Winter was setting in hard but Logan decided it wasn't going to be any harder on him then it had to be. He would keep under the border for a good long time before swinging up to meet his destiny...and his past, he in the Canadian Rockies. And though the cold really didn't bother him all that much...he wanted to optimize the pleasure of riding his new bike for as long as he could. Since leaving the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters he had hadn't had many nightmares. Jean had seen to that while he recovered from his injuries. His head hurt less. He wouldn't exactly call the feelings inside "hope" or "happiness" as much as a feeling that his burden seemed an ounce or so lighter. That maybe there was a reason to go on one more day. That maybe he had something other then death or fear to contribute for once.
That feeling was, in no small part, due to the X-Men. The optimistic team of Mutants who believed there was a way for "normal" folks and muties to live together without killing each other. He wasn't sure their optimism was infectious. In fact, he was pretty sure they needed a pessimist like himself around to keep them real. But their view, and how they wanted others like them to live made his dark view of the world seem less dark...just a little. That and the new bike that is. And thanks to Wheels...um the Professor, he wouldn't need to bust his balls, or someone else's, to earn his next meal. In his rucksack he had found 2,000 dollars and a note with an X-pin attached.
"We didn't think you'd need the helmet. The pink slip is yours. Keep the pin, press it if you need help. We'll answer. You aren't alone anymore."
Logan had admitted a bit of disappointment to find he hadn't really stolen the boyscout's bike. He'd imagined the look on Cyclop's face discovering the bike gone with relish. Oh well. Besides...the pinkslip made it easier if a cop questioned him. Not that a cop could catch him on that bike if he didn't want him too.
For a split second the rebel in him almost convinced him to toss the pin. Then with a lopsided grin he attached it to the collar of his leather jacket. Souvenir. He pocketed the cash. Yeah...they were okay people. Especially Jean. He shook his head and sucked the cold air between his teeth sharply. Especially Jean.
Well he was glad everything had turned out well. He had lived the last 12 years of his life without too many things he felt good about...so if nothing else seeing that the kid, Rogue, was safe and would get a shot made all that happened worth the bother. Besides, he liked a good brawl. He laughed. And now he had folks who actually wanted to see him again who weren't lawmen, or battered bouncers.
He took another deep breath and leaned into a curve and gunned the engine. The road was a black drift blown ribbon before him and the wind bit at him. And the engine throbbing between his legs made him think of other things he hadn't done in a while in a frustrating way. He scanned the signs he passed for signs of life...or a bar.
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Tyme flipped blond curls from her eyes and adjusted the cheap sunglasses that fought to keep the unrelenting snow-glare from blinding her.
"Jerk." She breathed, watching steam curl itself around the word.
In the middle of no-freaking-where and he leaves her. It wasn't entirely unexpected. She had sensed his attraction, and duplicity in his offer to give her a lift from the Denny's but she'd assumed he would have waited until he got where he was going before trying to exact payment. And she'd thought the risk worth it. She certainly wasn't afraid of the 100 pound pimple king. Geek boy must have thought his get-some plan was fool proof. Pulling over and the threat of being left in the snow as incentive for her to put out. As cold as she was she still felt some warmth recalling the look on his face when she told him she would take her chances with the weather before she'd have sex with talking acne. Unfortunately her anger wasn't going to keep her warm for long.
After the first bitter hour of walking she began to wonder if saving herself from the proverbial "fate worse then death" had been worth it. It wasn't as though she'd never been asked to trade on her looks before. Maybe it was time to finally give in. She shook herself angrily. NO. She had promised herself that certain lines would never be crossed. She'd never sink that low. She would rather freeze.
What little traffic there was dried up as the sun started pinking up the sky with it's setting. Long haul truckers were looking for shelter. This was getting bad. Her clothes weren't the best. Her feet were numb in her battered sneakers and the zipper on her fringed denim jacket didn't work. She tried to keep it closed with her chapped, gloveless hands and wind blew up her bellbottoms freezing her legs from the knees down. Her only other clothes were sitting dirty in the bottom of her backpack under a shabby bedroll and threadbare blanket.
She caught a tear freezing on her cheek as she fought the idea of continual motion. Of never stopping...of never finding what she was looking for. She fought the urge to do the one thing she hated most.
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He passed her doing 70 and tilted his head in what passed for a double take for him. What was it about chicks and snowy roads and him? This time he felt less resentful as he turned the bike in a wide turn and headed back.
As he pulled up and stopped along side her she stepped back quickly and tried to recover a casual look. Logan smiled at the gesture. He could smell the fear on her. But she wasn't about to show it. He looked her over. About 5'5 and 120 lbs, weathered bellbottoms that clung to her like a second skin in all the right areas, and an open jacket and a blood red t shirt that didn't hide the fact that she was cold. She followed his gaze and pulled the jacket shut again. He smiled wider. She was very pretty. A delicate heart shaped face and sunglasses pushed back into pale short blond curls. Bright green eyes squinted against the wind at him warily. Her small, slightly pointy nose was wind burned as were her cheeks and she coughed slightly. She was young...but she looked legal.
"Need a ride Girlie?" he offered with a lupine smile...maybe too lupine. He sensed her fear take a leap upward...no...he almost "felt" it. He growled at himself. It seemed his lot in life to terrify women as an introduction. He suddenly felt like the Big Bad Wolf to her Little Red Riding Hood.
"Look lady," he growled apologetically. "I don't bite and I won't hurt you."
The young woman looked around. Up and down the deserted road. Her movements were graceful, like a skittish doe's. Her tongue darted, nervously, over full lips and she looked ready to cry. The shivers that took hold of her could be fear more then cold. "No strings sweetheart," he added. "I ain't gonna try anything." He suddenly felt nervous himself and a little guilty. For all he knew her past may have made her rightly afraid of men. He was almost afraid she would refuse the ride and take her chances tonight on the road. He looked around and by the sting of the rising wind on his skin he didn't like that thought. He knew there was no chance out here.
Her eyes widened for a spilt second and he cocked his head. Her large green eyes went unfocused briefly and then she looked at him curiously. A surprised smile tugged at her lips and she nodded quickly and stepped...almost stumbled forward. She climbed behind him awkwardly and he felt her small hands snake around him and stop for a moment as his stomach tensed from their chilly embrace and she leaned against him softly. He looked down at the hands, with their short serviceable nails painted in red chipped polish.
He wondered if she was in the game and took a deep breath. Pine needles, hotel soap...but no men. Some men wax poetic about the "scent of a woman"...they might not if they had his senses. This girl had no scent other then her own, and he felt a tightness below the belt.
She tensed again against him and he shifted nervously.
"Hold on."
Then he smiled to himself and kicked the engine over and the bike jerked forward causing her to dig her fingers into his stomach and pull herself against him tightly.
Sometimes being Mr. Big Bad had its advantages.
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The man on the bike was rough looking. Foreboding. Hunched over the bike, black leather, razor stubble, muttonchops, hard muscled and hard bearing. He frightened her immediately. Experience had taught her that you avoided men like this if you wanted to stay alive long. When he had turned around her eyes had searched frantically for cover. Help. When there wasn't any she was left to try to bluff, but when he'd spoken her she suddenly felt herself unable to respond. She felt the examination of her body like she had so many times before. She grew shakier as he weighed her in terms most men did. Then something changed. His hard dark hazel eyes met hers and she had felt a sadness...regret...fear. Fear for her safety if he left her. He confused her. She felt no deceit in him at all when he promised he wouldn't hurt her. It had surprised her. Totally disarming her. A flood of relief took her toward his bike and she climbed behind him. There was even a rush of excited humor as he launched the bike forward and got the result he seemed to be looking for. She closed her eyes and buried her face in his back and smiled at the good-humored bark of a chuckle he allowed to escape as she grasped him suddenly.
He was rough.... but he wasn't bad.
She closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax for the first time in days.
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Logan rode along, grateful for the warmth behind him after a while. He cut the bike's speed when he realized that the girl was drifting off. Her grip had lightened and it was a good thing they were pulling into the motel/bar's lot, as she seemed ready to lose it altogether. He looked around. Nice place...homey. Truckers, hookers and drunks puking between parked cars. His kinda place. He snorted bitterly at the stale, decayed smell all around him.
"Last stop...everybody off." He said under his breath as he cut the engine and put down the rest. He tapped her hands lightly and winced. They were icy. He looked around embarrassed and placed his hands over them to warm them while she sighed behind him. He didn't move for a few minutes. Then yawning he tried to wake her again.
"We're here." He announced again and reached back and tapped her on her knee.
