South of the Border: part two
Logan had always woken early, and military service in various armies had honed that inclination into a tendency to snap awake at the crack of dawn before anyone else was so much as stirring. But when he woke the next morning, Xavier was already sitting bolt upright in bed. His fingers were pressed to his temple and he was staring at the opposite wall without blinking. He looked shocked.
“Xavier,” Logan mumbled, sitting up and shaking the sleep off. “What’s going on?”
The other man didn’t reply, just carried on staring at the wall, lost to wherever his mind had gone.
“Xavier,” Logan tried again with no response. He took Xavier by the arm and shook him lightly. “Hey, Charles. Come on, snap out of it will ya?”
Xavier blinked long and slow, and then all at once came back into himself.
“Sorry, sorry...” he muttered. “I just thought I felt someone familiar nearby. And then I looked...”
“And...?” Logan prompted. Xavier seemed nervous and that put Logan on edge. He resisted the urge to pop his claws out.
“It was someone I knew very well.” Xavier said. “It was my sister.”
“You got a sister?” Logan asked. He was surprised. Xavier had babbled on at length about his school, the kids there, genetics, literature, everything under the damn sun. But he hadn’t once mentioned having a sister.
“Yes,” Xavier replied, almost regretfully. Logan sensed a whole bunch of messy family issues brewing there. He always did hate family shit.
“She’s heading south,” Xavier continued. “She’s going to look for Emma Frost.”
Now that grabbed Logan’s attention. “Frost? What the hell does your sister want with Frost?”
“I believe she wants to recruit her.”
“Recruit her?” The conversation was taking a turn for the seriously fucking strange. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Maybe we should put some clothes on first. Then I’ll tell you about it.”
...
The gist of what Xavier told him was this: his sister was a mutant, like them. She was also not really his sister, not biologically at least. She was a shapeshifter, able to impersonate anyone down to the tiniest details.
Xavier also sent him a mental picture of what his sister looked like. She was blue.
“Yes, some people’s mutations do manifest as part of their physical form,” Xavier told him when he brought it up. “You’re one of them.” He nodded at Logan’s hands, the space between the knuckles where the claws protrude out from.
It’s still a bit of a surprise to find out that there’s people wandering around out there who look like something you’d see in a kids comic.
“Why does your sister want to... recruit Frost?” Logan asked. “Recruit for what?”
“I don’t know,” said Xavier helplessly. “My sister and...” he trailed off for a moment. “Well, her views on mutant human relations are a little more... aggressive than mine. God knows what they’re doing.”
“They?” Logan demanded, but Xavier ignored him, continuing to fuss about packing his things back into the ratty little rucksack of his.
“You’re going after her?” Logan asked Xavier when he realised he wasn’t going to get an answer to his first question.
“Yes,” Xavier said. “I have to. Would you want to see a woman like Emma Frost keeping company with any sister of yours?”
No. Logan wouldn’t. The only way Logan wants to see Emma Frost is stone cold dead. Maybe this way he’ll get his wish.
“I’m coming with you,” he announced.
Xavier looked relieved. “I was rather hoping you’d say that,” he confessed.
...
They were back in Mexico by nightfall.
They eventually stopped in a little place not far from the border. In his haste to intercept his sister Xavier had given up completely on the niceties of his little hitchhiking trick, instead just wordlessly placing his fingers to his head and getting the poor shmucks in the cars to drive them wherever they wanted. They crossed the border in that fashion, in the car of a businessman who hadn’t even been planning on going to Mexico that morning, but who did possess an expensive, and above all a fast car.
There was nowhere to stay, so they wound up sleeping under the stars in the shade of a half ruined stable on the edge of town. Logan easily pilfered them a couple of blankets, but it was still preferable to lie pressed up close together than apart.
“What happened to Frost anyway?” Logan finally asked, a question that had been gnawing away at him for a while, and that Xavier had previously refused to answer. There was no way he could avoid answering it now however.
“We fought,” Xavier told him. “Not like that,” he added when Logan sniggered, imagining prim and proper Charles Xavier and the eternally scantily clad Emma Frost getting into some kind of punch up. “Telepathically. We fought each other for control. I won.”
“And then what?”
“I altered her mind,” Xavier muttered quietly, turning his face so it was pressed into Logan’s shoulder, muffling the words even more. “I’m not proud of it, but it seemed like a better idea than any of the... alternatives.”
The alternatives. Like killing the bitch.
“How?”
“I made her believe she was an outcast from her family who had run away to explore the world. Ridiculous I know, but I needed a suitably vague story. I left her with plenty of money, enough to keep her going for a long while. And she’s a tenacious woman, even without her telepathic ability.”
“What? Ya took that away?”
“No... I can’t do that. But I can block it. Make people forget they’re mutants, and introduce suggestions to their minds so they just don’t ever reach out to the place where their powers are. But...”
“But...?” It sounded like an ominous ‘but’ to Logan.
“But she was very powerful. Still is, underneath it all. The alterations and memory blocks I put in place are much weaker than they would be in someone else. If someone were to just outright tell her who she is then it would all collapse.”
“Someone like your sister?”
“Yes, someone like my sister.”
Logan pondered this new information. He was torn. Emma Frost without her powers, and with no idea who Logan was, would be a much easier target. Hell, Logan could just stroll up in the street and gut her right there. But Xavier would never let him do that, and even a bastard like Logan had to draw the line somewhere. Just killing a defenceless woman in the street wasn’t something he thought he could bring himself to do.
Emma Frost with her powers was a much more legitimate target, and there was no way even Charles Xavier could ever call her defenceless. However, she would also be a hell of a lot more dangerous that way. She’d be able to stop Logan in his tracks with a single thought. And if she and Xavier fought again, there was no guarantee that Frost would lose a second time.
Logan tightened his grip on Xavier imperceptibly.
...
Xavier had no idea what route his sister was planning on taking through the country, or even really where she was headed to. Their best bet was simply heading back to where Xavier had left Frost, hoping to encounter the sister - Raven, apparently - on the way.
It took them a couple of days to get there, travelling by hitching lifts for hours on end during the day, and walking when necessity called for it. By night they stayed in whatever shabby accommodation they could find, always pretending like they were going to get a solid night of sleep but then inevitably having sex and grabbing only a handful of hours worth in the end.
“We’ll be able to get the train tomorrow,” said Xavier in the afterglow on the second night. “It’ll take us right into Mexico City.”
Logan grunted his assent, face pressed into the crook of Xavier’s neck. He let his teeth drag against the skin a bit, and savoured the taste of sweat on his tongue. In return Xavier squirmed satisfyingly underneath him.
...
Of course when they arrived in Mexico City, the problem of how to actually find Frost started to become a serious issue.
“I know her mind,” said Xavier as they left the overcrowded train station. “That makes it easier than searching for someone unfamiliar, like a stranger. But there are so many people here... and the city is so big.”
And of course there was the simple fact that she might well have long since high-tailed it out of town. Xavier had left Frost with the impulse to come to the city, figuring that she’d be better able to sort out her new life with all its resources at her disposal than she would out in small town Mexico. But there was no guarantee at all that she’d stayed any longer than a couple of days.
Added to their troubles was the fact that they had yet to encounter any trace of Xavier’s elusive sister. The thought ate away at Logan, that maybe Raven Xavier had already found Emma Frost and unlocked her memories, and that Logan’s chance for a bit of good, honest revenge might already have slipped through his fingers.
They got a room at the nearest place they could.
“I need to be alone for a while,” Xavier told Logan afterwards. “I need to concentrate.”
