A/N: I didn't drop any of the stories I already started. I post new ones because I don't want them to lay and dust. But I'm also currently working on re-writing, fixing and continuing stories that already are on my account.

Reading my stories you must be aware that they all are like alternative universes. Same characters, different stories, similiar behaviour. Like various Marvel comics and cartoons. In this version Fallen isn't aware she was born in the 'real world', but I might just have an idea how to introduce the fact and make it an integral part of the plot.

This one is focused around Wolverine and Fallen seeking somebody for reasons to be revealed, and there's also a guy who gives Fallen intel via phone... What's going on, what they did, who they seek, this all you will learn in time.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of Marvel characters, I only own my one OC, Fallen and possibly her informator.

Creature of the Shadowland

Part I

Brown haired female sat in a wooden chair, tapping her fingernail against wooden blade of old table by the only window in the room. The decent-size motel apartment was poorely lit by low-vatted bulb, its yellow glow metling with cool grey glow from the shift-up window across from the scratched door. Oldtime Elthon John played low on the antic radio settled one of the nightstands, and nothing but that was adding life to these lifeless quarters.

"I don't know, Logan" the girl spoke with hollow skepticism. With corner of her eye she could see the man standing by a bigger table and clawing out pieces of broken glass from his forearm, but her eyes digged darkness in corner of the room. "I know I can't really blame you, her death was a justice whether I like it or not" she sighed and lowered her voice. "But for so long I've been trying to learn..." her hand stopped tapping on the table and layed flat on it. "...to accept her... as the part of family that I can't chose. And I tell you, Logan" she looked up first at the man's face, but he didn't look back so she also focused her eyes on where he was digging glass out of his flesh. "I've been closer to accpeting her than to accepting my own biological family. And now she's dead."

Wolverine remained solemn, indifferent as if though he didn't hear anything, like the world he compreheads ends at the claws and glass and instantly healing flesh in front of his eyes.

Fallen breathed out. "On the bright side now she can't do anything more to make me hate her. Who knows, may that's the only way to forgiveness."

The man's hoarse voice eventually echoed in the quiet room. "Do you ever shut up?"

The girl watched him for a moment before focusing her eyes on the view outside the window. "You just killed my boyfriend's birthmother, you tell me" she said in a hollow and offended whisper.

She stared through the dirty glass at the grey sky above dark forest and faraway town, gravel road sunken betwen hills at far off distance, two men discussing something leaned above their car's engine in the Woody's Motel's little parking lot, it all treatened by dark clouds rolling their way from the west.

"Shut down the blinds" Wolverine's voice ordered.

She looked around at first confused, then frowned. "Why?"

"For safety. You never know who's watching" he said with slight irritation, walked to her, offensively pulled the string, and the blinds fell fast until they hit the windowsill.

Fallen's eyes walked him across the room. "Sorry for not being used to having a million enemies like you do" she murmured.

The man did not answer, with a low growl he enetered bathroom and abruptly closed the door.

The girl looked at the closed blinds and rolled her eyes. The only thing her eyes could focus on was now gone, and she was left to her thoughts that she did not want to focus on. She had to do just what Wolverine does; stay in motion so not to loose her strenght and will to carry on towards the achieval of the target.

She stood up from the uncomfortable chair and walked to one of two black leather bags pushed against one empty wall. She knelt by it and opened belt-like clasp that held the cover in place during travels. She took out three cans of instant tomato soup, four tins with tunas and sardines in oil, one pack of dried beckon strips and five cans of beer - three Budweisers and two Molson Canadians. For a moment she was looking at all the food without much conviction, taking all the above into her hands, considering it for a moment before putting it back on the floor. After a moment of continious assembling and re-assembling the cans and packs she eventually gave up, deciding that her stomach isn't up for a supper made up from any of these.

She packed everything back into the leather bag and settled it steadily pushed against the wall.

Her eyes rested on the bathroom door underlined by a think line of light. The lights in the bathroom were strangely bright compared to the dimm bulbs hanging on ceiling of the bedroom. Water was running as for Wolverine was appearently showering, and - considering she already took a shower - Fallen wasn't willing to wait until he's done.

