Heal Over: Chapter Seven
Logan did not know his claws were out until he saw them, reflected in the polished desk and the eyes of the frightened students.
"Professor!" a brunette cried, stumbling out of her chair and through the wall.
There were screams, the clatter of students rising to their feet. They gaped at the man who had stalked their school for years, always with the air that he was a step away from breaking someone's arm. Today he seemed closer to that goal than ever. One or two members of the junior team appeared to be deciding what use their gifts would be against the Wolverine. The rest were measuring the distance between themselves and the door, and pondering the wiser question of what their chances were of getting past those claws unscathed.
Logan didn't even see the them.
His gaze was pinned on Xavier as if with iron nails, and when a student reached out a hesitant, ice-coated hand to block him, Logan shoved him away without ever breaking his stride.
"Leave us," The Professor said firmly, granting the teenagers the permission they needed to be cowards. They fled from the classroom, no doubt to raise the alarm.
"Now, Logan," Xavier began, "This is--"
"Don't you fucking start with me," Logan snarled. He retracted the claws of his left hand, seized the front of the old man's shirt and shook him violently. Back and forth. Back and forth. Chuck's head struck the back of his wheelchair. "You tell me where she is you bastard. Tell me where she is or I'll kill you. I'll kill you right now."
There was an almost unnoticeable tremor in Logan's words, and it was easy to believe him insane.
A flicker in The Professor's eyes, a brush against his thoughts. A smokey presence in his mind that did not belong to The Wolverine.
Logan imagined Xavier's body, hung upside down by his useless legs. Adamantium cutting through muscle and ribcage. Purplish entrails uncoiling, falling to the ground.
It wouldn't be difficult.
Chuck flinched, and the touch on Logan's brain evaporated. A weak shield; it shouldn't have stopped the telepath.
But the tip of a glittering claw tickled the pale skin beneath The Professor's chin, and Xavier blinked wet, miserable eyes. "I had to do it. I had to." he pleaded.
His facade as the pillar of strength, the unshakable calm that propped up the school was gone. And in it's place sat an old man--tired and afraid.
Logan slammed him again against the back of the chair. "Tell me."
And he did.
They knew about the school. Of course They did. Anonymity could only last so long. But They wanted to prevent a war as much as mutants did. A compromise had been reached, just as it had a thousand times in history.
"Don't you understand, Logan? Surely you must understand."
They had agreed, that there should be a safe place for mutants, gathered all in one spot. A shelter. The mansion and it's residents would go unmolested, and in exchange the X-men would turn a blind eye to the occasional mutant that went missing....Whoever they could find with the X-gene, whatever mutant who had the misfortune to stray across their path, belonged to them. Property.
"I kept it under control. I never let it get out of hand, Logan. Didn't I send you to collect those files, the locations of the labs? We always, always had the upper hand. Haven't I always filled this school to the brim? Haven't I kept the students here safe, happy?"
Logan was never supposed to steal the girl from Them. It was his fault, really. She belonged to Them by contract.
"Think of the consequences of breaking our oath to Them. You do not want to spark a war, do you? Think of all the lives."
They wanted her back. If They could come and pick the girl up, everything would go back to the way it was before. None of the others would be touched, They promised.
"You are and intelligent man, Logan. You've always been practical. Surely you understand my choice. Think of the students here. The children. Would you really risk their safety?"
The girl was only one person. A horrible, unfortunate tragedy to be sure. But a necessary one. If you forget about her, the bigger picture was clear as day for your eyes to see.
"I made the right choice. I did. What else was I supposed to do? What else would you have done?"
Logan leaned close and growled. "Protect her."
He almost launched himself back, straightening up before he could lose control of himself. There was a white-hot pulsing behind just behind the bridge of his nose. Logan paced the room, dragging his claws along the walls. He shattered glass and wood. Huge chunks were gouged out of the bookshelf and desk.
It didn't even take the edge off his anger. He wanted to maim.
Xavier sat silently, carefully not moving. But it was too late to avoid The Wolverine's attention. Logan looked at him, through red-rimmed eyes. And when he spoke, his voice was tightly leashed in. It hardly shook at all.
