Chapter Text
Chapter 6
The mission to the Transigen facility had gone as well as could have been expected. It had been located in a remote area of jungle in El Salvadore. The operation had been in its infancy with staff and guards still in the midst of preparing labs and living quarters. Equipment was being set up, perimeters were being established. Eric and his group had been there, but they’d allowed others like Logan to do the dirty work of destruction. He was nearly sick to his stomach to discover a freezer unit full of unfertilized human ovum – he knew their purpose and was disgusted by it. He destroyed every sample. He also made a judgement call that some of his colleagues had not approved of, but they knew better than to confront him over it, even Charles - Eric had encouraged him however as he’d driven his claws through the lead scientists. It was these mad people who were hell bent on destroying his kind. It was a dark shade of grey that he sometimes had to embody and while the stain of murder would forever be on his hands he thought back to the conversation he’d had with you. If one day you wanted a baby, he’d give you one, but he wouldn’t bring them into a world inhabited by people like those he’d killed in it. He didn’t care if it made him cold blooded murderer, he could live with it. He’d lived with much worse.
When all was said and done and those who hadn’t been slain had been delivered to international authorities, Storm had turned the jet towards home. Logan sat by himself, blood soaked and weary. He knew Marie was watching him, always the concerned little sister. Beast was in the midst of reviewing computer data. Charles was resting with his eyes closed. Kurt was playing cards with Gambit. Others were occupying themselves as the hours dragged on. He wanted out of his tactical suit, a shower, and to crawl into bed and hold you. He wanted all the angst of the past forty-eight ours ebb away with his skin against yours and your mutual warmth suffusing each other. He decided then and there that he was going to take you away for the weekend up to a cabin he had off in the woods upstate. He’d make love to you there, all day, all night and no one would disturb you. He’d tell you he loved you until you were sick of hearing it, and then, he’d ask you to marry him and be his forever. Sat alone in the jet, he needed you, god, he needed you. He’d waited two centuries for a love like yours. He wasn’t going to waste a single second of your time together.
They hadn’t made it back until after dark two days after they’d left. They’d heard about the big storm on the journey home, and while the skies were still dark and grey, the worst of it was over, though the rain was still coming down heavily. Logan didn’t mind, he liked the idea of the two of you cuddled up in bed listening to it. He needed a good, long sleep.
The house was largely silent when the team ascended back to the main house from the levels below. He was freshly showered and in the clothes he’d been wearing when you’d been holding each other in the garden, talking about your future. Logan absently wondered if it was too soon to ask you to marry him, because in his heart of hearts, he could see no other future for himself. He had to make you his. But first things first, he just had to see you and hold you.
The children were asleep and the remaining faculty were nowhere to be seen. The house seemed eerily silent. Logan’s instincts told him something was wrong. A panic settled low in his gut and he broke away from the team, rushing upstairs. His bed was empty. Without closing his door, he sprinted across the hall and burst into your room, only to find your bed empty too. He inhaled deeply. Your scent wasn’t fresh. You hadn’t been in either room since the day he’d left. Logan felt his claws prick from behind his knuckles. However, he controlled himself. The last thing anyone needed was for him to go berserk.
“Logan! Logan!” came Marie’s voice from down the hall. Logan came bursting from your room to Marie’s panicked stricken face. “Logan, come quick.”
“Where’s Y/N? Is she alright?” he begged, running towards Marie.
“They can’t find her, they spent all day searching the house and the grounds. They only just found Tyson. He’s in a terrible state… the Professor’s trying…”
By the time Marie and Logan made it down the stairs, Hank was coming from the wing where your classroom lay with an unresponsive Tyson in his arms. The mutants who’d been searching all day had stricken faces and none of them could look at Logan. Why none of them had messaged or called was beyond him, but there wouldn’t have been anything Logan could have done from so far away.
“Bring him to my office – Logan, Marie, Ororo, come with us,” the Professor ordered, then turned to the others, “Everyone else, continue searching.”
Once Tyson was placed on the couch in The Professor’s office, Hank had a chance to properly examine him.
“Where was he found,” Logan asked as he began to pace the room anxiously.
