Title: Nothin' Heals Me Like You Do (L-Pov)

Author: Drea Jackman

Email: DreaJackman@LIterati.co.uk

Rating: 15 (UK-rating)

Summary: What would have happened had the bar scene gone a little
differently?

Series: Healing Factor

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters involved, not one of them. They all
belong to Marvel....the lucky...ahem! I am merely playing with them, using them
to entertain...and partly to fuel my apparent obsession for this couple. Don't ya
just luv 'em?!?

Archive: If I've said yes before, I will say it again. If not please email me first.

Author's Note: Just another Fic that started of in Uni of all places when I was
killing time between lectures. Only just found it lyin' around on my comp and
thought I'd finally finish it off. If anyone cries sequel there'll probably be one, lol.
Doesn't take much encouragement for me to wanna write for our couple here.
See what ya think an' please lemme know.

~X~

What the hell was a little thing like that doing way out here in this kinda place? I
couldn't answer it when I felt her presence outside the cage and seeing her face
to face now didn't change that. The beer tastes sweet. Sweeter than it has in a
while. Again I got no
clue why.

She's staring at me from under that hood. Tryin to hide it but I know better. I can
hear her breathing, smell the intrigue...and fear. Shit, she's afraid? I only guessed
what about when I actually caught what was on the barkeep's old TV set behind
the bar. More mutant prejudices being drawn up and given force in a new light,
one that was supposed to be for the good of mankind. Since when were mutants
born of human birth no longer classed as members of the human race?

I shouldn't be one to say this, but she's kinda cute. I mean, fer someone you'd
catch in a bar like this, nah, a hellhole like this. I know she's wonderin' about me.
There she goes peekin' out from under that hood again, but she looks worried.
What's up now? No' she's not lookin at me nomore, she's lookin past me. Wha...?

Thump.

Someone's bein a little heavy handed with my shoulder and I don't like it.
Someone's gonna be real sorry. When I glance back over my shoulder I can see
the dumbass I knocked out in that damn cage. What the hell does he want? No
matter, I'll kick his ass again if needbe.

"You owe me some money."

The voice is sturdy. Shit, this guy actually thinks he can talk to me like this and
have nothin' to worry about.

"You lost your money, you keep this up you'll lose somethin' else."

Makes me laugh just thinkin what the look on his face is gonna be like when
I....but what about her? Aw c'mon, why the hell should I care? Come into a dive
like this you're bound to get the usual scum. Why think things through now? But
she looks terrified already. Of them...of me. I can feel a growl building up inside
and I'm actually thinkin' twice about lettin' it out.

"Lookout!"

What? What's she yellin about? I guess distractions are a fighters worst enemy
when it comes down to it. Next thing I know there's a tearing sensation down my
back. Another at my ribs. Without even thinking I feel the familiar sting on my
knuckles, claws slipping loose. More blood, I can smell it. The burning in every
wound is only getting worse. They're beating on me and I hate it. Why the hell
can't I fight back. Then the answer hit me. I looked down and saw blood all over
my clothes. A mutations hardly any good if you're loosin the fluid that'll do it's
work for it.

Everything's starting to go dark, kinda hazey. It's so hard to keep my eyes from
closing and staying that way. Each time I think I've seen my last sight, another
one surfaces. The barkeep has a gun pointed at.....at that girl. What the hell? If
I'd have been able to I'd have introduced him to my fist, claws extended or not, for
even thinkin' of pointin a gun at her. Part of me wonders where that kinda instinct
just came from. Not like I've ever felt the need to protect anything before.

Blackness. Muffled sounds of scuffling and the floor beneath me shakes.

She's standing over the two guys now. They're lyin' not far offa me. There's wierd
cuts 'n' scrapes all over their faces. I can only stare through half closed lids as
she walks towards the barkeeper, but his guns still aimed at her. I can feel myself
tryin to speak but nothin's comin out. Feels like I can't damnwell breath.

