A/N: This takes place six months after The Wolverine. I tried to give everyone in character, but I probably failed epically at that, so sorry if I accidently mutilate anyone's- especially Logan's- personality. Lots of Mariko/Logan fluff. :)

I was one of those people,

You, my everything

-Ellie Goulding, You, My Everything

The Bodyguards

Logan

England. India. Africa. Australia. Iceland. Russia. Germany. They all tended to blur together, a mix of exotic delusions. They were just distractions. I always knew, eventually, I'd end up back Japan.

"Are you sure about this?" Yukio had appeared, soundlessly, in the doorway of the cheap piece-of-crap hotel we were staying in the night before. I knew Mariko had given us enough money for us to bunk in someplace far better than this- at the very least, someplace that had been rated more than half a star. But I should have seen this coming. Yukio had never backed my decision to go back; Yashida was dead, but that didn't mean his supporters were. I could tell that she missed it though.

"We've been over this before. I can take care of myself, you can take care of yourself, and, if Mariko can't take care of herself, I can."

She'd narrowed her eyes and told me something was bound to go wrong, but despite all her protests, we were now sitting in the front hall of Yashida Inc., waiting for Mariko to get out of her meeting. I knew Yukio had spent most of past night pacing her room, but if she was feeling at all exhausted, she wasn't letting it show. Every person passing us shot us weird looks, but that probably had something to do with the fact Yukio was glaring hard enough at half of them to make a grown man pi** himself and that I was a white man wearing a leather jacket in a Japanese corporation surrounded by people dressed far better.

So, yes, it wasn't all that out of the ordinary.

Yukio scowled at the massive clock hanging on the wall across from us. "It's been three hours. Where is she?"

"Don't you think if I knew that, I wouldn't just be sitting here?"

"Her meeting got out ten minutes ago…" Her eyes followed something over my shoulder. "Speak of the devil."

Mariko walked over to us, and I felt better than I had in months. Yukio and I both stood up at the same time, nearly colliding with the other. The two of them embraced before Mariko turned to me. "Logan." She greeted me, her voice loaded with implications. She kissed me on the cheek, and I fought the urge to pull her against me. "Sorry I took so long; I had to change." She gestured to her jeans and t-shirt.

"That's fine." Yukio said automatically. "We were planning to go get something to eat. Then you can us how the company is going, sister. Fill us in on everything we've missed."

Mariko nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "And you can tell me what travelling the world is like." As we headed back outside, I wrapped my arm around her waist, holding her to me out of pure instinct. She and Yukio started talking rapidly in Mandarin, and I toned them out, searching for threats in the crowd pulsing around us. It was a three-hundred-year-old habit I still had yet to break.

Yukio was leading us through the throng of people, but she must have taken a wrong turn somewhere, because as we surfaced from the mob we were standing in an alley- exactly what I had been trying to avoid. Neither of the women noticed, so intent they were on their conversation. A flash of black caught the edge of my vision. I spun around, releasing my grip on Mariko, in time see a man dressed in all black disappearing around the corner. "Sh**."

I didn't realize I had spoken aloud until Yukio and Mariko faced me, alarm in both their expressions. I held my breath and unsheathed my claws, bracing myself for the inevitable, well past the point of being optimistic.

They ambushed us from the towering rooftops on either side, forcing the three of us to back up against a wall. There was ten of them, clearly assassins, all wearing black cloaks and armed with handguns. I pushed Mariko behind me, knowing her self-defense would be utterly useless against bullets. One of them took a step forward and cocked his pistol, aiming at my heart. Classic, bub.

"Get down!" I shouted at Mariko a second before I rolled to dodge the first of many bullets, landing inches away from the shooter and plunging my right claws into his abdomen. He collapsed onto the ground, coughing up blood, his eyes already going glassy. I yanked out my hand out of him as a second one advanced, raking my claws across his face. His screams joined another's, and I knew Yukio had taken down a third. He kept stumbling toward me, half-blind by the looks of it. His grin was distorted. "Once we're done with you, we'll be coming for her." He hissed the words like a vow even though he was nearly dead.

"You won't touch her, I can promise you that." I twisted the gun out of his grip and shot him in the chest, finishing him off. Yukio was in the middle of dismembering yet another. The remaining six seemed a bit more hesitant to join the fight, so I caught Yukio's eye, aware that this would be my only chance to make sure Mariko was protected. "Get her out of here! I don't care what she tells you, just make sure she's safe- I'll meet you at Yashida's old house!" Yukio nodded and ran over to Mariko. I glimpsed them as they raced out of the alley, and allowed myself a moment's relief. Two of the assassins jumped on me simultaneously, leaving me with four bullets in my shoulder and chest. I blocked out the pain and ran one of them through with both of sets of claws, feeling the blood coat my wrists and knuckles as he, too, fell to his knees, gasping hopelessly for breath. The other wrapped his arms around my neck, but I shot a hole in his head, and felt him dropped off my shoulders. The two corpses were soon replaced by the last four. Eight more bullets dug into my flesh, slowing me down just a little. I sunk my claws into the two men on either sides of me, kicking one of the killers in front of me where it counts. He landed on the dirt, where I ended his life with another kick to the head. The last man dropped his empty gun and pulled out a nasty-looking sword, slicing through my side effortlessly and then stood there completely shocked out of his wits when I healed five seconds later. A different blade cut cleanly through his throat, and his body crumpled on the alley floor. Yukio stood were he had been a moment ago, panting. I slumped back into the wall, catching my breath.

I stared at the blood on my hands and wondered why fighting for my life felt so d*** refreshing.

Mariko

"Where is he?" It had been nagging me for hours, ever since Yukio had dragged me away from the fight. She had dropped me off at my grandfather's old house, avoiding my questions by insisting she needed to get back to Logan before he killed everyone and left her no one to take her anger out on. Yukio had told me to stay in my room until she returned. I had asked her if Logan had put her up to that, but she had pursed her lips and answered that he had simply said to make sure I was safe.

"Here, in one of the guest rooms, asleep." My adopted sister finally humored me. "Healing."

"Are you telling me he got cut up pretty badly?" Unneeded worry found its way into my voice. He was immortal, for crying out loud.

"No, I'm telling you that he's tried and is resting." Yukio looked at me, and something flashed across her expression- jealously?

"I know you care for Logan like I do-"

"What I feel about him doesn't matter, sister." There was something distantly sharp about the way she said it. "I have found my place, and I'm content to stay in it."

I couldn't say I believed her.

000

When I came to check on him, he was up, standing by the window. I walked over to him and wrapped my arms around his chest from behind, feeling the impossibly strong muscles under his shirt, leaning my forehead on the back of his neck. You won't touch her, I can promise you that. He stiffened ever so slightly- someone had held him this way before, I could tell. Who? I ached to ask. Whose were you before you were mine, before you were Jean's? But I didn't, because then I'd have to let go of him. He pulled me to face him, his eyes begging me to kiss him. And I did, his callused hands moving up my arms until they were pressed against either side of my face.

There was so much to say, so many words I had been dying to share with him, but we let our lips do the talking. Finally he pulled back a little, resting his chin on the crown of my head.

"I missed you." I whispered.

"I know." Logan's words melted back into the silence as we stood together, framed by the dying light pouring in from the window.

I closed my eyes and prayed it would never end.