“In Y/N’s classroom, hiding as best he could. I think he’s in some sort of shock, but I won’t know until I examine him properly. Tyson, look at me,” Hank commanded. The boy wasn’t unconscious, but rather, catatonic. He’d seen something. Logan stopped his pacing and came to kneel in front of Tyson. He’d always had a great rapport with the boy. He’d been a strong parental figure and his favourite teacher.
“Hey, Ty, it’s me, it’s Logan. Can you look at me?” Logan spoke, trying his best to speak calmly, though all he wanted to do was rage. He placed his hand on Tyson’s shoulder and miraculously the boy’s eyes gained focus and looked at Logan for a moment before tears came to them. Even though Tyson was not fond of touch usually, he placed his hands on Logan’s face. “Did you see what happened to Y/N?” Tyson nodded, his breathing becoming more rapid, “Can you tell me? Can you speak?” Tyson shook his head. “Did someone… did someone hurt her? Did someone take her? And you saw?” Tyson nodded his head and Logan broke. He wouldn’t have stopped the hot, angry tears that streamed down his face for anything. He beloved, his angel, had been hurt and he’d been thousands of miles away.
“Tyson,” the Professor interrupted, ushering Hank aside as he came in close. “Did they see you?” Tyson shook his head. “That’s good. Tyson, you want to help us find Y/N, yes?” Tyson nodded emphatically. “Then may I enter your mind? You won’t have to relive what you saw, I promise. I just need to see who was here. May I? May I for Y/N?” Tyson nodded and closed his eyes.
To Logan’s surprise, the Professor placed his fingers to Logan’s temple first before Tyson’s. Once he touched the boy Logan felt a wave come over him and quite suddenly, he was elsewhere. He stood outside your classroom as the storm raged on outside. The thunder shook the glass walls of the conservatory and flashes of lightning danced madly in the sky above. His point of view was much lower than usual and Logan realized he was seeing things through Tyson’s eyes. He walked forward and instinctually knew that Tyson had been afraid of the storm and was seeking you out, his trusted teacher to help him feel safe. But when Tyson entered the classroom someone else was there ahead of him, sneaking up on you as you sat sketching in the conservatory. Logan felt a rage bubbling up inside him like none he’d ever felt before. He knew the shape of that person. Logan watched helplessly as the events unfolded. He saw you petrified when Scott announced his presence. He watched as you reared back and fell painfully to the ground and Scott holding you by the wrist as he held your vulnerable body down and straddled your legs, pinning you beneath him. Logan had always felt protective of your diminutive form and thought you as darling and feminine, and now Scott was using it against you.
“So, how’s about you do for me what you’ve been doing for Logan?”
“I…. I haven’t used my power with him,” you stammered, trying to twist your wrist from Scott’s grip but it was too strong. You tried to buck him off your body, but he was too heavy, “He told me never do that with him.”
“Oh isn’t that rich! Mister Trauma Bragging wanting to be the man and shoulder all his burdens by himself!”
“Scott, please let me go, you’re hurting me.”
“How is it the bad boy act always gets him the girl, huh?” You winced at the scent of alcohol on his breath. “Jean loved the bad boy…”
“That’s not who Logan is.”
“The poor tortured soul…”
“Scott, please listen to me, this isn’t about Logan. You’re angry at your wife. Logan said…”
“Logan said? What did Logan say? That I’m a pussy for letting my wife walk all over me? That I’m not man enough?”
You shook your head, “No! Logan wouldn’t. He said that you didn’t deserve what happened to you. He said he was sorry for showing any interest in Jean, knowing she was yours. He’s sorry that he wasn’t a good friend…”
“He was never my friend! He was just some asshole who wanted my girl! I have been in hell for weeks, months, trying to figure out why. Why would should even marry me if she was just going to flirt with other men? Sleep with other men?”
“You don’t know me very well, but I’m sorry too. You weren’t treated fairly. What Jean did was wrong. You don’t deserve to hurt so much. Your friends here, they all care about you and want to help you. I will help you, I just can’t do it with my powers.”
“Can’t or won’t?” You pressed your lips together and tears streamed down your temples from the corners of your eyes.
