Title: Upon My Waking
Author: Restive Nature (aka Bavite)
Disclaimer: I own nothing of the X-men, either comic or movie-verse. They belong to their creator, Stan Lee.
Summary: What if Logan had been having a different dream?
A/N: This is actually kind of a based on a mish-mash of comic, cartoon and movie-verse stuff that I only vaguely remember.
Dedication: To Amyjessica on the occasion of her birthday! Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters
It had been a long day and Logan wasn’t sure tomorrow was going to be any better. He glanced about the room he’d been assigned in this crazy house. Well, no, it was a mansion. For all that he was a simple man, more comfortable in the rugged outdoors, he had had some manners instilled in him. And education. But it was hard to hold onto the civilities when the last thing you remembered was a car accident, a fight and then you were woken up in a sterile environment, being poked and prodded by an unfamiliar woman. Even for the normal person it was a lot to deal with. More so for this man. So yeah, your defenses tended to be up.
The only bright spot of his day had been finding out that the kid, Rogue was all right. The kid had already had a lot of rough breaks. Logan yawned; actually finding that the day’s events had worn him out. If not physically, then mentally. He swiftly changed into the black cotton pajama bottoms sitting in the cupboard. He was still himself enough to sneer at the top. ‘Only sissy’s wear pajama tops’ he thought to himself on the heels of another yawn. Shutting off the overhead lights, he sensed more than felt his way to the bed. It was too bad he didn’t have something similar to Jean’s telekinetic mutation. Then he wouldn’t have to wander about in the dark. Although that was less of a problem for him than it was most people. And his rapid healing certainly made up for any bumped toes he’d ever accrue.
His eyes were beginning to drift shut as his mind continued its random musings. All he knew was that when it came to mutations, he was damn glad that he didn’t have Rogue’s. The implications of not being able to touch someone seemed simple enough of the surface. But like the professor had extrapolated earlier, the enormity of it weighed heavily on his heart. His last thought as he finally succumbed to slumber was that Rogue really was a sweet kid.
The piercing whistle that signaled the end of the workday barely pierced Logan’s consciousness. It didn’t need to. He’d been watching the clock all afternoon. And he’d taken a good amount of ribbing for it. All the guys at the oil field knew precisely why their buddy was eager to leave. Hell, if they had a gorgeous, sweet-tempered little bit of heaven like Logan’s wife Marie waiting at home, they’d be clock watching too.
Shrugging off the good-natured teasing, Logan was extremely glad that it was Friday. That meant that he and Marie had the entire weekend to celebrate their first anniversary. Logan was still amazed some days that L’il Marie was really his. When they’d first met more than a year ago, she was on a self-proclaimed life-changing trek. She’d come up from the eastern States, through Niagara Falls and then to points west. Her ultimate destination had been Anchorage, Alaska. Someone had once asked her why that place. Marie had responded in her gentle Southern accent that she’d wanted something new, wild, exciting and completely out of character or her. The same person had then asked why she’d stopped in Laughlin City. Her eyes following her husband across the room, smiled and told that person that she’d found just what she was looking for.
Logan stepped out of his battered pick-up truck, gathering up his lunch box, tools and lightweight plaid coat. He kicked the door shut and headed up the short path to the split level cabin that he’d built with his own two hands. He deposited the tools on the table, set right by the front door for that purpose. He glanced into the living room after hanging up his light coat, looking for his wife. He only found the fireplace burning merrily, but unnecessarily in the July heat. Logan always shrugged it off as one of Marie’s homey quirks. She always felt that having a fire burning made the rustic cabin more inviting.
He carried the metal lunchbox into the kitchen just beyond the room filled with handcrafted furniture fashioned with hunter green and dark plaid fabrics. When he didn’t see Marie in there, he knew that she was either out in the garden, or upstairs. And knowing his inquisitive wife, he would bet on the latter.
"Darlin’!" he called in his low, rumbly baritone. "I’m home!" he added unnecessarily. He heard a thump and then a clatter of footsteps. He quickly finished rinsing out the lunchbox and set it in the drainer to be used again Monday. Grabbing the towel hanging from the rack beside the sink, he dried his hands off as he moved back out to the living room. He caught sight of Marie hurrying down the steps and hoped to himself that the thump he’d heard had been her dropping something. He tossed the towel onto the back of the couch just in time to free his hands up for the bundle of energy that was his mate.
