She was in the meadow that she called her garden, feeling, touching, and feeding from endless supply of energy trees provided when she felt it. At first it was almost unnoticeable, small jolt in the steady stream of green and warmth. She had long ago gotten accustomed to those jolts, small animals passing by, scurrying fast past her to safety before her gift pulled them in, so she thought nothing of it. Then suddenly warm and comforting flow of energy turned murky, almost black, bitter and cold, tasting more blood than sap.
*Just a kid…* Surprised thought filtered through before she managed to cut the connection and stop the process.

She let go of the maple she had been touching and turned around.
“Oh…” Dark figure lay at her feet, barely breathing. A man.

He had been running. How long, that he did not know. But he knew he shouldn’t stop. He would pay dearly for even briefest period of rest. Pay for it with his blood, maybe even with his freedom. Since he had already bought the latter with the former he wasn’t going to sacrifice it for anything so trifle as a pair of aching feet or burning lungs. So when he felt his limbs getting heavier and breathing harder, almost impossible, he pushed his body harder forward, forcing it to obey, fighting for control tooth and nail even when he fell down.

He managed to catch a glimpse of his assailant, waiting to see one of his pursuers. To his utter amazement it was just a young girl, who seemed to be as surprised and startled as he.

“Go… Run…” It was obvious that she was like him. His pursuers would like nothing more than to add her to their growing collection of specimens. And she was just a girl, small girl.
“Run? Why?” She asked, kneeling next to him, helping him to sit up.
“They’re coming. Coming for me… Run before they find you, too…” He fought her gentle attempts to help him, climbing on his feet on his own and pushing her to direction he calculated was probably safe.
“Who is coming? Why should I run?” She kept asking when he partly pushed; partly dragged her alongside him, stumbling towards what he hoped was safety. She was too dazed, too stupid, or simply just too naïve to be left alone now, when they were still close at his heels. She would just stand her ground, asking those same questions from them when they arrived and captured her.

His hand around her wrist felt hard, hot and dry. Grip nearly crushing her delicate bones when he dragged her away from the meadow, deeper in the forest. He still hadn’t answered her questions, and she found it hard to keep up with his pace. He was obviously running from something or somebody, and fear gave him wings, but she felt no fear nor had wings. Only wings she had ever had were those of the birds she sometimes accidentally absorbed, and they faded away fast, leaving only memories of the flight and wind. It was no wonder that she started to stumble, and finally fell down, scraping her hands and knees quite painfully.

And what did he do? This charging beast of a man that had so abruptly invaded her home and torn her away from there? He had the audacity to curse and blame her for stalling. Shout at her when she curled around her aching knees, trying to soothe the pain.
“Just leave me alone!” She hissed angrily, feeling finally embers of rage sparking, engulfing utter confusion and silent curiosity that had been floating inside of her. She was going to run no more. She would sit here, calm down and walk back to home as soon as he was gone.
“I won’t leave you to them!” He snarled, tone of his voice rivaling hers in anger and bitterness, scaring the small shimmer of resistance in her back to hiding. She stood up shakily, trying to limp after him as fast as she could. She felt a sharp jab of pain and fell down again, and she knew this time she wouldn’t be standing up and running anymore, no matter how harsh words or tone he used.

She didn’t even flinch, didn’t make a sound when he kneeled next to her and felt her ankle that had started to swell already. It was twisted, and broken. He could feel the sharp ends of bone under her skin. He let his eyes roam over her, something nagging at the back of his mind. Whispering about stopping. That he could stop now. He wouldn’t have to run anymore. Never again. He could stop for good.

“What’s your mutation?” He asked. She shook his head, questioning look betraying her ignorance over the matter he was speaking. Yet she was an obvious mutant. Small clearing she had been standing when he had stumbled upon her had been slowly withering away from around her. He had started to wither away as soon as he had gotten to the range of her powers.
“Your mutation? Your power?” He wracked his brain; trying to find the right piece to the puzzle, right word that would make her understand what he was asking.
“The thing you did back there? With the trees? Stop fucking nodding and smiling, I don’t have time for this!”

