This story is rated M for a reason. There will be situations involving but not limited to sexual situations, rape, language, violence, and gore. Please proceed knowing that you have been warned appropriately. I only own Olivia, and claim no rights to the established characters of the x-men series.

I enjoy lots of pairings and romance stories, but I created this character in particular as a tool to help me explore the journey that one goes through when one is abused. I've had her and written with her for a long time, and decided it was time to make a proper story with her. I hope you enjoy my meager contributions to the x-men writing community 3

The primal roar of Logans' Harley deafened all other sounds on the road. He had meant to get away from the school and take a road trip up into Canada via some back roads he had always loved to travel. Just because he had taken on a job at Xaviers school didn't mean that the lone wanderer within him had died. The weekends were his own and jealously guarded, and once all classes were out on friday afternoon, his bike got gassed up and he was gone, given in to his wanderlust. Always however, he was back before classes on Monday morning.

Maybe he had mellowed out some as he'd gotten older, a thought that gave him no pleasure. The Wolverine was not a home body. Life before the school used to be lived on the road. He'd have all he owned bungee corded to the bitch seat of his ride in a duffle bag, feeling that the more road he put behind him, the closer his lost memories might become. Time had proven that notion to be flawed but by then it had become too entrenched. As the years passed by and he was no closer to finding what was missing, life seemed all the more monotonous and aggravating. He began doing what he did best.

Being an animal.

He had cared only about fulfilling his instinctive needs. Food, some hard drink, the pleasure of the occasional woman, but the most difficult desire to fill was his lust for violence. Cage matches, even when he let his opponent take a few decent shots at him never satisfied him, though the money was good. Pain, feeling his skin split and pummeled, even if seconds later it would just mend itself, was a welcome sensation. It made him feel alive! It was the closest he could get to what he wanted. And what he wanted, was a challenge.

The challenge eventually came, but not in the way he would have dreamed. Those kids. Xaviers kids. Each one of them in a world that hated them and struggling through the most pivotal years of their lives. Some were without homes, families, support, saved through the generous charity of the most empathetic man he'd ever known. Xavier did care for all of humanity, but particularly for mutant kind. When Xavier brought him face to face with this disturbing product of mutant prejudice, the lost ones of their kind, that long ignored softness in Logan's iron hard heart was appealed to. He had never really been a fan of being around kids on a regular basis, but they were a weakness of his. He could relate to them. Their uncertainty and confusion, their need for direction so closely mirroring his own search for his past.

He didn't remain there, not right away, but he kept finding himself coming back, in part thanks to an alluring redhead that had been among those early students. She was an adult now, and had married that blasted Scott Summers and both had stayed on as staff members to pass on the kindness they had received and to make a difference in the world as X-men. What eventually made him stay was seeing that his time spent with those kids, teaching them how to fight and become strong, had made a real difference in their lives. They could go out into the world knowing how to defend themselves. It was odd to discover that he felt a deep sense of pride over it, and somehow, those kids who had done all they could to avoid his lessons and groaned over their field training, had come to love him.

After the first batch of kids graduated, he decided to stay on and continue teaching them. He was a hard instructor, gruff and overbearing, but the results couldn't be argued. Those kids were no longer children, but strong, capable adults. Thanks greatly to his efforts.

He wasn't quite sure how things had changed over the years, but Xaviers School for Gifted Youngsters was home now.

But he was still the Wolverine, and the Wolverine needed the freedom to be who he was. He wanted to hit the bars, play some pool, breathe some fresh mountain air and maybe have a steamy tryst with some random redhead. He also had a pocket full of cigars he intended to make use of, still grumpy by Charles no smoking in the mansion rule.

At least that was what he had meant to happen this weekend.

He had nearly gotten to Messena, only a stones throw from the border with the Adirondaks on his heels when his cell phone began buzzing at his hip. He fully intended to ignore it, but after a few seconds reprieve, it sprang to life again ... and yet again.

Cursing in agitation, he pulled his bike over with a screech and killed the engine, snapping the phone from its strap and momentarily struggled with attempting to accept the call. Stupid contraption!

"Okay, what?" He barked, making no effort to hide his aggravation.