She felt that a part of her - perhaps bigger than she wished - was more than angry with him for killing Mystique.

Sure, she was lying, bitchy, mad, unballanced terrorrist who she would never trust and leave fully forgiven, but she was Kurt's mother for god's sake. And in her mind that fact served for a reason why she's got the right to live. Wolverine went through a hell with- and because of- her, she've set him up and sold him out probably more times than Fallen could count it, and after all the harm done by the woman it was pure sane sense of justice to eventually put her down, but despite all that a part of the girl was saddened.

She crawled onto one of the two single-person beds and slid under a stiff sheet trying to settle comfortably on uncomforable mattress as springs screeched underneath her. Eventually she just layed on her back helplessly looking at the blinded window, thin lines of grey light sinking between the blinds, melting with hardly existand yellow light from the ceiling. The evening was young, but they would leave at night. She knew that, didn't even need to ask the question. She was on the road with Wolverine for long enough not to ask silly questions. They would hit the road before the midnight and make a stop in the morning when everybody would get to work, then they would be back on the road again until afternoon and then find a stay to avoid the traffic on state road to Montana where they were currently heading.

'Sweet Caroline' by Neil Diamond playing on the old radio lulled her to sleep, and she drifted away before the song was over.

The air was damp, she felt like she was breathing more dust than oxygen, but the room she stepped into lacked furniture on which the dust could gather. A thought ran across her mind that perhaps this is why all of it was floating in the air, forcing itself into her lungs.

There was only one living person beside her in the room - a male standing on the other side of the room like a keeper, watching everything solemnly. She payed very little attention to him, only enough to admit he's there.

What took her attention was a box, placed on a thin-legged table in the middle of the room. The box was made of dark wood, but it's cool steel ornamtenations were flashing in the glow of lamps put in the corners of the hollow room.

She slowly stepped towards the box and the one laid in there was revealed to her eyes. A stiff cold blue body of a woman some could consider her mother in law, but she hardly had the nerve to say that she tried to give her a chance to become one. Raven Darkholme decided to turn it down and Fallen had just let it be. She didn't make another attempt on creating at least a thin thread of family binding with the woman.

And the regret about it was almost unexistant. She wished she could trust anyone she'd call her family, and no matter how things would turn out, she could never trurly trust a woman like that.

But she turned into that woman she was because of something Fallen didn't know, and through the prism of this fact she couldn't be blamed, for no blame was prooved.

"You were misunderstood, Raven, weren't you?" Fallen asked looking down at the dead woman. Even in her eternal sleep she looked harsh, like the hate remained in her even when her life was gone. "That's why you've turned into a monster of a woman. I can't blame you and you alone for all that you've done."

Then the stiff, cold hand rose and long, slender fingers wrapped itself around her wrist, clenching with so much force that pain came on instant. Fallen looked back up to the woman's face and wasn't surprised to see yellow catlike eyes staring at her widely.

Fallen wasn't surprised but felt a hint of fear, as if she expected this to come and was scared of the moment.

Mystique's eyes stared at her and her red-painted lips gaped slightly like she wanted to say something but could not find voice. Like her dead body wasn't anymore capable of speaking, but mind that still remained wanted to pass on something.

Fallen wondered if those were words of hate, cold and sharp like a knife, just like those she fed her back when she was alive. But then she noticed the look in the woman's eyes. A fearfull, pleading eyes. Like in the world of death she was met by something that scare her to her soul, deep enough to bring her back to life so she could seek help among the living.

Then this remaining of life left eyes of the woman leaving them cold and empty. Her iron grip losened, her cold hand slid from Fallen's wrists and landed in the bedsheet.

Somebody took hold of the table and wheeled the box away. As Fallen watched the coffin disappear in the dark, somebody put hand on her arm suddenly and fear rose in her throat-

She woke up out of sudden and her eyes shut open on instant. Fear still tightened her throat but now she knew it was only a dream. But the touch on her arm was real, she could still feel it where harsh fingers met with her skin. Wolverine by now turned around and headed to re-pack the leather backpacks.