"Hey honey," Marie greeted enthusiastically just before she tilted her face up and caught him in a soft kiss of greeting. He returned it, reveling in the feeling of warmth, acceptance and desire that shot through him every time she touched him. He was utterly careful not to squash her in his embrace, as he’d been wont to do in the early days of their courtship and whirlwind marriage. He pulled back after a long minute and dropped a kiss on her temple.
"What were you doin’ upstairs?" he asked, his voice nonchalant.
"Oh, um," she bit her lip and glanced away. "Jus’ tidyin’ up, you know?"
"You weren’t liftin’ anything heavy were you?" he demanded, a worried edge creeping into his tone as he imagined all the items up in their bedroom that she could have been searching through. She nudged his arm so that he glanced down into her eyes.
"I wasn’t," she protested swiftly. A little too swiftly for his liking. His hands swept down her arms and over her gently rounded stomach. Even as he felt the baby kick under his hand, he still worried. It was the only thing that he disliked about working at the oil field, the fact that he wasn’t home all the time to watch over his wife and coming child. "We’re okay," she assured him, long used to his protective manner.
"So then what was that noise I heard?" he queried, forcing himself to stay calm.
Marie sighed heavily; knowing nothing would deter her husband from discovering precisely what she had been up to. "I was lookin’ for somethin’ in the cedar chest and it slipped and slammed shut."
"Did you catch a finger?" he smirked, able to tease now that he knew she hadn’t been endangering herself in even the smallest way. She shook her head no. "So what were you lookin’ for?"
"You know what?" she frowned.
"No I don’t," he continued to play dumb. She stamped a foot impatiently.
"Yes you do!" she protested. "Logan! Where’s my present?"
"Present?" he chuckled, enjoying the small blush of ire raising in her cheeks. Her eyes were nearly blazing, a look he loved in any mood. "What makes you think I’ve got a present tucked away." Suddenly her eyes went wide as she considered the implication that he had forgotten their anniversary. Or her birthday. Or both, seeing how they both fell on the same date. His chuckle turned into a full out laugh and she realized she’d been had. She smacked him lightly on the arm, grinning back, delighted.
"What did you get me?" she demanded. Logan swept her into his embrace again and nuzzled at her neck.
"Go get your coat and you’ll find out," he whispered into her ear. She pulled back, her eyes lighting up again.
"What do I need my coat for?"
"You’ll see," was his answer. She rolled her eyes in the long suffering way wives had and turned on her heel to retrieve her coat from the front closet. Logan ducked back into the kitchen and grabbed the cordless phone from the wall mounting. He dialed quickly, keeping a watchful eye for Marie. The other party picked up almost immediately. "Hey Katie, is it ready?"
"All set Logan," his best friend’s wife replied. She had no need to ask who it was, as she’d been waiting for the call. "Just be careful on the path. Some of the rocks are loose. Don’t want Marie to have an accident."
"Nope, sure don’t," he agreed. "Thanks then, for everything."
"No problem," she laughed, pleased to have been included in her friend’s surprise. "Wish her a happy birthday from us." She’d developed a soft spot for the young girl the moment she’d stepped foot into the bar that she and her husband Rick owned. The bar that was incidentally the first place Logan had met Marie, where they’d had their first date and the place that had hosted their wedding reception. They disconnected the call and Logan set the receiver back as Marie waited for him by the door. She had his coat waiting for him and he took it from her with another kiss.
"Who was that?"
"Just Katie," he replied as he guided her out to the truck. "She wanted to wish you a happy birthday."
"Uh huh," Marie nodded, even though she was well aware that he’d called her and that Katie was probably in on Logan’s little plan. But Marie loved being surprised, if it was the good kind of surprised that involved gifts to tear into. Logan helped her up into the truck, the weight of her six month advanced pregnancy slightly wearing on her delicate frame and making it a little tougher to climb about as she was used to doing. He moved around the front end as she buckled herself up.
But before he started the truck he turned to her, "now, do I have your promise that you’ll close your eyes, or will I have to blindfold you?" he asked, semi-seriously. Marie eyed him speculatively.
"A blindfold, hmm," she smiled slowly. "That has possibilities." Logan groaned as mental images assaulted him.
"Don’t do that darlin’" he grumbled, "or you’ll never get your present." Her full throated, husky laugh didn’t help to dispel the gentle swell of desire she’d created in him. It was a good thing they weren’t going awfully far.
