Chapter 9. Incapable. Inept. Insufficient.
He was sure he looked strange. A thick black bandana pulled up over his face hid most of his face, and with it the extensive slashing. Over that he had put the helmet on, covering all but his eyes successfully. But now that he was pulling the motorcycle by hand, away from the main road, he was sure he looked perfectly stupid with the helmet still on. Not that he felt this was reason enough to take it off.
The bike had run out of gas. He, being the idiot that he was, had forgotten to check the gas meter and to refill so he could, in fact, continue. He had to be the worst runaway in the history of all runaways. He was inept at even this. He really couldn't be surprised though.
Well, not until he heard the faint noise of engines. Huge engines. And not from any car. He looked around, doubling back twice even, to make sure no cars were on the road, and the highway was clear, free of any other travelers. The noise came from the sky. He looked up, fearing the worst.
And his fears were confirmed.
The X-Jet.
It was still far enough away that he hoped he would not have been spotted yet, but close enough that he could identify it. He nearly panicked, but the last remaining bit of sense left in him screamed to hide, and for once he listened. Hastily he rushed the bike off the road and to the nearby forest. Between the trees, behind some form of large shrubbery, he hid the bike, doubting that both he and the vehicle could hide in the same area and not be found. So instead he selected a different bunch of bushes to hide behind, creeping closer to the road to see if the jet was still headed for him. It was worse than that. It was landing. And right nearby, on the empty highway. Lance realized then that perhaps taking the most deserted road possible had not been the smartest of ideas. The jet couldn't possibly land in a crowded, populated area. He tacked it up on the long list of stupid things he had done in his life, adding it on as the new ninth.
He bumped it up to the fifth three seconds later. Because it was then that he realized just how bad the situation really was. Because it was then that he saw who was stepping out of the jet.
He was dead. Dead. Deader than dead. Words could not describe how bad the situation was.
Wolverine.
'He's gonna kill you for taking his bike!' his mind screamed at him.
'Oh shit,' was his next thought at realizing that without the bike, and up against Logan's mutant senses, he had no chance of running and succeeding.
But he tried anyway.
Ten minutes later, he was on the ground, on his back, with adamantium claws at his neck and a firm hand on his chest.
"Now, are ya gonna try to run off again if I let you up?"
"..." Obeying the command that had been given earlier, the teen looked at him, if not in the eye.
He shook his head slightly, not able to move enough for a full 'no' due to the adamantium blades.
"Good," Logan moved, allowing the teen to get up.
Three seconds later Logan was grabbing him and pinning him back down.
"Rocky, that's the second time. I'm getting tired of this. This is the last time I'm gonna ask. After that, I'm not doing this with words. You understand?"
He nodded faintly, trembling, fear obvious in his eyes, especially at Logan's growl.
"Answer me. In words."
"...I-I understand."
"Good. I want you talking, not just nodding or shaking your head. Got that?"
He almost nodded again, catching himself at the last second. "Y-yes."
"Good. Now- don't lie- are you gonna try to make a break for it if I let you up?"
"...yes."
Logan let out an exasperated sigh, and Lance flinched, cringing away from the adamantium.
Seeing that, Logan sheathed his claws once more, though the hand remained on Lance's chest, keeping him there. After a moment of staring at the teen- who now had his eyes down and was not meeting his gaze in the least- he spoke.
"...I'm gonna let you up now. I'm not gonna hurt you. And you are not going to try to run off."
He was silent, but Logan knew, as he moved away, that the teen would not do otherwise.
And when Lance cautiously got up, he stood still, though there was obvious hesitation in him.
"Good. Now tell me why you ran away."
"..."
"Shakedown..."
At the tone, he backed away, his back hitting the trunk of the tree behind him, and Logan sighed.
It was quite possibly the worst scenario ever. He was sure he was going to die, if not by Logan, from the panic rising in him, identifying the inevitable and yet, as always, unable to stop it.
He had to get away. The motorcycle was not a choice. He could not run fast enough, Logan would surely catch him again. And if that happened... Lance knew better than to doubt the nature of threats, regardless of who they came from and what they declared. If he was caught again, Logan had said he would not be doing things with words. Lance knew the meaning of that all too well.
But still he had to get away.
