A Girl After His Own Heart – Chapter One
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the story idea.
A/N: Set sometime after the second movie. Just a quick warning: this is rated R for a reason. Language, implied violence and sex are all going to happen, so if it's not your cup of tea, please don't read this. It's a very adult fic revolving around Logan and an OC (which I do own, so she better not pop up in another fic out there….). There will be swearing, there will be sex, and there will be some violence. Okay, I'm done.
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Logan jerked awake and found himself in the passenger seat of a moving pickup truck. Immediately tensing his body and unleashing his claws, Logan punched his left fist at the driver, stopping just short of breaking the skin on her neck. His right fist was raised and ready with another threat.
"Jesus!" she yelped, startled. "Easy there, Tiger."
"Where the fuck am I?" he growled, still pointing the tips of his adamantium claws at the creamy skin of her throat. His eyes bore into her profile as she continued to drive through the dark night.
"You don't remember?" she asked suspiciously, narrowing her eyes at his lack of memory.
"No," he answered tightly, and for good measure slowly pressed the points of his claws into her soft skin.
She was driving crazy, like a bat outta hell, taking corners too fast and weaving in and out of the little traffic that there was on the highway. Her headlights illuminated the stretch of road in front of them and to Logan it seemed to go on for miles. The road was black in stark contrast to the deep snow on the shoulder. It occurred to him that the inside of the truck was freezing and for the first time noticed that a black leather jacket – not his own – was slumped in his lap having fallen there from his broad shoulders when he'd sat up so suddenly. The woman opposite him was wearing jeans, and waffled long underwear beneath a dark tee shirt. She had dark brown hair and pulled back into a messy low knot with loose ends falling against her flushed cheeks and neck and she smelled…familiar somehow.
Irritated at his threat and hoping to frighten him off, or at the very least make sure he understood that she wasn't to be intimidated, she growled back at him, "Fuck you, asshole. Even if you don't remember it, I saved your ass back there, so a little gratitude wouldn't be completely out of order."
"I'm very grateful," he replied with steel in his voice. "Now what the hell is goin' on?"
"What's going on is that I didn't have to take you with me when I busted outta that hole. You know you're one heavy mother fucker. Getting you into this piece of shit was not easy." She was talking a good game, but Logan could see a trickle of fear creep into her blue eyes as she wondered if she'd made a mistake in taking him with her.
He considered her. "You got me into this truck on your own?"
"It was just you and me back there," she answered with a grunt and a rueful shake of her head.
Flashes of memory came back to him. He remembered being drugged with something and strapped on a table in a dark room. There were voices and he couldn't move. He sensed another body nearby, slow breathing and a heartbeat, but before he could turn his head to look around, the door opened and in walked a familiar face. He relaxed his elbows a little, but did not pull back from his threatening stance as he spoke the name.
"Magneto," he snarled at the image his brain had conjured up.
"'Scuse me?" she answered, still flying through traffic as if they were alone on the highway.
Shaking himself, Logan refocused on the woman in front of him. She was small, not more than five foot, if he had to guess, and probably didn't weigh more than 115, soaking wet. How the fuck had she managed to drag him from that sorry excuse for a cell and get him into this piece of shit truck? He was solid muscle even without the metal skeleton. It was logistically impossible.
"Hey," she said, getting a little pissed off. "What the hell is a magneto?"
"Not a what, a who," Logan replied in a low voice. "Magneto is a man."
"Fuckin' messed up name," she muttered, knuckles white on the steering wheel. The heater was broken and she'd thrown her leather jacket over him for warmth. In a way it was good, the freezing temperature had kept her awake during the long drive.
"His real name is Eric."
"The old guy," she said in realization. "That blue bitch called him Eric."
Logan looked at her sharply, realizing she was referring to Mystique, as she continued. "They were going to work on you pretty good. Him and that monster a his."
Again, Logan had a flash of memory as he felt the torturous strokes of metal on skin all over again. His healing factor hadn't allowed him to die, but death was not what Magneto was after. Magneto wanted to cause him pain and the monster she referred to, Sabertooth, had been only too happy to oblige.
"How did you get us out of there?" he asked as he finally brought his claws down, but not relaxing his body at all.
"Long story," she answered him shortly and with a quick shake of her head.
"Where are my clothes?" As far as he could tell in the dark, he was wearing his jeans, white muscle tank and boots with the strange jacket sort of thrown onto him. His own jacket and over clothes were gone.
"I didn't have time to look for 'em," she answered regretfully. "We left as is."
"I'm Logan," he offered. "Who are you?"
"I'm nobody," she said with firm shake of her head.
"What were you doing there?" he pried.
"Dunno," she admitted. She almost wished she did know so that she could figure how they'd gotten her. She'd woken up from the drugs the same as he had, but he was already on the table, which meant that they had just tossed her on the floor and expected the bindings on her wrists and ankles to hold.
"Are you a mutant?" he questioned.
"No," she snapped, immediately on the defensive.
He narrowed his eyes and said, "You're lying."
"So what?" she sneered. "You gonna slice an' dice me while I drive?"
