.” Touching. Caring father emerges again. Fuck him. I hate him. I hate him. I fucking hate him!
“Okay. Lets get going. Marie’s already waiting for us, and it will take couple of hours to get to my cabin,” he huffs, throws couple of bills to the tray and kneels next to me. His hands wrap around me carefully and then he straightens his back, bringing me up to his lap. One of the waitresses offers him a sugary smile.
“Your mother is a very lucky woman. Not too many people bother to take care of their parent’s when they get old.” Wolverine hides my angry growl feigning a cough and walks out.
Couple of hours. Couple of short hours before I see her. I wonder how Wolverine will present his plan to Marie. Hey, honey? I was thinking we could go to a vacation. Just drain this brat of ours and she can get us to a sunny beach in a jiffy. How about it? And what if he was wrong? What if Marie agreed and drained me, and my powers stayed dormant? He hadn’t even thought about that. He didn’t have a plan B. He never had. He made things up as he went. If something didn’t work, he tried the other way. Tried and tried until he could get it to work. But this was a situation where there were no second chances. Something this big had to go right from the beginning.
“I won’t do it.”
“Yes, you will.” I hated him. I knew he would get his will, no matter what I said or did. He was my dad. He was the Wolverine. He was the monster. And all I wanted was to keep him with me, because I couldn’t cope my life without him.
“I hate you. Mom should have drained you at the statue…” He flinched a bit when I reminded him of the moment he fell in love with her. Then he regained his composure, reached his hand and grazed my cheek gently with his knuckles.
“Yeah. But it’s little late for that…”
I don’t want to be in here. I don’t want to go out and meet her.
“You can wait in here for a moment. I’ll go and talk with her first. Try to make her understand how important this is to me.” And fuck if he wasn’t scared to shitless!
“You’re afraid of her. You’re afraid of mom. Why?” He offered his patented raised eyebrow to me before answering.
“And I thought you were a smart kid. She’s the one thing in this world left that can take me out. I would be a total moron if I wasn’t afraid.”
“Were you… Has it always been that way?” I asked. It was hard to imagine him being scared of her.
“From the day I met her. I guess it’s part of the thrill… See you in a minute.”
I started to have a feeling I didn’t know my dad. Hadn’t known him at all. These little tidbits of information he’s been sprinkling to our conversations have revealed me much more than our actual conversations when I was a kid. Back then he had been Dad. Little later Wolverine. Both had stayed at arms length, distant. This monster that had stolen his body was getting under my skin in a way I had thought wouldn’t be possible. He was more father and friend to me than dad or Wolverine had ever been. And I started to feel the first pangs of jealousy. Mom would get to spend eternity with him.
Five minutes passed. Then they turned to ten. I started to get cold. Wolverine had turned off the engine. No use to keep it running. He had gone in just to let mom know I was coming. I wrapped my coat tighter around me.
After twenty minutes the door of the cabin opened. Mom walked out. Young girl with white bangs on her forehead. She didn’t even look in to my way, just walked calmly to the back of the camper and started to take down the bike from the trailer. It took her a while, but she got it down and drove off. I sat for a moment, trying to comprehend what had just happened.
This was one of my better days, and for that I was grateful. I could get out of the camper on my own, even if it took some time. Finally I stood on the ground, little shaken, but I was still able to walk. I shuffled carefully towards the cabin. Ground under the snow was slippery, covered with ice. I hadn’t broken my hip yet, and I wasn’t going to do it now. I wanted to run and shout his name, but I forced myself to walk.
It took ages to cover the short distance between the camper and the cabin, but I made it. Door hung open. It was dark inside. I could hear small whispers. A voice calling my name. Dad. He was in there. Calling me. What the hell had mom done to him?
He lay on the floor. Unconscious or dead? I scooted to his side and kneeled. My knees let out alarming cracking and popping sounds. Like that old commercial. Kellogg’s Rice Crispies. From this close I could see what had happened. I didn’t need to look for a pulse that wasn’t there. Dad was gone. Dead. She had killed him. Mom had killed him and left on his bike. Then I felt it.
Whispers were getting louder. Something cold and dark brushed past me. At first it was hesitant. Poking and prodding me with cold fingers. Questions flooded my mind. And all I had to offer was a silent sob. That sob soon turned to a scream when those hands landed against my back, digging in, tearing open skin and muscles. They grabbed something and I could feel the pull, something shifting and moving out of me. Sickening feel of slimy and bloodied feathers coming out of their sheaths once again.