Logan left him lying on one of the beds, perfectly still, and with his eyes shut and his hands clasped together on top of his stomach - the very picture of serenity.
As Logan stepped out into the street he even thought he could feel the brief touch of Xavier’s mind washing gently over his for a moment. He shook the feeling off.
Once again he gravitated to a bar. It was just second nature. Drop him in the middle of a wilderness and he’d turn up somewhere you could get a cold beer within the hour. He only stayed for a single drink however. If there was even the slightest possibility they were going to face off against Frost here, then Logan wanted to know the territory.
The streets were bustling, alive with people and the thick, cloying smells of a city. All kinds of different food cooking all over the place, the musty sweat of the crowd under the hot sun, and the stink of petrol everywhere. People were pushing and shoving, and there were kids scurrying around underfoot everywhere. A couple of times Logan had to catch a small, nimble hand just as it was about to sneak into his pocket and relieve him of his money.
He’d been wandering around for nearly three hours when he saw Emma Frost.
There was no mistaking her at all, even in the normal clothes she was wearing instead of her usual white next-to-nothing. She was just strolling about in one of the nicer parts of town, an area that drew a lot of American tourists and businessmen, but even amongst them her pristinely perfect pale skin and sleek yellow hair still stood out. Men sent her openly admiring glances, and women narrowed their eyes and kept a close eye on their husbands.
Thanking whoever the hell might be listening for his luck, Logan ducked into a doorway as she walked past him.
Whatever Xavier had done to her, it looked to Logan like it was holding. Frost’s expression was one of open and amiable curiosity, and she occasionally exchanged a polite - and apparently genuine - smile with someone else. Up to this point Logan had never seen her pull a single expression that wasn’t either icy disdain or a self-satisfied smirk. No, this was definitely still Xavier’s handiwork.
He followed her.
She spent about twenty minutes longer doing some idle shopping before heading off elsewhere. Logan kept a discreet distance away, and he had to stay sharp not to lose her in the crowds. Once he thought he’d lost her, but managed to catch sight of her again just a moment later.
Finally she arrived at a little boarding house and went inside. Logan watched the place carefully for a few minutes. Nobody else went in or out. The board advertising rooms was written in both Spanish and English, and revealed that the place was for single female boarders only.
Logan was in two minds. Right now he knew where Frost was and Xavier didn’t. He could march in there, kill her, and the whole thing would be over and done with. Xavier would probably read what he’d done in his mind later on though, and he’d be pissed as hell about it. So if he did kill her, Logan would have to leave immediately afterwards, abandoning Xavier. But he was going to have to do that eventually anyway, so why not do it now?
On the other hand, there was still the issue of his own personal problem with the idea of killing somebody who was completely defenceless. And fuck it, if he wasn’t quite ready to ditch Xavier yet, so what? The guy was a decent roll in the hay, nothing wrong with wanting to indulge in that little pleasure a couple of days longer, not so far as Logan could see. So he’d play it Xavier’s way - for now.
When Logan got back to the room Xavier was still lying exactly where Logan had left him, apparently not having moved an inch. He cracked an eye open when Logan flung the door open.
“Sorry, I haven’t found her yet...”
“Yeah? Well I have.”
Immediately Xavier sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.
“Where?”
“Downtown.”
Xavier clambered to his feet. He ran a hand nervously through his hair.
“How did she seem?” he asked Logan.
Logan shrugged. “Looked to me like your little mental screw-over was still goin’ strong. She sure wasn’t actin’ like herself.”
Xavier nodded. “Then I think we can safely assume Raven hasn’t gotten to her yet.”
“You get any, I don’t know, hint of her while you were...” Logan didn’t know what to call it, so just settled for waving his hand vaguely around his head.
“None. But then I didn’t detect Miss Frost either, and she was here right under my nose regardless. There’s just too many people, I can’t concentrate properly. It’s like trying to listen to one person talking to you in a room full of other people shouting. If I had Cerebro here it would be easy...”
“What the hell is Cerebro?” Logan interrupted.
“It’s...” Xavier hesitated. “It’s complicated. Of course if you came to the school with me I could just show it to you.”
“So what’re we gonna do about Frost?” Logan said shortly, putting a swift end to that line of conversation before it got started again.
Xavier sat back down on the bed. He stayed quiet for a few long moments, deep in thought. Logan waited, arms crossed.
“We need to convince her to leave Mexico right away,” Xavier said eventually. “Persuade her to go somewhere else, somewhere a long way away. We can presume that her activities with the drug runners is what got my sister’s attention and let her know Emma was in Mexico. But now she doesn’t even believe that she is Emma Frost anymore. If she goes somewhere else she’ll just vanish. Live a normal life.”
“When you say ‘convince’ and ‘persuade’ here pal, I assume you mean...”
“Yes. I’ll alter her mind again. Plant the suggestion.” Xavier’s shoulders sagged, he and looked distinctly dismayed at the prospect.
“Problem?” Logan asked.
“I don’t enjoy manipulating people’s minds,” Xavier said. “It crosses a moral line, and I’d normally never do it. It’s just in this case...” he trailed off.
He looked so pathetically downcast that Logan moved over to stand in front of him and clasped a reassuring hand over his shoulder. He ducked down slightly so he could look Xavier in the eye, and gave the shoulder a brief, tight squeeze.
“She deserves it,” he growled. “She’d do it to you in a heartbeat.”
Xavier smiled weakly, resting his own hand lightly on top of Logan’s. “I appreciate the sentiment. But I rather think that’s the difference between her and me, don’t you?”
...
The plan of action was a simple enough one. They’d go over to the boarding house, Xavier would rummage around inside Frost’s head until everything was arranged to his satisfaction, then they’d leave. What could possibly go wrong?
Fucking everything, as it turned out.
The first part of the plan went seamlessly. Admittedly, there’s only so much that can go wrong with turning up at a normal boarding house and politely asking to see one of the residents - especially when one of you is a telepath. But it was still goddamn seamless.
It was only when they met a confused former Emma Frost in the hallway and Xavier reached out into her mind that things started to go completely to shit.
At first it seemed fine - at least as far as Logan could tell. Actually, if he was being honest it was mostly seriously creepy, the two of them just staring fixatedly into each other’s eyes without so much as blinking. It just went on and on, until eventually it began to dawn on Logan that it had been going on too long.
As he watched with mounting alarm, Frost’s mouth drew itself into her habitual sneer, and the hand at Xavier’s temple began to tremble uncontrollably.
Logan did the first thing that came into his head. He punched Frost in the face as hard as he could.
She screamed with fury as she was propelled backwards, smacking into a dresser and sending the contents flying onto the floor. Released from the mental battle, Xavier stumbled backwards in a daze, slumping against the wall.
Logan’s claws flew out as he advanced on Frost, who was busy scrambling hastily back onto her feet. This was more than he could have hoped for - the perfect set-up to kill the Ice Queen, and even Xavier couldn’t reprimand him for it in these circumstances.
He drew his fist back, ready to plunge his claws into her belly. Without any hesitation he lashed out...
A horrible pain shot momentarily up his forearm as the claws rebounded off Frost. Logan staggered backwards before shaking it off. When he looked back up, he was momentarily stunned. No longer was Frost flesh and blood, now every inch of her gleamed and shone like some kind of huge, woman-shaped diamond.
Even on her new, bizarre diamond face Logan could still make out a smirk as she now advanced on him.
He swung out at her again, but once more his claws left not so much as a single mark on her glittering body. In return Frost took a swing at him, the punch landing with enough force to send Logan sprawling to the floor.