He huffed and hunched over his heels, dangling his hands between his thighs, still out of breath, head hung low in defeat. Those things he had asked about seemed to carry some greater meaning to him. Mutation. Power. Suddenly it clicked. With the trees.
“You mean my gift?” She asked. He snorted, sounding still bitter.
“Gift? Yeah. Or what ever it is you’re calling it. You put me down with it, right?” He asked, his voice lowered to murmur.
“I didn’t mean to… It was an accident, I thought nobody was there…” She felt the strange need to defend herself, defend her actions to him.
“But you did it. And you could do it again. There are some people I want you to take care of…”
“No!” She hadn’t liked him from begin with, but now she had a nagging suspicion that it would probably be impossible to even learn to like him. Her first assessment, the one she made based on the energy she had pulled from him, seemed to be right.

“It’s wrong. And it hurts. I don’t want to do it.” She expected him to threaten her. Maybe grab her and threaten her some more. What he did threw her completely off the loop.
“Fine. It was nice knowing you…” He whispered and stood up, stretching his legs and combing off dry leaves and twigs tangled to his wild hair. Then he ran off. Just as fast as he had entered to her life, he was exiting it. Soon he disappeared behind trees and bushes, and she could only hear him, heavy feet hitting against the ground, snapping branches and kicking cones and pebbles on his way. And after a moment she couldn’t even hear him anymore.

All too soon she could hear other sounds, coming from the direction they had run from. More heavy feet. Silent huffing. Clicks and bangs. Hushed words. They were approaching. And before she had the time to decide what to do, they were there. She was surrounded by them.
“Female. Class Alpha. We’ll take her as well.” She couldn’t understand words, but she understood the meaning behind them. They would take her away from here. She didn’t want to leave. This was where she belonged. Her home. Her sanctuary. When net made out of heavy ropes landed on her she released her gift.

She screamed from the sheer terror and agony when their beings invaded her. Cold, black, bitter, anger, rage, hate, fear, pain, all those mingling with strange feeling of pride and joy, even relief. That couldn’t be right. But she couldn’t stop. Couldn’t make herself cut the connection. She had to be sure. She didn’t want to stop now, exhausted and disoriented only to find out some of them were still alive and ready to capture her. She didn’t stop before sharp slap on her cheek dropped her to the ground, and for long moment she just lay there eyes closed, muscles twitching, mind roiling and bubbling from filth she had absorbed.
“You left!” She exclaimed upon opening her eyes. Man was looming above her, grayish hue on his skin, breathing labored. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but no words came out. Just a ragged sob of relief rolled from between his lips before he fell to the ground next to her, whole body spent and limp, hitting his face hard on the soft, moss covered floor of the woods.

She rose slowly, eyeing the destruction around her. Bodies littered the ground around her. Trees stood tall and green, silent witnesses, unharmed. She had directed her gift wholly towards intruders, absorbing their unwanted presence and soiled minds in to her. Her whole body was still in turmoil from the absorption, she noted only absently that her ankle had healed when she started to walk slowly away from the bodies. She never saw one of them moving, but she heard a loud growl, and strange sliding and hissing sound. She turned to look just in time to see the man she had assumed was now as dead as the intruders lunging at one of them, and impaling the black clad body with metal claws growing from his knuckles.

He had seen the twitch, involuntary or aimed to hurt them he did not know, but it had been a twitch nonetheless, a hand moving towards a rifle. Even though the rifle wasn’t loaded with led, it would have hurt him had it fired. Small darts, almost like tiny insects would have swarmed out of the plastic casings, pumping the poison from their containers in to his body, taking away his mutation, subduing it momentarily.
“Oh, no. You’re not…” He had growled, voice broken, dragging his weight up and throwing himself towards the threat, claws oozing out and slicing open throats, ribcages, severing heads and limbs, stabbing, shredding maiming, making them bleed, because they were still alive, her gift wasn’t lethal as he had first thought, or she hadn’t taken enough. They were unconscious. Defenseless. Fact that didn’t go missing from him, but he knew were it other way around, if it had been him laying there, they wouldn’t have hesitated. They would have captured him and taken him to the house of pain.

