So apparently I draw a lot of inspiration from song lyrics. For those who hadn't yet worked it out, the last three chapters' and this one's title are pinched from Shake It Out by Florence and the Machine. It's a great song and I recently discovered it reflects this story quite well. But rest assured, I'm not following it to the letter. The next chapter title will probably sound a whole lot less poetic.

Also, thanks to LifelessNight for your review, I'm glad you're enjoying the story :)

Chapter 10: It's always darkest before the dawn

Kitty became vaguely aware of a whining, straining engine. At first she didn't remember why she could even hear the noise, or why her damp clothes were clammily pressed against her skin. But the rumbling vibrations under her feet sparked some synapses and it all came back to her.

She recalled drifting off whilst squashed into a seat with Logan, and now there was a perplexing absence of warm leather against her cheek. In fact, she became very aware of the great expanse of nothingness surrounding her.

Frowning, she opened her eyes and looked about the cabin. It was darker than when she'd fallen asleep, and everything was much harder to make out. She sat up straight to get a better bearing and realised with disturbing clarity that she was definitely alone in the seat. Logan was gone.

Kitty glanced nervously across at Pete, his eyes were fixed on the road and his expression was impossible to read in the gloom.

"Where's Logan?" Kitty asked, doing her best to remain calm, despite the tight, airy sensation in her chest.

Pete's gaze flickered over to her and his face distorted into a sly grin.

"Don't worry love, it's just you and me now," he crooned. His hand left the wheel to rest on Kitty's knee.

Startled, Kitty flinched away from his touch. "Get away!" she shrieked.

Her powers kicked in and his hand fell through to the seat. Then everything went black. Her ears filled with the sound of rushing air. Something hit her hard in the back. She cried out in pain and struggled to adjust herself. But before she could gain control of her powers, a harsh blow struck her forehead. Her consciousness disappeared in a flash of white.

Logan's heart pounded. His legs jolted with shock as his feet struck the tarmac. His chest felt like it was being pulled tight in a steel grip, and his arms felt like they might fling off with the speed he was pumping them, but he was gaining on the truck.

He reached the tarpaulin side of the trailer and slammed his fist against it.

"Stop this damn truck!" he roared.

His demands were in vain, and it only seemed to go faster. It started to pull away from him and he let out a howl of frustration.

Releasing his claws, Logan flung his left arm up and sank it deep into the tarpaulin. The sudden increase in speed lifted him off his feet and he had to launch forward and stab the thick material with his right claws just to stay attached.

He could feel the material tear under his sharp blades. The rushing air that filled his ears was dragging him backwards. He would have to move quickly if he wanted to stay on the truck.

With a feral cry, he heaved himself forward and sunk his left claws back into the tarpaulin. He repeated the motion with the right, and again with the left. Slowly, he made progress along the side of the truck, until his claws found metal.

He flung himself across the passenger window, claws sinking deep into the doorframe. Inside, the truck driver nearly jumped clean out of his skin. But then both of their eyes fell on the passenger seat and Logan's heart fell to his stomach. It was empty.

Pete swerved the truck in a desperate attempt to throw Logan off. He tensed his body and held on tight, turning his head against the wind that threatened to pull him off. The action afforded him a glance down the road behind, and a momentary glimpse of a lifeless body in the middle of it. His heart almost stopped at the sight.

It could only be Kitty. She must have phased through the truck, and it didn't seem to have ended well.

He had to get to her quick and there was only one way of doing so.

Eyes screwing shut, Logan sheathed his claws. He slammed against the side of the truck and instinctively curled into a ball. He hit the road with an explosion of pain. His eyes snapped open with the shock. He caught glimpses of sky and dirt; the twinkle of stars mixed with bright flashes of white-hot pain as he rolled to a stop.

He lay very still for a moment, his eyes squeezing tightly as he waited for some of the agony to subside. Cuts and grazes tingled as the skin reformed and stitched itself back together.

Slowly, he pushed himself up to a sitting position, leaning heavily on his right arm. He tried to move his left arm so that he could brace himself and stand up, but it didn't respond to his commands. He glanced down at it and winced; the appendage was hanging awkwardly in front of him, with the hand bent backwards against the wet tarmac. Immediately he recognised the problem as a dislocated shoulder – he'd been in enough scrapes to know what one looked like. He also knew just how much they hurt to relocate.

Still, there was no time to be precious about it. He grabbed a hold of his upper left arm, and gently moved it around, searching for the shoulder's socket. The motion caused pain to blossom in his shoulder, but he deliberately ignored it.

Once he was sure he'd found the right position, Logan forced the limb home. He screamed at the dizzying agony, and was quick to force deep, haggard breaths out through his teeth. His brain felt ready to explode with the pain.

