Minions. Welcome back. I am pleased that you like this story and shall thrive to deliver something up to your expectations. I am less pleased with those of you who only added it to their alerts. For all the trouble it would give you, at least write a "Nice" or something. For this, you shall be condemned to walk the thousand steps up to the temple of the goddess Muse with me on your back. Naked, mind you. You, I mean. Not me. I shall be sporting glorious robes of red and gold. Suffer. (Cue diabolic laughter)

ZZZZZZZZ

Wind slashed at his face as he drove down a road surrounded by forest in a black convertible. A hand on the wheel, he fished around for his cell phone and flipped it open.

"'Lo, Chuck. … Yeah, I torched the place. It should be nothing more than a pile of ashes right now. … Nah, don't worry, I got the info and I even picked up the disks. I'll send them to you as soon as possible. Everything was as you said. 'Cept they were doing much more than you thought," he said, looking at the girl strapped in the passenger seat from the corner of his eyes. "Yeah, I'll get you back on that. A couple of days, maybe weeks, depending on the situation. Trust me on this, it wouldn't be good for the girl to be around many people at the moment," he continued, remembering his own state when he had come out of that lab, so many years ago. Before he had realized he didn't age. "I'll come back when she's ready. See ya, Chuck."

The sun was rising over the mountains visible on the horizon. Dawn. How fitting.

A few hours later, he stopped at a motel by the road. The place looked cheap enough that people wouldn't ask questions, which suited him just fine, and the sign lacked a few letters, but at least it was not a rundown shack in the middle of nowhere. The guy at the reception desk conveniently forgot he was covered in blood at the sight of a green bill. No matter where you were, a cheap motel was run by people who had a very lax view about morals and legality. Good for them.

He carried the still sleeping girl in the bedroom and set her on a towel on top of the covers–no need to doubt the cleanliness of the bed more than he was already. For the first time, he examined the girl he had saved. She was frail–hardly weighed enough–and looked like an anorexic teenager. Except this teenager was not a stuck-up kid who thought she would impress boys by being a sack of bones. He gently dabbed at her skin, not daring to outright clean her with the wet hand towel. Slowly and meticulously, he rid her body of blood, dirt and grime and frowned. The girl was blue. Not like a Smurf. Like she had been beaten repeatedly. Her body was a mass of haematomas, new ones covering the yellowish healing ones. Had they been trying to "beat the mutantness" out of her or something? His brows furrowed. The girl must not have been much older than sixteen, seventeen at the most, taking into account her pitiful state. Her hair was brown, with white bangs on either side of her face. Signs of the trauma she had suffered from at the lab? He didn't think the scientists would die her hair just for the fun of it. Plump lips, a cute nose, dark eyelashes fanning over her pallid skin. She must have been pretty, once upon a time.

He should give her a bath, but it probably would be better to wait until she was awake. And he was tired. With a sigh, he tucked the girl in, took off his jacket and boots, and lay down on top of the covers. With the blinds drawn, maybe he could catch up on a few hours of sleep.

He woke up suddenly, eyes snapping open, at a butterfly-soft touch. Someone was touching him, touching his cheek. The girl, startled, recoiled, withdrawing with a squeak. She got entangled in the bed sheets and fell rather gracelessly, eyes wide trained on him. A grin dawned on his face as he observed her, supporting his weight on an elbow.

"Well, hello to you too, sunshine. Bit soon to be up, don't'cha think? Catch some more 'Z's, will ya?"

He yawned and rolled on his back, closing his eyes. The adrenaline had long since disappeared, leaving him with an utter tiredness. The girl was not moving. She was probably falling asleep once again. They had not been there long anyway, he estimated. He was just dozing off when he once again felt a feather-light touch. This time, he did not move. Let the girl think he was asleep. The touch moved from his cheek to his mutton chops, stayed there for a while, as though the girl like the feel of them, and moved to his brows. Slowly, what she was doing dawned on him. She was memorizing his face, trait by trait. Forehead. Nose. Lips. Chin. He fell asleep sometime around his chest, her tender, comforting touch lulling him to sleep faster than a bottle of whisky.

When he woke up again, the girl was observing him. Usually, that made him tense, his body reflexively reacting to a potential threat. This time, however, it did not even faze him. Somehow, he knew that she would be watching his every move. Like a skittish animal. He got up, scratching his belly and looked at the girl.

"Gonna take a shower, kid. Then I'll go hunt us down some food. Whaddaya say? Sounds good?"

He did not expect an answer. At least, not a verbal one. Still cocooned in the sheets and blankets, the teenager looked at him, her eyes a little brighter. That was good enough for him.

With a nod, he went to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. However, as soon as the door closed, his sensitive ears picked up accelerated breathing and a barely noticeable whimper. He dashed to open it again; the sound receded.

"Alright, kiddo, I get it. You need to see me to feel safe. I'll leave the door open," he said, leaning against the door frame.

He took off his shirt and tossed it to the floor, unashamed at disrobing in front of a girl. Hell, he'd been naked in front of more women than he cared to count, and had done far more than just taking off his clothes in front of them.

This time, it was a thud that made him turn his eyes in the direction of the bed. The girl had fallen off the bed and was unsuccessfully trying to get up by herself, but her arms trembled under her and it was clear that she did not have enough strength to get up, much less stand by herself. He went to her in a few long strides and kneeled next to her.