She stood there, mouth gaping open, frozen to the spot.
“You left them alive.” It came out almost as an accusation through he had meant it more of a question. She blinked and shook her head, trying to turn her gaze away from the carnage.
“Your ‘gift’… You can’t kill with it?” He asked. She blinked again, muted from surprise.
“You can’t, or you won’t?” He asked, remembering she had said earlier that using her mutation hurt. It hurt her too? He had felt the pull twice now, and he had been dead-on sure that it would kill him, on both times.
“You didn’t kill them. Why?” He asked, and finally she seemed to snap out from the daze she had fallen. She turned her eyes from the mutilated bodies and looked at him.
“I tried. I tried, but there was so much to take. I thought I had taken it all.”

She had meant to kill them? It was a good sign. She wasn’t completely clueless. As close as she was living with that hellhole he was surprised that they hadn’t caught her already. Why she hadn’t seen them before? Butchers. Tormentors. Executioners. Researchers and collectors as they liked to call themselves.
“Are you alone?” He asked. She nodded hesitantly.
“I have been alone long time already…” she started, then something made her eyes lit up, and her next question threw him off the loop.
“Have you come to take me home?”

Home? What was home anyway? He had no place he could call his own; no place he could take her and say it was home. He had gotten out of the lab mere days ago, and those days he had spent running.
“No. Are you expecting someone to come?” He asked. She scrunched her forehead and scratched the tip of her nose, looking suddenly several years younger, and completely lost.
“They brought me here long time ago. Told me they would come and take me back home as soon as it was safe again. Are you sure…”
“I’m positive. I’m not here to take you home. I don’t even know where your home is,” or was, he added mentally. Chances were that she was one of the last free mutants left, parents probably tossed her out here when they started registering and collecting muties to camps ten years ago. Ten years? Had she really survived ten years out here all alone? She must have been just a kid when they left her here.

Hope that had sparkled in her eyes dimmed. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to put that spark back in there, see her mouth curl up to a smile and those eyes twinkle. But he had absolutely nothing he could offer to make it happen.
“Where’s your home? The place you live now?” He asked. She pointed to the direction they had run earlier.
“Do you mind if I stay with you?” He asked even though he knew the answer already. She shrugged.
“Stay if you like. Leave when you want to.”

She had wanted to tell him to leave, but she had no right to do that. As much as this forest, small hut and her back garden belonged to her, they all belonged to themselves, and to him as well if he decided to stay. She had found those things and often thought of them as hers, but she had no greater claim over them than anybody else.

She led him through the woods to her home, and watched him watching and circling the place warily.
“This is where you live?” He asked, prodding the hard, grey wall of her home with his knuckles. She nodded.
“It’s a bunker. That’s why they haven’t found you yet. There are tunnels and rooms under this, right?” He asked. Again she nodded. Suddenly he saw something near the ground, and crouched, running his fingers over strangely marred part of the hard wall. Strange, rumbling sound came from him, and it took some time from her to realize he was laughing. It wasn’t laughter from joy or happiness. It was a dark noise, more of a strangled snarl than actual laughter.
“I know this place. This is where they brought me when they first captured me. Look. I made these marks when I tried to get away from them,” he said, pulling aside vines that had grown on the wall. Three deep gouges marred the grey surface.
“You must have come here right after…” He cleared his throat and threw a glance towards her.
“Right after I tried to escape for the first time.”