I wasn’t in the cabin anymore. I was struggling through the snow, running and stumbling, trying to rub off muck and grime covering my plumage. Something was approaching. It took a hold of me. Dad. He sat on the ground and was rubbing my feathers clean from membranes and scraps of torn tissues. Dad. Not Wolverine. Not the monster. Dad. His soul.
“She took the rest of me. Can you fly?” He asked. I spread my wings carefully. They were little sore, but his palms were warm and my joints started to loosen up.
“I think I can.”
“Could you take me to her?” Never before had he asked. Now he was really giving me the option to say no.
“Like this?” I asked. I wasn’t exactly the jet he would need to reach her.
“Can I…” He asked, and I nodded.
His soul wrapped around me. I couldn’t feel the greedy urgency that I usually related to this. Just careful, warm and expanding feeling. We were changing. He was in my blood, making my body stronger. When I spread my wings and took off, I wasn’t a sparrow. I was a peregrine falcon. Arthritis and cataract forgotten. Hands were curling around my heart, holding it gently.
“Faster, little bird. Take me home…”
I could see her in the distance. She had stopped, but it looked like she was going to hop back on the bike again. I was already exhausted. Dad had torn me out from my body forcefully, and there had been only shreds left of my mutation. I was weakening rapidly. Every beat of my wings took more and more effort, more and more time, until all I could do was to struggle to stay up in the sky.
We were close when she got on the bike and started it.
“No. She won’t get away. We will make it,” dad told me. Suddenly I was burning up, flames bursting from my feathers, sharpening them. I pulled my wings closer to my body. It was dad’s turn.
“Will you be alright?” He asked. I didn’t know.
“Will you be alright?” He asked again. I shook my head, but gave him a small nudge. I would probably be all right.
“I will come back for you…” Small whisper and he lunged forward, discarding my useless wings and me.
I fell, but kept my gaze locked to their retreating forms. Mom was speeding away, but dad was gaining her. Fiery figure, a spectre of sorts. They disappeared from my field of vision. Ground met my body, and darkness fell.
I woke up. I was wrapped to a soft, warm cloth, and I laid in a… shoebox?
“Hi.” Dad. He was driving the camper.
“You caught her?” I asked. My voice sounded a bit funny, coming out of a hard beak instead of human mouth.
“Yeah.” He sounded sad. I wobbled out of the cardboard box and hopped to his shoulder.
“I caught her. She told me to fuck off. She had gotten what she wanted. Selected pieces of me inside of her. All this…” he gestured towards himself.
“It was just something extra. Something she didn’t want to deal with. She didn’t want a family guy…”
“I told you so. I don’t mean to sound selfish, but what did you do with the rest of me?” Can’t say I missed my earthly cocoon. Staying in the bird form suited me just fine.
“You don’t want to know.”
“Okay…”
“You will be okay without it, right?” He asked. I had a sudden urge to primp my feathers and it took a moment to answer.
“Just fine. I just have to find the switch again…”
“What is it with those fucking switches? All the women in my life are trying to find one. Why not just accept it? Accept that there are things you can’t change, no matter how hard you wish for it.”
“Look who’s talking…” I tried to growl, but it came out more like an embarrassing shriek and dad cringed.
“Don’t do that! Shit. Nearly broke my eardrum…”
“It’s still Sparrow, right?” we had been driving about an hour in silence when he spoke again. I tilted my head confused.
“Your name,” he clarified. I saw us from the rearview mirror. Rough looking man with a falcon perched on his shoulder.
“Peregrin would be more suitable, but I’m used to Sparrow. Or you could always use my real name,” I proposed. He grunted and nodded.
“Tina. I guess I could get used to it…”
“Or how about Qebhesenuef?” I asked. Dad chuckled.
“Protecting my gut? Come on. You can do better. I’m sure you have more important things to do.”
“Tina it is.”
“Seriously, what are you going to do now? Are we still after her?” I asked. I could have sworn dad let out a small whine.
“No. It’s just two of us on the road. If you want me to drop you off to somewhere…”
“No. I really don’t have any place to go. And I have no idea what will happen after I find the switch.”