Xaviers voice on the other end of the phone seemed unbothered by his venom, and began calmly. "I'm sorry to disturb you Logan, I know how you enjoy your weekends away from the school, but something urgent has come up and you just happen to be in the vicinity."

X-men business, Logan thought with a smirk. "Tell me it requires a heavy hand. I have some energy I wanna work off."

"It very well may come to that, but I stress the need for care. A mutant's life may be in the balance." The voice on the other end said gravely. "If you recall the last meeting I gathered of the X-men, I shared that there were many unauthorized hacks into the mutant registry files, particularly concerning dna samples taken?"

Logan frowned, recalling it with vivid clarity. That damned mutant registry. Mutant kind had won out in the sense that not all mutants had to register once the act was passed, but if a mutant were arrested, or had to file anything via the authorities, if they were mutant, they were forced into registry. A mutant couldn't call the cops for a noise complaint without being forced into registration. The latest stereotype about mutant kind was that a registered mutant was a dangerous mutant, but it simply was farce. Just more ignorance on a grand scale.

"Yeah, what of it Chuck?" He answered, fishing a cigar out of his pocket. He began to chew the end, patting the breast of his jacket for a lighter.

"Forges plan to discretely monitor the registry has paid off. We received an alert last night. A vast amount of files were open, but one was downloaded." Hearing the concern in the Professors voice, Logan refrained from asking the obvious question. Why was a downloaded file such a big deal? His question was answered in the Professors next statement. "I was able to locate her on Cerebro, Logan. She's in the custody of Nathaniel Essex, and from the distress I sensed from her, it is very much against her will." Wolverine felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. was the most inhumane conscienceless demon of a mutant he'd ever encountered. He took sadistic delight in capturing mutants, obtaining their dna, and had an unhealthy fixation with telepaths. He remembered the rage and disgust he'd felt over the monster when he'd wanted to turn his experiments to focus on Jean! Sensing Logans turn in thought, the Professor assured, "Jean is safe, and from what I can discern his interest is far removed from her at this time. He has obviously been searching the data files of registered mutants looking for something in particular. Only a few were telepathic in nature. There seems to be no link between mutant powers and the mutants he's targeting."

"Were any other files downloaded?" Logan asked, suddenly remembering the cigar in his mouth and at last finding his lighter to light it.

"No, this girl was the only one downloaded. I have made a copy of her file. I've already sent it to your phone via email. I also sent you the location where I sensed her and Essex."

Well, that explained the dual rings he'd had earlier. He'd assumed that Charles had called twice. Apparently one was an email alert. Pulling the phone from his ear, he checked briefly to see he indeed had a new email. He frowned as he took a long draw of spicy smoke off of his cigar. He hated this damned thing. His fingers were too large to hit the tiny buttons and he hadn't even learned to fumble around with computers yet, never mind the tiny one he held in his hand. He replaced the device to his ear. "Okay, I see it."

"I need for you to go there and free her. She's only recently gotten her powers Logan, she likely doesn't even know any degree of control yet. She's afraid and confused. We need to get her out of there and if possible, bring her to the school for help."

A new mutant stuck with Sinsiter? Great. He really wasn't the right fit for this job. Someone gentler and more tactful with social grace would have been better. Like Jean, or even someone like Hank, but not him. He was too brusque and rough around the edges and he'd probably traumatize the poor kid before the day was up. He thought a moment. A new mutant would probably put her at only 13 or 14 years of age, which was the average age for burgeoning mutants to discover their abilities. Damn damn damn, this wasn't a good fit!

"Look Chuck, I'm all for helping, but I'm not exactly the soothing type for a hysterical kid-"

"I would normally send someone else, yes Logan, but you are only a half hours drive from where she's being kept, you'll be able to get to her and get her out of danger the fastest. Given this is Sinsiter we are dealing with, you cannot argue that time is a factor. Please, Logan, this is urgent."

The Wolverine gave a soft snarl as he resigned himself to this. If he was lucky, at least, he may be able to sink his claws knuckle deep into that pale skinned bastard.

"Fine." He relented. "Anything else?"

"I've told you all we know at this time. All we know of her is in the file I sent you. Check it and get moving quickly. And thank you Logan."

"Yeah, sure..." He said before hanging up, once more cursing his large fingers as he fumbled to do so.