Memory of that night had long ago faded from his mind, but shreds that lingered made him shiver. He knew what he would find from the inside of this structure. Long, dark corridors. Heavy doors. Small rooms. Walls decorated with marks from his claws. And a room at the end of one of those corridors, probably welded shut before they evacuated everything else. Welded shut to hide the evidence of the malfunction.

For a moment he was gone. All signs of life disappeared from his eyes. He had been here before? From the look on his face she could tell it hadn’t been a pleasant experience. This place wasn’t his home. It would never be his home. Not like it was for her.
“This is where they gave me these…” He said, and again his metal claws made an appearance, only briefly before they slid back inside of his hands. She reached and took his hand to her own, stroking his knuckles, marveling how there was no mark there where claws had slit his skin.
“Does it hurt? When they come out, does it hurt?” Question popped out of her mouth before she really even thought about it. For a second he looked at her, and she was sure she wouldn’t get an answer, at least not a polite one. Then his features softened a bit.
“Every time.” She turned her gaze; it had been a stupid thing to ask. Her eyes caught something glimmering on his chest, and new question, a name stumbled from her lips.
“Wolverine?”

Suddenly it was hard to breathe. Air felt thick as syrup, clogging her lungs instead of flowing through gently like it should have done. Wolverine. Name she had seen in the deepest bowels of her home. The part she never went after venturing in there once and witnessing the horrors lurking in there. Wolverine. Thick iron door, rusted hinges. Name engraved to it, like a warning. Wolverine. She had been exploring that day, and she had pried the door open out of curiosity. What she had found from behind it still haunted her dreams every once and a while. Shelves lining grey walls, filled with jars. And every single one of those jars carried a label. Wolverine. She had seen eyes. She had seen strange lumps she couldn’t tell what they were. She had seen a heart. She had seen brain, floating in murky liquid. And on the middle of it all, surrounded by those jars sat a metal table with metal cuffs attached to it. Table was clean, but the floor under and around it was dark, almost black. She had been standing on dried blood.

“Wolverine?” She called his name again. The name they had given him after they had taken away his real one. He refused to believe that Wolverine was all there was. He was sure there had been something more, once. He had had a real name. No matter how often they told him Wolverine was his only name, he still believed. And she was trembling, eyes watering in front of him. Fear? No. He couldn’t smell it on her. It was something else.
“I have seen you before,” she said.

“Where? How do you know me?” Hard mask had fallen over his face again, and he was shaking her, hands gripping tightly her shoulders, eyes boring to hers, demanding an answer, demanding it now.
“In there,” she whispered, pointing towards the entrance of her home, the place he had called bunker.
“In there?” He asked, hate and rage creeping to his eyes.
“When?” He barked, his grip tightening. She knew there would be bruises later.
“Long time ago… I was just curious…” Answer didn’t please him, didn’t make him release her. If anything, it seemed to fuel his anger, feed the flames burning in his eyes.
“I’m not… I’m not one of them…” She wheezed when hands crept from her shoulders around her throat, squeezing hard.
“Where did you see me? When?” He asked again.
“Down there… It’s still down there…” She coughed, struggling to breathe.

She had seen him. Truly seen him. Every bit and piece there was to see, on display. Neatly labeled and organized before put on display. He remembered this room. Remembered the hours, days and weeks he had spent in here, strapped to a cold metal slab. Cold metal parting his flesh. Scent of blood. Scent of other fluids and feces, salty, sticky feeling, dribbling and oozing, swaying in between. There had been days he couldn’t smell. There had been days he couldn’t see or hear. Some days he hadn’t even been there, completely unaware and clueless about what had been done to his body while his mind was gone and retreated.

“I thought you were dead…” He could hear the girl whisper from the corridor. He backed away from the room, slamming the door shut.
“I thought that too, many times.” Many times he had feared, but more often he had hoped for it. Death to come and release him from the shackles that bound his hands and feet to the operating table. It never came. Close relative, unconsciousness, visited him periodically. Not often enough for his tastes.