“Don’t worry about it. You got part of my mutation when I tore you out. It bonded our auras or something like that. You should be just fine.”
How the fuck had he managed to stay alive this long between mom and me? She was draining his body, and now it looked like I was some sort of leech, too, feasting on his mind.
We drift aimlessly from town to town. Dad is fighting again. I spend my days teasing my brain, trying to find the way to turn back to human and hunting. A girl got to eat. My current diet is less than appealing, but this body of mine craves raw meat. Luckily this has been a good year for rabbits.
“Wait… You got something…” Dad mumbles around the burger he’s munching and reaches his hand, wiping off a scrap of white fur that has lodged to my beak. I resist the instinct that tells me to take a bite from his finger and feign a yawn instead. It’s already getting harder. I have to find the switch soon.
I love these moments. Just cold, fresh snow around us. Possibility to talk with him. We do this every day. Dad stops at some greasy burger joint and gets himself something to eat, then drives until he finds quiet stretch on the road. Meanwhile I hunt my dinner. Then we eat together and go through our plans for the rest of the day.
“How’s it going?” Dad asks out of the blue. I have been bathing in the snow to get rid of the blood and small vermin.
“Fine. There’s plenty to eat.”
“That’s not what I was talking about.”
“I haven’t found the switch yet,” I say and primp my feathers. There’s something sticky in my claws and it requires a little more attention.
“Fuck. I don’t want you to turn to a freaking chicken for the rest of your life. You have to try harder.” Harder? What does he know about hard? Is he never around when I try? Has he ever stayed with me when I struggle? It’s not like there hasn’t been enough opportunities to support me! I clearly remember asking if he could stay with me when I tried and he said no! I remember it! It was two weeks ago… Oh.
“I guess I got a bit distracted…” That’s putting it mildly. For two weeks straight I have lived like a hawk. I haven’t given a thought for finding a way to turn back human. Dad nods and finishes his meal.
“To night I’ll fight. Tomorrow we start looking for an old friend of mine. I have a hunch he could be able to help…”
Had I known the outcome of that battle I would have told him not to go.
I spent my nights scouting and hunting. I could sense when he was finished in the cage and wanted to move on. Tonight was no exception. As soon as I felt him leaving the bar I returned to the camper parked to the parking lot. He was already there, sitting on driver’s seat, thrumming the steering wheel with his fingers and looking like a complete wreck. I landed on the roof of the camper and wobbled in from the open window. As soon as my feet touched the seat he punched the button that would close the window and started the engine.
We drove couple of hours in complete silence. He was so wound up I could feel the tension dancing on the surface of my feathers. Every now and then he threw a dirty glance to my direction from the corner of his eye. I knew that look. Knew it well from my childhood. It was taking every ounce of his almost non-existent self-restraint not to gut me.
“Dad?”
“Shut up.”
“But dad…”
“Shut the fuck up.” This was getting scary, but I had to know what was eating him.
“What’s going on, dad?” Car jerked, he turned to the side of the road and cut the engine, leaning back and closing his eyes.
“Dad, talk to me.”
“I’m not your fucking father. Now shut your mouth. I have to… Fuck!” He lunged out, crouched next to the camper and leaned his back against the front wheel, lighting a cigar. What the hell was going on? I scooted to the driver’s seat and stretched my neck out from the open door.
“Get back in. Now.”
“But dad…”
“Do you need a hearing aid? I’m not your father!”
“Heard there was a new fighter. Tough chick. Right. It was your mom. Got in to the cage with me.” Dad… Logan came back in after he had smoked the cigar.
“Used every dirty trick in the book. Got me pinned. Then told me what happened when we tried to make a baby. They fucking lied to me. I’m as useful as a fucking mule. Everything works, but shooting blanks. Hadn’t wanted to make me feel bad, so they went and got an anonymous donor.” He leaned his forehead against the steering wheel.
“A fucking mule.” He growled.
“No. That can’t be true. She lied to you.” Only thing I could think about. It wasn’t possible. Logan was my dad. Had to be.
“I can smell when people lie to me. She was telling the truth.”
Minutes ticked by. He sat on his seat, not moving. I sat on my seat. Rabbit I ate earlier was trying to struggle its way back up. Not my father. Not possible. Not acceptable. Fucking-hell-no! I heard him shifting on his seat and his hands wrapped around me. He lifted me on his lap.