A Mexican woman, the landlady of the boarding house, appeared for a moment in a nearby doorway. She took one look at Logan lying on her hallway floor, claws out, and the gleaming Frost looming over him, and ran off screaming.
“Xavier!” Logan yelled. “Do something!”
“I can’t!” Xavier protested. “Not when she’s like this.”
“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Logan growled under his breath, rolling quickly to one side to avoid the foot Frost had tried to stamp down on him. In a flash he was back on his feet, deftly avoiding another punch. He wasn’t fast enough to avoid the kick to the knee however, and he yelled in pain as he felt the bone crumble into pieces on impact. The leg gave out underneath him and he fell to the floor.
With Logan down Frost turned her attention on Xavier. Unable to get into her mind while she was in this form, he was completely helpless, pressed up against the boarding house wall as Frost drew back one sparkling fist ready to slam it into his face.
Logan’s blood boiled. He leapt back up, the broken knee already knitted back together perfectly. He charged at Frost, slamming into her and sending the both of them careering out through the shutters of a nearby window and into the street beyond.
There were yells and shouts in Spanish all around them, but the street here was a fairly quiet one and there wasn’t really all that many people about. The people who were there took one look at Logan and Frost and wisely kept their distance.
With all her weird sparkly shit going on, Frost’s punches and kicks were like being hit by a sledgehammer. Best as Logan could tell she wasn’t actually any stronger as such - she made no moves to throw him, or hurl anything at him. But the extra weight in her diamond limbs gave her strikes some serious momentum. Logan’s own attempts to do her some damage were completely useless. It was like trying to beat up on a concrete block.
That said, Frost’s efforts to pound Logan into the dirt weren’t coming along any better either. He was fast enough on his feet that she couldn’t pin him down, and whatever damage she did manage to inflict healed within seconds. It seemed that Frost’s own telepathy was null and void as well when she was like this, because Logan felt none of her familiar forceful push at his mind. And she couldn’t risk changing back, not with Xavier so close by.
One particularly well placed blow had Logan on his back, his eyes tightly shut against the excruciating sensation of bits of shattered jawbone and teeth working themselves back into place. Just as the pain in his jaw faded however, he was hit with a sudden, unexpected explosion of agony in his chest. His eyes flew back open.
Frost was stood over him, a long piece of splintered wood in her hands. Logan vaguely recognised it as part of the shutter they had crashed through during their impromptu exit into the street. It came to a sharp broken point at one end, which was currently piercing Logan through the torso, pinning him to the ground.
She jeered down at him as he struggled against it, unable to get back up.
“Can’t dodge now can you?” she hissed. He tried to kick her off, but she was too heavy. As he watched she lifted one gleaming foot and brought it above his head, ready to slam it down and crush his skull. Logan doubted even his formidable healing abilities would save him from that one. He bore his teeth at her - one last act of vicious defiance.
But in the next second she was stumbling back a step or two, hands slipping from the splintered wood at she went. Xavier had hit her at a run, just barely causing her to waver on her feet, but it was enough. With one almighty effort Logan yanked the broken shutter out of his body.
In that brief second Frost wasn’t even paying attention to him. She turned on Xavier and hit him round the head with a powerful backhander. He hit the ground unconscious, blood streaming from somewhere on his head and trickling down his face.
Logan snarled and leapt to his feet, the old familiar red mist descending. It turned Frost’s attention back to him rapidly. But she simply stood her ground, the diamond melting away from her, her body returning to normal. Her eyes flashed with wicked satisfaction as her mind crashed into Logan’s, taking it over, forcing him down like a dog at heel to its master.
And then whole world turned black.
...
The first thing Logan realised upon waking was that he was lying on a bed. The second was that he couldn’t move his arms.
They were pinned firmly above his head, locked in place with a strength that suggested manacles rather than rope or straps. The room was bare in the extreme, containing the bed Logan was trussed to and one other. Lying on the other bed, pale, bruised and still out cold, was Xavier. Unlike Logan he was completely unrestrained, arranged carefully on top of the blankets.
Logan twisted awkwardly, trying to work his hands free of the restraints that were clamped around his wrists. He angled his head backwards, trying to get a good look at them. What he saw surprised the hell out of him - instead of cuffs the metal bars of the iron bed frame had been twisted around into loops, wrapping around his wrists to hold him in place. Despite all his struggles, he was trapped.
Heavy footsteps approached. The door to the room swung open, apparently by itself, and a man entered. He was tall, broad shouldered and slim in a wiry way that suggested plenty of hidden strength.
The first thing Logan noticed about the man was the fucking crazy helmet he had on - it was impossible to miss. The second thing he noticed was what the man was. Everything about him screamed it, the sharp grey eyes, the stance, even the way he smelt. Logan knew a damn predator when he saw one.
The mystery man ignored Logan completely, apparently interested only in Xavier. He crouched by Xavier’s bedside for a while, just watching him. Finally he moved one hand to Xavier’s forehead, right at the spot where Frost had struck him. Logan noticed now that somebody had very carefully cleaned all the blood away. The man drew his fingertips lightly across the wound, and then down over the ugly purple bruise surrounding it. Unable to help himself, Logan snarled.
The man’s gaze snapped immediately to Logan, and he drew back sharply from Xavier like he’d been burnt. He pulled himself together pretty damn quickly however, and walked over the few paces necessary to loom ominously over Logan.
They stared silently at each other for a long moment, until Logan had definitely had enough.
“Nice hat,” he said.
The man’s lip curled. “Who are you?” he demanded. If Logan wasn’t mistaken (and he never was) there was just the slightest hint of a German accent in there.
Logan ignored the question. “How’s he doing?” he asked instead, nodding over to Xavier.
“I said, who are you?” the man repeated. He raised one hand slightly, and the iron wound around Logan’s wrists tightened to the point of pain.
“Yeah?” Logan snapped back. “And I said, how’s he doing?”
They glared at each other, until finally the man relented and with another wave of his hand the metal loosened again. He stared down at Logan with undisguised dislike.
“How do you know him?”
“Tell me how he’s doing and maybe I’ll tell ya bub.”
The man’s hands curled into telltale fists at his side, but otherwise he kept his anger impressively under control and his face blank.
“He’s still unconscious,” he told Logan finally, after a long, dangerous pause. “But he’s in no danger.”
“What happened to Frost?” Logan asked.
“No. I answered your question, now you will answer mine. How do you know Charles Xavier?”
Logan relented. So far as he could figure, his only chances of getting unhooked from this damn bad any time soon probably lay in going along with the asshole in the crazy hat for a while.
“He helped me out of a tight spot ‘bout a week or so ago. Been sticking together since.”
“What’s your name?”
“Logan.” Something about the guy was really starting to bother Logan now. Stupid hat aside, there was something familiar about the face.
“Are you a mutant?”
Logan hesitated. One rule he’d followed his whole life was this: you never, ever showed your full hand - especially to assholes like this guy. He settled for a compromise, and slowly slid his claws out until they were full extended, both sets crossed over each other from where his hands were held in place. No need to mention a damn thing to the bastard about instantaneous healing or enhanced senses.
The man took in the sharpened bone with an almost admiring glance. The metal around Logan’s wrists warped, uncurling and bending back into the bed frame. He sat up, retracting his claws and rubbing at his sore wrists, eyeing the man standing over him warily.
“So ya know who I am, now who the fucking hell are you?”
The man paused for a long time before answering. “My name is Erik Lehnsherr,” he said eventually, his German accent more pronounced over his own name. “I’m a mutant.”