"What's your power?" he demanded.
"Puttin' up with assholes," she cracked as she exited off the highway onto an even more desolate stretch of road.
He nodded an approval at her answer. She was feisty, he'd give her that.
Finally he turned his attention away from her and focused on the road. She was still driving way too fast and it made him nervous. He didn't feel comfortable as the passenger, especially when she so clearly ignored the rules of the road.
"You should slow down," he cautioned in a soft but loaded voice.
"You should fuck off," she replied gruffly and reached for the radio.
Radar Love blasted into the cab and she relaxed as the music ground into her brain and made her forget the things she'd seen them do to the man next to her. How he was still alive she didn't know. In fact, she'd planned on heading for the nearest hospital after their escape and had pulled off the highway toward one, only to watch his wounds heal themselves before her very eyes. Once healed, she felt that to go into a hospital, covered in blood, but with a seemingly healthy though unconscious man, would only create questions to which she had no answers. He'd passed out from the pain at some point on the table and while pulled over, she'd noted that his breathing was normal, so she'd gotten back on the highway and hadn't stopped since.
Logan noticed that the clock on the dash read 1:07am. They must have been driving for hours.
Snapping the radio off in irritation, Logan growled at her, "You gotta name?"
"Everybody's gotta name," she replied as she reached for the radio again. He caught her wrist in his fist and squeezed, testing her. Anyone else would have crumpled under the pressure he was exerting on her flesh, but she simply extended her middle finger, narrowed her eyes and smiled at him again.
Releasing her, Logan felt that he had to respect the fact that she was taking his abuse and dishing it back at him. Who the hell was this bitch? She was wary of him, but unwilling to back down at a fight. He could sense that she was a little afraid, but also a little cocky.
Obviously she was a mutant. There was no way she'd have been able to move his dead weight around unless she had superhuman strength. Also, there's no other explanation for her presence in that underground cell of Magneto's.
"Why did you take me with you?" Logan asked her quietly, his eye boring holes into her own.
At this she shrugged unable to reply at first and Logan was thankful that she hadn't giving him another smart-ass come back.
"Why?" he asked again, louder.
"It didn't look like any kinda fun what they were doing to you," the woman replied grimly. "After the old man left with that blue bitch, I fucked up the mutant and was on my way outta there. But I thought it'd be close to murder leaving you there, too. Now, don't get me wrong. Killin' evil fucks like that is easy. Lettin' them kill you, though, is something else." She paused and looked at him. "And if you turn out to be an evil fuck, too, I can just kill you later," she added with a warning smile.
He arched an eyebrow at her and sat up a little in his seat. Ignoring her blatant threat, though, he pressed for more information on their escape, "How?"
"Like I said, long story," she repeated.
"We've got plenty of time," Logan answered determinedly.
"Actually, no," she said as she pulled onto a dirt road. "We're here."
Logan tensed again as he strained to take in his surroundings. "Where are we?"
She pulled up to a battered old Ford in front of a small house and said gloomily, "My place."
"Your place?" he repeated.
"Yeah, my place." Her tone of voice was one usually reserved for children.
"The fuck are we doing at your place?" he asked suspiciously.
"Call me crazy," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "but we've been driving all night in this freezing ass truck and that hole back there was filthy. I could use a hot shower and a change of clothes." She regarded him from across the seat before she continued. "You, on the other hand, are fresh as a daisy."
"Fuck you," he gritted out.
"Hurt me bad," she taunted.
They got out of the truck and made for the house.
"You got any roommates?"
"Do I strike you as the kinda gal who has roommates?" she asked.
"No," he allowed.
"Didn't think so."
"How do you know Magneto isn't following us?" he asked warily. "Maybe we should keep moving."
"What's left of that base isn't enough to track a fly," she reported.
He immediately remembered the explosions she'd alluded to earlier. She was right. There was nothing left of that operation. He wondered vaguely if Magneto was even still alive.
The woman unlocked the front door and entered, holding it open for him behind her. The house was dark but warm and he could feel her body heat seeping towards him in the darkness. He inhaled her scent and again found it oddly familiar.
She snapped on the light and she allowed him to move ahead of her in the small space as she closed and locked the door.
Moving toward the rest of the house, the woman tried to snake past Logan again to lead him in the direction of the bathroom, but he caught her roughly and pushed her against the wall, one knee pressed between her legs, his pelvis crushing hers, claws extended and pressed against her chest. Her tiny body was crushed against his weight.
"Before we go any further," he purred viciously, "I think we need some ground rules."
She narrowed her dark blue eyes and spat, "Fuck you."
"We'll see," Logan promised. "In the meantime, you need to know that if you try to fuck with me in anyway, if this is some kind of trap, I will spend the rest of my life hunting you down so that you pay."
"You practice that speech?" she asked with clenched teeth as she tried to jerk away. He held her fast, though.
"Do you understand me?" he asked.
"Yeah," she growled. "But know this. It goes both ways." He nodded his acceptance of these terms and released her.
She turned and led him into the little house.