It took him a minute to figure out how to get to the file, and was irritated to learn it was as simple as tapping the screen on the file link that Charles had sent. The file that came up surprised him.

This was no child as he had initially thought. It was an 18 year old girl, a young woman who had mutated only four months ago! He read the file as quickly as he could, knowing he had to hurry up and get back on the road. The first few details were simple. Her name was Olivia Fitzgerald, straight brown hair, 5 foot 5 inches tall, white, female, the usual profile song and dance. He skipped over schooling information and religious affiliations, bored to tears at just glimpsing the topics. Mutant abilities his eyes zeroed in on. Only one was listed. Invisibility. The file also mentioned a lack of control over it, to the degree that a photograph wasn't even provided, as was usually a custom in the registry entries. He snorted in agitation. Dammit a picture would have been useful in locating her. The previous details about her appearance suddenly took on much more importance. Next was page after page of what was labeled 'genetics', and tons of science mumbo jumbo that he didn't have the patience to try and figure out. He then came across an entry labeled Reasons for Registry. He started skimming it, and slowly, a feral growl rumbled deep in his chest.

Parents brought 17 year old girl into police station after discovering their child had vanished from sight. Subject invisible but not intangible. Parents insisted on registry. When questioned, the girl accused three classmates of molesting her to be the reason for the transformation, but these claims cannot be proved or disproved. Subject stubbornly insisted that she could not revert back into sight for photographs to be taken. For refusal to cooperate with authorities, girl was kept in custody overnight before being released back to her parents the next day. Subject left headquarters still invisible. Whereabouts, now unknown.

The information was vague, but painted a painful picture of what the kid must be going through. He didn't know to what extent the girl was molested, or why her parents had brought her to the police station to be registered instead of filing a report against those boys or even bringing the girl to a hospital for help, but the scenario in his mind wasn't a pleasant one. Already it was his understanding that three boys had taken advantage of her, and the experience had been traumatic enough to trigger her dormant x-gene. He was no stranger to the stories of what registering was like. He had no doubt that her claims were swept under the rug and ignored for the simple fact that she was a mutant.

It was sad, but her situation wasn't unique. So many mutants had been triggered from acts of abuse and met with an utter lack of empathy. It was what often made mutants bitter and even more dangerous. He knew now why the Professor felt such urgency to get to her and help her. He didn't want her to be among the jaded ranks of mutant kind, an all too easy place to find oneself in such a callous world.

After glancing at the coordinates Chuck had sent, he replaced his phone on his hip and brought his bikes engine back to life. With a squeal of his tires, he made a u-turn and rocketed off in the right direction. He knew where this place was. On the other side of Messena through the thick of the town was a few abandoned warehouses by the train tracks. If Sinister had acquired her locally, it was an ideal place to keep her until he could move her to one of his many facilities.

If her abilities were as under developed as her file made them seem, then she would be helpless to defend herself. With the wind lashing at his face and tousling his hair and overgrown sideburns, he felt himself smirk. Well that's what he was for, wasn't it? He'd taken on the role of protector for those kids at the mansion on many occasions, threatening, attacking, and even killing anyone who dared to try and bring harm to them. And as an X-man, he was no stranger to a dangerous mission. If this kid needed someone strong to stand between her and Sinister, then he was the man for the job!

The question still remained nagging at him, however. What could Nathaniel Essex possibly want with a new mutant who's only ability was to be invisible? Jean he could understand, being a powerful telepath and a formidable opponent with, what Essex had declared, superior genetics. Maybe it was within all those pages of DNA and genetic codes that he didn't understand. He huffed. That was a job best left to Hank to figure out. His job right now was to get to the girl and get her to safety, simple as that, then he could get back to his road trip.

By the time he reached the area in question, only 20 short minutes had passed. He pulled alongside a local building, killed the bikes engine, and stuffed that infernal cell phone into the duffel bag on the back of his bike. The last thing he needed was for it to go off while he tried to stealthily make his way through the buildings. He took off his jacket and draped it on his seat as well, leaving him in his white wife beater and dog tags.