Blackout.

The next thing I remember was hearing yelling. Must have just been memory
cause the next thing I knew my body felt like it was being torn apart. Pain ripped
through every part of me and I awoke with a start. At least, I think I did. What
the hell's goin' on? I can't see anything around me and it's cold. Colder than I've
felt it in a long, long time. I can feel my body begin to shiver as I try to focus on
something, anything around me.

"Don't move."

The voice beats against my eardrums in a drawl. Who is it? It all came rushing
back way too fast for my liking. The girl! That son of a bitch had a damned gun
pointed in her face. I wanna get up and attack whatever the hell had done this to
me, then I remembered the two men lying alongside me on the bar's floor. This
involved way too much thought and even I knew I wasn't in shape to do that
clearly just now.

"Just lie still. Please."

There it is again. That soft accent. I can make out the outline but the features
are blurred. She's leaning in closer to me now, something in her hand. It's cold
as it brushes my face, burning beginning to sting all the apparent cuts there. I
couldn't help it, I winced. Finally I was able to speak and hear the words I wanted
to come out.

"...who?"

Okay so it didn't come out exactly as I'd have liked it to, but at least it came out. I
can see her face now, still half covered by that hood. Maybe it's just the
concussion or the fact that I'm fairly certain she'd saved my life, but she looked so
beautiful right then in that moment. I don't think I'll ever forget the image.

"Shhhh. You'll be alright."

From the way I felt I wouldn't be so sure. Taking a deep breath and swallowing
hard I try again.

"Wanna bet darlin'?"

There, that's more like it. She's actually smiling at me. Perhaps I don't scare her
as much as I did before. I can see her eyes watching me with a kind of concern
I've never seen anywhere before, certainly not in anyone lookin' at me. They're
trailing down over me, over my body. When mine followed all I could see was
blood and torn shreds of what had been my only good shirt. Now she's staring at
something else, she looks intrigued. Again my eyes follow her gaze. Shit.
Shifting uncomfortably I try to sit up straighter and pull my right hand away from
hers.

"I'm sorry."

'Snikt!' The claws are retracted as painfully as they were extended in the bar.
What's a few more wounds to an apparent bunch. She shook her head.

"It's alright. Y'think you'll be able t' move with mah help?"

Managing to break my gaze into her eyes and looking around me for the first time
I finally realise why it's so damn cold. We're outside. It's snowin' all over. The
bar's round the corner from here and we're sittin' huddled in some alleyway. My
trailer's just across the street by the bar, but she wouldn't have known that.
Nodding I turn back to her.

"What happened?"

"Y'mean after those guys decided t' use you as a rag doll?"

Now I can't meet her gaze. I'm Wolverine. What the hell happened to me? I can
kick the stuffin outa anyone. How could this have suddenly happened to me?
The only thing different this time compared to all those other bars was....

"You. Are you okay?"

"Ah'm fine."

That accent of hers is intoxicating. I can feel all the pain easing outa my body
everytime she speaks. I could listen to her for hours. Wonder if I'll get the
chance. Snapping out of my momentary reverie I start to try and shift myself in a
not so graceful attempt to sit up. Isn't as easy as I'd like.

"Here, let me."

She straightens her gloves and gently eases her arm round my shoulders holding
the other out for my left hand. Without a second thought I take it and she helps
me to stand. I can't help but grimace and groan out loud at the stinging from all
the cuts I have everywhere. I'm pretty sure I'd have cracked a rib, it sure as hell
feels like it, if it weren't for this damn adamantium plating. All armour plated and
ready to go I guess.

"Thanks Kid."

Before I know it we're over at my trailer and she's bundling me into the back
amoung the junk I have all over the place. Clothes hanging up to dry, few empty
whisky bottles from the colder weather. Guy's gotta stay warm on the road
somehow. There's a small bedroll I keep in the corner just behind the drivers
seat. As if she's reading my mind, she's unrolling it and clearing a space for it
amoungst the shit I have in here.