"I’ll be good," she promised. And she was. Logan had built the cabin at the base of a small mountain and one of his favorite places that he’d shared with Marie was a clearing that ended on a cliff edge halfway up. It afforded the best view of sunrise and sunset in the area and they’d spent many evenings and even some mornings admiring the view. He drove carefully, avoiding the ruts in the old logging road, but they soon arrived. Marie sat rather patiently, for her, in the cab while Logan jumped out and came around to her side. But instead of allowing her to step out, he scooped her up in his arms, mindful of Katie’s warnings about the path. And the fact that her weight was a comforting presence in his arms, it was no hardship at all. And the sensation of her burying her face in his neck didn’t hurt either.
It wasn’t long before he broke upon the clearing, pleased to see that Katie and Rick had arranged things precisely as he’d asked. Marie’s’ favorite foods, straight from Rick’s kitchen awaited them in a picnic basket. The campfire was burning already. A thick blanket was spread out under the diamond willow tree a couple yards back from the cliff edge; her gaily wrapped present set upon it. And the sun was already into its nightly descent. He let Marie slide down his body and turned her to face the spectacular sight.
"Open your eyes darlin" he whispered. She did so and gasped in delight as she took it all in. She stepped forward.
"Oh Logan!" She spun around to hug him. "This is wonderful!"
"Like? Of course I do," she giggled. He stepped up beside her and took in the brilliant red of the horizon as it accepted and mutated the spun gold of the sun.
"So, food or present?" he asked conversationally.
"Oh present, of course," Marie laughed, as if he shouldn’t have even asked. He followed her over to the blanket and settled himself against the tree, spreading his legs to provide support for his wife to lean back against him. She sat and snuggled up against him. He lifted the moderately sized box and set it in her lap. She was surprised by its deceptive lightness but wasted no time tearing into it. She lifted the flaps of the plain brown box and gasped again as she withdrew two heavy slips of paper. She stared at them, taking in the printing upon them. Then she twisted around to see his smiling face. "Oh my God Logan," she breathed. "How did you…?"
"I booked ‘em last month," he informed her of the tickets she held in her hand. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back against his chest. "I figure this way, we’ll get the honeymoon trip we didn’t get last year, and then you’ll get to see Anchorage, like you wanted."
"But a cruise?" she was still slightly in awe. "What’ll you do on a cruise?"
"I figure I’ll find something to keep me occupied," he chuckled. "And if I don’t, I’m sure you can help keep me from complete boredom." It finally began to dawn on her that this was going to be a reality and turned in his arms, raining kisses down upon his face.
"Oh thank you! I love it!" she squealed. She pulled back for a moment, careful to make sure that the tickets were returned to the box and not blowing away in the gentle summer breeze. She propped up on her arms and knees and leaned across her husband to nudge the box to the far edge of the blanket She turned her head, her dark auburn shot hair sweeping down her neck like a waterfall. "Thank you."
His hand reached up to cup her cheek as the other smoothed the material of her long skirt over her hip. He let her lips move over his, tempting, tantalizingly slow as he pushed her hip around so she could sit on his lap. His lips parted, his tongue sweeping into her mouth as she complied. Their tongues dueled, neither wanting to yield total dominance, but completely enjoying the fierce passion that erupted between them like fireworks. Logan dragged his lips up her jaw, to her neck, unable to stay away from the sweet spot in the hollow of her throat.
"I just didn’t ever want you to wonder what you might have missed," he admitted softly as he nipped at her skin. Her tiny hand tangled in the slightly long hair at the nape of his neck.
"I never do baby," she whispered back huskily. "You’ve always been the pot o’ gold at the end of this girl’s rainbow."
"I don’t think gold is quite the right description of this old man," he chuckled, huffing small breaths against her skin, making her shiver.
"Does it really matter what we call it?" she asked quietly, her eyes intense. "We’ve got everythin’ we ever wanted, don’t we?" She asked, rubbing her hand over his that was resting on the swell of her abdomen, then pulling it up to cup the underside of her breast.
"Damn right darlin’," he murmured, squeezing gently, making her shudder a little. Marie’s hands followed his up and worked at pulling the buttons free from each hole. He mimicked her movements and marveled at her patience. He was so hard already that he just wanted to tear the shirt from her body. But more than anything, he wanted to fulfil all her fantasies. And if she were in the mood for slow and gentle tonight, then that’s exactly what he would give her.