"Come on, I'll take you there. Don't hurt yourself, kid."

Slowly, so as not to frighten her, he reached for her and gathered her in his larger frame. After an initial tensing, she relaxed in his hold and put her ear on his chest, inhaling deeply. Was she sniffing him? Apparently, her animalistic instincts were strong in her at the moment. It was probably a defence mechanism that had helped her to cope during the experiments. He had done the same, a long time ago, when he had escaped from whatever lab had experimented on him. Well, as long as he acted like the alpha, she would unconsciously realize that she was under his protection and that he would take care of her needs. Using animal body language would not be too hard for him; it was deeply engrained in him, a part of his rather feral personality. He set her down on the toilet bowl, rubbed her neck just under her ear with his cheek and growled calmly, reassuringly. She bared her neck in response. Good girl.

"Stay here. I'm gonna shower, then I'll bathe you, and then I'll grab us something to eat," he explained, getting out of his pants. He kept an eye on the girl, watching her reaction. Would she tense at seeing him naked? But no, she stayed calm, cheek pressed against the cool tiles of the wall. Observing him calmly. He let his boxers drop to the floor and stepped in the shower, closing the translucent door behind him. Not that it would have bothered him much if she had been able to look at his entire naked form. He was used to nakedness, and apparently, she would soon be, if she wasn't already. He soon finished showering and stepped out, water dripping down on the floor. The girl's eyes followed a drop down his cheek, down his chest, down, down–he wrapped a towel around his waist and put the plug in the bath. He checked the temperature of the water, deeming it a tad too hot, and adjusted it accordingly.

The girl was still naked; he had divested her of the bloodstained lab coat as soon as he had gotten in the room. She would need clothes. He had some of his in a duffle bag in the trunk of the car. They would have to do until he could buy her some. For the moment, he at least didn't have to strip her naked.

"Come on, girl, your turn."

She didn't protest when he sat her carefully in the bath, cushioned by towels. She was just so fragile, like a life-sized doll as he washed her with a hand towel. Once again, he sat her on the toilet bowl, this time floating in a large bathrobe, and carefully blow-dried her hair, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. No use in giving her a chance to catch a cold. In her state, she would either have to be rushed to the nearest hospital–not a good idea for a mutant, especially in her state–or die. Great options.

He had to go out to buy them food. She had to stay in the room. His short trip to the car had already left her very distressed. She would not react well to a longer absence.

Thinking quickly, he fished through his bag and handed her the pair of binoculars he had used the day before to observe the lab from afar. She looked at them in confusion.

"I'm going to the hamburger joint just on the other side of the road," he explained. "I won't be long, but you can observe me with those, alright?"

A small light in her hollow eyes. Good.

In the end, he left her at the table next to the window, dressed in one of his T-shirts that engulfed her tiny frame and a pair of his boxers, with the binoculars resting on a pile of pillows and cushions so that she did not have to lift them up with her weak arms.

He nuzzled her cheek, walked to the door. She heard him walk away and looked anxiously at the driveway. After a few long, tense seconds, he appeared, walked across the street and entered the fast-food restaurant. She looked through the binoculars, wanting to miss nothing of the excursion.

Logan entered the restaurant, the bells jiggling above his head warning the waitress, who turned in his direction, that a customer had come in. He walked to the counter, looking at the menu. Would the girl be able to ingest solid food? Probably not. Even soup may be a little farfetched for now. He'd have to settle for a drink or something.

The girl behind the counter was trying a little too hard to be attractive, he noted distractedly. Too much of everything, except meat on her bones. He snorted.

"Give me the largest steak you have, cooked rare, a Molson and an extra large hot chocolate without milk and plenty of honey in it."

The teenage girl, who could not have been more different from his girl, what with her bleached hair and makeup, nodded and sent a smile that he thought she must have felt was seductive at him.

"Anything else, handsome?"

"No."

"Is it to eat here?"

"No. Take-out. Be quick about it," he answered shortly in his usual gruff manner with a tad more tension than when he didn't have a distressed girl waiting for him to come back. He couldn't wait to get out of here. The smell was bad enough; the company was worse.

A bit disappointed, the girl nodded and handed him a receipt. He paid cash, told her to keep the change.

The girl, undeterred, tried to make small-talk.

"I didn't know that men like you like hot chocolate," she ventured, fishing for more in an open tone that was supposed to invite confidences.

"They don't. But I ain't about to bring beer to my girl."

A young man put the wrapped package on the counter. He didn't bother to thank them and left with the bag once the girl handed it to him. He quickly crossed the street, walked up the stairs and opened the door after a sharp knock.

The girl was where he had left her. He put the bag on the table, took the box and beer from it, setting them in front of the only other chair, and swiped the pillows and cushions away. He returned the binoculars to his bag and deposited the hot chocolate in front of the girl. She looked at the tall Styrofoam glass curiously, then at him.

"It's for you. Figured you would like chocolate. There's no milk in it, so it shouldn't hurt your stomach, and there's plenty of honey. It should be good for your throat and give you enough nutrients to get you started on the road to recovery," he explained as he put a straw through the plastic top.

A spark flashed in the girl's eyes as she tentatively took a sip. She looked at him with a shy smile, barely more than an upturn of lips, but it was enough. Her hands clasped around the glass as she drank greedily.

ZZZZZZZZZZZ

Reviewers. You have my thanks. The goddess Muse is very pleased with your efforts. Continue.