Logan lay awake well into the night. Just staring up at the ceiling... For once in the past 15 years, it wasn't the fear of what sleep would bring that kept him awake. It was the thought of what he'd heard from Xavier might mean. The possibilities....
Here was this woman, whom the Professor's 'acquaintance' claimed to have claws like his own. And that could mean only one thing in his mind - if she'd survive the hellish nightmare that had given HIM an adamantium skeleton, then she had to have the same power to heal herself. There was no other way. Without it, no amount of painkillers, no amount of antibiotics would have kept her alive. The extensive, repetitive surgeries required were simply impossible for someone without the ability to regenerate their own tissue.
She'd been 'attacked', Xavier had said.... by whom? And why? He rubbed a tired hand over his eyes, filing the questions away to the back of his mind for now. He wouldn't be able to even begin to find the answers to them until he reached his destination. Tomorrow...
Exhaustion finally won out and his eyes slid closed into sleep.
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*FLASH* scalpels slowly descending...
*FLASH* horrific pain as drills bite into his bones...
*FLASH* through the corner of his terrified eyes, another figure submerged in an identical tub...
*FLASH* PAIN!!!! unbearable...
*FLASH* screaming... his own?
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Logan came awake with a shuddering gasp, a scream dying on his lips as his body shot upright in the bed. With shaking hands, he wiped away the sweat that ran in rivulets from his forehead. Always the same damn nightmares.... As the last of sleep released it's hold on his brain, he stopped moving. Wait..not the same this time. There was someone else there.... Tired and with the adrenaline of fear still coursing through his veins, Logan shook his head angrily. *Get a grip, asshole.... it only changed once you'd heard about the woman... there IS no one else like you...* an insidious voice whispered inside of him. The same voice that had driven him to attempt to take his own life when he'd first woken up in that forest so many years ago, when he'd realized what had been done to him....
"Fuck off..." Logan muttered, sliding his legs over the side of the bed and making his way to the small bathroom that graced the pathetic dump of a room he'd found himself in. Turning the shower water on full, he stepped into the spray and let the hot water wash away the last of the sweat from his body. As his senses became more alert, freed finally from the lingering remains of the nightmare, he decided that he'd had enough of waiting. The two hours of sleep he'd managed before the dreams came again would just have to do - it was time to go find this woman and maybe answer some questions.
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The black motorcycle roared into the tiny town of Crooked River at 2 in the morning. The only sign of life came from the light shining through the grimy windows of what appeared to be the only bar around. Needing somewhere to warm up after the frigid ride, and beer on top of that, Logan leaned the bike against the side of the building and headed for the door. Place actually reminded him alot of the dive where he'd first met Rogue.... Hope it turns out to be half as much fun, he laughed to himself as he pulled the metal door open.
For a bar, it was fairly typical. There were a number of beer-bellied, tough guy trucker types playing pool in the back, and not a woman to be seen. The smoke of several cigarettes filled the air, the smell of stale piss and vomit assaulted his heightened sense of smell and he had to take several shallow breaths before heading for a stool at the bar. The barkeep looked up from wiping glasses, gave Logan a bland look and asked, "What can I get you?"
"I'll have a beer." As the bartender put the Molson on the bar before him, Logan spoke again before he could move away. "Listen, I heard there's a woman living in the woods a short way from here - know anything about her?"
"You mean the mutie?" One of the drunken truckers who'd waddled up to the bar for a refill spoke up. Logan simply turned and stared at the man. Who was, unfortunately, too drunk to notice the rising anger on Logan's face. "Yeah, I know all about that freak - she marked up Marty good few nights back. Stupid bitch, all he wanted was a little kiss. And she goes all crazy on us - stabs him in the arm with these long ass freaking claws that just shot out of her hands. Man, damn mutants oughta be locked up somewhere...." Logan took a long swallow of his beer before slamming it back down on the bartop. Standing up, he turned to face the bigot.
"You know what I think?" he growled out between clenched teeth. After a moment to process the question, the other man spoke.
"What?"
"I think your momma should've kept her legs crossed...." Logan said it with a smile on his face, knowing full well the reaction he was provoking. But hell, he'd had just about enough talk like the kind this maggot was spewing and he was itching for some satisfaction. The drunk trucker's face turned beet red and his arm came up in a swing at Logan's jaw. Having seen it coming a mile away, it was easy for him to dodge the punch and stepped underneath to lay a swift punch of his own right upside the man's head. He dropped like a stone to the floor. His buddies, who'd been watching the exchange from the safety of the pool table started forward.
"Now, now," Logan laughed with a feral smile on his face. "You wouldn't wanna mess with another 'mutie' now would you?" With those words, he let the claws that had just been ITCHING to come out slide through his skin to their full length. Suddenly, the man on the floor's buddies weren't so eager. Stopped right in their tracks and just stared. Logan heard one of them whisper, "Shit, freak's just like her..." Tired of wasting his time with the likes of these assholes and confident that they wouldn't be following him, Logan slid the claws back in, slapped a few bills on the bar, thanked the shell-shocked bartender for the beer, and stepped back outside into the frigid wind. As he sat astride the bike, pulling on his gloves, he caught a glimpse of motion in the dark woods bordering the small town. A small lithe figure running away, disappearing into the shadows. A sweet feminine smell wafted to him on the wind and he knew he'd just glimpsed the woman he was after. He drew in a deep breath, imprinting the smell of her into every cell of his being. Now that he knew it, he'd find her again. And next time, he wouldn't let her run away.
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