"Geez, I hate it how you wake me" she murmured sighing and rubbing her eyes.

"Do it yo'self and I won't" the man answered in his typical, hoarse voice.

Fallen put her hand under her pillow and felt her mobile, she checked the time. 10:38 PM. "I would, in an hour. Why are we leaving so early?" she asked throwing the heavy bedsheet aside. Coolness of the late evening - or, if you prefer: early night - sent a little shiver through her back.

"Got a long road ahead. Get movin'." the man stated as he clasped the bags closed. "We're leaving in a ten."

Ten minutes to get ready wasn't much of a challange for Fallen. She just made a two-minute morning toilet, got dressed in clothes that lay at foot of her bed, fixed her yesterday's make up and combined her hair in a ponytail lying in front of one of her shoulders.

Within no more than eight minutes she was already putting on a black leather jacket and black high heeled boots.

The moment she stepped outside to meet Logan at the parking lot it became clear why they're leaving so early. The circumentances weren't at their best; seemed like rain was pouring for a while now, turning the road into a muddy puddle, which would oblivously slow them down. It kept poured down heavily blurring the view and stopping you from seeing in further distance. If they wanted to make it to the next stop before roads would be crowded with cars of people who don't want to take a walk to work in the wet morning, they'd have to hit the road earlier this evening.

Wolverine didn't seem to bother much with the weather. He was just removing blocades from the wheels of his motor, unbothered by the rain. He wore typical jeans and a grey t-shirt was visible under his brown leather jacket with orange, and black elements.

For most such a weather would mean calling off the trip, but he wouldn't stop, and at this point she was glad it was him she traveled with. She couldn't stop either. She shouldn't stop. There was too much on the line.

She quickly attached her only bag to the vehicle and was smart enough not to complain when Logan handed her a black-dark blue helmet to put on. The man sat in the front seat and put on his own black and orange helmet. "I think it's time to get your own machine" he said as he clasped the helmet belts.

"Yeah, like I've got the money for that" Fallen muttered seating herself in be backseat. You could hardly call it a backseat. There were reasons why Logan used it for luggage only, and it wasn't just that he wasn't very friendly with people nor that he didn't allow anyone lay a fingertip on his motor. The 'backseat' as designer thought it'd serve, was too little space especially if shared with two motor bags and one crossarm bag. Fallen couldn't complain too much about riding there crushed betwee luggage and the man's back being comfortable. It would be okay for a short trip, but after a few hours your muscles would easly loose the privilage of considering the seat 'comfy'.

Wolverine leaned in and took hold of the 'wheel'. The engine started. "Wait 'till we're in Montana and I'll see about it."

And she knew not to ask, but wait as instructed.

They pulled onto the road.

Not that she would do as told by Wolverne, she was far from following him blindly. But she grew in herself enough knowlage on him to take hint when not to press and enough respect for him not to press when the hint was given. Logan wasn't a person of many words, usually he could almost seem natural with being at constant lack for them, but she now knew he didn't bother to speak words that make no change.

She held onto the man as the motor gained speed spashing the mud asides.

When they first hit the road she prefered to hold onto the backseat or luggage, and avoided holding onto Logan unless he ordered her to at more dangerous moments, but by now it felt normal. With time she decided to put some visible amount of physical distance between herself and men, simply to prevent herself from cutting the distance too short and doing something that could possibly hurt Kurt or make him question her faithfullness. So obliviously wrapping her arms around Wolverine - even if to prevent herself from falling - felt like a crime.

In time she grew to have some positive feeling from it. Not romantically-positive, god forbid, but a fatherly-positive. Even though she didn't give herself up to Wolverine's superiority over her and they both kept to themselves it felt like this trip brought them into some slightly father-daughter form of distant relation.