Armed only with the claws in his hands he began to make his way towards the warehouses. His body was slightly crouched as he moved, like a spooked animal wandering into territory that was not his own. His nose twitched constantly, carefully filing away all the scents he detected. As of right now, it was his nose that was leading him.

There was warm sun-heated concrete, an old spill of gasoline, dandelions thriving in the cracks of the asphalt ... Nothing out of the ordinary for a place like this. He even smelled the evidence of stray cats in the area, the spray of toms in particular. This was going to take patience, and Logan had never been a very patient man. He scanned the area for evidence of human activity, but found none around this building. He moved on to the next, and instantly he began to smell things that made his brow lift in confusion. He smelled people, some he was familiar with and knew should not be here. Amidst it, was that cold clammy smell of decay, pungent, but somehow alive. Sinister! He bit back a growl, trying to remain silent as he found a door. He sniffed the handle. Again, many scents, none of them good. He listened carefully. Silence. He reached for the handle, and gave it a try. Locked, but no door was ever truly locked to the Wolverine!

The claws on his right hand came out with a ringing 'shnct' sound, and he shredded the door at the latch, tearing through wood and metal alike as though it were mere paper! It swung open to admit him entrance, and with a glance to be sure the coast was clear, he crept inside.

It was an old lumber mill, smelling strongly of wood chips and mold. He grimaced, realizing it was black mold, the dank environment a massive breeding ground for the toxic spores. It was overwhelming his nostrils, which flared as he tried to pick up any scent that might belong to the girl. Seeing nothing in the immediate area, he moved to a corridor and crept down it. Through the veil that was hindering his senses, he began to detect those of living beings, but they were confusing. He smelled something that was like Scott Summers, but it was wrong. All wrong. There was also-

"Sabertooth!" He snarled, instinctively unsheathing his other set of claws and readying himself, but on the next inhale, he decided that that scent was wrong too. It was his nemesis, but it wasn't...

Something odd was going on here...

Then, carried on a draft, there was something sweet. Like brown sugar and vanilla. And salt. He frowned as he tried to narrow in on it. That smell was one of tears, and a lot of them. It had to be the girl. For him to smell it at this distance that kid had to have been crying pitifully for a long while.

He knew with how feint the scent was that it couldn't possibly be coming from this hallway. He followed it to the end and came across stairs. They were metal and from the creeping orange color that tainted the shiny metal, it was obvious that the neglected staircase was succumbing to it's damp environment. He frowned deeply. How in the world would these flimsy stairs support his metal clad skeleton? To think his own immense weight was what stood between him and rescuing this girl! It was an infuriating road block. Made worse was the fact that it could obviously support the weight of the average man. It took only one slight flare of his nostrils to tell him that this was the much traveled path to the area used upstairs. He had no choice but to chance it.

He cautiously put his boot on the first step, trying his weight on it. The step whined a high metallic pitch in protest, and he winced. That was too loud, and he worried for a moment that maybe it had alerted the occupants of the warehouse to his presence. He had to hurry! He dug his claws into the wall beside the stairs, and used his own strength to ease the burden of his weight on the steps. Using this method, he was able to reach the top platform in front of the second floor doorway.

He listened carefully to the sounds beyond. There was a slow loping gait that was moving away from the doorway to the left. He waited until the sound was feint and distant before trying the door, finding it open. No one was to be seen, but those footsteps were still present. He took a quick sniff of the air around him. Where was that scent of vanilla and brown sugar? He knew that was what he had to zero in on. His nose brought him right, and he made haste to a hallway adjoining the room he was in.

There were a few rooms with closed doors, in one of them, they had to be keeping the girl. He tried the first door in the corridor, ready to fight if need be, but the room was empty. He tried the next one with the same results, but this room smelled stronger of the vanilla and tears, yet remained empty. His brow lowered. She had been here, the smell still fresh. He wandered into the dark room, getting a strong whiff of the smell within. This was the scent he had to zero in on. He found it pleasant, not too overpowering as some women used their perfumes. He strode to the center of the ill lit room, finding the smell strongest in the right corner. He cautiously approached it, his boots scraping slightly against the linoleum, when he heard a soft shuffle, and he froze, eyes darting about.

The room wasn't empty.