A fiery spike of pain lanced thru his brain as the girl sprang to wakefulness with the startled motion of one waking from a dream of falling. His heart began to race as though it would burst and he cried out as he fell from the bike. His right hand on his head his left hand shooting out and his claws extending in a sudden, painful ~SNIK~ as he rolled over onto his back and saw her stumble from the bike looking at him in guilty terror. He was feeling, confusion, fear, guilt, overwhelming sadness. No...SHE was feeling these things and projecting them toward him like darts. Her eyes glowed startling neon green filling her entire face and casting an eerie light on the snow. She was a mutant. He grew angry.
"What in the Hell are you doing to me!!??"
There was an abrupt severing of the pain she threw at him, which caused him to sway as he crawled to his knees...it ended in a wash of frustration and horrible despair. She stammered helplessly...not words..just "uh uh uh ohhhhh...." A choking sob welled out of the girl as she stared stiff limbed and in shock at him rising before her, the green glowing light dying in her eyes...she raised a faltering hand toward him and dropped it trembling...and she turned and fled through the slush of the parking lot and into the inky darkness.
Logan didn't follow. He shook his head and growled. The girl was a mutant. He'd gone above and beyond. She would get by. He was steering clear of this...he'd had enough of the Good Samaritan crap and wasn't up for another go. Closing his eyes and he pushed the rest of the pain out of his head. He remembered her look of desolation...remembered the feelings...he became angry with himself. Stay outta this one son. Mind your own business.
With a retracting ~Snik~ of his claws he turned on his heel and stalked toward the bar door. He glanced back one more time as the door pushed open at the broken sunglasses in the muck next to the bike and his eyes searched the dark. Growling at himself he went inside. Stay outta it.
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Tyme ran. The trees in the woods behind the motel clawed at her as she ran. But she didn't feel them. She wanted to be safe. She wanted to be rest...to finally rest. She was tired of being tired and frightened all the time. She fell and tore her knee against a rock. She howled in anger and frustration. The pain wasn't a concern...wasn't even felt. Her empathic powers were the only ones that had kept her alive up until now. If they were going to start betraying her now too she had no way to go on. The man on the motorcycle had been a mutant too...the claws...he had to be. A person who might have understood or advised her and she had alienated him too. The rage in his eyes. The anger. She'd become even more frightened and she couldn't stop the empathic attack. She was sobbing...the freezing air burned her lungs and made her throat raw and ache. He might have understood like Charlie had understood. Her family hated her...her town drove her out...Charlie was gone...the man on the bike was furious with her....she had no one and nothing. Nothing.
Hopping wasn't an option. She hated it...it made her sick...and it made her hope over and over only to dash them again and again. She limped along until she came to a log with a high drift rising over it like a lean-to she crouched down behind it and hugged her knees to her chest and stared blankly at the drift.
Tyme had run out.
Her eyes widened slightly as if seeing things clearly for the first time. She'd heard somewhere that freezing wasn't a bad way to die. You just get real tired and fall asleep. She could rest. Sleep would be nice. It was time to sleep. The hollow exhaustion was going to win...she would let it win and it would all go away. Without any more emotion to project she tossed her backpack away from her and slowly took off her jacket. She rolled the jacket and laid it down. No mistakes she thought as she dug her fingers into the looming drift, collapsing it on her, and she laid back on the jacket pillow. Who knew snow could weigh so much? Or be so comforting. Like the comforter on her bed back home...so long ago it seemed. She sucked in her breath and lay still and closed her eyes. Her body shivered as its survival defenses kicked in.
After a little the pin pricks of painful discomfort diminished and she began to numb nicely. The cold leeched through her and her mind wandered. Slowly closing her eyes she smiled slightly. Maybe Charlie was already on the other side waiting for her. The thought made her happy. She was so drowsy. It would be all right soon. The night would make it all go away.
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Logan's good humor of earlier was gone. Inside the smoke filled bar he had enough energy to order a drink and get a set of keys from the bartender-slash-motel clerk. No talk...no signing in...classy place. Pocketing the keys he dropped heavily onto a duct taped stool and fish a cigar from his pocket and light up. Grabbing his beer he took a swig and looked around. The place reeked of stale booze, dirty bodies and cheap sex. Music played too loudly from a thudding juke box and one distinguished patron puked in a trash can in a dark corner while his "date" took the wallet from his back pocket.
"Home Sweet Home" he muttered wearily and set the bottle down.
What had that girl done to him? Was she psychic like the Prof and Jean? No. There was none of the cool words or controlled images. The feeling of having someone speaking to you but, separate from you. This girl had made him FEEL what she felt. Worse...he was almost positive she was feeling what he was feeling. And that made him uncomfortable. He had little else in this world...his emotions were his. He didn't want anyone seeing, feeling, that deep inside him. What was the word? She was an...Empath. That's it. An Empath. He drew in the acrid cigar smoke into his lungs and held it. He felt her pain, her fear, her incredible loneliness. He remembered the bone weariness that had mirrored his a few weeks before. Exhaling he chewed angrily on the stogie and stared at his drink. He also remembered waking recently from a nightmare...shaken and disoriented and accidentally hurting someone too. He remembered feeling terror, guilt, he remembered the unspoken apology sticking in his constricted throat. He remembered it all and they were the same feelings the blond girl felt when she'd accidentally hurt him.
Cursing under his breath he stubbed the stogie out in his palm with a satisfying grimace and put it back in his pocket and threw down his tab and headed for the door. Growling at himself, at what he was going to do...again.
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Outside he sniffed at the air and turned his head. Pulling the collar of his jacket up he walked resolutely toward the woods behind the motel. At the wood's edge he stopped and looked down. Tracks in the snow. And something in the air. A metallic tang that bothered him with its familiarity. Blood.
His pace quickened. He was geared for this. Like a hound he tracked her. Instinct driven. His breathing slowed and deepened to draw in and taste each scent. Part of him enjoyed this hunt...and he hated that part of himself. He came to where the snow was greatly disturbed and saw the rock with night keen eyes that was marked with her blood. He threw back his head and drew in another breath. Something was terribly wrong. Her scent was fading...he began to run. Leaping a log he spied her pack under a tree and bolted toward it. The scent. He spun around and looked behind him...flush along the log. His eyes went wide with horror. She lay like Snow White...bone white and motionless. A wintry blanket and a jacket pillow and a small smile frozen on bluing lips. For a moment all he could do was stare.
God...she was committing suicide!
A steady stream of expletives flowed out of him until he bit his lip and shut up...what was the use. his audience was a Popsicle.
He dropped down beside her and dug into the snow. Clawing it away from her throat and chest and reaching under her arms and pulling her from under it's weight. He felt for a pulse and couldn't be sure he felt one. A fluttering maybe. He lowered his keen ear to her chest and could feel the ice crackle from her t-shirt. But his sharper then normal hearing picked up what he sought. A sluggish beating...resentful...grudging...hopeful. He didn't wait. Scooping her into his arms he ran back toward the motel. She never stirred during the journey back or while he fumbled with the key in the lock. He laid her on the bed and started a bath. Then running back to the bed he pulled off her shoes and socks and rubbed her toes and fingers between his hands and the tub filled. Forcing blood into the extremities as best he could.
Finally, lifting her gently, he carried her to the bath and lowered her into the steaming water.
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For a few seconds nothing happened. Logan felt the same terrible dread he'd felt as he held Rogue's lifeless body close. The feeling of failure...helplessness.
But then the girl stirred and Logan's mind leapt back to the present. Then the reaction he'd hoped for. She started to scream. The screaming meant that the blood was being forced back into the near frozen tissue. The pain meant the tissue was alive. And Logan braced himself. Sudden pain shot through him and he struggled not to pop his claws while he held her. His mind and body were seared by the agony the girl felt and he bit down on his lip until he thought he would bite clear through it. Then he joined her in screaming. He struggled to keep the flailing girl's head above water...he struggled to separate his mind and emotions from hers...to retain his identity.
Surprisingly their screams brought no one. If it hadn't hurt so much Logan would have laughed when the only reaction was the next door tenant pounding on the wall and shouting at them to either keep it down or invite him over.
Though it seemed like an eternity, eventually the pain subsided into complete exhausted release. The empathic connection with Logan ceased as the girl moaned softly and went limp in his arms again. Logan shook his head and opened his eyes.
He checked her fingers and toes and saw that they were pinking up nicely and smiled grimly. Looking down at her slack face, wet curls plastered to her forehead he sighed. He was a regular Prince Charming, he thought. If he wasn't skewering them he was driving them to suicide.
Now Logan wasn't sure what to do next. He should call the cops or an ambulance but he wasn't sure that, as a mutant, she would appreciate being put in their hands. Or maybe he was projecting his own distrust of authority figures? Anyway that seemed out of the question. She was still hypothermic. He went to work taking off her soaking jeans and tee leaving her in her bra and panties. Then lifting her gently from the cooling water he sat her in his lap and dried her with towels as best he could. Then he carried her to the bed and laid her in it and covered her. He hung her clothes over the shower rod to dry and returned to the room with a few extra sheets he'd found and covered her with those as well. He felt her skin and saw her shiver under the thin motel blanket and growled to himself. She wasn't out of the woods (so to speak) yet. She was still too cold and he didn't have anything else to cover her with. Except...