“Yeah? No shit,” Logan muttered. “So am I a prisoner or what?” His gaze fell onto the sleeping Xavier, and he took a couple of steps towards the bed, trying to get a better look at his head injury.
“No. You’re a mutant. You’re free to go if you choose,” Lehnsherr told him. “But before you make your decision you should - don’t touch him.”
Logan froze, one hand outstretched towards Xavier. He had only been going to brush the man’s hair back, to try and get a good look at the wound on his head.
“Okay...” Logan said, slowly drawing his hand back. “Don’t lose your shit over it.”
“Get out,” said Lehnsherr, apparently suddenly tired of Logan.
The idea of leaving this asshole stranger alone with a helplessly vulnerable Xavier gnawed violently at Logan’s gut.
“And what exactly are you plannin’ on doing to him while I’m gone pal?” Logan demanded.
The very implication sparked a sudden outburst of rage from Lehnsherr. Logan’s dog tags, the ones he wore habitually even though he’d long left the army that had issued them to him, tightened suddenly around his neck, choking him. Lehnsherr glowered at him, apparently enjoying watching Logan fight desperately for breath, before abruptly releasing him.
“I won’t hurt him,” he spat out at Logan. “Now leave.”
He hated to admit it, but the truth was that if Lehnsherr had been planning on hurting Xavier somehow, he would have had plenty of time to do so while Logan had still been unconscious. And Logan wanted badly to scope this place out, figure out where the hell this psycho had brought them and get his bearings from there. So with one final glare that promised vicious retribution should Logan return to find one hair out of place on Xavier, he slunk out.
They weren’t in Mexico City anymore, that much became clear pretty damn quickly once Logan stepped outside. Instead they were on a farm out in the Mexican countryside somewhere. In the distance cattle were grazing on the scrub. The place looked well cared for, but Logan couldn’t see, hear or smell any farm hands about the place.
“Hello,” said a voice behind him.
Logan whipped round, claws out. There was a woman stood behind him, apparently completely unperturbed by the sharp edges of bone hovering just a couple of inches away from her throat.
She was bright goddamn blue.
She grinned at him, her teeth shockingly white against the azure skin. Slowly Logan lowered his fist, carefully retracting the claws. He watched the woman warily. He hadn’t heard her approach, a fact he didn’t like at all. Her smell was distinct however, and Logan filed it away for future reference. She wouldn’t be creeping up on him again.
“I guess you’re Raven then,” he muttered. Her smile immediately faltered.
“Mystique,” she corrected him.
“Mystique?” Logan snorted. “What the hell is that, some kind of codename? Well roger that kid, now where the fuck are we?”
“Don’t worry, not too far from civilization,” she told him. She lounged in the doorway, leaning sinuously against the door frame. Logan’s eye was drawn helplessly to where the long stretch of her thigh merged seamlessly into the perfect curve of her hip. In addition to being blue, she was also completely naked.
“What happened to Frost?”
“She’s been dealt with.”
“Dealt with? What the hell does that mean?”
She didn’t reply, just grinned again. The naked thing Logan could definitely get onboard with, but her attitude was starting to seriously grate across his nerves.
“You were going to recruit her, Xavier said,” he said.
“Yes we were. Then we found her about to snap my brother’s neck. Now she’s dealt with.”
Logan rolled his eyes. He stuck his hand in his pockets. Against all odds the battered packet of cigars was still there, and so was his lighter. He put one in his mouth and lit it, enjoying the taste of the smoke on his tongue and the back of his throat.
“Where’s the people who own this place?” he said, a lungful of smoke pouring out of his mouth as he spoke.
“They left in a hurry,” Raven said off-hand.
Chased off then. How long they’d stay gone was anybody’s guess.
“Charles...” Raven said after a long pause, voice suddenly softer, more uncertain. “Is he... how did he seem to you?”
Logan shrugged. “Seems fine,” he said, flicking some ash off the end of his cigar. “Don’t know what he was like before.”
His answer didn’t seem to satisfy her.
He turned his back on Raven and settled down to sit on the porch step of the farmhouse, watching the view. Raven left after a while, and Logan sat by himself for a bit until he could no longer ignore the messages his stomach was sending him. The kitchen inside the house was well stocked, and after he’d eaten his fill Logan went back to the room where Xavier was being kept.
Lehnsherr was still there, minus the helmet which was currently sat at his feet instead of on his head. He’d brought a chair in from somewhere and was using it to sit at Xavier’s bedside. Xavier himself was still unconscious, and looked deceptively peaceful despite his unnatural paleness and the nasty bruise he was sporting. Logan noticed that one of his hands, the one nearest Lehnsherr, was now lying palm upward when previously it had been turned the other way - as though someone had been holding it, and had then dropped it quickly.
“What do you want?” Erik snapped as Logan walked in.
“Come ta check on Charles here,” Logan told him. He was already fed up of this guy’s bullshit and they hadn’t spent more than ten minutes in each other’s company yet. He crossed over to the side of Xavier’s bed opposite Lehnsherr and made a point of touching Xavier, first on the shoulder then on the smooth bare skin of his temple. He kept his eyes locked on Lehnsherr while he did it, firmly asserting his right to touch Xavier if he damn well wanted to. He got a cold stare in return.
“As you can see, he’s the same,” Lehnsherr told him coldly, the underlying message of so you can get out now coming through loud and clear. Logan ignored it, and turned to sit on the other bed, the one he’d woken up bound to just a couple of hours ago.
Lehnsherr gave him a long, indecipherable look, but eventually looked away and refocused his attention on Xavier.
“So what’s the plan if he don’t wake up?” Logan said.
“If he isn’t awake by tomorrow night, we’ll take him back to Westchester.”
They sat in silence for a while. Logan half watching Xavier, half watching Lehnsherr. He itched to ask how they knew each other, but reckoned he wouldn’t get any kind of a proper answer for his trouble. He should have asked the sister earlier, but after putting on such a show of intruding on Lehnsherr’s little vigil here he was damned if he was going to leave so soon to seek her out again. Obviously there was a history there. Looked like a real complicated one into the bargain.
“Were you going to the school with him?” Lehnsherr broke the silence unexpectedly.
Logan shrugged. “He wanted me to.”
“And did you intend to accept?”
“Was thinkin’ about it,” Logan lied. “Xavier was pretty keen on the idea. Must a’ enjoyed my company.”
Lehnsherr’s eyes narrowed. Logan savoured the way his little insinuation had pissed the man off, and couldn’t resist pushing it a little further.
“And I mean, he sure was very persuasive, if ya get my drift.” Logan let a casual smirk drift momentarily across his mouth, while in reality watching carefully to gauge the reaction his words provoked.
He shouldn’t have bothered, only someone who was blind and deaf could have possibly missed it. The guy even bore his teeth for a moment for christ’s sake, one hand shooting out briefly to clutch possessively at Xavier’s arm. In the next instant he’d grabbed the helmet from the floor and stormed out, the door slamming shut behind him.
The real tell-tale sign of Lehnsherr’s feelings on the subject however was the frame of the bed Logan was sitting on. It was warped and twisted - only a little, just a momentary loss of control. But there was no mistaking the way the threatening way the iron was turned into towards Logan, the ends only just beginning to form sharp points.
When the surge of adrenaline in Logan’s veins had calmed down, he moved to sit in the chair Erik had vacated. He picked up the hand lying on the bed and brought it to his face, pressing the soft palm to his mouth. This close the smell of Lehnsherr on Xavier was unmistakable. Logan pressed a long kiss to the skin beneath his mouth, then another, and another, systematically replacing the mark of Erik Lehnsherr with his own.