“What’s your name?” He asked from the girl. She shook her head, again her forehead wrinkling.
“I don’t know… I’m not sure… It has been so long since…” She was chewing on her lip, deep in her thoughts. He spied something small on the floor. Kneeled and poked it with his finger. Small plastic square, with a name written on it.
“We could always loan our names. I’m sure she doesn’t need hers anymore…” He said, handing the nametag to her. She read it quietly, mouthing the names silently. Marie Logan.
“Marie,” she said. He nodded.
“Logan.” He spoke, trying the name in his mouth. It sounded reasonably right. And Marie. She was definitely Marie.

They left the lower levels of the bunker together, walking side by side. When his hand sought hers and grasped it in the darkness, she didn’t pull away. His grip wasn’t crushing like it had done several times earlier. He was seeking, reaching out for comfort. Comfort for them both. When they arrived to the upper levels, area she had chosen as her home all those years ago, he sat heavily on the floor and pulled her with him, wrapping his long limbs around her, almost pleading out loud, pleading with his every gesture and move from her to return the favor, respond to his embrace.

He had gotten away from them, but for how long? How long until they tracked him down? Would this warm creature on his arms be capable of keeping him, keeping them both safe with her power? Was she even willing? Had she realized what it was that he was asking when he asked if he could stay? What if they came and she locked him out of her haven’ this well-masked bunker? What if they came and caught them both? What if they came and she… He shook his head and buried his face to the crook of her neck. Too many ifs to handle right now. They would come. Eventually they would come, that was certain. They would try to capture them both, that was certain. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, memorizing her scent when he found it pleasant. Tried to concentrate to her instead of fear that was still fluttering inside of him, spreading its wings from the dark recesses of his mind, trying to tear its way to surface.

Fear. At some point he had gotten used to it. So used, that one day he noticed with amazement that it was gone. Replaced by strange calmness and acceptance. That was the day they had nearly killed him in their eagerness to learn all about him and his exquisite powers. He had thought that he had gotten rid of it for good, but when he had escaped from them, fear had returned tenfold, weighing heavy on his shoulders while it built the necessary stamina and strength to keep running for several days. He was getting sick of it, the metallic tang of it hanging in the back of his throat and scent of his own nervous sweat floating around him like a blanket. He rubbed his face against the side of her throat, trying to soothe his nerves with a touch. She flinched and started to struggle in his grasp.

“Please…” Word fell from his lips first time during his whole remembered lifetime. He hadn’t pleaded before. Cursed his tormentors, cried and screamed, but never pleaded.
“Let go. Let go of me. Too much…” She was pleading too. He let her go reluctantly, understanding the reason behind her behavior.

In the lab he had gotten used to being groped and prodded, used to all kind of different forms of touch, but out here, alone, she had had nobody to touch her. Untouched, untamed. Sudden surge of jealousy clouded his mind briefly. Bitter, black and cold feeling of wanting. He craved for what she had. Isolation, loneliness and purity. He forced his hands to stay still on his lap, crossing his fingers tightly, tying his palms together to prevent himself from grasping her again when she so obviously didn’t want to be touched.

“You wouldn’t happen to have anything to eat?” He asked, trying to steer to clearer waters. Food was a good subject. Thought they had kept him well fed, all the right vitamins and nutrients to ensure they could use and abuse his body as they wished, liquid, force-fed meals left him always wanting more. More something. Something solid to chew on, to taste salty, crispy and smoky taste on his tongue, to actually taste and feel the food instead of awkward feeling of full belly without actually eating.

Eat? For a moment she was confused. Forest was full of energy. If he felt hungry, he could go out and take it, she wouldn’t deny him that. Then something, a memory from her past floated to her mind. People sitting around long, square table. Laughing. Plates in front of them. Plates filled with brown and green, meat and vegetables. And they were putting them in their mouth.
“Food? You mean food?” She asked. Again Logan’s brow’s knit together to a frown, an expression his face seemed to recognize too well.
“I… I don’t eat. Real food. I only take energy from trees.” Frown on his face deepened.
“But I don’t mind. There are lots of animals. If you… If you need to hunt and eat to stay alive, I won’t mind,” she added quickly. That rewarded her with a predatory smile.