He shrugged and took off his boots and coats and shirts and clad only in his jeans climbed under the blanket and drew her close to him. This was going to take some explaining later....a LOT of explaining. He wrapped his arms around her and for a few moments he just looked at her. Her cheeks and nose were a bit wind burned, and the paleness of her skin against the burn was startling. But he had to admit she was really pretty. He stared at her full lips slightly parted and long lashes with captured water still clinging to them as they brushed her cheeks. Damn pretty. He yawned and blinked sleepily. Well, he mused, the day had ended just as he'd hope it would. With a lovely girl in his arms and in his bed. Chuckling to himself he closed his eyes.
In her sleep she shivered and Logan instinctively held her closer.
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She was someplace cold and dark, but she wasn't afraid. Charlie held her in his strong warm embrace and everything would be all right. He told her over and over that she never had to be alone again. He'd take care of her. She never wanted the embrace to end. She felt his warm breath on her neck and her arms went around his back and squeezed gently. She whispered his name softly as her mouth searched for his in the dark. "I finally found you again Charlie...I found you....Charlie."
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Logan's night should have been dreamless...he had been following the exercises that Wheels taught him. Even so he was surprised to wake finding himself locked in a, not so innocent, embrace with the frozen girl's, not so frozen, lips exploring his. Still partially asleep he returned the kiss. It felt so nice...small, warm hands traveled over his back and her kisses were urgent. A tender passion poured into him and he pulled back slightly...not in panic. But in a curiosity as to why she would be kissing him at all.
As their lips parted a small cry escaped hers. A tear formed in her left eye and fell in a ragged trail down her weather-burnished cheek.
"Charlie?" she whispered longingly.
So that explained it. She was dreaming. A lost love...a fond memory maybe? Whatever it was, it wasn't for him and as much as his body suddenly wished it was, he wasn't going to take advantage.
He attempted to pull out of the embrace and leave the bed, but her eyelids fluttered open and he was trapped by large green eyes that grew larger as they peered into his just inches away. There was a quavering wave of sickening fear that washed through him, with a small glow of those eyes but it was reined in. He could see the effort it took for her to control her power. Her forehead creased with strain and a whimper escaped her lips. Mostly he could tell by scent and attitude what she held back emotionally. She was terrified. She trembled in his arms and she bit her lower lip to control its quiver. But to his surprise she didn't try to escape...and she didn't try to use her power as a weapon against him. She seemed to be waiting for him to make the first move so he did. He released her.
"I found you in the snow...you were almost frozen. I was trying to warm you back up." He watched her look down at herself and at him quickly. "Nothing happened. Your clothes were wet and see...I still have my pants on." He attempted to smile after that, and remembered his smiles were often mistaken for grimaces and tried to look as harmless as possible. She cocked her head and looked away quickly and rolled out of his arms and sat with her back to him on the edge of the bed. Try as she could she couldn't hold back the small wave of humiliation and sadness that caught him.
"I can't help with the room...I don't have any money." Her voice was clear, midwestern, non-descript. But it was spoken so softly that if his hearing wasn't so keen he may have missed it.
"Room's paid for...don't worry."
Her shoulders drooped. "I'll get out of your way then." She went to stand and he caught her hand.
"Not until you promise not to pull a stunt like that again." He held her hand firm. "Besides...your things are probably still damp."
Her eyes glowed warning, but he didn't let go and she didn't release the energy she was building. "You have no right to tell me what to do...you don't know anything about me!"
Wolverine was glad to see she had more then fear in her. She had fire in her belly too. She was mad. That was good...so long as she was mad she wanted to kill him more then herself. He decided to kick it up a notch. "Whose Charlie?"
She seemed to lose her voice. She opened and closed her mouth like a fish before finally speaking. "What?"
He stood and looked down into her eyes. She didn't pull away. "I said...whose Charlie?" He grinned. "When I woke up you were kissing me and called me Charlie."
She licked her lips nervously...maybe trying to find the remains of a kiss there. "I didn't...." she muttered.
"You did...and pretty good too." He'd pushed too far and a small spike of pain stabbed between his eyes and he growled but didn't move.
"Shut UP!" She stood rigidly, trembling, very slightly with rage. Logan's brow creased with concerned annoyance and she must have felt it and tears welled in her eyes. "I'm sorry."
"Who are you Girlie?" The question was direct...gruff...but without anger.
"I'm Tyme."
He snorted. Mutant moniker. He didn't press for more...for some reason a lot of mutants seemed to find their birth names as painful connections to a humanity that no longer wanted them.
He turned away and picked his shirt off the floor and began turning the sleeves out. "Whose Charlie?" He didn't look at her. He waited in a way that made her think he wasn't waiting. He heard a bone weary sigh, which caught in her throat.
"He was a boy I met when I was 17...actually he was older...he was 20." She heard the chuckle in Logan's throat. "He was so mature...he was a mutant too. He told me he'd help me control my powers...but..."
"He left you." Logan concluded sourly. God. A heartsick kid...boy he could pick'em.
"NO!" And the air buzzed around his head uncomfortably, but he could tell by her look of pain that she was trying to hold it in. "I left him...I had no choice...my power pulled me back to my time."
Logan looked up. "What?" He felt the hairs stand up on the back of his head.
"When I time hop I get sick for a few days. Then I'm okay for about a week then I start feeling the present pull on me and I get sicker and sicker until I use my power again and go home. I managed to stay with Charlie for three weeks until he made me return because he was afraid I'd die." She started to sag toward the bed when Logan's hands gripped around her arms lifting her up. "Owww!" She struggled not to project the pain at him but she was growing frightened.
"What about this time travel?!" Logan suddenly held her inches from his face. She might be what he needed. With a gift like that she could take him back in time...take him to see his origins...take him to the people who tortured him so he could thank them personally! "Can you take me on one of these hops?"
"Stop it, let go!" She twisted in his grip...his emotions. Savage...vengeful...angry...battered her like a storm. "NO!" This time a flash of green light and a roar accompanied her scream as Logan lowered her to her feet and blinked.
Logan looked uncomfortable and he felt in that punishing blast her fear and confusion and he felt ashamed. "Sorry Girlie...I.... I got issues." He looked away from her startled gaze and chuckled. "Mutants all do...we're all nuts if you ask me." He tried to smile but he still wanted to know. "I thought the empathy crap was your game. I didn't know you had other bits and pieces."
She looked shaken but she sensed something around this man she could trust even if he looked...and felt, like he could snap her like a twig. "Yeah...the empathy keeps me alive because the hopping almost kills me."
"So...why didn't you just hop this Charlie back to now?" Logan didn't want to scare her anymore.
"I can't. The first time it happened I was 14...I ended up in an ancient Greek vineyard with no clothes on and hid in a cave for a week before I could hop back." She smiled sadly at the thought. "I was almost 16 before I could make the hop with my clothes...by then I'd been on my own for two years. I'm 20 now and I've only worked up to my back pack and taking it makes me so sick I spend much of the hop recovering."
Logan grunted. Well so much for a trip down amnesia lane. "So why don't you just make lots of little trips to see this Charlie? Long distance romance thing?"
Logan felt her sag from the inside out and she looked at him with her great green eyes. She sounded so small and so tired. "I tried for three years...over and over until I was so sick from it I would lay in a ditch for days, doing nothing but trying not to die. I can't control where or when...so I stopped trying.... I'll never see him again."
"You say you stopped trying...to hop...or trying not to die?" Logan lifted a finger to her cheek and traced it.
"Both." She leaned into him and he was caught off guard. He looked around then awkwardly hugged the shivering girl to his chest as she sobbed. He patted her back and waited. He was surprised to find humor penetrate his mind and hear a quavering chuckle. He looked down as she looked up. She sniffled. His face just inches from her's. She looked at his chest and raised her hand. "I got you all wet...sorry." She tried to brush the tears from his fur when he stiffened minutely at the ticklish gesture.
She stopped, and looked up uncertainly. He just shrugged. "No problem...I knew it had other uses besides keeping me warm. The words were casual but she felt that her closeness was growing uncomfortable for him. But she didn't move. She wanted to stay in the shelter of his arms for just a while longer. He smelled dusky, earthy...real. And it had been so long since anything felt real to her. She didn't want to leave his arms. Guilt gripped her. He wasn't Charlie...he wasn't anything like Charlie. But almost 4 years of memories were suddenly not enough to satisfy her now. It wasn't as though she wanted forever with this strange, warm man, but the here and now wasn't going to be denied. She made a decision and opened her feelings to him with a glow in her tear filled eyes. She allowed herself to appear emotionally naked to him and the effect was electric. He straightened quickly and his eyes opened wide. His pupils dilated and his nostrils flared. A shiver of anticipation shook her.