"I ain't gonna hurt you kid." He rumbled quietly, slowly retracting his claws to punctuate his words. Dammit, he just wasn't good at this! If he could see her, he would have hauled her over his shoulder and gotten her the hell out of there and made nice later, but not being able to lay eyes on her that method was impossible! He listened hard for any sound at all, trying to hear her breathing, but she was utterly silent. He took a deep breath, trying to keep calm. Whether or not they had time for this didn't matter. He had to make her come out of hiding on her own. "Olivia, I'm here to get you out of here. You don't want to be in this place, right?"
More silence met his straining ears, but beyond the room, deep in the warehouse, he was hearing footsteps approaching. His patience was dwindling, looking towards the door with his hands clenching in agitation. When he did, he heard her take a breath, coming from the right corner of the room that he had been advancing on. It was an odd gasping sound. Had she been holding her breath all this time just to remain silent? He quickly approached the corner where the sound and scent came from, and knelt down, searching with his dark eyes, but seeing nothing.

"I want to help you, but I can't do that if you don't let me!" The steps were growing closer, and more hurried, their time running out with each passing second! Voices joined them, and he cursed under his breath. He reached forward, and his hand came into contact with warm, soft flesh. A shoulder, he realized in relief. Gently, he tried to coax her to her feet, but was met with resistance. His hand moved down and came against ropes wrapped around her, and something else. He frowned. "Can you stand?"

There was no reply for a second, and then, came a thinly voiced reply that spoke of hours of tears. "No, I'm on a chair..." Never happy to hear a lady sound so broken, Logan felt his heart go out to her, but it was overshadowed by urgency. It looked like his desire for a fight was impending and his only disappointment was that he couldn't liberate Olivia before it happened. At least she couldn't get spooked and run off on him!

Logan straightened up and faced the door with his arms held out, ready to slaughter whatever came at him. His arms twitched as the triplet blades split his skin and came free of his body. The pulse of his blood thrummed in his ears excitedly, eyes harrowingly narrow as they focused on the open doorway, on his approaching prey!

The area behind him rustled, and he became aware that the girl was struggling desperately where she sat, a pained whimper resonating in her chest. He might not have known what was coming, but she apparently did!

When that abomination appeared in the doorway, a hulking and loping beast that smelled and looked like sabretooth with the glowing red eyes of Scott Summers, Wolverine found that he didn't blame the girls fright. It, as he could hardly call this misshapen mass a human, was twice his size easily, naked and covered with wiry hair and a ploom of white from his chest over his shoulders. The thing sneered at Logan revealing sharpened canines and sprayed spittle from his tongue as it roared intimidatingly!

Unphased, Logan stood steadfast against the towering monstrosity and roared right back with a viciousness to rival it! He'd gone up against mutants and beasts bigger than him on plenty of occasions and came out the victor, this would be no different! They stared each other down, and he chuckled.

"And I thought Creed was ugly." For a moment, he thought it a rather fun twist that he'd get a chance to dig his claws into what appeared to be a genetic mix of his two least favorite people! Another genetic experiment of no doubt! "Let's see if you're as tough as the real thing!"

The beast charged, and Logan, smaller, but quicker, leapt over it with ease, twisting in the air and digging his claws into his shoulder to stop himself on his opponents back. Savagely, he tore into the flesh and muscle tissue, gouging out chunks of meat like a shovel in dirt! He had to inflict as much damage as possible as quickly as possible. If this thing was indeed part Victor Creed, it would have a healing factor, and the more damage he did, the more time it would take for the wounds to close!

Animalistic screeches of pain bellowed through the room as the massive creature tried to get a hold of the man tearing away its back, throwing itself this way and that with arms bent over its shoulders trying to reach the source of its pain! Finally, when it realized it simply wasn't limber enough to grab at him, it slammed it's back into the wall repeatedly, trying to crush the smaller man! Logan let out a cry of pain as his metal bones buckled, but held fast, but again and again the crushing blows continued. Inwardly, he smirked feeling that motivating torrent of pain! It was on now!

The girl began to scream, a sound that struck Logan at his most primal level! Through the pain of being crushed, he heard the fear and worry. She saw him as the man who could save her, and not knowing of his impressive regenerative qualities, she saw her hopes being dashed before her eyes! Well, she was going to be in for quite a surprise then, wasn't she?