"Okay," he said. "Here's what you're gonna do."
Logan stood outside the metal doors of Cerebro, feeling each second tick away from him, irretrievable. He wondered what was taking the old man so long. He should have gone inside the machine as well.
He was judging how long it would take to slice through those doors when they opened.
In all truthfulness, Logan was no match against The Professor's telepathy. Had Chuck so desired, The Wolverine could be laying in a coma, unable to wipe himself let alone deliver threats. For this reason he sensed Xavier--or just a mere part of him--did not want to fight, longed for the secret and the situation to be taken out of his hands.
He seemed smaller than before, diminished beneath a heavy weight. There were new lines on his temple, and the smell of sadness. Logan could not find a drop of compassion for him.
"They're travelling on the interstate, but I planted a suggestion in their minds. In about thirty minutes, They will decide to switch off to a back road, just outside Greenhaven. The vehicle is a 2001 Lincoln Navigator, black. The license plate number is 303810. You shouldn't have too much trouble finding it."
Logan's nostrils flared. He gave a curt nod.
Chuck said, "I can write down the--"
"No. I'll remember it."
He considered killing the old man then. But though he smelled no deceit, he couldn't be certain this was not a trick. He needed him alive, if he had to come back again.
But...
Logan walked around The Professor, down the long suspended path to the heart of Cerebro. He released his claws, barely hearing the droning protests behind him. Sparks shot out from the metal base--but if Logan could take a bullet, a little electric shock was no problem. He clawed the computer into rubble, cut off the possibility of Xavier tracking them.
And then he went, leaving Charles Xavier breathing, but not out of mercy. He was certain he'd come back someday (perhaps sooner, rather than later) for the old man.
Light glinted of the van's aluminum like tiny spotlights. It was nondescript, like a thousand others, but Logan could never have mistaken it. The license plate read 303810.
The bike shook beneath him, overstressed with the speed he had pushed it to--even with the red propeller Scott had installed.
He thundered behind the Lincoln Navigator, shortening the road between them swiftly, grateful that they were that their surroundings were private, no other cars in sight. He could not bring himself to slow down, even in the interest of a sneak attack.
The vehicle picked up speed, but that made no difference. He contemplated leaping from the motorcycle to the van--it wouldn't be the first time he tried that move--or ramming it. But that might jar Marie inside.
Logan pulled himself level with the Navigator--the windows were tinted black, but he could see shadows moving around behind the glass--then passed it. Fifteen yards ahead, he squeezed the breaks. The air filled with the sound of screeching tires--both his and Theirs.
The smell of scorched rubber. He let the bike thump to it's side on the asphalt. He was already running.
Black doors opened on either side. They looked strangely like wings. Three men in dark clothing, whose facial features Logan would later not remember or care to, sprinted toward him. They clutched long, skeletal-looking machine guns that may as well have contained water for as much as they phased him.
Shots clapping in the air, like a round of applause. Ripping at Logan and into him. He could feel his organs shifting around, absorbing the new additions to the rest of his metallic body.
It only pissed him off.
Wolverine reached the first man, claws still tucked momentarily within their sheaths. He seized his shoulder, and as the machine gun pumped bullets into his stomach, hit him squarely in the jaw. The guy's chin was stricken hard enough to shatter bone. His head fell back, and Logan kept pushing until he heard the spinal cord pop. The body fell to the ground. He kept moving.
Yells, echoing on the country road. First angry, then afraid. Flashes of light. Vests that could withstand bullets but not adamantium.
He cut one of the others in half. Blood spilled across the asphalt like a tin of paint being kicked over.
He grabbed the third's gun, threw it aside. It landed in the tall grass, discharging a few more shots from the impact.
Wolverine's fingers tightened around a neck. He registered that the throat was orange from a fake tan, that the man's eyes were green--but the rest of his face stayed a flashy blur. The Wolverine smashed his head against the van's fender. It crumpled like a paper bag filled with pomegranates.
And when it was over, the atmosphere was so saturated with blood every breath he drew felt damp. Logan stood, panting chokily.