Scooping an arm under her knees, he maneuvered around so that he could lay her down on the blanket. Marie finished unbuttoning his shirt and spread the fabric wide; smiling at the sun-bronzed chest that rippled powerfully with each movement. Her hands trailed a path from his shoulders down, over his hard stomach to the waistband of his jeans. While her hands were busy pulling the snap free, Logan finished undoing the buttons of her shirt and the front clasp of her bra. He lifted her slightly and pulled the material from her, tossing it to the side, not caring where it landed. He fit himself in the curve of her side; his lips returning to the sweet spot that still bore his mark from a few nights previous as his hand molded and caressed her bare breast. Marie gasped slightly as his thumb teased at her nipple. Determined, she finally loosed his jeans, her hand slipping in to return the torment. Logan groaned aloud as her nails scratched lightly over his cock.
***** Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters
Rogue rolled over, still unable to sleep amidst the numerous new roommates that she now had. It had been such a long day, but slumber eluded her. But through the snores and murmurs of dreams, she heard a low, grumbling moan. She lifted her head and cocked it to the side. She tuned out the buzz around her and listened again, but nothing came. Her head fell back to her pillow as she convinced herself that it was nothing.
Logan grit his teeth as her hand continued to stroke him. His lips trailed down over her chest, capturing the free nipple with his teeth. He nibbled, licked, tugged and sucked, first one and then the other. His hand slipped down to pull the side zipper of her skirt free. She lifted her hips, accommodating his unspoken request and he pulled the skirt down. She kicked it away, clad now only in the brief scrap of lace that passed for underwear nowadays. Logan gulped in air as he took in the picture she made. Hair spread around her face and shoulders, her lips full and parted. She was panting slightly, her chest heaving, her hands once more reaching for him. He helped her push the tight denim of his pants and cotton boxers over his hips and he sat up to pull them all the way off, having to kick off his boots first. Socks followed and he laid them back down.
Marie rolled to her side to face him, her hands stroking at his chest, breathy moans of desire escaping her lips. Logan caught her lips, their tongues entwining. One hand slid down, stroking the satin covering between her thighs, feeling the moisture seeping from the juncture. Logan growled deep in his throat, pleasure coursing through him at her body’s response to him. It always surprised him even as the deepest part of his mind claimed it as natural, her body responding to his and the things he did to her. His hips flexed, his cock again seeking her attention. And she didn’t disappoint.
Without break their kiss, her hand wrapped around his swollen member, her thumb sweeping over the tip, gathering the droplets of moisture beaded there. Her hand moved slowly at first, pumping him gently, squeezing convulsively. Logan groaned into her mouth once again, his mind seeming to evaporate all reason and logic, until all that was left was alpha male, intent on pleasing his mate.
He pulled her hand away from him, ignoring her little mewl of protest. On his knees now, he pushed her back to recline on the blanket. His lips traveled over the taut skin of her stomach, nuzzling the swell as his hands swept away the scrap of cloth that remained their only barrier. He let his fingers trail lazily back up her skin, tickling the delicate flesh behind her knees, pleased to wring another small shudder from her. He pushed her knees apart and settled himself between them, grinning up at her. Her eyes were dark, heavy-lidded and watching him, fascinated by the responding changes in his own. Without breaking that contact, he lowered his head, lips skimming over her mound. She gasped at the first touch of his tongue to her clit, her hands grasping and twisting at the blanket beneath her.
Logan used his tongue masterfully, alternating sucking and licking as he teased her further into her desire for him. He pushed down on her hips as she thrust imploringly beneath him. With a small grin he finally gave her what she craved, pushing into her hot channel, moaning himself at the first rush of moisture from her. He continued to play her, thrusting his tongue, swirling it around, teasing her bud until he had her gasping, panting, crying his name as she begged for more. At last he eased one work-roughened finger into her passage, pleased as he felt the fluttering of her walls. He renewed his sensual attack with vigor, wringing her climax from her.
"Ah, oh God Logan, yes!" she cried as her orgasm hit. Her desire tinged her voice, deepening her accent as the words slurred from her. "Please Logan. Need you. Please," she babbled, her head shaking back and forth as her hands clutched at his shoulders. He smiled and kissed the inside of her thigh as he helped her ride out her climax, loving the feel of her burning passage quiver and grasp as she came down from the induced natural high.
"What do you need, darlin’," he whispered, looking up at her. He loved the blush that crept into her cheeks. Still so shy when it came to certain things. And he loved it all.
"Ah need you," she murmured. "Ah want you… in me."