He had to try at least. He couldn't just stand by and wait for it to happen. He was so tired of doing that. He had to act. For once. He had to act.
Never mind that he would fail within the next minute.
When Logan sighed, he took the chance, hoping to catch the man off guard, though even as he ran, he highly, highly doubted it.
Tree, tree, tree, dodge Logan, tree, tree, tree, dodge Logan, tree, shrub, tree, dodge Logan, tree, tree, dodge Logan... the pattern was repeating, but he knew the X-man was closing in on him. He wasn't one to boast his speed—sure he wasn't slow, not by any means, but he much preferred strength to speed, and had always worked on the first rather than the latter.
And until now, that had worked fine. Until now. Strength gave him nothing against Logan. He knew that all too well. And with his speed faltering with every second... he was desperate. And did the only thing he could think of. He turned and lashed out, the earth coming to life upon his will.
...he had forgotten that he really wasn't supposed to do that now. He did remember as the unwelcome avalanche in his head returned and felt himself fall, despite his attempt to catch onto the nearest tree and remain standing.
Logan was really wishing that he had brought Ororo or Hank—or even Charles though he doubted that Charles could physically pursue Lance in the woods as the present situation called for—along, instead of coming alone. He wasn't getting through to the kid. He really, really wasn't.
He nearly tripped, dodging the attack. Damn it all. The kid was even attacking now. He had thought that the teen would be too intimidated to do so, but obviously he had thought wrong.
Unfortunately he wasn't the one truly affected by the attack. He rushed over as Lance stumbled to the ground, but as he approached the teen, he realized he didn't know what to say, and had to slow down.
"...Lance."
Not the best thing he could have said, but still, maybe not the worst.
"Stay away from me!"
Or maybe not.
He had to get up. He had to get up. He just... couldn't. His legs would not work. He could barely keep his thoughts clear, what with the pounding in his head.
He was failing. Miserably. As he always did. He was used to it, yes. But still, it was so... so tiring. Frustrating. He wanted to scream. Why was it that he couldn't even do this little thing? Why?! Why couldn't he even run?!
"...Look Shakedown. I don't know why you're running away, and I want to find out, but I'm not going to hurt-"
Why he was running away?
Why? Wasn't it obvious? Wasn't it obvious!
He was too tired to even scream, though he doubted that would help anyway. Instead he settled for clenching tightly at the dirt ground, trying to hold up, trying not to do anything to make this even worse.
...and failing. He couldn't contain his thoughts, he couldn't calm them down. His emotional lack of control always got him into trouble, he knew. He just couldn't help it, the frustration.
Why couldn't people just leave him alone! Why couldn't they just let him run away?! He knew the trouble he took everywhere, the least he could do was try to prevent more!
Why?? Wasn't it obvious?!
"He's after me, not anyone else! As long as I'm not there, he won't bother to attack!"
Logan was startled by the sudden shout. Scream, more like. It took him a full four seconds to even comprehend what Lance had burst out. And another two to realize who Lance was referring to. Sabertooth. It was all about Sabertooth.
"Wrong, Shakedown. He's always been after me. But I haven't run away because of it."
He thought he had responded decently. It was the truth, and he didn't think he had spoken too roughly. It was a decent response, probably. Probably.
It became apparent that he was terribly mistaken.
Lance looked up, the chocolate brown eyes glaring up at the older man with hatred for his incapability to understand, the anger in him overpowering the fear for this moment.
"You! You're different! You're stronger than him!" the fury in the teen's voice left Logan speechless.
Pulling off the helmet, Lance stumbled to his feet, somehow managing to remain standing if only just barely, leaning heavily against a tree.
"I can't do anything against him! I can't protect them from him! All I can do is run! But I can't do even that!" His voice failed him by the end of the screams, and he crumpled against the tree, a fist pounding against the trunk, casting blame he did not know where to direct.
Logan could not respond. Lance did not speak. It was full minutes before even a breath could be heard. And Lance let out the faint, resigned sigh, a weak question following it.
"...are you going to kill me?"
What could he possibly do. What could he possibly say.
He didn't know. The kid managed to stun him like no one else could, or ever had before. Between the complete fear and angry outbursts, as well as the former, usual rebelliousness... Logan was lost. But he couldn't just stand there, especially not after such a question had been asked. He decided to give up on reasoning out his replies first, and fell to impulse, hoping with doubts that his gut reactions would not fail him.