She followed him through the woods, not knowing if he knew about her presence, or if he even cared. She kept silent when he tracked his prey, few mice providing only the slightest distraction when he suddenly lunged forward, claws extending and lips pulling back to a teeth baring snarl. Rabbit probably never knew what hit it. She turned her back and returned to her part of the woods, finding calm wind wiping through the meadow soothing after she had witnessed Logan skinning still twitching animal with his claws in his haste to taste the meat underneath the fur.

She gathered dry leaves from the ground, scattering them to the roots of the trees. Snapped of dry branches from there, marveled the beauty of new fresh leaves here. She fed from these trees, so it only made sense to take care of them, too. She wasn’t hungry, but she took a short pull from a nearby maple just to cleanse out sharp acrid feel of her earlier meal, the one she was sure she was never meant to digest. Too complex structure to assimilate and handle, it would take long time before she could truly be free from last remnants of the men that had tried to capture her and Logan. She could still feel them in her head, moving around restlessly, screaming and cursing at her occasionally. Only occasionally. She could feel something else, too. Shadowed presence, cloaked to the back of her brain, emerging when other unwanted occupants got restless. Mere rising of it usually scared the others hiding, and it took several moments before they got back their courage.

He felt marginally better, stomach full; taste of warm blood still tickling the back of his tongue. He actually preferred his steaks well done, but he had been so hungry for something else than plastic tube shoved down his throat, he couldn’t stop himself when he felt the tiny animal struggling in his grasp. He had felt Marie behind him, observing him silently from the thicket. She was probably appalled, trying to figure out a way to get him leave before he could continue and wreak havoc through her precious forest. She could try. She wouldn’t be getting rid of him anytime soon; he was going to make sure of it. She was his best insurance against all kinds of freaks wanting to take him apart and see what made him tick. She was reluctant of using her mutation, but he was sure that with right kind of persuasion she would cave in. She had already done it once. It wouldn’t be hard to show her the benefits of doing it again.

He settled in, bringing is own little quirks, adding them to their daily routine. Sunk his claws deep in to the very foundations of her life, hunting for food and guarding her. She tried to make him see it wasn’t necessary to guard her every move, she was perfectly aware of the forest and what was happening around her, but he insisted, claiming that if they had managed to snuck up on her once, they could do it twice. Even more often. And that it was only fair to repay her hospitality by providing safety.

She let him follow her around when she wandered around, taking care that every tree, every bush and flower flourished. She let him watch from safe distance when she fed. She settled to sleep first. Even that he insisted. He wouldn’t sleep before he could be sure she was deep in slumber and nothing threatened them from the outside of her home that he kept calling a bunker. Days flew by faster than they had ever done before he came in her life. One day she noticed it had been several weeks from the day she had met him. Yet she knew next to nothing of him. On the other hand he knew everything there was to know about her.

She decided to start to pay closer attention to him, instead of just tolerating his presence. She started to follow him around, taking in every move and detail, every word. Watched in muted disgust and horror when he brought down his prey and prepared a meal. Noted with silent admiration how skilled he was. Every action and deed honed for survival. Listened when he revealed small tidbits of his life before, always with reluctance, sometimes unwittingly. It was clear he wasn’t used to sharing. Fact that made perfect sense the more she learned from his sordid past.

She was slowly getting used to him and his habits. He found it growing harder every day to keep up the pretense. It was near impossible to keep lying that he stayed because of the safety her mutation provided. It was a convenient excuse every night when he lay awake, trying to pretend that he was plotting new ways to lure her to trust him, when in reality he was reminiscing the events of the past day, enjoying the light, soft and gentle memories he made every passing hour he spent with her.