"My clothes will be wet for hours."
He nodded...suddenly at a loss for words. He had prepared himself for another frustrating encounter with someone in love with somebody else. This was catching him off guard. But if he was correct about the desire he felt filling him from her he had to hear it from her...He wanted that assurance. He didn't need anymore doubt or guilt in his life. "Are you sure you want this?"
She was so touched by his asking she almost started crying again. If it couldn't be Charlie then yes...he was the only man she wanted now...for this moment in time he was all she wanted. She ran her fingers thru the hair on his broad chest and slowly encircled his neck and opened her feelings toward him and felt an almost electrical charge run through him and the hairs of his body stand on end as he felt her excitement build in a way most men were never privy to. His grip at the base of her back tightened and one hand cradled her head as he lifted he into a kiss that was as suddenly urgent as breathing to a suffocating man. She fell headlong into the desire he felt and matched it...exceeded it.
He pulled back and looked down at her face as she opened glazed, glowing green eyes and searched his face for the source of his hesitation. But his hesitation wasn't for her...it was for himself. He had never felt a woman's passion wash over him like this...to feel her need as deeply as he felt his own...her fear. Her excitement. He was momentarily concerned with the fear she felt. He saw it stem from past experiences...and from what she saw the night before of his mutant gifts. But he saw that those gifts also excited her...tempted her. He smiled wolfishly and he watched her eyes follow the tip of his tongue as it licked the front of sharp teeth and he felt her jump in his arms as he sprang the claws of the hand that had held her head. She shifted nervously against him as he tickled her back with the back of adamantium blades until they hooked her bra and, without a sound, the material parted to reveal her breasts. She looked up at him and smiled...almost a challenge...and her small fingers hooked the top of his pants, and if she had claws, could have rended his pants from him. Soon the both stood naked in each other's arms.
He backed her up toward the bed and lowered her to the mattress and stalked up the length of her body. This was the most erotic thing he'd ever felt. Her need, her desire washing through him without pause. Knowing what she wanted or liked at the same time she did and she instinctively knew what he wanted and liked. If she HAD decided to become a prostitute she'd have made a bundle. He felt a moment's guilt for thinking that but he felt her heated blush turn into a shameless streak of humor as she sensed it and she pulled him on top of her with a breathless gasp followed by a chuckle when he looked at her with concern that he may have hurt her. She had a devilish look of mischief on her face and with her eyes glowing brightly she looked almost feral. He smiled to realize she was matching his pace by accessing his aggression. Thrust for thrust she threw herself into their moment. He couldn't surprise her....or could he? The berserker took control of him and with a savage grin he sprang his claws beside both sides of her head and felt her spasm with the shock of the pain he felt whenever he did that and watched her mouth open wide with ecstasy as he slammed both fists into the headboard above her planting the claws deep in the wood. The traction was wild and their night was intense...almost too intense. The occupant of the room next door had resumed pounding on the wall urgently as they came together explosively.
Retracting claws and rolling onto his side he stared at her face and realized she was crying. But her emotions were now walled away from him again and she turned away and lay against him drinking in his warmth but not communicating. He laid a hand on her shoulder suddenly afraid he may have hurt her. She turned slightly and smiled reassuringly. Her eyes held no glow...it was just a woman's ability to know that made her understand his fear.
"I'm ok.... just a little emotional now." She whispered. "That was pretty...wow...ummm..."
"Intense?" He whispered back.
She nodded.
He brushed a stray curl of sweat dampened blonde hair out of her eyes with a fingertip and frowned uncomfortably. No strings...they both agreed. That was fine with him...anonymous encounters were a happy norm for him...but she was...different. He leaned over the edge of the bed and scooped his jacket from the floor and turned back to her. Plucking at the collar he held the X-Pin in front of her eyes.
"Look Tyme...I have...um...friends. They are mutants. Do-gooders...but they have a mansion. A school. They're a haven for mutants that need help." He couldn't walk away and leave her the way he found her. Maybe the X-Men had rubbed off on him more then he knew...dammit.
She gazed at the pin he held in front of her like she was looking at a mirage she expected to disappear in a moment...almost like a starving child looking at a loaf of bread. Logan found himself not wanting to imagine how hard her life had been that something so small could make her so hungry-looking.
"Do you want me to call them?"
She nodded numbly, tears standing in her eyes.
Wolverine pressed the pin tight between his finger and thumb not really sure if that was how to turn it on. He tried not to look startled when it squealed and then hummed steadily. Then a familiar voice. "Thanks Claws...I just won the pool."
Wolverine's eyebrow's knitted darkly over his brow like thunderclouds. "What pool Boyscout?" He growled with warning.
"The one that guessed you'd buzz us." Tyme cocked her head to listen to the confident young man's voice. "But even I thought it would be another week...what trouble you got?"
Tyme saw Logan tense...chewing the cigar he'd picked out of his coat pocket like it was a nasty pest he wanted to eat. "Look...I don't need any help from you bub..." Then Logan felt a prick of embarrassed confusion and looked at Tyme with a small grunt of apology. "I have a mutant here who could use your help."
"Another stray Wolverine?" came the amused reply.
"You could say that..." he smiled at Tyme then glowered at the pin. " So are you going to help?"
"What you got?"
"Time traveling empath." Logan waited.
"Hold on Logan...." This seemed odd but Logan shrugged toward Tyme who looked like she was about ready to bolt out of there if she was rejected. He didn't think they ever would but what was taking them so long?
Scott's voice came back crisp and serious. "Keep her there Logan...there's an old airstrip about 2 miles down the hwy from you...meet us there in an hour. Over."
Logan blinked at the silent pin and hooked it back to his lapel and glanced over at the pretty blond who watched him worriedly.
"Well?" she asked.
"Well...we get dressed and meet them." He rolled off the bed and stood but as he walked past she caught his hand.
"We have an hour..." she smiled.
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They were late. As they roared up on Wolverine's bike the door of the X-Men's Plane was lowering and Cyclops and Storm were making their way down it.
Tyme lagged behind Wolverine holding his hand and hiding behind his broad back as they walked to the end of the ramp to greet the new arrivals. But Storm smiled comfortingly as did Cyclops and Tyme reached out to drink in a genuine feeling of goodwill that emanated from both of them, and she nodded with a smile to each of them as Logan made his curt introductions.
She felt more then goodwill...she felt Storm's genuine affection for Logan and Logan's for her. She smiled behind Logan's back. Such a brute of a man and he had such a genteel sensibility when it came to a woman he'd warmed up to. She also felt Logan's respect...and competition with the Cyclops who stood so stiffly and so neatly that even the snow seemed to refuse to fall on him and ruin his composure. To ruin the look of command he possessed.
Then Tyme felt every muscle in her body contract...stiffen. She stepped away from Wolverine and stumbled... her legs almost collapsing under her. Logan lunged catching her and Cyclops was at her other side ready to steady her but she didn't see or feel them. She stared at the ramp and at the man who rolled down it toward her. She felt him in her mind and she in his and she felt the tears flowing down her face and her heart beating so loud in both their minds that she thought it would burst.
"Tyme?!" Logan held her up but she was struggling away from him and Scott and lunging toward the man in the wheelchair.
"CHARLIE!!?"
She collapsed forward burying her tear-streaked face in his shirt and sobbing as though she had never cried in her whole life until now. Her body wracked with such sobbing that Logan feared she might injure a rib or something.
She was in no position to talk. Logan looked up at the Professor, whose face was sad, calm, and compassionate. "You're Charlie?"
Logan stared then looked away quickly. There was nothing Charles Xavier couldn't pull out of his mind...and here he'd just slept...well not all of it was sleep...oh shit....
But when Charles Xavier spoke inside his head it began with a warm mental nod. **I'm glad you found her Logan. I'm glad she could trust you enough. I'm glad she was able to enjoy your...company.**
Logan looked at Tyme as she continued to hold the Professor tightly around the waist and cry.
**She has spent too much time alone, waiting, hoping. And she is going to be more then disappointed when she learns that time and experience have made me different then the Charlie she knew and loved, and who loved her, for those three short weeks. She's going to have to learn and move on...so I'm glad she was able to make that start with you...because this will be difficult for her.** The Professor twined his fingers through her curls and looked down then back at Logan. Logan could see the incredible regret, the sadness, the determination, and the remnants of love he once had for her and knew that "difficult" wasn't going to be nearly the word to describe what was going to happen...and he wanted to save her from that hurt and knew that he couldn't. Professor Charles Xavier smiled at him and nodded. "We will take care of her now." He said out loud.