But deep inside she knew that this is what situation forced them into, and as soon as their common task is over, everything common and shared between them would be over as well. They would go their own ways without even a turning around, and without a thank you. They weren't family even at the loosest definition of it, they were two people seeking the same target. Almost strangers considering how little they knew about each other.

They drove for two hours before they left the muddy road entered insterstate highway, and almost another two until they stopped at sideroad shelter in the woods, barely ten meters from the highway. Rain stopped by then, but heavy raindrops kept falling from where they gathered in the branches and leafs above them; it felt like turning into the woods you're entering rain area again.

Wolverine placed his motor under the only little wooden roof standing here for passdrivers making a stop, and the machine filled almost the entire place. Fallen shook her head as she chewed on a strip of dried beckon. 'If you gave him an umbrella he'd sure like hell hold it over the motor and himself stand in the rain' she thought.

And so he did, standing in the open and watching the sky with open Budweiser in his hand, pale shielding it from water dropping from the crowns of trees. Sometimes he took a few steps, rested against a tree, took a sip of the beer, but his eyes always returned to the sky as if he was seeking something up there. The only time he quit that was when he went to take care of 'other bussiness' just a little further into the woods.

Fallen didn't leave the safety of the roof. Not because she didn't want to get wet - since she was soaked anyway - but because she was annoyed with her heels keep getting stuck in the mud. She paced around the motor on the little space it left under the wooden roof. Which annoyed Wolverine and he've let her know with a glance, but left it without commentary.

When Fallen decided it's enough of straightening her legs she plopped onto the broken bench under the same roof and picked another strip of dried backon for that one didn't fill her enough and neither cold soup or fishes in oil spoke to her liking. She drunk a few sips of orange juice she carried in the crossarm bag, because she neither wanted to take Logan's beer or liked it.

Wolverine cross-armed rested his back against the 'leg' of the roof. "We've got three hours ahead, plus half if other drivers won't be nice."

The girl made a small nod but her spaced out look she had for a moment didn't change. Within the low humm of raindrops she held the last bite of her baccon but didn't put it in her mouth. Eventually she asked;

"What have you done with her body?"

"Sent it to Chuck."

"What?" she looked up suddenly regaining sharpness of sight in her eyes. "Why?"

She almost expected to be requested an explanation when she asked about the body, but when Logan spoke it reminded her that it was almost like a continous conversation with him. They spoke very little from yesterday when she subject of Mystique enrolled and even though hours passed by, the conversation had a feeling of being continued as if never dropped.

"So he'd take care of it" Logan said in his hoarse voice and dropped off the short eye contact to re-clasp the leather bags hanging on both sides of the motor. "Even she deserved a funeral."

"Says her murderer" Fallen whispered losing fight with this side of her that didn't want to stand up to Logan.

Wolverine flashed her a harsh look. "She left me no choice, 'key, kid?" he growled with supressed anger that Fallen didn't know if is targeting her or the deceased woman. Whatever was the truth, the man seemed to fastly recover his nerves as he stood traighter looking down at the sitting brunette. "May you wanna join Elf at the funeral"

His voice was softer than when he spoke before as if to show the fact that he's not ordering her to go away but suggests Kurt might actually want her there. Perhaps, she thought, it may feel heavy for him to burry birthmother, and it could be her place should be beside him at a moment like this.

But she was looking at the strong schiluette of the Wolverine drawn black against yellow light on side of the highway, the raindrops dripping from the trees and edge of the roof, powerfull vehicle between her and the man, and she knew she can't back down. They- she, she have gone too far and if she drops out now she might not find Logan again in time and he was her best chance to find the target. And if she won't find the target the funeral, Kurt, institute, everything would waste away. She had to keep to the priorities and tell differences between them all right.

"...No" she said eventually. She stood up and put on her helmet. "We've got to keep moving. I'm not coming back until we're done."

She put the last piece of dried beccon into her mouth and waited outside of the roof for Logan to lead the motor out. The man did so, not questioning her decision, not even with a short look. Priorities were no stranger to him, and even if he didn't know her's, he allowed her to follow her own path.

They drove back onto state highway and headed towards Montana.