The assault ended, and he fell limp to the floor, still moving like an insect half crushed by a boot. His shoulder popped back into place with a loud crack, and the countless abrasions and split skin began to thread themselves closed. He got to his hands and knees, looking at his opponent. It was on it's hands and knees, breathing labored as its own injuries fought to heal, but being so extensive, it was slow in coming. The victor would be the one who healed first!

Logan got to his with unsteady slowness, earning an amazed gasp from his audience. He rolled his head, cracked his neck, and smirked as he began to straighten up, standing tall and now fully healed. This thing didn't have the advantages of a metal skeleton. All he had to do was take off its head and it was done!

"Hey kid, if you can concentrate on getting yourself visible, that'd be great! Kinda hard to rescue ya if I can't see ya!"

He was striding confidently towards the hunched beast, his claws dripping with its blood and ready to sever its head from its shoulders. It was a task he was seconds from completing when its head tossed to look up at him with a red inferno brewing in its eyes!

"Shi-" Logan barely cursed before the full thrust of the optic blast hurtled him back from the genetic hodge podge and into the rooms furthest wall! It caved inward in a crater upon impact, dry wall falling in chunks as he slumped to the floor with a pained grunt. Well, that didn't feel good, he thought with a throaty growl, trying to bite back his cries of pain as the skin reformed on his head and his left eye regenerated. That had been a dumb mistake and it was costing him valuable time! That damn beast was going to heal before him at this rate and then what would happen to that kid? He opened his good eye and lowered his hand from his blasted skull, the gleam of the adamantium beneath the blood and tattered flesh slowly but surely disappearing from view as he healed. His eye was still gone, but he had the pain to fuel him!

With a savage bellow, he charged again! The creature was getting up, continually firing blast after blast at Logan, but he would not make the same mistake twice! He rolled and dodged each, all the while gaining on it, and then, when he was within distance to attack, the creature thrust out a hand. It was there one second, and then, it was gone, twitching on the floor! Shocked and in pain, it grabbed its severed wrist, affording Logan the opportunity to plunge his claws up through its jugular! It shuddered in its dying throes, lips sputtering blood before Logan expertly twisted the trio of knives, separating head from neck. It instantly fell down dead.

He took a moment to catch his breath, his pectorals and broad shoulders heaving. It would be a few more seconds before his burning wounds closed completely, and he didn't want to look towards the girl and risk her seeing more gruesomeness. For him, such sights were nothing, familiar even, but this had to have been hard for her to witness being so young and green. Feeling his scalp tingle, he blinked both eyes, his vision blurry for a moment and then crystal clear. Healing was done.

He turned, hoping to see that Olivia had managed to become visible, and was pleased to see that indeed, a girl tied to an old office chair was sitting in the corner of the room. Her shoulders were hunched, leaning forward in her chair, and her long brunette hair, having been falling loose from a poorly tied ponytail, hung haphazardly around her face. Her arms were bound behind the chair and her ankles to the bottom.

She was watching him with uncertainty, her breathing slightly labored. It was anxiety, he assumed. The recognizable aroma of it was coming off her like the leaves off a maple in the fall. There was also a visible tremble to her frame. She had helped him by becoming visible at least. So obviously, in spite of her fear, she wanted his help.

He moved close to her chair, holding up his hands to signal he meant her no harm. "Easy kid," He said, trying his best to be soothing.

"I'm going to cut you loose, then we're going to make a run for my bike. I'm going to take you somewhere safe where these guys won't be able to reach you." Her wide expressive eyes followed him warily through a part in her pin straight locks, and as he was about to slice the ropes off of her, his gaze caught hers.

He paused, letting his dark brown gaze meet her own and holding it fast. Being so close to her, there was no way he was mistaken. Her eyes were a very vibrant, very noticeable shade of violet. It wasn't entirely unusual, many mutants tended to have an altered eye color after blooming. Gambit had red eyes, Jeans were the brightest green he had ever seen, but this was the first time he'd seen purple for himself, though he was entirely sure there were others out there. He found it surprisingly nice, the detail adding something quite alluring to a young woman who otherwise looked pretty average.