He took a moment to refocus his vision, consciously picking out the grains of dirt on the road beneath him. When he felt just about ready to move, he twisted around to search the surrounding area for his companion. She was still lying motionless, on her side, with limbs splayed out in a pattern that suggested she'd rolled for quite a distance before stopping.

Logan's stomach knotted in trepidation. It definitely couldn't be good news if she hadn't moved yet. She must have suffered worse blows than he had, and without a healing factor, she wasn't going to be getting up any time soon.

Laboriously, Logan stood up. There were still a few twinges throughout his body. It felt like something might have ruptured in his abdomen. But whatever the problem was, it was rapidly fixing itself. He started shakily towards his fallen companion.

On the horizon he could see two blinking lights, and at first their significance didn't register. However, they rapidly increased in their intensity, getting both larger and brighter. It became apparent that some sort of vehicle was fast approaching, and Kitty was lying across both lanes.

"Fuck," Logan hissed. He broke into a sprint.

The lights were close enough to see their beams on the road.

"Kitty!" he yelled. "You've got to move!"

She didn't stir.

Logan started to panic. "Get up!" he cried desperately, running harder still.

Still nothing.

He could see the silhouette of a car; it was seconds away from Kitty's body. But he was closer. He skidded around her, putting himself between her and the car. A quick scan up and down her body allowed him to identify the cause of unconsciousness. There was a dark red, oozing wound on her forehead. It didn't look good, but it didn't look fatal - not nearly as fatal as a collision with a car going at eighty miles per hour.

He knew he shouldn't move her, but even if he shielded her from the car, he couldn't guarantee that it wouldn't kill her.

Sucking in a deep breath, he swiftly slipped his hands underneath her and stood up as smoothly as he could.

A car horn wailed as he dashed off the road. He felt a rush of air along his back that whipped his hair across in its wake. His eyes followed the car's path as it swerved onto the other side of the road, before adjusting itself and departing into the distance with a final angry burst on the horn.

He tried hard not to think about how close they had been to being splattered on the car's windscreen, or rendered as bloody pulps on the road. Instead, he turned his attention to the broken girl in his arms. Her face looked pale and blue in contrast to the deep red gash on her forehead. A trail of blood trickled down into her hairline, and there was a vicious looking graze on her opposite cheek. Loose hairs had been pulled out of her ponytail and were strewn across her battered face.

Logan was struck by how fragile she looked and felt a crippling surge of guilt.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry," he whispered.

If it hadn't been for him, they wouldn't have even got on that truck. He'd known the driver was a creep, yet still he'd done nothing about it. He should have woken Kitty up at the petrol station. They should have left then. This never should have happened.

He felt his limbs go weak and had to willfully force himself to keep a tight hold of Kitty. Her body shifted in his arms. He initially assumed that he was losing grip, but then her eyes slowly squinted open.

Logan's breath caught in his throat.

"Mm, what happened?" Kitty croaked.

"You fell out of a truck," Logan replied softly, unable to keep his voice from breaking.

Thankfully, she didn't seem to notice his embarrassing swell of relief. Her eyes were too busy blinking away the confusion.

"Oh, yeah," she mumbled. "I hit some things on the way out."

Logan considered the statement a bit too tame to describe the condition she was in, but he held his tongue, not wanting to make her think the situation was any worse than it was. He just silently thanked the heavens that by moving her he hadn't aggravated a spinal injury that could have killed or paralysed her.

With that in mind, he decided it was probably best to see just how much damage had been done.

"Do you think you can stand?" he asked.

Kitty took a moment to consider, before replying shakily, "Maybe."

Gently, Logan eased her down, lowering her feet first. She gingerly put weight on them, starting with the right and finishing with the left. A harsh hiss escaped her lips and caused Logan to flinch. She cried out in pain and he hastily wrapped his arm under her shoulders, providing her with enough support to keep her left foot hovering just above the ground.

"I think I've broken my ankle," Kitty whimpered.

Logan mentally cursed himself; Kitty's predicament was all his fault. However, he knew there was no time for self-admonishment. He had to act.

"Alright, put your weight on me. We've got to get away from this road," he said.

The likelihood of the truck driver coming back and looking for them was incredibly slim, however, Logan didn't feel up to another near-death experience on the road. They were much better off alone until he could assess just how bad the situation was.

Kitty wrapped her arm across his shoulders, her fingers digging deeply into his leather jacket. He took a cautionary first step and she hobbled with him. The progress was slow, but they began to move away from the road and onto the low grassy bank next to it. Not far away a line of bare trees formed a barrier between the man-made road and raw nature.

There were only a few stars in the sky, which twinkled through gaps in the dispersing clouds, and the moon was lost in a hazy glow behind them, so there was very little light to see by. Logan could just make out some depth to the trees; they seemed to go on for quite some distance.