Logan climbed onto his bike and kicked it to life and turned toward the road. As he pulled away he looked up at the plane rising slowly into the air and felt the ball of love, and friendship that was lobbed into his heart like a sloppy snowball.
He smiled and gunned the bike....time to go.
That feeling was, in no small part, due to the X-Men. The optimistic team of Mutants who believed there was a way for "normal" folks and muties to live together without killing each other. He wasn't sure their optimism was infectious. In fact, he was pretty sure they needed a pessimist like himself around to keep them real. But their view, and how they wanted others like them to live made his dark view of the world seem less dark...just a little. That and the new bike that is. And thanks to Wheels...um the Professor, he wouldn't need to bust his balls, or someone else's, to earn his next meal. In his rucksack he had found 2,000 dollars and a note with an X-pin attached.
"We didn't think you'd need the helmet. The pink slip is yours. Keep the pin, press it if you need help. We'll answer. You aren't alone anymore."
Logan had admitted a bit of disappointment to find he hadn't really stolen the boyscout's bike. He'd imagined the look on Cyclop's face discovering the bike gone with relish. Oh well. Besides...the pinkslip made it easier if a cop questioned him. Not that a cop could catch him on that bike if he didn't want him too.
For a split second the rebel in him almost convinced him to toss the pin. Then with a lopsided grin he attached it to the collar of his leather jacket. Souvenir. He pocketed the cash. Yeah...they were okay people. Especially Jean. He shook his head and sucked the cold air between his teeth sharply. Especially Jean.
Well he was glad everything had turned out well. He had lived the last 12 years of his life without too many things he felt good about...so if nothing else seeing that the kid, Rogue, was safe and would get a shot made all that happened worth the bother. Besides, he liked a good brawl. He laughed. And now he had folks who actually wanted to see him again who weren't lawmen, or battered bouncers.
He took another deep breath and leaned into a curve and gunned the engine. The road was a black drift blown ribbon before him and the wind bit at him. And the engine throbbing between his legs made him think of other things he hadn't done in a while in a frustrating way. He scanned the signs he passed for signs of life...or a bar.
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Tyme flipped blond curls from her eyes and adjusted the cheap sunglasses that fought to keep the unrelenting snow-glare from blinding her.
"Jerk." She breathed, watching steam curl itself around the word.
In the middle of no-freaking-where and he leaves her. It wasn't entirely unexpected. She had sensed his attraction, and duplicity in his offer to give her a lift from the Denny's but she'd assumed he would have waited until he got where he was going before trying to exact payment. And she'd thought the risk worth it. She certainly wasn't afraid of the 100 pound pimple king. Geek boy must have thought his get-some plan was fool proof. Pulling over and the threat of being left in the snow as incentive for her to put out. As cold as she was she still felt some warmth recalling the look on his face when she told him she would take her chances with the weather before she'd have sex with talking acne. Unfortunately her anger wasn't going to keep her warm for long.
After the first bitter hour of walking she began to wonder if saving herself from the proverbial "fate worse then death" had been worth it. It wasn't as though she'd never been asked to trade on her looks before. Maybe it was time to finally give in. She shook herself angrily. NO. She had promised herself that certain lines would never be crossed. She'd never sink that low. She would rather freeze.
What little traffic there was dried up as the sun started pinking up the sky with it's setting. Long haul truckers were looking for shelter. This was getting bad. Her clothes weren't the best. Her feet were numb in her battered sneakers and the zipper on her fringed denim jacket didn't work. She tried to keep it closed with her chapped, gloveless hands and wind blew up her bellbottoms freezing her legs from the knees down. Her only other clothes were sitting dirty in the bottom of her backpack under a shabby bedroll and threadbare blanket.
She caught a tear freezing on her cheek as she fought the idea of continual motion. Of never stopping...of never finding what she was looking for. She fought the urge to do the one thing she hated most.
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He passed her doing 70 and tilted his head in what passed for a double take for him. What was it about chicks and snowy roads and him? This time he felt less resentful as he turned the bike in a wide turn and headed back.
As he pulled up and stopped along side her she stepped back quickly and tried to recover a casual look. Logan smiled at the gesture. He could smell the fear on her. But she wasn't about to show it. He looked her over. About 5'5 and 120 lbs, weathered bellbottoms that clung to her like a second skin in all the right areas, and an open jacket and a blood red t shirt that didn't hide the fact that she was cold. She followed his gaze and pulled the jacket shut again. He smiled wider. She was very pretty. A delicate heart shaped face and sunglasses pushed back into pale short blond curls. Bright green eyes squinted against the wind at him warily. Her small, slightly pointy nose was wind burned as were her cheeks and she coughed slightly. She was young...but she looked legal.
"Need a ride Girlie?" he offered with a lupine smile...maybe too lupine. He sensed her fear take a leap upward...no...he almost "felt" it. He growled at himself. It seemed his lot in life to terrify women as an introduction. He suddenly felt like the Big Bad Wolf to her Little Red Riding Hood.
"Look lady," he growled apologetically. "I don't bite and I won't hurt you."
The young woman looked around. Up and down the deserted road. Her movements were graceful, like a skittish doe's. Her tongue darted, nervously, over full lips and she looked ready to cry. The shivers that took hold of her could be fear more then cold. "No strings sweetheart," he added. "I ain't gonna try anything." He suddenly felt nervous himself and a little guilty. For all he knew her past may have made her rightly afraid of men. He was almost afraid she would refuse the ride and take her chances tonight on the road. He looked around and by the sting of the rising wind on his skin he didn't like that thought. He knew there was no chance out here.
Her eyes widened for a spilt second and he cocked his head. Her large green eyes went unfocused briefly and then she looked at him curiously. A surprised smile tugged at her lips and she nodded quickly and stepped...almost stumbled forward. She climbed behind him awkwardly and he felt her small hands snake around him and stop for a moment as his stomach tensed from their chilly embrace and she leaned against him softly. He looked down at the hands, with their short serviceable nails painted in red chipped polish.
He wondered if she was in the game and took a deep breath. Pine needles, hotel soap...but no men. Some men wax poetic about the "scent of a woman"...they might not if they had his senses. This girl had no scent other then her own, and he felt a tightness below the belt.
She tensed again against him and he shifted nervously.
"Hold on."
Then he smiled to himself and kicked the engine over and the bike jerked forward causing her to dig her fingers into his stomach and pull herself against him tightly.
Sometimes being Mr. Big Bad had its advantages.
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The man on the bike was rough looking. Foreboding. Hunched over the bike, black leather, razor stubble, muttonchops, hard muscled and hard bearing. He frightened her immediately. Experience had taught her that you avoided men like this if you wanted to stay alive long. When he had turned around her eyes had searched frantically for cover. Help. When there wasn't any she was left to try to bluff, but when he'd spoken her she suddenly felt herself unable to respond. She felt the examination of her body like she had so many times before. She grew shakier as he weighed her in terms most men did. Then something changed. His hard dark hazel eyes met hers and she had felt a sadness...regret...fear. Fear for her safety if he left her. He confused her. She felt no deceit in him at all when he promised he wouldn't hurt her. It had surprised her. Totally disarming her. A flood of relief took her toward his bike and she climbed behind him. There was even a rush of excited humor as he launched the bike forward and got the result he seemed to be looking for. She closed her eyes and buried her face in his back and smiled at the good-humored bark of a chuckle he allowed to escape as she grasped him suddenly.
He was rough.... but he wasn't bad.
She closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax for the first time in days.
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Logan rode along, grateful for the warmth behind him after a while. He cut the bike's speed when he realized that the girl was drifting off. Her grip had lightened and it was a good thing they were pulling into the motel/bar's lot, as she seemed ready to lose it altogether. He looked around. Nice place...homey. Truckers, hookers and drunks puking between parked cars. His kinda place. He snorted bitterly at the stale, decayed smell all around him.
"Last stop...everybody off." He said under his breath as he cut the engine and put down the rest. He tapped her hands lightly and winced. They were icy. He looked around embarrassed and placed his hands over them to warm them while she sighed behind him. He didn't move for a few minutes. Then yawning he tried to wake her again.
"We're here." He announced again and reached back and tapped her on her knee.
A fiery spike of pain lanced thru his brain as the girl sprang to wakefulness with the startled motion of one waking from a dream of falling. His heart began to race as though it would burst and he cried out as he fell from the bike. His right hand on his head his left hand shooting out and his claws extending in a sudden, painful ~SNIK~ as he rolled over onto his back and saw her stumble from the bike looking at him in guilty terror. He was feeling, confusion, fear, guilt, overwhelming sadness. No...SHE was feeling these things and projecting them toward him like darts. Her eyes glowed startling neon green filling her entire face and casting an eerie light on the snow. She was a mutant. He grew angry.