Then, silently berating himself for his own fucking stupid irrationality, he settled in to stand guard.
part three
“Xavier,” Logan mumbled, sitting up and shaking the sleep off. “What’s going on?”
The other man didn’t reply, just carried on staring at the wall, lost to wherever his mind had gone.
“Xavier,” Logan tried again with no response. He took Xavier by the arm and shook him lightly. “Hey, Charles. Come on, snap out of it will ya?”
Xavier blinked long and slow, and then all at once came back into himself.
“Sorry, sorry...” he muttered. “I just thought I felt someone familiar nearby. And then I looked...”
“And...?” Logan prompted. Xavier seemed nervous and that put Logan on edge. He resisted the urge to pop his claws out.
“It was someone I knew very well.” Xavier said. “It was my sister.”
“You got a sister?” Logan asked. He was surprised. Xavier had babbled on at length about his school, the kids there, genetics, literature, everything under the damn sun. But he hadn’t once mentioned having a sister.
“Yes,” Xavier replied, almost regretfully. Logan sensed a whole bunch of messy family issues brewing there. He always did hate family shit.
“She’s heading south,” Xavier continued. “She’s going to look for Emma Frost.”
Now that grabbed Logan’s attention. “Frost? What the hell does your sister want with Frost?”
“I believe she wants to recruit her.”
“Recruit her?” The conversation was taking a turn for the seriously fucking strange. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Maybe we should put some clothes on first. Then I’ll tell you about it.”
...
The gist of what Xavier told him was this: his sister was a mutant, like them. She was also not really his sister, not biologically at least. She was a shapeshifter, able to impersonate anyone down to the tiniest details.
Xavier also sent him a mental picture of what his sister looked like. She was blue.
“Yes, some people’s mutations do manifest as part of their physical form,” Xavier told him when he brought it up. “You’re one of them.” He nodded at Logan’s hands, the space between the knuckles where the claws protrude out from.
It’s still a bit of a surprise to find out that there’s people wandering around out there who look like something you’d see in a kids comic.
“Why does your sister want to... recruit Frost?” Logan asked. “Recruit for what?”
“I don’t know,” said Xavier helplessly. “My sister and...” he trailed off for a moment. “Well, her views on mutant human relations are a little more... aggressive than mine. God knows what they’re doing.”
“They?” Logan demanded, but Xavier ignored him, continuing to fuss about packing his things back into the ratty little rucksack of his.
“You’re going after her?” Logan asked Xavier when he realised he wasn’t going to get an answer to his first question.
“Yes,” Xavier said. “I have to. Would you want to see a woman like Emma Frost keeping company with any sister of yours?”
No. Logan wouldn’t. The only way Logan wants to see Emma Frost is stone cold dead. Maybe this way he’ll get his wish.
“I’m coming with you,” he announced.
Xavier looked relieved. “I was rather hoping you’d say that,” he confessed.
...
They were back in Mexico by nightfall.
They eventually stopped in a little place not far from the border. In his haste to intercept his sister Xavier had given up completely on the niceties of his little hitchhiking trick, instead just wordlessly placing his fingers to his head and getting the poor shmucks in the cars to drive them wherever they wanted. They crossed the border in that fashion, in the car of a businessman who hadn’t even been planning on going to Mexico that morning, but who did possess an expensive, and above all a fast car.
There was nowhere to stay, so they wound up sleeping under the stars in the shade of a half ruined stable on the edge of town. Logan easily pilfered them a couple of blankets, but it was still preferable to lie pressed up close together than apart.
“What happened to Frost anyway?” Logan finally asked, a question that had been gnawing away at him for a while, and that Xavier had previously refused to answer. There was no way he could avoid answering it now however.
“We fought,” Xavier told him. “Not like that,” he added when Logan sniggered, imagining prim and proper Charles Xavier and the eternally scantily clad Emma Frost getting into some kind of punch up. “Telepathically. We fought each other for control. I won.”
“And then what?”
“I altered her mind,” Xavier muttered quietly, turning his face so it was pressed into Logan’s shoulder, muffling the words even more. “I’m not proud of it, but it seemed like a better idea than any of the... alternatives.”
The alternatives. Like killing the bitch.
“How?”
“I made her believe she was an outcast from her family who had run away to explore the world. Ridiculous I know, but I needed a suitably vague story. I left her with plenty of money, enough to keep her going for a long while. And she’s a tenacious woman, even without her telepathic ability.”
“What? Ya took that away?”
“No... I can’t do that. But I can block it. Make people forget they’re mutants, and introduce suggestions to their minds so they just don’t ever reach out to the place where their powers are. But...”
“But...?” It sounded like an ominous ‘but’ to Logan.
“But she was very powerful. Still is, underneath it all. The alterations and memory blocks I put in place are much weaker than they would be in someone else. If someone were to just outright tell her who she is then it would all collapse.”
“Someone like your sister?”
“Yes, someone like my sister.”
Logan pondered this new information. He was torn. Emma Frost without her powers, and with no idea who Logan was, would be a much easier target. Hell, Logan could just stroll up in the street and gut her right there. But Xavier would never let him do that, and even a bastard like Logan had to draw the line somewhere. Just killing a defenceless woman in the street wasn’t something he thought he could bring himself to do.
Emma Frost with her powers was a much more legitimate target, and there was no way even Charles Xavier could ever call her defenceless. However, she would also be a hell of a lot more dangerous that way. She’d be able to stop Logan in his tracks with a single thought. And if she and Xavier fought again, there was no guarantee that Frost would lose a second time.
Logan tightened his grip on Xavier imperceptibly.
...
Xavier had no idea what route his sister was planning on taking through the country, or even really where she was headed to. Their best bet was simply heading back to where Xavier had left Frost, hoping to encounter the sister - Raven, apparently - on the way.
It took them a couple of days to get there, travelling by hitching lifts for hours on end during the day, and walking when necessity called for it. By night they stayed in whatever shabby accommodation they could find, always pretending like they were going to get a solid night of sleep but then inevitably having sex and grabbing only a handful of hours worth in the end.
“We’ll be able to get the train tomorrow,” said Xavier in the afterglow on the second night. “It’ll take us right into Mexico City.”
Logan grunted his assent, face pressed into the crook of Xavier’s neck. He let his teeth drag against the skin a bit, and savoured the taste of sweat on his tongue. In return Xavier squirmed satisfyingly underneath him.
...
Of course when they arrived in Mexico City, the problem of how to actually find Frost started to become a serious issue.
“I know her mind,” said Xavier as they left the overcrowded train station. “That makes it easier than searching for someone unfamiliar, like a stranger. But there are so many people here... and the city is so big.”
And of course there was the simple fact that she might well have long since high-tailed it out of town. Xavier had left Frost with the impulse to come to the city, figuring that she’d be better able to sort out her new life with all its resources at her disposal than she would out in small town Mexico. But there was no guarantee at all that she’d stayed any longer than a couple of days.
Added to their troubles was the fact that they had yet to encounter any trace of Xavier’s elusive sister. The thought ate away at Logan, that maybe Raven Xavier had already found Emma Frost and unlocked her memories, and that Logan’s chance for a bit of good, honest revenge might already have slipped through his fingers.
They got a room at the nearest place they could.
“I need to be alone for a while,” Xavier told Logan afterwards. “I need to concentrate.”
Logan left him lying on one of the beds, perfectly still, and with his eyes shut and his hands clasped together on top of his stomach - the very picture of serenity.