She didn’t smile often, spoke even more rarely, but she had gotten fond of touching. As soon as her first confusion had melted away she had gotten curious, almost as if she couldn’t get enough of the feeling of his bare skin on hers. His skin. He often wondered if it had been the same with somebody else. If she’d put her bare palm over anybody’s bare arm. If she would trace anybody’s face with delicate fingers. If she’d let anybody to touch her like she let him, hand on her shoulder or waist when they walked in the woods, hand in her hand when he helped her over fallen trunks. He liked to think it was just him.

When they came for him and her, he was distracted. Distracted by simple smile she had on her face. Smile directed at him when she learned that he had never tasted blueberries. He was distracted, but not for long. When first small darts, stinging like bees, carrying poison vials, buzzed through the air and lodged to his back he spun around, every plan using her as a shield if it ever came to it falling from him as he crouched and released his claws. He knew he had to be fast. Faster than those smiles of hers that grew suddenly out of nowhere and disappeared with a blink of an eye. He had to be faster, and efficient. Efficient as they had taught him to be, on countless months in brutal scenarios they had put him through, slaying army after army until there was nobody but him still standing and breathing.

He had to be fast and efficient because they had no right to take away the forest and her smile.

There were ten of them. Plastic, metal, explosives and poisons. Last one left standing was her, pressing her back against the soothing bark of a fir, black clad bodies forming a circle around where she stood frozen, mind reeling from the violence and brutality of it all. Sudden blur of action, graceful dance of carnage revealing his true skills and what he was made for. Now he lay at her feet, broken and torn heap of bloodied skin and muscle, still twitching and shivering, panting from exertion, shivering from poisons darts still pumped in his system.

“Why?” She asked, kneeling and plucking the green abominations from his flesh. She had warned him, told him to run when it looked like he was fighting a loosing battle. To run to safety, she would use her gift. He had refused to move an inch from where he stood and fought; shielding her with his body from everything they tried to throw at them. He didn’t answer, just rolled on his side and curled around himself when his body expelled poisons most efficient way it knew, his muscles tensing from the force of the heaves.

“Why?” She asked again when she led him through the woods, back to their home, staggering, nearly crumpling under his weight. He didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. Only strength he had left was preserved to walking, getting forward, keeping his body upright, because he knew she wouldn’t be able to drag his carcass back to bunker, and she would try anyway, most likely getting hurt in the process.

His body was shutting down, closing out everything non-essential to preserve life. Toxins they had used fought his mutation, challenging it to limits and it was impossible to stay still or quiet, it was impossible to move or speak let alone shout or scream, yet he did it all and more, swaying between consciousness and delirium, state he was familiar with, well familiar from his time spent in the lab. But this time it was different. Not much, but different nonetheless. He wasn’t alone.

When his lungs stopped working, she breathed for him and instead of horrible suffocation he got to feel her lips on his. When his heart lost it’s rhythm she beat it back. When everything else failed she coped with the best of her abilities, keeping him clean and moderately comfortable, talking him through it, soothing his burning face and chest with cool hands, staying out of reach but whispering reassurances when he lost the control of weapons they had installed inside of him, told him it was dark when his eyes stopped cooperating, kept touching him when he lost his hearing, murmured words of comfort when he noticed he couldn’t feel her hand on his own no matter how hard he tried.

He had been severely compelled to do as she had asked. Just run away and not look back. But he couldn’t bring himself to abandon her. Now, as he laid his head cradled on her lap, her fingers stroking through tangled mess of his hair he felt immensely grateful that he had stayed. Hurt from battle was easy to overcome and forget compared to hurt that would have settled in him as soon as he stopped if he had ran from her. Eventually it would have led him back there. Back in their hands, because she would have been there, too, and he had a feeling he wouldn’t have been able to walk away and let it slide.

Why, she had asked. He had been too hurt and tired to answer. He was still tired.
“Because.”