He didn’t quite know how they had gotten out. He didn’t know where they were. He was carrying Marie, just Marie now, on his arms. Running through a forest, waiting to hear the sound of hovercrafts from behind at any second now. Small rubble and twigs under his heels crackling and rolling, branches snagging him, slapping his face. He kept pushing forward blindly. He had left the outer perimeter of the compound behind just few moments ago. Compound. Right. What was left of it. Crumbled slabs of concrete. Personnel either crushed under the debris or eradicated by Marie.
Power she had harnessed from the field containing them had been unbelievable. The way she had unleashed it against their captors made Logan shiver from both fear and arousal. Blue glow seeping out from her whole being, mist around her eating away everything it touched almost instantly, turning humans and the building itself to dust. He had prepared to fight their way out of there, but all he had had to do was to walk behind Marie, and stay away from the radiating tendrils of mist that had wafted around her. Mist had eaten away her clothes; leaving only the adamantium core of her jacket, and it had hung on her like a chain mail.
He remembered reading a book about ancient warriors called Vikings. They believed in afterlife, and to a place called Valhalla. After a warrior died, a Valkyrie came to take his soul to there. He glanced at the girl sleeping on his arms. Valkyrie. She had gotten his heart and body when she had told him that he mattered to her. Her display of pure power back at the Free Zone had granted her his soul as well. He could only hope that she wouldn’t sprout wings and fly away with it.
He had to stop when his legs threatened to give up. He stood panting, leaning his back against a tree and tried to listen. His left hand felt cold. Blood had seeped through the bandage on his chest long ago, and was no dribbling down his torso, soaking the waistband of his jeans. He let Marie slide to the ground when he couldn’t hear any unusual sounds. They weren’t followed.
“And who the fuck would even follow us, you fucking moron?” He muttered. Destruction of the Free Zone had been complete. He slouched down and squirmed off the backpack from his shoulders. His stomach twisted and rumbled alarmingly when he accidentally brushed against his wounded shoulder. He was so fucking tired, hungry and cold.
Marie was still sleeping. After they had gotten out from the Free Zone blue mist had vanished from around her, and glow in her eyes had dimmed. She had collapsed. At first he had been hesitant to touch her, but few experimental pokes assured him that there was no danger anymore, and he had scooped her up to his arms and started running, acting on pure instinct, trying to get as far from the threatening situation as possible.
“Kid?” He reached to jab her slightly, trying to rouse her from her stupor.
“Wake up.” He was going to crash soon. Before that he had to make sure she was all right. She had to be all right. There was no other option. He tried to lean closer and shake her shoulder, but he found out his left hand refused to cooperate anymore. He tried with his right, but it was impossible to reach to his left side without aggravating the wound on his shoulder even more. He closed his eyes, leaning his head against the tree behind him and cleared his throat.
“Marie!” She moved a little, curled to her side and muttered something he didn’t quite catch. That was a good sign. She really was just sleeping, not unconscious. He opened the backpack with his good hand and fumbled with its contents a bit before his fingers closed around a bottle. Cold. It would make him even colder, but there were no options. He had to drink. He had already lost too many fluids.
He emptied the bottle with few powerful pulls. He could feel his stomach cramping and complaining, but he told it to fuck it. Looked at the empty bottle in his hand. Then Marie. Yeah. It could work.
“Marie!” His throat started to hurt, but at least he had made an honest effort to wake her before he retorted to desperate measures. He weighed the bottle in his hand. Plastic. Light as air. He gathered all the strength he still had left, and threw it. It hit her on the face, and her eyes blinked open.
“What the fuck was that for!” He heard Marie shout before he dove in to darkness.
“You fucking told me you would be alright! Don’t you give up on me now!” She had stripped off his jacket and shirt to see the wound. Bandage had slid off on its own because of the all blood it had absorbed. Jagged hole, wide enough to stuck a finger in it run through his upper chest, bleeding sluggishly. His skin was cold, and had a grayish hue on it. She pressed her ear against his chest to listen his heart. It was there. Steady, strong pulse. She retreated and reached for the backpack, to see if there was something she could use to cover the wound, when surprisingly strong hand gripped her hair and forced her face to face with yellow-eyed beast.
“Identification?” Wolverine spoke with low, hushed tone, eyes scanning her from head to toe. She nearly wet herself out of fear and closed her eyes. Grip from her hair tightened, and Wolverine pulled her closer. She could hear him taking in her scent.
“Civilian,” Wolverine snorted contempt and shoved her away. She crawled away reaching for the backpack, and snatched it to herself before Wolverine got his hand on it. Destroyer lunged at his feet; teeth bared and with few swift strides closed the gap between them, grabbing her again with his good hand. Injured hand rose, brushing her chin briefly, before settling under her jaw. She could feel claws straining the skin, threatening to cut her. And a word rose to her mind. Something Logan had muttered when they had discussed about her earlier encounter with the beast.
“Mechanic! I’m a Mechanic!”
“Fix me.” As soon as words had left her mouth Wolverine’s attitude towards her had changed. From angry and enraged to mildly curious and commanding under a second.
“I don’t have any equipment…” She stammered. Wolverine snorted and dropped her to the ground.
“I got lost and… I lost everything…” Wolverine was sitting down, leaning against the tree again.
“I don’t fucking care. Fix me. That’s what you’re here for.”
“What the fuck are you waiting for? A formal invitation? Plug this fucking hole in me!” Wolverine snarled when she just stood there, feet practically glued to the ground. Just his luck. Stumble upon a shell shocked Mechanic when he really could have used some help. Well, fuck her. He could take a short nap while waiting for the Mechanic to snap out of her stupor. Blood would clot eventually. His mutation would kick back in sooner or later.
Yellow eyes blinked, head started to droop. With every new breath his breathing got shallower. He was starting to tremble. His muscles were twitching. It was Wolverine, but underneath somewhere was Logan. Marie approached him carefully.
“What do you want?” Wolverine barked, eyes flashing open.
“I want to help. Is that okay?” Wolverine’s head lolled back against the tree.
“Go ahead. I’m going to sleep now.”
It never failed. Feign sleeping, and they were not so afraid of you anymore. This one even smelled slightly worried. Worried and crying. She would learn fast not to care. She had a light touch. Cold fingers, but that was expected. She was naked. Wonder what had happened to her?
“I’m going to clean the wound now…” She was whispering. Whispering and crying.
“Ah… Shit…” That really hurt. And now she was crying even more.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. And stop crying. You’re a fucking lousy Mechanic if you’re going to cry over every unit.”
“There. It’s done now.”
“Good. Scoot. Go and see if anybody else needs you. You’re first Mech we have seen in weeks.”
“Okay…”
Wolverine was really sleeping now. She had torn Logan’s bloodied shirt and used it and water to clean his wound. Then she had dressed it with what was left of the shirt. Not much, but it was better than nothing. She dug in the backpack and pulled out clothes for herself. Got dressed and ate. Risked waking the Wolverine again by walking to him and covering him with Logan’s jacket. Destroyer just mumbled and shifted a bit in his sleep, then curled to the ground on his side and continued sleeping.
She knew she should have left. She knew she should be walking away. That’s what Logan had told her to do, but she couldn’t bring herself to abandon him now, when he needed her most. She could only hope it would be Logan who woke up next instead of the Wolverine.
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