His grin turned feral as her words hit him. It was right. It was his place. Where no other man had ever been. He crawled up her body, ever mindful of the child between them, dropping kisses over her sweetly perspiring skin. His cock rubbed temptingly against her opening and she gasped at the feeling. "Is this what you want, darlin?" he demanded softly. He eased in, just until the tip of his cock was inside her She swallowed and nodded, her legs coming up to lock around his waist.
"Please," she whimpered. Logan braced himself on his forearms, careful to keep his full weight off her, but twisted his head down to capture her mouth as he sank fully into her. A satisfied groan escaped him at the feel of her slickness, so familiar, so achingly sweet wrapped around him.
***** Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters
The noise came again and Rogue realized that she’d sort of been waiting for it. And so hearing it also realized that the voice making the noise was vaguely familiar. ‘Logan?’
she wondered. Everyone else had finally quieted down and the other teachers were too far away to be disturbing the kids with nocturnal noises. Rogue wondered briefly what he was dreaming of. She slid from her bed, her mind too active now for her to stay abed. She held her breath as she crept through the room, extremely careful to avoid the limbs hanging out of beds. Or legs that had kicked blankets free. She opened the door and peered out cautiously, her head swinging right, then left, determined not to be caught breaking rules about the house curfew.
Logan rested a moment, just reveling in the warmth that sped through him. ‘He was home’
he thought, as Marie thrust her hips up at him. He stared down at her, ridiculously pleased that this bundle of sweetness and light and love was his and would be forevermore. But finally, he was unable to deny the passion thrumming through them. He withdrew and thrust back in, a little deeper this time. Marie hissed, her head arching and Logan latched onto the hollow in her shoulder where his mark lay. He flexed his hips, moving a little deeper with each movement and Marie smiled at him.
"Ah promise, Ah won’t break," she giggled, her voice throaty. Logan nodded, slightly dumb as he thrust home fully, completing them. "Oh yes!" she yelled, her nails digging into his shoulders. Logan ran his hand down her side, catching the underside of her thigh as he began pounding into her. Marie twisted and convulsed as another orgasm began to build. Her eyes closed, her small frame shaking as her husband pleasured her.
Logan felt his orgasm coming, tried to delay it, intent on wringing every last ounce of pleasure from his wife’s tiny body. But Marie had different ideas. She dragged her lips over his neck, murmuring encouragement as his skin slapped against hers. When she bit fiercely into his weather roughened skin, his eyes flew wide open and his lower body convulsed, his throbbing cock emptying into her. His teeth ground together as her legs tightened about him, reveling in her feminine power.
Finally, his arms shaking from exertion, Logan withdrew from her slick channel. He collapsed beside her, one hand over his eyes as he tried to slow his breathing. "Happy anniversary. Love you darlin’," he murmured into her shoulder.
"Ah love you too."
***** Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters
Rogue crept along the passageway that was slowly becoming familiar to her, trying to track where the sound had come from. There was a soft murmur to give her a clue and she waited breathlessly a moment to see if anyone else came to investigate. But the rest of the house was silent.
Logan rolled from his bed, long hours later. He’d been on the verge of sleep before he remembered his promise. After their lovemaking, Marie had become a tiny bit chilled in the evening air. With a predatory grin, he’d bundled her up in the blanket, set the picnic basket and her gift in her lap and returned her to the truck. She’d laughed and asked about the fire. He promised he’d return later and clean up.
After feeding themselves on the now cold fried chicken Rick and Katie had provided, before the fireplace, they’d engaged in another bout of lovemaking. Then they’d feasted on the fresh strawberries, licking the juice from each other’s fingers. Logan had carried her up to bed, but Marie had coaxed him with another come-hither smile and he’d been powerless to resist her.
Groaning at the thought of leaving her, even for a brief time, he decided that it was better to take care of loose ends quickly. The faster he did this, the faster he could return to her warmth and the comfort that their bed offered. He dropped a kiss on her forehead as she turned to him in her sleep. He stole over to the dresser and eased the drawer open, pulling out clean jeans and a well-worn T-shirt. He slipped down the steps on silent feet and noted that the he’d banked the fireplace well enough, but it still gave off a small glow of its last embers.
He grunted half in annoyance; half in slightly giddy pleasure as he realized that in his haste, he’d left his boots behind on the mountain. He shrugged dismissively. Cold never really bothered him and he’d get his boots in a matter of minutes. He hurried out to the truck and started it up the mountain.