"What in the Hell are you doing to me!!??"
There was an abrupt severing of the pain she threw at him, which caused him to sway as he crawled to his knees...it ended in a wash of frustration and horrible despair. She stammered helplessly...not words..just "uh uh uh ohhhhh...." A choking sob welled out of the girl as she stared stiff limbed and in shock at him rising before her, the green glowing light dying in her eyes...she raised a faltering hand toward him and dropped it trembling...and she turned and fled through the slush of the parking lot and into the inky darkness.
Logan didn't follow. He shook his head and growled. The girl was a mutant. He'd gone above and beyond. She would get by. He was steering clear of this...he'd had enough of the Good Samaritan crap and wasn't up for another go. Closing his eyes and he pushed the rest of the pain out of his head. He remembered her look of desolation...remembered the feelings...he became angry with himself. Stay outta this one son. Mind your own business.
With a retracting ~Snik~ of his claws he turned on his heel and stalked toward the bar door. He glanced back one more time as the door pushed open at the broken sunglasses in the muck next to the bike and his eyes searched the dark. Growling at himself he went inside. Stay outta it.
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Tyme ran. The trees in the woods behind the motel clawed at her as she ran. But she didn't feel them. She wanted to be safe. She wanted to be rest...to finally rest. She was tired of being tired and frightened all the time. She fell and tore her knee against a rock. She howled in anger and frustration. The pain wasn't a concern...wasn't even felt. Her empathic powers were the only ones that had kept her alive up until now. If they were going to start betraying her now too she had no way to go on. The man on the motorcycle had been a mutant too...the claws...he had to be. A person who might have understood or advised her and she had alienated him too. The rage in his eyes. The anger. She'd become even more frightened and she couldn't stop the empathic attack. She was sobbing...the freezing air burned her lungs and made her throat raw and ache. He might have understood like Charlie had understood. Her family hated her...her town drove her out...Charlie was gone...the man on the bike was furious with her....she had no one and nothing. Nothing.
Hopping wasn't an option. She hated it...it made her sick...and it made her hope over and over only to dash them again and again. She limped along until she came to a log with a high drift rising over it like a lean-to she crouched down behind it and hugged her knees to her chest and stared blankly at the drift.
Tyme had run out.
Her eyes widened slightly as if seeing things clearly for the first time. She'd heard somewhere that freezing wasn't a bad way to die. You just get real tired and fall asleep. She could rest. Sleep would be nice. It was time to sleep. The hollow exhaustion was going to win...she would let it win and it would all go away. Without any more emotion to project she tossed her backpack away from her and slowly took off her jacket. She rolled the jacket and laid it down. No mistakes she thought as she dug her fingers into the looming drift, collapsing it on her, and she laid back on the jacket pillow. Who knew snow could weigh so much? Or be so comforting. Like the comforter on her bed back home...so long ago it seemed. She sucked in her breath and lay still and closed her eyes. Her body shivered as its survival defenses kicked in.
After a little the pin pricks of painful discomfort diminished and she began to numb nicely. The cold leeched through her and her mind wandered. Slowly closing her eyes she smiled slightly. Maybe Charlie was already on the other side waiting for her. The thought made her happy. She was so drowsy. It would be all right soon. The night would make it all go away.
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Logan's good humor of earlier was gone. Inside the smoke filled bar he had enough energy to order a drink and get a set of keys from the bartender-slash-motel clerk. No talk...no signing in...classy place. Pocketing the keys he dropped heavily onto a duct taped stool and fish a cigar from his pocket and light up. Grabbing his beer he took a swig and looked around. The place reeked of stale booze, dirty bodies and cheap sex. Music played too loudly from a thudding juke box and one distinguished patron puked in a trash can in a dark corner while his "date" took the wallet from his back pocket.
"Home Sweet Home" he muttered wearily and set the bottle down.
What had that girl done to him? Was she psychic like the Prof and Jean? No. There was none of the cool words or controlled images. The feeling of having someone speaking to you but, separate from you. This girl had made him FEEL what she felt. Worse...he was almost positive she was feeling what he was feeling. And that made him uncomfortable. He had little else in this world...his emotions were his. He didn't want anyone seeing, feeling, that deep inside him. What was the word? She was an...Empath. That's it. An Empath. He drew in the acrid cigar smoke into his lungs and held it. He felt her pain, her fear, her incredible loneliness. He remembered the bone weariness that had mirrored his a few weeks before. Exhaling he chewed angrily on the stogie and stared at his drink. He also remembered waking recently from a nightmare...shaken and disoriented and accidentally hurting someone too. He remembered feeling terror, guilt, he remembered the unspoken apology sticking in his constricted throat. He remembered it all and they were the same feelings the blond girl felt when she'd accidentally hurt him.
Cursing under his breath he stubbed the stogie out in his palm with a satisfying grimace and put it back in his pocket and threw down his tab and headed for the door. Growling at himself, at what he was going to do...again.
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Outside he sniffed at the air and turned his head. Pulling the collar of his jacket up he walked resolutely toward the woods behind the motel. At the wood's edge he stopped and looked down. Tracks in the snow. And something in the air. A metallic tang that bothered him with its familiarity. Blood.
His pace quickened. He was geared for this. Like a hound he tracked her. Instinct driven. His breathing slowed and deepened to draw in and taste each scent. Part of him enjoyed this hunt...and he hated that part of himself. He came to where the snow was greatly disturbed and saw the rock with night keen eyes that was marked with her blood. He threw back his head and drew in another breath. Something was terribly wrong. Her scent was fading...he began to run. Leaping a log he spied her pack under a tree and bolted toward it. The scent. He spun around and looked behind him...flush along the log. His eyes went wide with horror. She lay like Snow White...bone white and motionless. A wintry blanket and a jacket pillow and a small smile frozen on bluing lips. For a moment all he could do was stare.
God...she was committing suicide!
A steady stream of expletives flowed out of him until he bit his lip and shut up...what was the use. his audience was a Popsicle.
He dropped down beside her and dug into the snow. Clawing it away from her throat and chest and reaching under her arms and pulling her from under it's weight. He felt for a pulse and couldn't be sure he felt one. A fluttering maybe. He lowered his keen ear to her chest and could feel the ice crackle from her t-shirt. But his sharper then normal hearing picked up what he sought. A sluggish beating...resentful...grudging...hopeful. He didn't wait. Scooping her into his arms he ran back toward the motel. She never stirred during the journey back or while he fumbled with the key in the lock. He laid her on the bed and started a bath. Then running back to the bed he pulled off her shoes and socks and rubbed her toes and fingers between his hands and the tub filled. Forcing blood into the extremities as best he could.
Finally, lifting her gently, he carried her to the bath and lowered her into the steaming water.
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For a few seconds nothing happened. Logan felt the same terrible dread he'd felt as he held Rogue's lifeless body close. The feeling of failure...helplessness.
But then the girl stirred and Logan's mind leapt back to the present. Then the reaction he'd hoped for. She started to scream. The screaming meant that the blood was being forced back into the near frozen tissue. The pain meant the tissue was alive. And Logan braced himself. Sudden pain shot through him and he struggled not to pop his claws while he held her. His mind and body were seared by the agony the girl felt and he bit down on his lip until he thought he would bite clear through it. Then he joined her in screaming. He struggled to keep the flailing girl's head above water...he struggled to separate his mind and emotions from hers...to retain his identity.
Surprisingly their screams brought no one. If it hadn't hurt so much Logan would have laughed when the only reaction was the next door tenant pounding on the wall and shouting at them to either keep it down or invite him over.
Though it seemed like an eternity, eventually the pain subsided into complete exhausted release. The empathic connection with Logan ceased as the girl moaned softly and went limp in his arms again. Logan shook his head and opened his eyes.
He checked her fingers and toes and saw that they were pinking up nicely and smiled grimly. Looking down at her slack face, wet curls plastered to her forehead he sighed. He was a regular Prince Charming, he thought. If he wasn't skewering them he was driving them to suicide.
Now Logan wasn't sure what to do next. He should call the cops or an ambulance but he wasn't sure that, as a mutant, she would appreciate being put in their hands. Or maybe he was projecting his own distrust of authority figures? Anyway that seemed out of the question. She was still hypothermic. He went to work taking off her soaking jeans and tee leaving her in her bra and panties. Then lifting her gently from the cooling water he sat her in his lap and dried her with towels as best he could. Then he carried her to the bed and laid her in it and covered her. He hung her clothes over the shower rod to dry and returned to the room with a few extra sheets he'd found and covered her with those as well. He felt her skin and saw her shiver under the thin motel blanket and growled to himself. She wasn't out of the woods (so to speak) yet. She was still too cold and he didn't have anything else to cover her with. Except...