"You need a doctor." she stated simply.

I'm touched by her concern but can't really stop the wry chuckle escaping my lips.
Was that me? I don't do the humour thing.

"Naw darlin'. I'll be just fine."

Reaching out for me again I can feel her small arms surrounding me and lugging
me over onto the bedroll. Judging by how hard she's having to pull I'm guessing
I'm not really helping much. Finally I'm laid out where she's left me and she's
tugging at my leather jacket. This is takin' a different kinda turn now. Dunno if
I'm comfortable with it. We'll see.

"Sorry, I'm not much help am I."

"That's okay." Her voice is intense. She's concentrating hard on what she's doing
but still lookin at me with a mixture of wariness and interest. "Ya'll be fine?
Y'mean, " She's nervous? "Y'mean that's what you have? Your power?"
Power? Hell I know I've kinda come across as different but what's this kid know
about powers and metal clawed, gruff assed monstors like me. Aw no she can't
be.

"I heal fast darlin'. Ain't no power, but it comes in handy."

I'm a little nervous. What?! Me? The King of the Ring Wolverine nervous?
Geez they really did do a number on you didn't they.

"What about you?" I don't really wanna push her. Might scare the shit out of her,
then again she's not been very scared so far. Perhaps I'm lucky.

"Ah hurt people."

She folds her hood down and takes off her long cloak-like coat, a rather sad
expression on her face. Tucking it around me starting from my legs and working
her way up she stops at my waist to unbutton my shirt.

"Shit!" I didn't really mean to exclaim like that, but it hurts like hell. Damn bloods
dryin the shirt to every open wound I have.

"Ah'm sorry." she jumped dropping the shirt and pulling her hands back holding
them to her chest.

"It's okay kid. Just a little sore that's all."

Never heard that kinda tone in my voice either. It's lost all of it's threatening tone.
Still a little gruff round the edges but I guess you can't take it outa the man. Still,
these last few hours have been...different.

"So, how do you hurt people?" Suppose now's as good a time as any to try
making conversation.

"Mah skin," she looks at me timidly and I can't help but notice the regret there too.
"When people touch mah skin something happens, Ah dunno what but they get
hurt real bad."

"I won't hurt you."

Not really sure why I said it, but it seemed like the right thing at the time. I know I
don't know her at all and she's just some lil thing that showed up in a bar out here
in hell, but I got the feeling that right now, things would've turned out differently if
she hadn't been there.

"Ah know." Guess it's that simple.

As she's stripping me outa my blood soaked shirt I can feel some of the smaller
cuts starting to close over. I can tell she's noticed cause now she's watching
them intently. Is she smiling? Her hands are trembling slightly. Suppose it's as
much of a shock that I can feel that as well as the realisation that she's actually
touching me. The soft clinking of metal.

"You were in the army?"

"Guess so."

Her eyes shoot up to meet mine and I take a moment to appreciate how beautiful
they are. So deep and dark. Guy could lose himself in them if he's not careful.

"You don't know?"

"Don't remember. S'like that with alot of things."

"Oh..." As her voice trails off I can see her examining them carefully. "Wolverine?
That's your name?"

All I can do is raise an eyebrow in askance. There's somethin' wrong with that?
Guess it is a little different.

"What's yours?"

"Rogue." Her answer seems almost indignant and sounds so sure.

"What kind of a name is Rogue?"

Hell I know, after the Wolverine thing Rogue's hardly a wierd name, but still, she
doesn't look like a Rogue. Taking a few seconds more to look her over my eyes
return to hers. Definitely not a Rogue anything.

"What kind of a name is Wolverine?"

That's better. She's smiling. Can't tell you the wierd warm feeling that gives me
to see it. Her face is so pretty when she smiles. With a sigh I know I'm beaten.
What's more, I think I actually like it.

"My name's Logan."

"Marie."