It did make him take a better look at her though. She wore a pair of very well worn in jeans, tears in the knee from continuous use, and her tank top was purple with a layer of black lace covering it. He wasn't sure, but they might be two different shirts entirely, but he was sure that the garment was very flattering to the curve of her breasts, which were large enough to slightly overlap the ropes that were wrapped around her ribcage. What could he say, he was a man, and men took notice of these things. On her feet were a black pair of boots that made him crack a smile. Harley Davidson riding boots. Hers had seen a lot of love judging from the scuffs they suffered, and he found himself wondering if it was a reflection of her style or a hint to a pastime he could appreciate. He didn't ask.

Instead, he unsheathed a claw and slowly so as not to frighten her, slipped the blade into the back of the chair, splitting each twisted fiber of the ropes carefully from behind. He could have easily taken a quick slice to them from the front, confident that not only would the restraints be shredded, but the girls skin would be perfectly unblemished from it. That wouldn't of course, do much to ease her anxiety, would it? Even going slow as he was, she was rigid as a plank.

This couldn't continue. He knew he was a savage and she had every right to hate him for the bloody spectacle he had subjected her to but he was also here to help her, dammit, not tip toe around her delicate sensibilities!

He brushed the ruined ropes off of her and in his no nonsense way, said, "Look, I know you've gone through hell and I'm a big scary guy who just got pretty bloody, but you need to focus on getting the hell out of here, you hear me kid?"

She didn't move from her chair, still as stone, but her eyes were very solidly fixated to his woefully. The girl was hesitant to come with him, her face pale and hands restlessly grasping the edge of the chair with white knuckles.

He lifted up his hand, retracting the claw he'd used to free her. "Is it these?"

She shook her head mutely, and he surprisingly felt himself relieved by the answer. Too many people had been instantly put off by the claws in his life, and in this situation, he was relieved to know that wasn't going to be another brick in the wall keeping him from getting her to safety.

"Is it that?" He asked, pointing to the dead monstrosity bleeding out in the middle of the room. Again, she shook her head in the negative. That surprised him as well, knowing he hadn't held back and had been certain he'd scarred her for life doing what he had.

Maybe she was made of tougher stuff than he thought.

He felt stuck, and her inability to just open her mouth and just tell him what was going on was driving him nuts! Exasperatedly, he growled "Well, if it's not me rippin some guy apart in front of you, then why won't you let me-" He stopped suddenly, the words on her registry file suddenly springing to mind with crystal clarity. He groaned a little, hating that he hadn't pieced it all together sooner. Much more gently this time, he asked, "Is it because I'm a man?"

Her eyes grew a bit wider, obviously surprised that he had come to that conclusion. How could he, after all, have known what had happened to her? He had known her name though, so maybe someone who had known all of that had sent him.

In answer, her eyes instantly brimming with moisture, she gave a little nod.

Poor kid, he thought, careful to keep his hands on his knees and away from her. He nodded a little, understanding what the problem was now. Quietly facing her, he assured, "I promise I won't touch you, not even to lead you out of here, unless you give me the okay." He offered his hand to her, leaving it up to her whether or not she would put her own into it. "Come on kid," He coaxed, "You can trust me."

She looked at his hand, sucking her lower lip between her pearly white teeth.

"Do you believe me?"

Her eyes flitted from his hand to his eyes, those dark earnest eyes that had been feral and untamed just five minutes previous, were now regarding her with warmth and sincerity. Who was this man who was capable of murder one moment and such tenderness the next?

Nervously, she nodded in the affirmative.

"Then take my hand, and let me get you out of here."

Olivia's gaze didn't waver from his this time, no more apprehension or uncertainty. This man could help her, and was willing to do so.

She put her hand into his, and held it tightly.

Read and review please, all comments are welcome!

There will be more from Olivia's point of view in the next chapter. I wanted to use this one to try and deliver my interpretation of Wolverine. He's going to be a brutal and devastating fighter.

As a challenge to myself, I purposely gave Olivia a power that I would hate to have myself. I didn't want to fall into the trap that some writers fall into of giving her abilities I could only dream and fantasize of having, because if mutants were indeed real, they wouldn't be able to choose the talents they would have.

Bear with me as I weave this tale for you! Thank you for reading!