“Jesus. Calm down…” I was panting. He turned me on my back and stroked my chest. Without really wanting to I started to relax, bird in me reacting to his touch. When my heartbeat slowed to a reasonable level he placed me carefully back to my seat.
“How do you want to do this?” I croaked. He quirked his eyebrow questioningly.
“Since we’re not related, you probably kick me to the curb. But could you do me a favor and take me to that friend of yours? The one you thought could help me?”
“I’m not kicking you out. What your mom told me… It’s not your fucking fault. It’s just… I’m… I’m sure we’ll get over it. If you want to. I can drop you off if you’d rather be on your own…” His voice sounded funny. Strangled.
“Shit. Go to sleep, Tina. Now.” This time I did as he told me. Wobbled little awkwardly to the back of the camper and hopped to the shoebox. He closed the thin sliding door that separated the cab from the sleeping compartment.
We didn’t sleep that night. I kept waking up. He kept calling to somebody, popping outside for a smoke and crying. That was the hardest part, to listen him cry. Small, choked sobs. Muffled against something, probably the sleeve of his jacket or his palm. I couldn’t cry. Not yet. Maybe later. As long as he treated me like before, when we still thought that I was his biological daughter, the lack of blood relation didn’t really bother me. To him it was different. Dad… Logan. Logan. His name is Logan, better get used to it fast. Logan lived his life on his instincts. I had been his daughter. First priority was to protect me. Would it change now?
I got my answer next evening. We were at the parking lot of the same bar he had been last night, waiting for his friend to show up. Man was supposed to be some sort of holy man. We sat on the hood of the camper, Logan smoking a cigar.
“Shit.” Suddenly his appearance got even darker than it had been before. Small figure was approaching us. It took me a while to realize it wasn’t the holy man we had been expecting. It was mom.
“Well, well… What do we have here?” She drawled, sauntering closer.
“Fuck off. I told you last night that I don’t want to see you again,” Logan spat. Mom smiled.
“Is that the way to talk in front of your daughter?” She asked, then clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes widening.
“Oh! But she isn’t your daughter! I’m so sorry!” Logan slid down to the ground and extended an arm to me. I hopped over the slippery surface and climbed, taking a firm grip from his wrist.
“Come on. You don’t have to hear this,” he said, turning his back to mom. Angry growl was our only warning before she attacked us, sweeping Logan off from his feet.
I could fly, so I was able to get away from her. It soon came apparent there was no reason for me to hide. Mom wasn’t after me. Only thing she was interested lay there, sprawled at his feet, still trying to get his bearings. She hadn’t hit Logan hard, but he had fallen on his back and hit his head. He sat up and shrugged, turning on his hands and knees and she struck, with a firm kick to his gut. Logan groaned, but instead of going down lunged to his feet.
“When it was me, it was little girls that did the trick for you. Animals turn you on now?” Mom was taunting him. I let out a startled shriek. It wasn’t before Logan spoke that I understood mom’s words.
“When it was you, it was you. Still fucking is you. Keep Sparrow out of this. I can’t believe you’re sick enough… She’s your own child!” He didn’t even try to duck or take cover. Hard punch split his lip. He stood on his ground and grasped mom’s wrists.
“My child? I gave her birth, but I hardly was her mother. And now that little bitch took you away from me!” Mom hissed. Logan paled a bit.
“Ow! You’re hurting me!” Mom suddenly shouted. Logan released her hands and backed off few steps.
“Nobody took me away from you. I still love you, even if you make it so fucking hard to do that. I left because you didn’t want… You didn’t need me anymore. Sparrow needs me now. At least for a while. After she gets her act back together…”
“Spare me from that bullshit. I know you. Pretty damsel in distress, you swoop in and sweep her off from her feet, then it’s all big romance for a while until you get bored and take off with some other chick…” Mom’s words were dripping venom.
“You heard me, birdie? As soon as he finds out he isn’t getting any, or you let him fuck you, it’s over!” She shouted to me, turned her back and walked off.
“You do know I’m not after your ass, right?” Logan asked when I landed on his shoulder. I didn’t know what to say. Simple yes would have done, but somehow it didn’t feel right. Not enough.