He shrugged and took off his boots and coats and shirts and clad only in his jeans climbed under the blanket and drew her close to him. This was going to take some explaining later....a LOT of explaining. He wrapped his arms around her and for a few moments he just looked at her. Her cheeks and nose were a bit wind burned, and the paleness of her skin against the burn was startling. But he had to admit she was really pretty. He stared at her full lips slightly parted and long lashes with captured water still clinging to them as they brushed her cheeks. Damn pretty. He yawned and blinked sleepily. Well, he mused, the day had ended just as he'd hope it would. With a lovely girl in his arms and in his bed. Chuckling to himself he closed his eyes.
In her sleep she shivered and Logan instinctively held her closer.
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She was someplace cold and dark, but she wasn't afraid. Charlie held her in his strong warm embrace and everything would be all right. He told her over and over that she never had to be alone again. He'd take care of her. She never wanted the embrace to end. She felt his warm breath on her neck and her arms went around his back and squeezed gently. She whispered his name softly as her mouth searched for his in the dark. "I finally found you again Charlie...I found you....Charlie."
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Logan's night should have been dreamless...he had been following the exercises that Wheels taught him. Even so he was surprised to wake finding himself locked in a, not so innocent, embrace with the frozen girl's, not so frozen, lips exploring his. Still partially asleep he returned the kiss. It felt so nice...small, warm hands traveled over his back and her kisses were urgent. A tender passion poured into him and he pulled back slightly...not in panic. But in a curiosity as to why she would be kissing him at all.
As their lips parted a small cry escaped hers. A tear formed in her left eye and fell in a ragged trail down her weather-burnished cheek.
"Charlie?" she whispered longingly.
So that explained it. She was dreaming. A lost love...a fond memory maybe? Whatever it was, it wasn't for him and as much as his body suddenly wished it was, he wasn't going to take advantage.
He attempted to pull out of the embrace and leave the bed, but her eyelids fluttered open and he was trapped by large green eyes that grew larger as they peered into his just inches away. There was a quavering wave of sickening fear that washed through him, with a small glow of those eyes but it was reined in. He could see the effort it took for her to control her power. Her forehead creased with strain and a whimper escaped her lips. Mostly he could tell by scent and attitude what she held back emotionally. She was terrified. She trembled in his arms and she bit her lower lip to control its quiver. But to his surprise she didn't try to escape...and she didn't try to use her power as a weapon against him. She seemed to be waiting for him to make the first move so he did. He released her.
"I found you in the snow...you were almost frozen. I was trying to warm you back up." He watched her look down at herself and at him quickly. "Nothing happened. Your clothes were wet and see...I still have my pants on." He attempted to smile after that, and remembered his smiles were often mistaken for grimaces and tried to look as harmless as possible. She cocked her head and looked away quickly and rolled out of his arms and sat with her back to him on the edge of the bed. Try as she could she couldn't hold back the small wave of humiliation and sadness that caught him.
"I can't help with the room...I don't have any money." Her voice was clear, midwestern, non-descript. But it was spoken so softly that if his hearing wasn't so keen he may have missed it.
"Room's paid for...don't worry."
Her shoulders drooped. "I'll get out of your way then." She went to stand and he caught her hand.
"Not until you promise not to pull a stunt like that again." He held her hand firm. "Besides...your things are probably still damp."
Her eyes glowed warning, but he didn't let go and she didn't release the energy she was building. "You have no right to tell me what to do...you don't know anything about me!"
Wolverine was glad to see she had more then fear in her. She had fire in her belly too. She was mad. That was good...so long as she was mad she wanted to kill him more then herself. He decided to kick it up a notch. "Whose Charlie?"
She seemed to lose her voice. She opened and closed her mouth like a fish before finally speaking. "What?"
He stood and looked down into her eyes. She didn't pull away. "I said...whose Charlie?" He grinned. "When I woke up you were kissing me and called me Charlie."
She licked her lips nervously...maybe trying to find the remains of a kiss there. "I didn't...." she muttered.
"You did...and pretty good too." He'd pushed too far and a small spike of pain stabbed between his eyes and he growled but didn't move.
"Shut UP!" She stood rigidly, trembling, very slightly with rage. Logan's brow creased with concerned annoyance and she must have felt it and tears welled in her eyes. "I'm sorry."
"Who are you Girlie?" The question was direct...gruff...but without anger.
"I'm Tyme."
He snorted. Mutant moniker. He didn't press for more...for some reason a lot of mutants seemed to find their birth names as painful connections to a humanity that no longer wanted them.
He turned away and picked his shirt off the floor and began turning the sleeves out. "Whose Charlie?" He didn't look at her. He waited in a way that made her think he wasn't waiting. He heard a bone weary sigh, which caught in her throat.
"He was a boy I met when I was 17...actually he was older...he was 20." She heard the chuckle in Logan's throat. "He was so mature...he was a mutant too. He told me he'd help me control my powers...but..."
"He left you." Logan concluded sourly. God. A heartsick kid...boy he could pick'em.
"NO!" And the air buzzed around his head uncomfortably, but he could tell by her look of pain that she was trying to hold it in. "I left him...I had no choice...my power pulled me back to my time."
Logan looked up. "What?" He felt the hairs stand up on the back of his head.
"When I time hop I get sick for a few days. Then I'm okay for about a week then I start feeling the present pull on me and I get sicker and sicker until I use my power again and go home. I managed to stay with Charlie for three weeks until he made me return because he was afraid I'd die." She started to sag toward the bed when Logan's hands gripped around her arms lifting her up. "Owww!" She struggled not to project the pain at him but she was growing frightened.
"What about this time travel?!" Logan suddenly held her inches from his face. She might be what he needed. With a gift like that she could take him back in time...take him to see his origins...take him to the people who tortured him so he could thank them personally! "Can you take me on one of these hops?"
"Stop it, let go!" She twisted in his grip...his emotions. Savage...vengeful...angry...battered her like a storm. "NO!" This time a flash of green light and a roar accompanied her scream as Logan lowered her to her feet and blinked.
Logan looked uncomfortable and he felt in that punishing blast her fear and confusion and he felt ashamed. "Sorry Girlie...I.... I got issues." He looked away from her startled gaze and chuckled. "Mutants all do...we're all nuts if you ask me." He tried to smile but he still wanted to know. "I thought the empathy crap was your game. I didn't know you had other bits and pieces."
She looked shaken but she sensed something around this man she could trust even if he looked...and felt, like he could snap her like a twig. "Yeah...the empathy keeps me alive because the hopping almost kills me."
"So...why didn't you just hop this Charlie back to now?" Logan didn't want to scare her anymore.
"I can't. The first time it happened I was 14...I ended up in an ancient Greek vineyard with no clothes on and hid in a cave for a week before I could hop back." She smiled sadly at the thought. "I was almost 16 before I could make the hop with my clothes...by then I'd been on my own for two years. I'm 20 now and I've only worked up to my back pack and taking it makes me so sick I spend much of the hop recovering."
Logan grunted. Well so much for a trip down amnesia lane. "So why don't you just make lots of little trips to see this Charlie? Long distance romance thing?"
Logan felt her sag from the inside out and she looked at him with her great green eyes. She sounded so small and so tired. "I tried for three years...over and over until I was so sick from it I would lay in a ditch for days, doing nothing but trying not to die. I can't control where or when...so I stopped trying.... I'll never see him again."
"You say you stopped trying...to hop...or trying not to die?" Logan lifted a finger to her cheek and traced it.
"Both." She leaned into him and he was caught off guard. He looked around then awkwardly hugged the shivering girl to his chest as she sobbed. He patted her back and waited. He was surprised to find humor penetrate his mind and hear a quavering chuckle. He looked down as she looked up. She sniffled. His face just inches from her's. She looked at his chest and raised her hand. "I got you all wet...sorry." She tried to brush the tears from his fur when he stiffened minutely at the ticklish gesture.
She stopped, and looked up uncertainly. He just shrugged. "No problem...I knew it had other uses besides keeping me warm. The words were casual but she felt that her closeness was growing uncomfortable for him. But she didn't move. She wanted to stay in the shelter of his arms for just a while longer. He smelled dusky, earthy...real. And it had been so long since anything felt real to her. She didn't want to leave his arms. Guilt gripped her. He wasn't Charlie...he wasn't anything like Charlie. But almost 4 years of memories were suddenly not enough to satisfy her now. It wasn't as though she wanted forever with this strange, warm man, but the here and now wasn't going to be denied. She made a decision and opened her feelings to him with a glow in her tear filled eyes. She allowed herself to appear emotionally naked to him and the effect was electric. He straightened quickly and his eyes opened wide. His pupils dilated and his nostrils flared. A shiver of anticipation shook her.
"My clothes will be wet for hours."