Once over the grass verge, he could see down onto the woodland floor. It was covered in dead leaves and small, shrub-like plants. Not too far away, there also appeared to be some sort of shelter. It was made of crumbling concrete and had a corrugated metal roof, also covered in decaying plant matter. The doorway and windows were left as empty holes into the shelter. Obviously whatever purpose it used to serve had long been forgotten. But for them, it would make the perfect place to hide from the elements.

Logan glanced sidelong at Kitty. Her expression was distorted by pain; there was no way that she could keep up pace for much longer.

"You see that shelter?" he asked, pointing with his spare hand.

Kitty frowned. "Not really."

Of course, Logan realised that everything looked considerably darker to Kitty's eyes, and her head injury probably wasn't making it any easier.

"Well it's not far, we're gonna walk to it. Think you can manage?" he asked.

"Sure," Kitty replied. Her tone lacked the necessary assertion, but they carried on nonetheless.

Considering the younger mutant's handicap, they made good progress and were halfway to the shelter before she gasped. "Oh my God, the bags!"

Logan flinched; he had hoped to save that topic for later. Admittedly, there was a moment, when he was clinging to the truck's passenger door that he could have broken through and retrieved their bags, but at the time he'd been more concerned about getting back to Kitty. She might not still be alive if he had decided to, and in all honesty, he didn't care much about their contents; they were hardly instrumental to their survival. But all the same, it was his fault that they'd lost them in the first place.

"They're gone," he muttered. "I'm sorry."

Kitty looked stunned by his apology, but quickly changed her expression to one of indignation. "Don't be, it's that creep that's gone off with them. He's the one that should be sorry."

Logan tried to pull his mouth into a wry smile, but he just didn't have it in him. The guilt was beginning to circle around him, viciously waiting to pick him off. He couldn't help it; he had to admit to what he'd done.

"I knew though," he said quietly. "I knew he was going to pull something like this, but I let him because I wanted us to get as far as possible."

He didn't dare look at Kitty, but when she suddenly stopped walking, he had to meet her gaze. Her eyes were filled with confusion and mistrust. He tried his best to keep an honest and flat expression, but he couldn't keep the remorse from trickling through.

"You let him?" Kitty frowned, a dangerous tone slipping into her voice. As the realisation sank in she grew more and more livid. "YOU –" She caught herself and took to fuming silently. Eventually, when she'd caught a hold of her rage, she muttered, "It doesn't matter."

Logan's brow knitted together in confusion. "How could it not?"

He'd expected her to tear him to pieces. She was meant to rant and rave at him and he was just meant to take it. That was what he deserved.

"I messed up, you messed up. Forget it, we're square," Kitty said, loud and sharp.

"But – you – I – I could have prevented this," Logan garbled desperately.

"Yeah, you should have known better – just like I should've," Kitty said sourly.

Logan stared at her strangely. He couldn't get his head around how ready she was to forgive him. If he were in her situation, he would have completely lost it, and yet she remained composed. Yes, she was still angry. Yes, she looked like she wanted to rip his eyes out. But she was dealing with the situation rationally.

That wasn't the way a child was supposed to act, but then again, he supposed he should really stop thinking about her in such a way. The girl had matured beyond his expectations.

Rendered mute, Logan dropped his gaze to the ground and slowly they continued walking. The feelings of guilt didn't subside, and he started to suspect that Kitty forgiving him was actually a much crueler thing to do. It denied him catharsis and allowed the remorse to sink its teeth deep into his conscience.

When they arrived at the shelter, he was relieved to turn his focus to other things. Inside, the concrete floor was half-covered with rusty-coloured skeletal leaves that had been swept in by the wind, but it was dry and only faintly smelt of fox piss. The floor-space could just about sleep two fully grown men, so they would have no problem. It just wouldn't be overly comfortable.

Logan led Kitty to the back left corner, pressing his arm hard against the concrete wall so that she could brace herself against it as much as possible.

"OK, go down slowly," he said. He gradually dropped into a squat position, his leather jacket scratching noisily down the gritty wall as Kitty's feet skidded forward. She ended up sitting with her legs stretched out and her back against the wall.

Logan slipped his arm out from behind her, but kept his position. Now, it was time to fix the situation as best he could.

"You got any tissues?" he asked.

Kitty didn't question him. Instead her hands delved into her coat and pulled out a small plastic pack of half-used pocket tissues. She handed it to him and he received it readily, tearing the pack open and pulling one out. He opened it out flat and, summoning what little saliva he could, spat on it a couple of times, before pressing it to the wound on Kitty's forehead.

"Eww, gross," she grimaced, recoiling slightly.