“You’re still my little girl. Your mom, she’s just upset. She has always had a bad temper. You don’t have to worry that I…” He couldn’t even finish his sentence. Even the idea of bedding me rendered him speechless. And I was relieved beyond belief. Because for a moment, a brief second I had believed Rogue. It was good to see that Logan was as appalled of her cruel outburst as I was.
“Tina?” He was still waiting for my answer. I didn’t have the time to give him one. Small, hooded figure approached us.
“This must be your daughter…” Man was old. So old I couldn’t determine his age. Much older than I was, that was sure. He was observing us with great curiosity, face tilted upwards to see Logan’s face and me.
“Sparrow. Sparrow you are, even if you have temporarily borrowed wings from Brother Horus…” Old man was muttering, eyes searching mine.
“There’s a problem. She doesn’t know how to turn back human again. Can you help her?” Logan asked. Man turned his gaze to him, small smile tugging the corner of his mouth.
“Help her? Like I helped you?” He asked. Logan shrugged and I nearly fell off from his shoulder.
“This is a different matter. With you the animal was inside, trying to rule the man. With Sparrow… It’s her outer appearance that has changed. I can’t force her gift to work. She must find her path by herself.”
“But she can’t stay like this forever!” Logan huffed.
“And she won’t. Sooner or later she will find a will to turn back, choose to walk on ground instead of letting the wind carry her.”
“But I want to turn back now!” I butted in to conversation. Old man smiled to me.
“What is it that you really want?”
After that question old man walked away and we were alone again, none the wiser than hour before.
What I really wanted? I wanted to eat burgers and fries instead of raw meat. I wanted to take a real shower instead of tumbling in the snow. I wanted to walk in to a bar with Logan and cheer for him, maybe have a beer while he’s venting out his aggressions. I wanted to live like human instead of fucking bird! Wasn’t that obvious?
“Would you cut that out?” Logan groaned. I had been hissing and screeching, puffing my feathers and digging my claws to the seat.
“He was right, you know,” he said when I calmed down a bit.
“Your friend?” I asked. Logan nodded.
“I made a mistake when I forced your mutation back on, but that doesn’t change the fact that you really haven’t tried to get rid of those feathers. More time you spend like that, more birdlike you become. You even rant like a bird.”
“I can’t find the fucking switch!” I shouted. Logan sighed, checked the mirrors and car started to slow down. He pulled to the side of the road and killed the engine.
“Most of her life, and un-life, your mom has spent trying to find some magical switch that would turn down her skin. But it doesn’t work like that. There is no switch. No button labeled On-Off. You have to want it. You have to want to change.”
“But… But I…” I stammered. I already wanted to change. The very reason I tried to find a switch.
“Let’s try this the other way around. Why do you want to live like a bird?” Logan asked.
Questions were getting weirder. Did I want to live like a bird? Did it look like that?
“Do you have a reason to keep those pretty feathers?” Logan asked.
“Talk to me. Is there a reason for not to turn back human?” He kept prodding.
“Give me a reason. A good reason, and you can stay as you are. If there is no reason, I want my daughter back. I didn’t raise a bird. My daughter had human features. Pretty face, long hair, spitting image of your mother. Give me a reason, and you can keep those feathers you seem to like that much.” How could he talk to me like that?
“I can’t find the switch!”
“I don’t care about some fucking switch! Turn back, now!” Logan growled.
“If I turn back, I may not be able to fly anymore!”
“Do I look like I fucking care? I couldn’t care less if you can fly. I want my daughter, not a fragile sack of hollow bones and feathers! Turn now!”
Fine! Enough of this shit. If it really was what he wanted. Next time he needed a ride to Limbo, he could get it somewhere else…
Suddenly my skin was too tight. Too small. Everything was melting and bending. It didn’t hurt, but the sound of bones breaking and muscles tearing was sickening. I wanted to puke. I sat up, and could hear something tearing. Something wet and clingy fell down from my shoulders, bunching around my waist. I stretched my hands and let out a startled yelp when I saw my fingers. Real fingers. No feathers. Well, there were few, clinging to my blood covered skin, but those were real human fingers. Beautiful, straight fingers of a young woman.
“Welcome back. Go get cleaned up. There should be some clothes in the back, too. See if they fit,” Logan said and turned on the engine.
That’s my dad. No overly mushy words about how he knew I could make it. No congratulations. Wasn’t really even expecting him to go all sappy over me.