He did not give his body time to stop shaking. Logan stumbled around to the side of the Navigator. Clean, empty front seat. Green thermos in the cup holder, no other adornment. He opened the passenger door. A briefcase, some folders, more weapons. A clear packet with shining syringes. No Marie.
Logan gave an animal's half-whine. He could...he could smell her. He could smell her. Fear and Ororo's organic shampoo. Marie. Marie.
He hurried around the back of the van, cut through the lock. Swung open the doors.
Empty.
But...but....
Dark lines in the grey felt carpet of the trunk, a rectangle. Bonus storage space for beach balls, camping supplies. Logan did not even have the energy it would take to cuss. He grabbed the tiny handle, pulled the lid up.
Brown hair and pale skin, a flashback to the girl on the operating table. Then, her eyes were open.
Limbs folded up into a tight ball, crammed inside the box like a piece of luggage.
Logan eased her out. She was limp. How could she be so weightless and heavy at the same time? He cradled the girl, her feet still dangling into the box. No movement behind her eyelids. Her flesh was cool, but not...not cold. It wasn't.
"Baby," he said. "Marie."
Blood was rushing too loudly in Logan's ears for him to hear her heart beating. But it must have been. It must have been, because wasn't that...wasn't that her breath, tickling his damp cheek?
It was beating. She was just unconscious because...because of the medicine. She was fine. She was fine.
"Hey." Logan said. And his voice shook so much it could have been a laugh. "Kid, look at me. Look at me.You're alright."
He brushed her hair back, turning those white streaks red and sleek with the blood of his hands.
"Wake up, baby. You're safe. It's time to go."
"C'mon, honey."
"Marie."
He thought he'd embraced that part of him people called The Wolverine. But he had never felt more in tune with the animal until now--frenzied. He sniffed her desperately, but could only smell his own panic.
"God fucking dammit," Logan said.
What was wrong with his senses? "Sweetie. Marie. Marie. Marie."
He nuzzled her cheek, her throat. Soft skin. Like silk. "Baby. Marie."
Her eyelashes twitched, fluttered. Sleepy, drugged brown eyes he'd never been happier to see.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Inspired by some truly unbelievable reviews(thank you so, so, so, so much)...an a thunderstorm that kept me trapped in the house all day, I was able to write this chapter on Sunday. I never though I could do it. It's a record! I just had to wait to get it proofread, and until I had the time to type it up.
I was worried that I would have trouble with the action scene(I'm much better with Logan/Marie cuddling, and if I had my choice they would never get out of bed.) but I'm happy with how it turned out.
I had two endings in mind for this, and I'm glad I chose the one I did. It will make the next chapter fun to write. I apologize for the amount of graphic-ness/ sadness in this chapter.
Things to keep in mind:
Read it 'til the end.
I have never been to Greenhaven, I just picked it off a list of towns near Westchester. I have also never been inside/around a Lincoln Navigator. (I can barely tell a ford from a...other car name.) That too was plucked off of Google, and I am sorry for any inaccuracies you find.
Thank you, and please enjoy.
I was worried that I would have trouble with the action scene(I'm much better with Logan/Marie cuddling, and if I had my choice they would never get out of bed.) but I'm happy with how it turned out.
I had two endings in mind for this, and I'm glad I chose the one I did. It will make the next chapter fun to write. I apologize for the amount of graphic-ness/ sadness in this chapter.
Things to keep in mind:
Read it 'til the end.
I have never been to Greenhaven, I just picked it off a list of towns near Westchester. I have also never been inside/around a Lincoln Navigator. (I can barely tell a ford from a...other car name.) That too was plucked off of Google, and I am sorry for any inaccuracies you find.
Thank you, and please enjoy.
Chapter End Notes:
I was iffy on the ending-I understand it's a little cliche. But it had to be done. ;-) As ever, I hope you liked it and that you will review. I've said it before, but they are really what gears me up for each chapter, and all of you have been really kind. I'm so glad this story was met with approval from the readers on this site. One more chapter to go! Don't worry, there will be lots of cuddling to make up for this one.