As Logan stepped out into the street he even thought he could feel the brief touch of Xavier’s mind washing gently over his for a moment. He shook the feeling off.
Once again he gravitated to a bar. It was just second nature. Drop him in the middle of a wilderness and he’d turn up somewhere you could get a cold beer within the hour. He only stayed for a single drink however. If there was even the slightest possibility they were going to face off against Frost here, then Logan wanted to know the territory.
The streets were bustling, alive with people and the thick, cloying smells of a city. All kinds of different food cooking all over the place, the musty sweat of the crowd under the hot sun, and the stink of petrol everywhere. People were pushing and shoving, and there were kids scurrying around underfoot everywhere. A couple of times Logan had to catch a small, nimble hand just as it was about to sneak into his pocket and relieve him of his money.
He’d been wandering around for nearly three hours when he saw Emma Frost.
There was no mistaking her at all, even in the normal clothes she was wearing instead of her usual white next-to-nothing. She was just strolling about in one of the nicer parts of town, an area that drew a lot of American tourists and businessmen, but even amongst them her pristinely perfect pale skin and sleek yellow hair still stood out. Men sent her openly admiring glances, and women narrowed their eyes and kept a close eye on their husbands.
Thanking whoever the hell might be listening for his luck, Logan ducked into a doorway as she walked past him.
Whatever Xavier had done to her, it looked to Logan like it was holding. Frost’s expression was one of open and amiable curiosity, and she occasionally exchanged a polite - and apparently genuine - smile with someone else. Up to this point Logan had never seen her pull a single expression that wasn’t either icy disdain or a self-satisfied smirk. No, this was definitely still Xavier’s handiwork.
He followed her.
She spent about twenty minutes longer doing some idle shopping before heading off elsewhere. Logan kept a discreet distance away, and he had to stay sharp not to lose her in the crowds. Once he thought he’d lost her, but managed to catch sight of her again just a moment later.
Finally she arrived at a little boarding house and went inside. Logan watched the place carefully for a few minutes. Nobody else went in or out. The board advertising rooms was written in both Spanish and English, and revealed that the place was for single female boarders only.
Logan was in two minds. Right now he knew where Frost was and Xavier didn’t. He could march in there, kill her, and the whole thing would be over and done with. Xavier would probably read what he’d done in his mind later on though, and he’d be pissed as hell about it. So if he did kill her, Logan would have to leave immediately afterwards, abandoning Xavier. But he was going to have to do that eventually anyway, so why not do it now?
On the other hand, there was still the issue of his own personal problem with the idea of killing somebody who was completely defenceless. And fuck it, if he wasn’t quite ready to ditch Xavier yet, so what? The guy was a decent roll in the hay, nothing wrong with wanting to indulge in that little pleasure a couple of days longer, not so far as Logan could see. So he’d play it Xavier’s way - for now.
When Logan got back to the room Xavier was still lying exactly where Logan had left him, apparently not having moved an inch. He cracked an eye open when Logan flung the door open.
“Sorry, I haven’t found her yet...”
“Yeah? Well I have.”
Immediately Xavier sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.
“Where?”
“Downtown.”
Xavier clambered to his feet. He ran a hand nervously through his hair.
“How did she seem?” he asked Logan.
Logan shrugged. “Looked to me like your little mental screw-over was still goin’ strong. She sure wasn’t actin’ like herself.”
Xavier nodded. “Then I think we can safely assume Raven hasn’t gotten to her yet.”
“You get any, I don’t know, hint of her while you were...” Logan didn’t know what to call it, so just settled for waving his hand vaguely around his head.
“None. But then I didn’t detect Miss Frost either, and she was here right under my nose regardless. There’s just too many people, I can’t concentrate properly. It’s like trying to listen to one person talking to you in a room full of other people shouting. If I had Cerebro here it would be easy...”
“What the hell is Cerebro?” Logan interrupted.
“It’s...” Xavier hesitated. “It’s complicated. Of course if you came to the school with me I could just show it to you.”
“So what’re we gonna do about Frost?” Logan said shortly, putting a swift end to that line of conversation before it got started again.
Xavier sat back down on the bed. He stayed quiet for a few long moments, deep in thought. Logan waited, arms crossed.
“We need to convince her to leave Mexico right away,” Xavier said eventually. “Persuade her to go somewhere else, somewhere a long way away. We can presume that her activities with the drug runners is what got my sister’s attention and let her know Emma was in Mexico. But now she doesn’t even believe that she is Emma Frost anymore. If she goes somewhere else she’ll just vanish. Live a normal life.”
“When you say ‘convince’ and ‘persuade’ here pal, I assume you mean...”
“Yes. I’ll alter her mind again. Plant the suggestion.” Xavier’s shoulders sagged, he and looked distinctly dismayed at the prospect.
“Problem?” Logan asked.
“I don’t enjoy manipulating people’s minds,” Xavier said. “It crosses a moral line, and I’d normally never do it. It’s just in this case...” he trailed off.
He looked so pathetically downcast that Logan moved over to stand in front of him and clasped a reassuring hand over his shoulder. He ducked down slightly so he could look Xavier in the eye, and gave the shoulder a brief, tight squeeze.
“She deserves it,” he growled. “She’d do it to you in a heartbeat.”
Xavier smiled weakly, resting his own hand lightly on top of Logan’s. “I appreciate the sentiment. But I rather think that’s the difference between her and me, don’t you?”
...
The plan of action was a simple enough one. They’d go over to the boarding house, Xavier would rummage around inside Frost’s head until everything was arranged to his satisfaction, then they’d leave. What could possibly go wrong?
Fucking everything, as it turned out.
The first part of the plan went seamlessly. Admittedly, there’s only so much that can go wrong with turning up at a normal boarding house and politely asking to see one of the residents - especially when one of you is a telepath. But it was still goddamn seamless.
It was only when they met a confused former Emma Frost in the hallway and Xavier reached out into her mind that things started to go completely to shit.
At first it seemed fine - at least as far as Logan could tell. Actually, if he was being honest it was mostly seriously creepy, the two of them just staring fixatedly into each other’s eyes without so much as blinking. It just went on and on, until eventually it began to dawn on Logan that it had been going on too long.
As he watched with mounting alarm, Frost’s mouth drew itself into her habitual sneer, and the hand at Xavier’s temple began to tremble uncontrollably.
Logan did the first thing that came into his head. He punched Frost in the face as hard as he could.
She screamed with fury as she was propelled backwards, smacking into a dresser and sending the contents flying onto the floor. Released from the mental battle, Xavier stumbled backwards in a daze, slumping against the wall.
Logan’s claws flew out as he advanced on Frost, who was busy scrambling hastily back onto her feet. This was more than he could have hoped for - the perfect set-up to kill the Ice Queen, and even Xavier couldn’t reprimand him for it in these circumstances.
He drew his fist back, ready to plunge his claws into her belly. Without any hesitation he lashed out...
A horrible pain shot momentarily up his forearm as the claws rebounded off Frost. Logan staggered backwards before shaking it off. When he looked back up, he was momentarily stunned. No longer was Frost flesh and blood, now every inch of her gleamed and shone like some kind of huge, woman-shaped diamond.
Even on her new, bizarre diamond face Logan could still make out a smirk as she now advanced on him.
He swung out at her again, but once more his claws left not so much as a single mark on her glittering body. In return Frost took a swing at him, the punch landing with enough force to send Logan sprawling to the floor.
A Mexican woman, the landlady of the boarding house, appeared for a moment in a nearby doorway. She took one look at Logan lying on her hallway floor, claws out, and the gleaming Frost looming over him, and ran off screaming.