“And don’t hang out too long in there! I don’t know how much we have warm water left!” I heard him shouting.
“Okay. I’ll just wash the blood off…” I grumbled, and I could hear him chuckling.
“And get rid of this. Eww…” Useless flap of torn skin and feathers fell to the floor. It was part of me, but it didn’t make it any more appealing. I risked a bad case of flu and opened a small window to throw it out. My fingers nearly froze, but warm water felt heavenly after it.
No achy joints. No feathers. Just me. As I was decades ago. Young woman with beauty and grace. I was entitled to feel little pride over my looks. I knew what it was when your teeth started to fall out and hair turned grey. Curvy body got some new curves, less appealing than those before. I knew what it was to be old and gnarled, and now I had gotten my youth back for good.
“Thanks,” I huffed and sat next to Logan, arranging my clothing. I had found a pair of jeans that probably belonged to mom. Borrowed Logan’s shirt.
“For what?” Logan asked.
“For kicking my ass back to the gear.”
“You did it yourself. No need to thank me. Hungry?” He asked. Outside sun was rising, and the clock on a dashboard announced it was time for breakfast. I wasn’t that hungry, remains of a rabbit hadn’t yet left my system, but an opportunity to eat greasy, cooked and salted meat was too good to pass.
“I could eat…”
“I told you to take it slow…” Fuck you. Stop talking and let me die!
“It’ll get easier soon. Just let it all out…” Logan mumbled and rubbed my back soothingly, holding back my hair while I puked my guts out. I wanted to tell him to fuck off, but I couldn’t. My stomach cramped and another prayer to the porcelain god was on its way.
It had been a breakfast fit for a king. Eggs, bacon, sausages, pancakes, more bacon and sausages, ribs, steaks… I had ordered little bit of everything from the menu. I had eaten little bit of everything with a generous amount of salt and pepper, and flushed everything down with a coke.
Now I was sitting on the floor of that diner, in a bathroom, with Logan. With smirking, yet compassionate Logan.
“It’ll get better. Trust me. I have been there. After labs. Before I met your mom and X-geeks. I had been wandering around and I was so goddamned hungry I could have eaten a bear. Broke in to one of these places and raided the kitchen. Took me nearly a day to recover. You just ate too much, too fast.”
“Fuck you… I’m dying in here and you have the urge to reminiscence your sordid past?” I wiped my mouth and stood on somewhat shaky legs, flushing the toilet.
“You’re not going to die. I won’t let you.” It wasn’t as comforting as it might sound. He wasn’t going to let me die. Period. No matter what there was left of me, he would keep me alive.
“What about mom?”
“What about her?” Logan asked glancing me sharply from the corner of his eye. We had been driving for several hours. I was slowly recovering from my breakfast and he was smoking.
“I’m better now. Are you going to find her?” I asked. He shrugged.
“Eventually. Have to get her head sorted out. I’m not going to leave her, if that’s what you’re wondering. I’m going to get her back, one way or the other.” He sounded tired. And sad. No wonder. From what I had heard when I was a kid, their story had been a heck of a romance. Both head over heels for each other.
“Can I help?” I asked. I didn’t have a slightest clue how I could do it, but if there was a way…
“No. It’s something I have to do by myself. It was wrong to get you in the middle of our mess. I have to make her realize that her skin doesn’t matter. It fucking doesn’t matter, I have told it to her several times, but…”
“Uh… I have a hunch why she believes it matters…” I started. Not really comfortable with the subject, but I had to say it.
“Your relationship in Limbo was quite… Physical. What if she thinks you want it to be the same in here, too?” I asked. Logan harrumphed.
“Of course I want it to be the same! But it can’t be. I’m more than happy when I can just talk with her. Keep her close. And she knows that. I’m in her head. She should know what I think about things.”
“Wolverine is in her head now. Not you,” I reminded him. Logan grimaced.
“Shit.”
I knew the difference between those two. Logan was just an ordinary man. Wolverine was a completely different matter. Overly sexual predatory being. And it was Wolverine whispering in mom’s head, not Logan. Logan started to look a bit pale.
“I have to find her. Soon.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
This is a series I started for a while ago. Not sure if this will ever get finished, but I'll be adding parts every now and then, when I'm in the mood to write more about Sparrow.