“I only use my powers on children. Children can’t process complex emotions yet. Sometimes they’re too little to understand why they’re being hurt, they just know that it’s happening. Their minds and bodies hold on to trauma differently. Please understand, you’re not helpless like they are, Scott. You can get your life back another way. You don’t need me. Your friends want to help you – The Professor, Dr. McCoy, Ororo, Marie… If we call them, they’ll come back and help…”
You tried to push at Scott’s chest, but he was immovable. Slowly you were realizing that Scott wasn’t listening to a word you were saying.
“But if you use your powers on me, I can be back to normal in a matter of seconds like you did for Tyson? Right? Right?!” You looked up at him, your mind racing to think of another way to get away from him. “You need skin on skin for it to work, let’s get that hoodie off, huh?”
“Scott, don’t touch me!” Feeling a terror rise up in you at Scott touching any more of you than your wrist. He reached for the zipper on Logan’s hoodie and with your free hand smacked his away.
“Fiesty, huh? Bet Logan likes a bit of that when you’re fucking!” He released your wrist to fight with you get the hoodie off. You weren’t about to just let him touch you, so you fought as best could, but inevitably ended up tangled in the garment. Scott was drunk and not as well coordinated and temporarily lost his balance when he got up on his knees to pull Logan’s hoodie off you. You used the opportunity to push him off you. You struggled, but got yourself untangled from the hoodie. You scrambled to your feet, bolting towards the exit out of Conservatory. You thought you might be able to make it outside. You knew Scott spent very little time on the property outside the mansion, but you and Logan had explored it extensively. You could find somewhere to hide until Logan returned. But, to your shock something was thrown under your socked feet and you stumbled and twisted your ankle severely as you blindly fell. Your forehead caught the corner of only of the planters as you went down, knocking you senseless. You hit the ground hard and your cheek hit the tiled floor of the Conservatory. You tried to crawl away, but Scott caught your twisted ankle. You cried out in true agony as he pulled you back to him. He was on top of you again, hands everywhere as you were caught in a daze from your injuries.
You felt the cold on your skin as Scott pulled on your pajama top ton get at the skin of your chest. You felt his groping hands and were revolted to have anyone but Logan touched you. Still, you struggled and fought even though your vision was blurred from your tears and no one could hear your screams over the thunder and the rain.
“Listen, if you just hold still and let me have this, you won’t get hurt. Stop fighting me and give me what need!” Scott roared at you. “Make it stop hurting, make me forget about Jean!” You weren’t about to give up and let him have what he wanted. Logan wouldn’t want you to give up either and there was no way you’d let him down, so you fought. You found a potted plant and broke it against Scott’s head. It wasn’t enough to knock him out and only served to make him angrier. He grabbed you by the throat and picked you up, slamming your back against the wall that served as the threshold between your classroom and the Conservatory. You blinked your eyes to clear them as your hands wrapped around Scott’s wrist. His other hand went to your waist and your body rejected his touch with a wave of intense pain coursing through you. Fear hurt more than sadness did.
You kept on struggling against Scott, but it wasn’t until you caught something out of the corner of your eyes that you stilled. You saw Tyson, innocent and afraid. If you kept fighting, Scott would only get more violent. He was drunk and judging by how the pupils of his eyes were blown wide, probably full of drugs too. Tyson had already seen too much for his young mind to comprehend and process. Scott meanwhile was starting to grope at you and you needed this to end. At least, once Scott looked and saw what his folly would do your body, he’d surely stop touching you. You looked up through the glass roof of the Conservatory and watched an arc of lightning steam across the sky. You knew after this, once you’d recovered, things would likely be over between you and Logan. He’d see how easily you gave up. He’d see how horrid you looked when changed. He’d never be able to look at you again with anything other than revulsion or if you were lucky, pity. The sooner you let it happen, the sooner Scott would leave.
You closed your eyes and opened yourself. The point of contact where Scott was touching you felt like burning, then it felt like his hands were boring into your flesh, your organs and your bones. The next wave was pure, unadulterated anger. It came over you like a fighter raining blows down upon you, one after another, after another. With the dominant anger came also anguish and grief, especially over the deaths of his parents and brother, the kind of emotional damage that turns a soul. Then there was more, there was so much more. The self-loathing was powerful, as was the jealousy. The maelstrom of negativity hit you so hard all at once the floodgates were forced open and you were swept away by them. Scott moved beyond his feelings for Jean to older, darker instances from his past. He pushed a lifetime through to you without reservation or consent.