“Xavier!” Logan yelled. “Do something!”
“I can’t!” Xavier protested. “Not when she’s like this.”
“Fan-fucking-tastic,” Logan growled under his breath, rolling quickly to one side to avoid the foot Frost had tried to stamp down on him. In a flash he was back on his feet, deftly avoiding another punch. He wasn’t fast enough to avoid the kick to the knee however, and he yelled in pain as he felt the bone crumble into pieces on impact. The leg gave out underneath him and he fell to the floor.
With Logan down Frost turned her attention on Xavier. Unable to get into her mind while she was in this form, he was completely helpless, pressed up against the boarding house wall as Frost drew back one sparkling fist ready to slam it into his face.
Logan’s blood boiled. He leapt back up, the broken knee already knitted back together perfectly. He charged at Frost, slamming into her and sending the both of them careering out through the shutters of a nearby window and into the street beyond.
There were yells and shouts in Spanish all around them, but the street here was a fairly quiet one and there wasn’t really all that many people about. The people who were there took one look at Logan and Frost and wisely kept their distance.
With all her weird sparkly shit going on, Frost’s punches and kicks were like being hit by a sledgehammer. Best as Logan could tell she wasn’t actually any stronger as such - she made no moves to throw him, or hurl anything at him. But the extra weight in her diamond limbs gave her strikes some serious momentum. Logan’s own attempts to do her some damage were completely useless. It was like trying to beat up on a concrete block.
That said, Frost’s efforts to pound Logan into the dirt weren’t coming along any better either. He was fast enough on his feet that she couldn’t pin him down, and whatever damage she did manage to inflict healed within seconds. It seemed that Frost’s own telepathy was null and void as well when she was like this, because Logan felt none of her familiar forceful push at his mind. And she couldn’t risk changing back, not with Xavier so close by.
One particularly well placed blow had Logan on his back, his eyes tightly shut against the excruciating sensation of bits of shattered jawbone and teeth working themselves back into place. Just as the pain in his jaw faded however, he was hit with a sudden, unexpected explosion of agony in his chest. His eyes flew back open.
Frost was stood over him, a long piece of splintered wood in her hands. Logan vaguely recognised it as part of the shutter they had crashed through during their impromptu exit into the street. It came to a sharp broken point at one end, which was currently piercing Logan through the torso, pinning him to the ground.
She jeered down at him as he struggled against it, unable to get back up.
“Can’t dodge now can you?” she hissed. He tried to kick her off, but she was too heavy. As he watched she lifted one gleaming foot and brought it above his head, ready to slam it down and crush his skull. Logan doubted even his formidable healing abilities would save him from that one. He bore his teeth at her - one last act of vicious defiance.
But in the next second she was stumbling back a step or two, hands slipping from the splintered wood at she went. Xavier had hit her at a run, just barely causing her to waver on her feet, but it was enough. With one almighty effort Logan yanked the broken shutter out of his body.
In that brief second Frost wasn’t even paying attention to him. She turned on Xavier and hit him round the head with a powerful backhander. He hit the ground unconscious, blood streaming from somewhere on his head and trickling down his face.
Logan snarled and leapt to his feet, the old familiar red mist descending. It turned Frost’s attention back to him rapidly. But she simply stood her ground, the diamond melting away from her, her body returning to normal. Her eyes flashed with wicked satisfaction as her mind crashed into Logan’s, taking it over, forcing him down like a dog at heel to its master.
And then whole world turned black.
...
The first thing Logan realised upon waking was that he was lying on a bed. The second was that he couldn’t move his arms.
They were pinned firmly above his head, locked in place with a strength that suggested manacles rather than rope or straps. The room was bare in the extreme, containing the bed Logan was trussed to and one other. Lying on the other bed, pale, bruised and still out cold, was Xavier. Unlike Logan he was completely unrestrained, arranged carefully on top of the blankets.
Logan twisted awkwardly, trying to work his hands free of the restraints that were clamped around his wrists. He angled his head backwards, trying to get a good look at them. What he saw surprised the hell out of him - instead of cuffs the metal bars of the iron bed frame had been twisted around into loops, wrapping around his wrists to hold him in place. Despite all his struggles, he was trapped.
Heavy footsteps approached. The door to the room swung open, apparently by itself, and a man entered. He was tall, broad shouldered and slim in a wiry way that suggested plenty of hidden strength.
The first thing Logan noticed about the man was the fucking crazy helmet he had on - it was impossible to miss. The second thing he noticed was what the man was. Everything about him screamed it, the sharp grey eyes, the stance, even the way he smelt. Logan knew a damn predator when he saw one.
The mystery man ignored Logan completely, apparently interested only in Xavier. He crouched by Xavier’s bedside for a while, just watching him. Finally he moved one hand to Xavier’s forehead, right at the spot where Frost had struck him. Logan noticed now that somebody had very carefully cleaned all the blood away. The man drew his fingertips lightly across the wound, and then down over the ugly purple bruise surrounding it. Unable to help himself, Logan snarled.
The man’s gaze snapped immediately to Logan, and he drew back sharply from Xavier like he’d been burnt. He pulled himself together pretty damn quickly however, and walked over the few paces necessary to loom ominously over Logan.
They stared silently at each other for a long moment, until Logan had definitely had enough.
“Nice hat,” he said.
The man’s lip curled. “Who are you?” he demanded. If Logan wasn’t mistaken (and he never was) there was just the slightest hint of a German accent in there.
Logan ignored the question. “How’s he doing?” he asked instead, nodding over to Xavier.
“I said, who are you?” the man repeated. He raised one hand slightly, and the iron wound around Logan’s wrists tightened to the point of pain.
“Yeah?” Logan snapped back. “And I said, how’s he doing?”
They glared at each other, until finally the man relented and with another wave of his hand the metal loosened again. He stared down at Logan with undisguised dislike.
“How do you know him?”
“Tell me how he’s doing and maybe I’ll tell ya bub.”
The man’s hands curled into telltale fists at his side, but otherwise he kept his anger impressively under control and his face blank.
“He’s still unconscious,” he told Logan finally, after a long, dangerous pause. “But he’s in no danger.”
“What happened to Frost?” Logan asked.
“No. I answered your question, now you will answer mine. How do you know Charles Xavier?”
Logan relented. So far as he could figure, his only chances of getting unhooked from this damn bad any time soon probably lay in going along with the asshole in the crazy hat for a while.
“He helped me out of a tight spot ‘bout a week or so ago. Been sticking together since.”
“What’s your name?”
“Logan.” Something about the guy was really starting to bother Logan now. Stupid hat aside, there was something familiar about the face.
“Are you a mutant?”
Logan hesitated. One rule he’d followed his whole life was this: you never, ever showed your full hand - especially to assholes like this guy. He settled for a compromise, and slowly slid his claws out until they were full extended, both sets crossed over each other from where his hands were held in place. No need to mention a damn thing to the bastard about instantaneous healing or enhanced senses.
The man took in the sharpened bone with an almost admiring glance. The metal around Logan’s wrists warped, uncurling and bending back into the bed frame. He sat up, retracting his claws and rubbing at his sore wrists, eyeing the man standing over him warily.
“So ya know who I am, now who the fucking hell are you?”
The man paused for a long time before answering. “My name is Erik Lehnsherr,” he said eventually, his German accent more pronounced over his own name. “I’m a mutant.”
“Yeah? No shit,” Logan muttered. “So am I a prisoner or what?” His gaze fell onto the sleeping Xavier, and he took a couple of steps towards the bed, trying to get a better look at his head injury.