Marie? Yeah, she's a Marie. Names beautiful and innocent, like her. I like it.
Before I know it my right hands outstretched for hers. I don't really know what for
as I feel hers slide into it's grasp, but again, plain and simple. I like it. What's
more, and I really didn't see this coming, I kissed it softly. As the realisation hits
me I look at her kinda nervous, but I hope she can't read it in my eyes. Wasn't
really appropriate of me, but she's still smiling. Guess she didn't really mind
much. Good. Trying to stop a wolfish grin appearing at the relief I shift to sit up a
little, feeling much better, but still really tired.

"So, think ya can gimme the keys to this thing now or what?"
Is she being smart with me now? This girl has the guts to pull a smartass tone on
me? Wolverine?

"You're old enough to drive?" I ask raising an eyebrow equally as smart.

"Hey, if you wanna stay here like a sittin' duck that's fine with me. Just don'
expect me t' scrape ya up of the floor next time."

Raising my hands in protest and again, surrender I shake my head vigorously, or
as much as I can manage right now. Still a little dizzy. Actually I feel sick to my
stomach and I have a splitting headache.

"Okay, okay. I give. Here."

Within a few minutes we're on the road. Me lying in the back still lookin like a half
dressed, half beaten to deal corpse and her out front, lookin' as lovely as ever.
Just wish I wasn't facing the way I was in lyin' here or I could watch her. What
am I saying? Watch her? She's a kid, I can't be thinking like this, certainly not
about her. But...

"It's real dark out now. Ah'm gonna pull over fer the night. That alright with you?"

My heads a wreck. It's beyond aching. It's a little wierd that almost all my cuts
and bruises have healed up, but the larger ones still ache and bleed. My head
feels like someone's drilling into it with a buzzsaw and it's making me feel
physically sick. This what migranes feel like? Managing a grunt in reply I can
hear her pulling over and stopping. Few moments later she's in back with me
again.

"Feelin' okay? Thought ya said ya'd be okay." she said, still sounding concerned,
her hand reaching out to brush my forehead.

"Don't."

Shit did I just snap at her? God damn it she's been nothing but nice to me. Hell
why she'd even bothered with a freakshow like me in the first place instead of just
walking outa that bar when the trouble started beats the hell outa me. Ironically I
realise it did just that.

"Marie, I'm sorry it's just, my heads splitting wide open. Never been like this
before."

"Then let me take care of it."

Her tone is forceful, her actions mindful. Within a few seconds I'm laid out flat on
my back again and she's tucked that cloak of hers way up to my chin. I know I
shouldn't be struggling against her but I can't help it. It's just too damn hot.

"Logan stop it. You're burnin up. If ah don't cover you up you're gonna catch
somethin and get sicker. It's freezin' out here."

Heeding her words I try and relax, letting her administer whatever treatment she
has to. Not really used to this kind of thing so I'll be damned if I know what to
expect. In another few moments she's got a damn rag and she's tracing it over
my face, wiping away all the beads of sweat I can feel gathering there. Laying it
on my forehead I can feel her body outstretched next to mine. She must be tired
too. It's been a long trip since last night. As she curls her body up next to mine I
can feel her breath on my face, and much as common sense tells me to pull
away, everything else in me tells me to stay put.

"M....Marie..."

"SSShhhhh, go t' sleep Logan. Ah'll be right here."

What the hell would I have done if she hadn't been there last night? Dead is
probably the only answer to that. But I had this Angel there to catch me when I
fell. Kinda corny I know, but it's never seemed more true.
Now she's sliding her hand up over my face, stroking my head gently, ruffling her
hands through my hair in long, even strokes. The pain seems to dissipate where
she touches me. And she said her touch brought pain and hurt? How could she
be so wrong? She had to know that it wasn't entirely true.
Forcing myself to speak coherently I try to open my eyes to focus on her beautiful
face.

"...thankyou." I can just about make out her smile before everything goes black.