"No, Rocky. I came to get you. I'm taking you back."
"...and if I won't follow you?"
Ho boy. He really hoped he was doing this right. If not... well Logan was going to be giving Chuck one hell of a mess to clean up, if Lance fell back to complete and utter terror again. "...I won't take no for an answer. You're coming with me. And the next time you try a stunt like this, especially while you're sick, you'll be answering to these," the distinguished 'snikt' was definitely heard. "-understand?"
Okay. Now brace for the impact.
"...yes."
No kidding. That had worked? Logan had no idea how, and it seemed to defy all logic to him, but it seemed that way. Well, no sense wasting the good, if unexpected, results.
"Good. Now tell me where my motorcycle is. We're taking the jet back."
He secured the motorbike in the cargo hold as quickly as he could. He was still unsure as to whether Lance
would willingly follow or not, despite the answer he had gotten, and the fact that Lance had quietly followed him to the cargo hold as asked when he brought the motorcycle in.
So when he turned back around, he half expected the teen to be gone, run off again.
He hadn't moved, head down, gaze to the ground, standing still.
"Get moving. We're taking off, and you need to be seated."
"...yes."
He was subdued, but not completely- Logan noted the lack of the 'sir' that would take place had he been. Logan wasn't sure if this was a good thing or not, even as he watched Lance silently walk to the passenger area, eyes down. The teen paused at the seats in the back, but walking in behind him, Logan directed him towards the co-pilot seat, and he complied, without a word still.
The jet lifted off with the two wordless, neither making any interaction, much less conversation.
An hour and more passed before either spoke.
And even then it was one tentative, faltering and ultimately timid word of a question.
"...Wolverine?"
"What." It wasn't really intentional, but one could not deny the fact that he was being rather brusque. He couldn't help it though. He didn't know how to react to the kid anymore, and so far this seemed to work best... so far.
Noting the rough tone, Lance hesitated, lowering his gaze more, turning away once again. "...n-nothing. Never mind."
"You had something. What was it."
"It was nothing-"
"Rocky."
The slightest of growls lining the insistent demand forced the matter out of him, however slowly and reluctantly it may have been.
"...If... if I hadn't taken your bike... would... would you still have come to get me?"
Despite the fact that he was piloting, Logan turned to look at him at that. But Lance wasn't joking, as Logan had subconsciously hoped, yet at the same time known better about. Lance truly believed that the machine was valued more than he was himself. Somehow, Logan understood now, at least a little.
"Yeah. Now stop asking stupid questions and go to sleep- it's a while before we get back home."
"...yes sir."
They landed, and by then it was already early morning. Lance had fallen asleep, though whether due to the fact that he was tired or due to the fact that he had been told to, Logan did not know.
"Hey, Shakedown, get up."
The sentence was enough to stir the teen. He opened his eyes, and, at realizing that he was staring face to face at Logan, quickly looked down, averting his gaze.
Logan merely reached over and pulled him up to his feet, ignoring the flinch that passed through the teen at his touch.
"Let's get inside," he said, picking up Lance's duffle bag.
Lance nodded, and followed him out without a word.
When they reached the door, Logan paused. It was... he knew he had to do something, but he didn't know what. So he did the only thing that came to his mind. And reaching into his pocket, he took out the keys that the teen had taken out of the emergency box. He looked at Lance, and noticed that the teen had recognized what he was holding, and was now looking fairly uncomfortable, as if expecting to be scolded, and much worse, for taking them.
Without hesitation, Logan held the keys up.
"Look at me."
He fidgeted, but after a few seconds, looked up, just enough that he wasn't being disobedient about the frequently given command, barely up to Logan's shoulders.
"The next time you want to go for a ride, you don't steal the spare key."
He nodded faintly, gaze falling. But Logan dropped the duffle bag and his now free hand tipped Lance's head back up. "You take your own keys, got it?"
He took Lance's hand and placed the keys in it, letting go of both his hand and his face then.
Lance stared at him, apprehension forgotten. His hand remained still, in the air where Logan had left it, the keys lying on the half open palm.
Logan merely picked up the duffle bag again, and opening the door, headed inside.
"Come on, Shakedown, the kids are probably still up, waiting for you."