He wandered around the clearing, picking up clothes, chuckling to himself when he saw where some of the discarded fabric had landed. He left the glowing fire for last, using the dying light to leave no evidence of their passion behind, but for the musky scent that still hung in the air. But when he’d returned from putting things in the truck with the bucket of dirt he’d gathered up to put out the fire, the hackles on the back of his neck began to rise. Always aware of the natural dangers the mountain provided, Logan let his senses reach out, wondering what wild animal had wandered into his territory. But when eyes could see nothing, he shrugged it off and poured the dirt over the coals, smothering the heat induced light.
He shook the bucket a few times; making sure all the dirt was out. But still, something niggled at the back of his mind. He moved slowly, careful not to become the prey humans were always in danger of being. This time however, he let himself rely on more than just what his eyes could or couldn’t see. He lifted his face; his nose sniffing out the strange scents that permeated the air around him. And then he caught it. The scent of smoke. He glanced down at the fire, but the last wisps of smoke had already evaporated into the night air. And the smell was coming from the wrong direction. Logan dropped the bucket with a clatter as he spun around, desperate realization striking him like a bolt of lightening. The smoke was coming up the mountain. ‘Marie,’
his mind screamed as he caught the flicker of flames dancing above the treeline. Truck forgotten in his panic, Logan raced down the mountain, not realizing how the human mantle he carried was shed as tree branches tore at his clothes and skin. Rocks jabbed into his bare feet, but he paid no attention, the only thought in his mind, that his mate was in danger.
He burst from the surrounding trees that lined and sheltered their home and Logan gasped as he took in the inferno before him. ‘Logan,’
he could hear her voice calling him. He sank to his knees; his eyes dry as he took in the enormity of the devastation. "Nooo!"
***** Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters
Rogue crept down the last hallway and finally picked out the door housing the mysterious noises. She turned the knob slowly and eased the door open. Mindful of how much trouble she’d caused if she shut it, she left it to drift open all the way, not even startled as it banged softly against the wall. She tiptoed to the bed, mindful of her ungloved hands. She didn’t dare reach out and shake him out of his dream.
"Logan," she called softly. His head shook back and forth.
Rogue’s heart contracted at the obvious pain his mind was causing him. It hurt to know that this man felt the pain of past memories, as she did. Hurt, but was in some ways a balm on her aching spirit.
As he watched the flames continue to lick at the dry wood of the crafted home, ever spreading upwards, Logan realized the futility of trying to save his wife and unborn child, even as his body warred to race into the inferno, ready to die by her side. What he deserved for his mistake. For leaving her alone in the house while the fire still burned. ‘Logan! Logan! Wake up!’
He heard her voice calling and the desperation in her voice caused the marginally rational part of his mind to look more closely at the house. Scorch marks appeared at the base of the cabin, grass seared away from the edges, but no flame spread from the base of the house. It was all concentrated upstairs. How was that possible? And then the smell assaulted his too sensitive nose. Chloroform. The fire had been set deliberately. His wife drugged so she couldn’t escape. The urge to race inside, throw himself upon the fiery bier of his life and love ate at him, prevented only by the shadowy form that suddenly emerged from the darkness. Logan’s eyes narrowed as some recognition flitted through his mind. He knew this person, this enemy.
"She’s gone," the gravelly voiced stranger intoned, his look sad, almost regretful. But then the shadow man continued. "But now… now you can remember who you are and return to me." ‘And who am I?’
Logan asked of himself bitterly.
"A mutant!" gravel-voice boomed in answer. "A weapon. My weapon!" The strange intensity and pleasure in that rough tone caught at Logan’s mind. ‘Stryker!’
"Come Wolverine. There’s nothing left for you here. Nothing but death."‘Yeah, yours bub!’
his mind shrieked as the rage erupted from his body. He snarled as he launched himself at the instigator of his heart’s demise, the sudden snikt of adamantium laced claws ripping from his body the only sound ringing in his ears.
Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters
Rogue’s eyes went wide as Logan woke suddenly from the dream, a snarling yell of rage making her jump and gasp as the cold metal pierced her chest. She gasped once, but no air made its way into her tortured body.
Logan looked up into the face of his wife… no; it was Rogue, not Marie. She was Rogue. His eyes fell upon his hand, claws extended, straight through her chest. ‘Oh God! Marie! What have I done?’
He retracted the claws before reason told him to stop, knowing only that he had hurt her, wounded her mortally. He shrank back a little as another gasp wrenched from her body. ‘She can’t breathe,’
he realized. And he did the only thing he could. "Help me." She gasped again and his heart twisted. "Somebody help!"