Logan pushed himself away from Charles with an agonized cry, while Ororo sat with Tyson and shielded him. From his vantage point on the floor Logan felt something animal taking him over. Torn between going out into the world to find Scott and cut him into pieces, or go out into the storm to find you, the decision was made quickly. He’d hunt Scott down eventually, but at present he needed to find you.
He turned himself over and was off like a shot on four limbs, gaining frightening speed down the hallway towards your classroom.
“Beast, Rogue, go after him. If he finds her she’ll need medical attention, and someone will need to be there to help him keep his senses. Scott attacked her,” the Professor explained. There was no time for further information or surprise at the Professor’s declaration and the other two followed quickly after Logan.
“Ororo, stay with Tyson. I will find Scott with Cerebro. This is grave. This is very grave.”
You had no conscious memory of crawling away, only that you realized later that you were outside in the storm. Your clothing was soaked through and barely clinging to your emaciated body. A flash of lightning illuminated your skin. You’d never seen it so dark before. It was nearly black, as were your fingernails, you knew from past experience that the whites of your eyes and your teeth were black too. So would be your once sun-kissed hair - as dark as ravens’ wings. You heaved up a stomach full of bile, and it too was black. You kept crawling, you had to hide. No one could see you like this, especially the children. You’d become a monster. A ghoul. You were a putrid, hideous thing. But, you were also in complete and utter agony, and your mind was fractured. You could only crawl away, though you did not know where you were going, nor could you see in the dark. You would crawl until you body could no longer push itself, and you hoped that wherever you ended up, no one would find you. What little consciousness remained with you was soon overshadowed when the pain surged up inside you. It was transcendental in its agony and with the last of the air in your lungs you screamed. The sound was swallowed by the clamour of thunder.
Upon arriving at your classroom, Logan surveyed the scene, seeing it exactly as he had in Tyson’s memory. He rose to his feet, hands clenched into fists with his claws itching to emerge from between his knuckles. He looked briefly at your desk and saw the sketch of his smiling face. His chest tightened, knowing that when he’d been away your thoughts had still been with him, as his had been with you. He saw his hoodie on the floor and he walked over it to pick it up. Your scent was still on it, but it was drenched with the scent of fear. He knew it for what it was. He curled his lip when he smelled Scott. He ignored it and walked further, searching for your scent. The Conservatory door into the garden was open and the odour of petrichor and ozone mixed with your fear assailed him. Hank and Marie arrived just as Logan went running out into the storm.
Your scent was faint and hard for Logan to follow, but he kept close to the ground as he moved. He listened and looked, using his senses to their full capabilities. He was not going give up until he had you back, and he’d spend the rest of his life living with the guilt that he’d not prevented you from coming to harm. Moreso, that he’d not realized that Scott had changed from a trusted team member, and sometimes friend, into a monster. Retribution would come later. Right now, all that mattered to Logan was finding you.
The night stretched on and soon Beast and Rogue were at Logan’s side as he struggled to find your scent. The rain was washing away all traces of you and had Logan feeling desolate. You were the whole of his heart and Scott fucking Summers had torn it from his chest. Another hour passed and he was spiralling. Wisely, Maria and Hank didn’t tell him to give up or wait until light, but instead remained at his side. He’d made it into the deepest density of the forest, near to your picnic spot. It was no wonder they’d not yet found you if you’d made it this far. It wasn’t until the rain picked up and a blast of sheet lightning illuminated the night that the universe finally showed him mercy. He saw a darkened, small figure collapsed on the ground in soaked, torn clothing.
Logan let out a broken, wounded sound and leapt to crash to his knees beside you. With shaking hands and uncontrollable sobs coming from him, Logan touched his hand to your shoulder, finding you freezing cold to his warm touch. He turned you over and was horrified by the sight of you. Your skin was the colour of charcoal, as was your hair. Your skin as stretched taut over your frail frame. Your muscle and fat had been depleted, leaving you looking starved.
“Oh god… oh god, Y/N…” Logan lamented as he scooped you up into his arms. You weighed almost nothing. “Hank! Hank!”