“No. You’re a mutant. You’re free to go if you choose,” Lehnsherr told him. “But before you make your decision you should - don’t touch him.”
Logan froze, one hand outstretched towards Xavier. He had only been going to brush the man’s hair back, to try and get a good look at the wound on his head.
“Okay...” Logan said, slowly drawing his hand back. “Don’t lose your shit over it.”
“Get out,” said Lehnsherr, apparently suddenly tired of Logan.
The idea of leaving this asshole stranger alone with a helplessly vulnerable Xavier gnawed violently at Logan’s gut.
“And what exactly are you plannin’ on doing to him while I’m gone pal?” Logan demanded.
The very implication sparked a sudden outburst of rage from Lehnsherr. Logan’s dog tags, the ones he wore habitually even though he’d long left the army that had issued them to him, tightened suddenly around his neck, choking him. Lehnsherr glowered at him, apparently enjoying watching Logan fight desperately for breath, before abruptly releasing him.
“I won’t hurt him,” he spat out at Logan. “Now leave.”
He hated to admit it, but the truth was that if Lehnsherr had been planning on hurting Xavier somehow, he would have had plenty of time to do so while Logan had still been unconscious. And Logan wanted badly to scope this place out, figure out where the hell this psycho had brought them and get his bearings from there. So with one final glare that promised vicious retribution should Logan return to find one hair out of place on Xavier, he slunk out.
They weren’t in Mexico City anymore, that much became clear pretty damn quickly once Logan stepped outside. Instead they were on a farm out in the Mexican countryside somewhere. In the distance cattle were grazing on the scrub. The place looked well cared for, but Logan couldn’t see, hear or smell any farm hands about the place.
“Hello,” said a voice behind him.
Logan whipped round, claws out. There was a woman stood behind him, apparently completely unperturbed by the sharp edges of bone hovering just a couple of inches away from her throat.
She was bright goddamn blue.
She grinned at him, her teeth shockingly white against the azure skin. Slowly Logan lowered his fist, carefully retracting the claws. He watched the woman warily. He hadn’t heard her approach, a fact he didn’t like at all. Her smell was distinct however, and Logan filed it away for future reference. She wouldn’t be creeping up on him again.
“I guess you’re Raven then,” he muttered. Her smile immediately faltered.
“Mystique,” she corrected him.
“Mystique?” Logan snorted. “What the hell is that, some kind of codename? Well roger that kid, now where the fuck are we?”
“Don’t worry, not too far from civilization,” she told him. She lounged in the doorway, leaning sinuously against the door frame. Logan’s eye was drawn helplessly to where the long stretch of her thigh merged seamlessly into the perfect curve of her hip. In addition to being blue, she was also completely naked.
“What happened to Frost?”
“She’s been dealt with.”
“Dealt with? What the hell does that mean?”
She didn’t reply, just grinned again. The naked thing Logan could definitely get onboard with, but her attitude was starting to seriously grate across his nerves.
“You were going to recruit her, Xavier said,” he said.
“Yes we were. Then we found her about to snap my brother’s neck. Now she’s dealt with.”
Logan rolled his eyes. He stuck his hand in his pockets. Against all odds the battered packet of cigars was still there, and so was his lighter. He put one in his mouth and lit it, enjoying the taste of the smoke on his tongue and the back of his throat.
“Where’s the people who own this place?” he said, a lungful of smoke pouring out of his mouth as he spoke.
“They left in a hurry,” Raven said off-hand.
Chased off then. How long they’d stay gone was anybody’s guess.
“Charles...” Raven said after a long pause, voice suddenly softer, more uncertain. “Is he... how did he seem to you?”
Logan shrugged. “Seems fine,” he said, flicking some ash off the end of his cigar. “Don’t know what he was like before.”
His answer didn’t seem to satisfy her.
He turned his back on Raven and settled down to sit on the porch step of the farmhouse, watching the view. Raven left after a while, and Logan sat by himself for a bit until he could no longer ignore the messages his stomach was sending him. The kitchen inside the house was well stocked, and after he’d eaten his fill Logan went back to the room where Xavier was being kept.
Lehnsherr was still there, minus the helmet which was currently sat at his feet instead of on his head. He’d brought a chair in from somewhere and was using it to sit at Xavier’s bedside. Xavier himself was still unconscious, and looked deceptively peaceful despite his unnatural paleness and the nasty bruise he was sporting. Logan noticed that one of his hands, the one nearest Lehnsherr, was now lying palm upward when previously it had been turned the other way - as though someone had been holding it, and had then dropped it quickly.
“What do you want?” Erik snapped as Logan walked in.
“Come ta check on Charles here,” Logan told him. He was already fed up of this guy’s bullshit and they hadn’t spent more than ten minutes in each other’s company yet. He crossed over to the side of Xavier’s bed opposite Lehnsherr and made a point of touching Xavier, first on the shoulder then on the smooth bare skin of his temple. He kept his eyes locked on Lehnsherr while he did it, firmly asserting his right to touch Xavier if he damn well wanted to. He got a cold stare in return.
“As you can see, he’s the same,” Lehnsherr told him coldly, the underlying message of so you can get out now coming through loud and clear. Logan ignored it, and turned to sit on the other bed, the one he’d woken up bound to just a couple of hours ago.
Lehnsherr gave him a long, indecipherable look, but eventually looked away and refocused his attention on Xavier.
“So what’s the plan if he don’t wake up?” Logan said.
“If he isn’t awake by tomorrow night, we’ll take him back to Westchester.”
They sat in silence for a while. Logan half watching Xavier, half watching Lehnsherr. He itched to ask how they knew each other, but reckoned he wouldn’t get any kind of a proper answer for his trouble. He should have asked the sister earlier, but after putting on such a show of intruding on Lehnsherr’s little vigil here he was damned if he was going to leave so soon to seek her out again. Obviously there was a history there. Looked like a real complicated one into the bargain.
“Were you going to the school with him?” Lehnsherr broke the silence unexpectedly.
Logan shrugged. “He wanted me to.”
“And did you intend to accept?”
“Was thinkin’ about it,” Logan lied. “Xavier was pretty keen on the idea. Must a’ enjoyed my company.”
Lehnsherr’s eyes narrowed. Logan savoured the way his little insinuation had pissed the man off, and couldn’t resist pushing it a little further.
“And I mean, he sure was very persuasive, if ya get my drift.” Logan let a casual smirk drift momentarily across his mouth, while in reality watching carefully to gauge the reaction his words provoked.
He shouldn’t have bothered, only someone who was blind and deaf could have possibly missed it. The guy even bore his teeth for a moment for christ’s sake, one hand shooting out briefly to clutch possessively at Xavier’s arm. In the next instant he’d grabbed the helmet from the floor and stormed out, the door slamming shut behind him.
The real tell-tale sign of Lehnsherr’s feelings on the subject however was the frame of the bed Logan was sitting on. It was warped and twisted - only a little, just a momentary loss of control. But there was no mistaking the way the threatening way the iron was turned into towards Logan, the ends only just beginning to form sharp points.
When the surge of adrenaline in Logan’s veins had calmed down, he moved to sit in the chair Erik had vacated. He picked up the hand lying on the bed and brought it to his face, pressing the soft palm to his mouth. This close the smell of Lehnsherr on Xavier was unmistakable. Logan pressed a long kiss to the skin beneath his mouth, then another, and another, systematically replacing the mark of Erik Lehnsherr with his own.
Then, silently berating himself for his own fucking stupid irrationality, he settled in to stand guard.
part three