"The spit makes it stronger," Logan said brusquely. "A dry tissue would just stick to the wound, and you don't want that."

"Yeah, but you could've asked me to spit on it," Kitty grumbled in distaste.

Choosing to ignore her trivial complaint, Logan grunted, "Hold that there and apply pressure."

She did as she was told, and Logan rested back on his haunches to take the rest of her in. It was impossible to tell whether there were any injuries under her thick beige overcoat, but he could only assume that the clothing had protected her during the fall anyway.

The next most important thing to assess was whether the blow to her head had done any lasting damage. Thankfully, he'd switched his lighter into his new jeans' pocket when taking a shower yesterday, and the light caused by the flame would probably be just enough to check for concussion.

He retrieved it and flicked the starter switch several inches from Kitty's face. The shelter filled with a warm orange light and dark heavy shadows were cast in its wake. Logan watched with a little relief as Kitty's pupils constricted in response.

"How do you feel? Any nausea?" he asked.

"No, it just hurts," Kitty grimaced.

"OK," Logan said, taking his thumb off the lighter and plunging them back into darkness. "I'm gonna take a look at your ankle," he continued and moved down to sit at her feet. Gently, he pushed up the leg of her jeans to reveal a pale limb that looked apparently unmarred. However, there was some obvious swelling around the ankle.

"Can you move it? Try rotating it," Logan prompted her.

She did so, moving it jarringly to the left and right, but not making a full circle. A grimace and a hiss announced the conclusion of her effort.

"OK, it's not broken," Logan said. He examined the ankle further with a few soft prods. "Looks like it's just a sprain. You just need to get some rest. We'll stay here 'til daylight and go to the nearest town."

"OK," Kitty replied, nodding vaguely. Her expression looked distant, like she could barely hear him over the roar of the pain coursing through her. Logan looked at her uncertainly. In theory, it was ok for her to sleep – she'd displayed none of the signs for concussion – but he couldn't help but feel concerned.

He was no doctor, and if Kitty's condition got any worse, he didn't know what he'd do. They were miles from any help, and there were no guarantees that she would be any safer in a hospital. He could only hope to keep her in a relatively positive state, but her clothes were still damp and there was a sharp chill in the air. He couldn't light a fire in the tiny shelter and all the wood outside would be too wet to get started anyway. His only option was to provide her with his leather jacket, which had held off against the rain quite remarkably. The lining was still dry and the dense material would fight off against the chill.

So he unzipped the jacket and, bending down, he draped it over her shoulders.

"Here," he said, as he tucked it in against the wall so it would stay on her thin frame.

Ignoring her stunned expression, he lifted the tissue from her forehead to examine the wound underneath.

The bleeding had stopped and now he could see it a little more clearly, he noted that the cut wasn't even that deep. She could probably get away without stitches.

"Don't you need it?" Kitty frowned, her arms shifting underneath the leather jacket, as if she were trying to wrestle it off her.

"Not as much as you," Logan answered matter-of-factly.

His tone stopped her attempts and she watched him in captivation as he moved to sit in the opposite corner of the shelter.

There, he could feel a light breeze come in through the open doorway and it danced across his bare skin, setting the hair on his forearms on end. His gaze flickered back to Kitty, as he wondered just why she was staring at him so intently. When he realised her eyes were fixed on his abdomen, it all made sense.

He was still wearing the wife-beater she'd bought him, and under the leather jacket it had remained dry, so his blood had formed a thick crust around the white material. It looked black in the darkness; the contrast making it all the more striking.

"I'll be fine," he said, trying to distract her attention. "You should get some sleep."

Kitty didn't seem convinced, but she did avert her gaze and shuffle slightly to get more comfortable.

Logan purposefully turned his attention out of the doorway to the surrounding woodland. Where he had chosen to sit there was a perfect vantage point to keep an eye out for potential trouble. He had no intention of going to sleep; he didn't dare to with Kitty in the state that she was. Instead, he divided his attention between her and the world outside their tiny shelter.

Eventually, Kitty closed her eyes and he familiarised himself with the sound of her soft breathing. The rhythm almost soothed him, but the churning sensation of guilt in his gut didn't relent. In the quiet darkness it was all he had to think about. His mind tormented him with flashing mental images of what could have happened had Kitty not escaped the truck driver; they made his blood burn and his claws itch.

He'd done his best to resist any feeling of involvement in the girl ever since she'd turned up. Her presence was a constant reminder of the man he'd once been; a life that he wanted to forget. But he couldn't pretend that she didn't mean something to him. He couldn't pretend he didn't miss the life he used to have: guiding the students, toughening them up to face the world. But he couldn't go back to that, not being the man he was.

Kitty was stuck with him and the least he could do was look after her. He owed her that much, at least.

Reviews always appreciated!