Still on his knees, Logan cradled you close to his chest and pressed desperate kisses into your hair. You remained unresponsive. Hank looked over the two of you and first checked your pulse.
“Pulse weak, but there,” Hank shouted to be heard over the thunder, “We have to get her to the infirmary as quickly as possible.”
“Hand her over, sugar, I’ll fly her double time to your runnin’,” Marie offered, “Don’t argue, you’ll run twice as fast and we’ll get there at the same time. Every second counts!”
Reluctantly Logan passed you to her. He knew he was too upset to present any argument. He’d do whatever was best for you and if that mean Rogue carrying you, then so be it. The sooner you were out of the rain the better regardless. Logan sprinted back to the mansion after you with Beast keeping pace.
The next span of time was a blur to Logan. He remembered storming through the mansion having taken your body from Marie as soon as you reached the house. There was an elevator ride, an exam table, Marie holding Logan back as Hank took your vitals, The Professor arriving on the scene with Storm, Hank forcing everyone to leave save Logan so he could work in peace, Logan sobbing over you as you remained unresponsive, and so on and so forth.
Eventually there was quiet. Marie had helped clean you up. Logan had dressed you in a hospital gown. You’d been laid out in a bed in the infirmary where Hank had you hooked up to IVs and monitors. You looked ghastly, your once soft features now severe, your strong body now frail. Logan was a wreck sat beside you with your hand in his and his forehead against your blanket covered thigh. Tonight was supposed to be the night you gave yourself to him, but instead you were fighting for your life after a heinous violation he blamed himself for, however illogical the notion was.
“Brought you some clothes, honey,” Marie spoke, setting a pair of Logan’s underwear, jogging pants, a t-shirt, another hoodie and a pair of socks on the end of your bed, “She’d want you to be taking care of yourself. That means getting out of wet clothes. Besides, knowing you, you’ll be crawling into bed with her at some point and you can’t do that soaking wet.” Marie put her hand on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze, “What’s Hank say?”
Logan pulled his head up, looking on your face, feeling his guts twist. You were still so beautiful to him, even as you were. “That she’s in a coma. That it’s probably for the best. Becau… because if she was awake she’d be in so much pain it might hurt her psyche to experience it. I know pain. I can’t imagine what she’s experiencing. Why… just why?”
“Cause Scott Summers went of the goddamn deep end and no other reason. It’s not your fault, Logan, and Y/N sure as hell won’t think it, so stop blaming yourself, or I’ll give you the smack upside the head she would.” Marie found another chair and parked it next to Logan’s. “So, we know more or less how her mutation works from what we saw with Tyson the first night she got here. She has empathic abilities that let her tap into someone’s mind and absorb their mental pain. That mental pain then manifests into physical pain with physical changes, like her skin going gray. Eventually it works itself out, and she returns to normal. We just have to wait it out. Maybe Hank’ll have more to go on when he has her test results. We don’t know how long that’s gonna be. If Tyson’s lasted about 24 hours, this one…”
“Six weeks. At least,” Logan spoke, looking at Marie for a moment before going back to staring at you. “She told me another time, where she helped seven little girls at once. They’d just been rescued from a human trafficking ring. She said it was six weeks before she was back to herself. She was all alone…”
“Yeah, well she ain’t alone right now, and she’s not gonna be. You need to be away from her, I’ll come keep her company.”
“I’m not leaving her.”
“You’re gonna shower. You’re going to eat. And when Eric brings Scott back, you’re going to beat the tar out of him.”
“Eric?”
Marie nodded, “Personal favour to the Professor, and you know he’s always liked you. The Professor found him with Cerebro. Scott’s in Madripoor.”
“I’m not going to beat him, I’m just gonna kill him.”
“Yeah, and then when Y/N wakes up and finds out, what you gonna do then? You know her, sugar, she wouldn’t want Scott’s blood on your hands, however bad you’d want it, and no matter how easy you think you’d be able to live with it. Gotta decide what matters more to yah, Logan, and if it isn’t her, then you might as well get up and walk out right now.” Marie stood up and surprised him with a kiss to his forehead. “Get out of those wet clothes. A blanket ain’t a substitute for her man.”