He nodded...suddenly at a loss for words. He had prepared himself for another frustrating encounter with someone in love with somebody else. This was catching him off guard. But if he was correct about the desire he felt filling him from her he had to hear it from her...He wanted that assurance. He didn't need anymore doubt or guilt in his life. "Are you sure you want this?"
She was so touched by his asking she almost started crying again. If it couldn't be Charlie then yes...he was the only man she wanted now...for this moment in time he was all she wanted. She ran her fingers thru the hair on his broad chest and slowly encircled his neck and opened her feelings toward him and felt an almost electrical charge run through him and the hairs of his body stand on end as he felt her excitement build in a way most men were never privy to. His grip at the base of her back tightened and one hand cradled her head as he lifted he into a kiss that was as suddenly urgent as breathing to a suffocating man. She fell headlong into the desire he felt and matched it...exceeded it.
He pulled back and looked down at her face as she opened glazed, glowing green eyes and searched his face for the source of his hesitation. But his hesitation wasn't for her...it was for himself. He had never felt a woman's passion wash over him like this...to feel her need as deeply as he felt his own...her fear. Her excitement. He was momentarily concerned with the fear she felt. He saw it stem from past experiences...and from what she saw the night before of his mutant gifts. But he saw that those gifts also excited her...tempted her. He smiled wolfishly and he watched her eyes follow the tip of his tongue as it licked the front of sharp teeth and he felt her jump in his arms as he sprang the claws of the hand that had held her head. She shifted nervously against him as he tickled her back with the back of adamantium blades until they hooked her bra and, without a sound, the material parted to reveal her breasts. She looked up at him and smiled...almost a challenge...and her small fingers hooked the top of his pants, and if she had claws, could have rended his pants from him. Soon the both stood naked in each other's arms.
He backed her up toward the bed and lowered her to the mattress and stalked up the length of her body. This was the most erotic thing he'd ever felt. Her need, her desire washing through him without pause. Knowing what she wanted or liked at the same time she did and she instinctively knew what he wanted and liked. If she HAD decided to become a prostitute she'd have made a bundle. He felt a moment's guilt for thinking that but he felt her heated blush turn into a shameless streak of humor as she sensed it and she pulled him on top of her with a breathless gasp followed by a chuckle when he looked at her with concern that he may have hurt her. She had a devilish look of mischief on her face and with her eyes glowing brightly she looked almost feral. He smiled to realize she was matching his pace by accessing his aggression. Thrust for thrust she threw herself into their moment. He couldn't surprise her....or could he? The berserker took control of him and with a savage grin he sprang his claws beside both sides of her head and felt her spasm with the shock of the pain he felt whenever he did that and watched her mouth open wide with ecstasy as he slammed both fists into the headboard above her planting the claws deep in the wood. The traction was wild and their night was intense...almost too intense. The occupant of the room next door had resumed pounding on the wall urgently as they came together explosively.
Retracting claws and rolling onto his side he stared at her face and realized she was crying. But her emotions were now walled away from him again and she turned away and lay against him drinking in his warmth but not communicating. He laid a hand on her shoulder suddenly afraid he may have hurt her. She turned slightly and smiled reassuringly. Her eyes held no glow...it was just a woman's ability to know that made her understand his fear.
"I'm ok.... just a little emotional now." She whispered. "That was pretty...wow...ummm..."
"Intense?" He whispered back.
She nodded.
He brushed a stray curl of sweat dampened blonde hair out of her eyes with a fingertip and frowned uncomfortably. No strings...they both agreed. That was fine with him...anonymous encounters were a happy norm for him...but she was...different. He leaned over the edge of the bed and scooped his jacket from the floor and turned back to her. Plucking at the collar he held the X-Pin in front of her eyes.
"Look Tyme...I have...um...friends. They are mutants. Do-gooders...but they have a mansion. A school. They're a haven for mutants that need help." He couldn't walk away and leave her the way he found her. Maybe the X-Men had rubbed off on him more then he knew...dammit.
She gazed at the pin he held in front of her like she was looking at a mirage she expected to disappear in a moment...almost like a starving child looking at a loaf of bread. Logan found himself not wanting to imagine how hard her life had been that something so small could make her so hungry-looking.
"Do you want me to call them?"
She nodded numbly, tears standing in her eyes.
Wolverine pressed the pin tight between his finger and thumb not really sure if that was how to turn it on. He tried not to look startled when it squealed and then hummed steadily. Then a familiar voice. "Thanks Claws...I just won the pool."
Wolverine's eyebrow's knitted darkly over his brow like thunderclouds. "What pool Boyscout?" He growled with warning.
"The one that guessed you'd buzz us." Tyme cocked her head to listen to the confident young man's voice. "But even I thought it would be another week...what trouble you got?"
Tyme saw Logan tense...chewing the cigar he'd picked out of his coat pocket like it was a nasty pest he wanted to eat. "Look...I don't need any help from you bub..." Then Logan felt a prick of embarrassed confusion and looked at Tyme with a small grunt of apology. "I have a mutant here who could use your help."
"Another stray Wolverine?" came the amused reply.
"You could say that..." he smiled at Tyme then glowered at the pin. " So are you going to help?"
"What you got?"
"Time traveling empath." Logan waited.
"Hold on Logan...." This seemed odd but Logan shrugged toward Tyme who looked like she was about ready to bolt out of there if she was rejected. He didn't think they ever would but what was taking them so long?
Scott's voice came back crisp and serious. "Keep her there Logan...there's an old airstrip about 2 miles down the hwy from you...meet us there in an hour. Over."
Logan blinked at the silent pin and hooked it back to his lapel and glanced over at the pretty blond who watched him worriedly.
"Well?" she asked.
"Well...we get dressed and meet them." He rolled off the bed and stood but as he walked past she caught his hand.
"We have an hour..." she smiled.
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They were late. As they roared up on Wolverine's bike the door of the X-Men's Plane was lowering and Cyclops and Storm were making their way down it.
Tyme lagged behind Wolverine holding his hand and hiding behind his broad back as they walked to the end of the ramp to greet the new arrivals. But Storm smiled comfortingly as did Cyclops and Tyme reached out to drink in a genuine feeling of goodwill that emanated from both of them, and she nodded with a smile to each of them as Logan made his curt introductions.
She felt more then goodwill...she felt Storm's genuine affection for Logan and Logan's for her. She smiled behind Logan's back. Such a brute of a man and he had such a genteel sensibility when it came to a woman he'd warmed up to. She also felt Logan's respect...and competition with the Cyclops who stood so stiffly and so neatly that even the snow seemed to refuse to fall on him and ruin his composure. To ruin the look of command he possessed.
Then Tyme felt every muscle in her body contract...stiffen. She stepped away from Wolverine and stumbled... her legs almost collapsing under her. Logan lunged catching her and Cyclops was at her other side ready to steady her but she didn't see or feel them. She stared at the ramp and at the man who rolled down it toward her. She felt him in her mind and she in his and she felt the tears flowing down her face and her heart beating so loud in both their minds that she thought it would burst.
"Tyme?!" Logan held her up but she was struggling away from him and Scott and lunging toward the man in the wheelchair.
"CHARLIE!!?"
She collapsed forward burying her tear-streaked face in his shirt and sobbing as though she had never cried in her whole life until now. Her body wracked with such sobbing that Logan feared she might injure a rib or something.
She was in no position to talk. Logan looked up at the Professor, whose face was sad, calm, and compassionate. "You're Charlie?"
Logan stared then looked away quickly. There was nothing Charles Xavier couldn't pull out of his mind...and here he'd just slept...well not all of it was sleep...oh shit....
But when Charles Xavier spoke inside his head it began with a warm mental nod. **I'm glad you found her Logan. I'm glad she could trust you enough. I'm glad she was able to enjoy your...company.**
Logan looked at Tyme as she continued to hold the Professor tightly around the waist and cry.
**She has spent too much time alone, waiting, hoping. And she is going to be more then disappointed when she learns that time and experience have made me different then the Charlie she knew and loved, and who loved her, for those three short weeks. She's going to have to learn and move on...so I'm glad she was able to make that start with you...because this will be difficult for her.** The Professor twined his fingers through her curls and looked down then back at Logan. Logan could see the incredible regret, the sadness, the determination, and the remnants of love he once had for her and knew that "difficult" wasn't going to be nearly the word to describe what was going to happen...and he wanted to save her from that hurt and knew that he couldn't. Professor Charles Xavier smiled at him and nodded. "We will take care of her now." He said out loud.
Logan climbed onto his bike and kicked it to life and turned toward the road. As he pulled away he looked up at the plane rising slowly into the air and felt the ball of love, and friendship that was lobbed into his heart like a sloppy snowball.
He smiled and gunned the bike....time to go.