Chapter 7.
Canada, early 1970s
Just before our love got lost you said
"I am as constant as a northern star"
And I said, "Constant in the darkness
Where's that at?
If you want me I'll be in the bar"
On the back of a cartoon coaster
In the blue TV screen light
I drew a map of Canada
Oh Canada
And I sketched your face on it twice
Oh you are in my blood like holy wine
Oh and you taste so bitter but you taste so sweet
Oh I could drink a case of you
I could drink a case of you darling
Still I'd be on my feet
I'd still be on my feet
Oh I am a lonely painter
I live in a box of paints
I'm frightened by the devil
And I'm drawn to those ones that ain't afraid
I remember that time that you told me, you said
"Love is touching souls"
Surely you touched mine
"Cause part of you pours out of me
In these lines from time to time
Oh you are in my blood like holy wine
And you taste so bitter but you taste so sweet
Oh I could drink a case of you
I could drink a case of you darling
Still I'd be on my feet
I'd still be on my feet
I met a woman
She had a mouth like yours
She knew your life
She knew your devils and your deeds
And she said
"Go to him, stay with him if you can
Oh but be prepared to bleed"
Oh but you are in my blood you're my holy wine
Oh and you taste so bitter but you taste so sweet
I could drink a case of you darling
Still I'd be on my feet
Still I'd be on my feet
I'd still be on my feet
James MacDonald Hudson made his way through the silent, snowy woods, leaving footprints that were soon filled in by the steady snow. He looked back for his new bride Heather, but she hadn't yet caught up to him. James smiled as he readjusted his hunting rifle on his back—this snowstorm had extended their honeymoon by a week, which was just fine with him.
James readied his rifle as he heard a noise from the evergreens to his left—he and Heather were in pursuit of a deer for food, but grizzly also roamed these woods, and at this time of year they were hungry if they came out of hibernation.
"Heath," he called quietly, "I got something over here." He saw his wife's small red head bobbing towards him up the hill, and moved ahead cautiously. The sound was growing closer, and James's heart sank when he recognized the moans of a wounded animal. Trapping was illegal in a state forest, but the vast majority of backwoods residents ignored the restrictions. Mac didn't relish having to put down a wolf or a badger that had gotten caught. He pushed aside snowy tree branches, until a clearing came into view. Mac stopped short. Lying huddled in the snow was a woman.
"Heather!" Mac shouted, running over to the body and feeling for a pulse. "Heather, get up here!" It was there, surprisingly strong for someone who looked near dead. Mac wondered how the woman had escaped freezing to death—all she wore was a bloody lab coat. Mac stripped off his own parka and wrapped it around her. She moaned again, one arm reaching out feebly to push him away.
"James?" Heather appeared out of the trees. "James, what…oh sweet Jesus."
"She's hurt badly," said Mac. "We need to get her back to the cabin." Heather nodded, taking his rifle and gear pack so Mac could lift the woman. She was much heavier than she looked—Mac had to strain to get her into his arms.
"No…" she muttered weakly.
"It's alright," said Mac. "We've got you now. You're going to be okay."
She didn't know where she was. The room came into focus slowly, but she didn't recognize her surroundings. Slowly, she sat up, clutching her pounding head.
The flannel shirt she was wearing came past her wrists and she smelled a male scent on it. She wondered if maybe she'd missed something.
"Is anyone there?" she asked, her voice cracking from lack of use. "Hello?"
A tall, handsome man with dark hair came in the room a moment later. "So you're awake."
"Sort of…"
He stood beside her. "My name is James MacDonald Hudson—Mac. My wife and I found you in the woods. We brought you in, and my wife administered medical attention."
"I don't need medical attention."
"I noticed. Your injuries started healing almost as soon as we got you in out of the snow."
She pulled the covers up to her chin, wrapping herself tighter. "Do you know me?"
"No." Mac frowned. "What's your name?"
She felt like she wanted to cry. "I…I don't know."
Mac sat beside her on the bed, wrapping his arms around her. She fell over on him, not caring that she was with a stranger. She didn't have any memories of anyone anyway, so what difference did it make? She sobbed into his shoulder.
"Um, I thought you might be hungry now that you're awake…"
Mac pulled away from her. "Heather, can I talk to you for a moment?"
"Sure." She brought the plate over to the woman in the bed. "Do you like tuna fish?"
"I don't know."
Heather frowned, but gave her the tray anyway. She left the room with her husband.
Logan could hear their conversation even thought the redhead called Heather had shut the door. It was like they were right next to her.
"Who is she?" Heather asked.
"I don't know," said Mac. "She doesn't remember."
"Amnesia?"
"Looks like it." Logan heard Mac's feet shift. "I wonder how she got there."
"Probably kidnapped and dumped by some redneck psychos after they'd had their fun with her."
"Maybe she's lucky she doesn't remember anything…"
"Traumatic memory loss wears off after a few days," said Heather, "or it never wears off…hopefully we can at least find out her name."
"She seems to be healed up from those wounds."
"I know…I've never seen anything like it, in all my years in the Department." Logan frowned anxiously to herself.
The Department…
"I wish the snow would let up—she needs to be checked out in a real hospital," said Mac. Logan heard Heather take steps towards him and the soft sound of bodies pressing together.
"But I thought you liked being stuck here with me, James MacDonald." Mac laughed.
"I do, Dr. Hudson, I do." Heather kissed him, a soft wet sound.
"Then relax and let me worry about the mystery woman, okay? She'll be fine here with us watching over her."
"Ya think maybe you could do something with black hair. A little longer." A frown. "Okay, make yourself a little smaller. Blue eyes. Yeah, that'll do."
Raven Darkhölme sighed. Sometimes she didn't know why she bothered with Victor Creed. Was he really worth it?
Victor grabbed her and threw her on the bed, kissing her so hard she could barely breathe.
Yes, yes he was.
Raven lay next to Victor afterwards, watching his chest rise and fall with his breathing. "You've never been that passionate before, Victor," she said, running her fingers down from his shoulder to the planes of his stomach. "I liked it."
"Yeah. I'm going to make a sandwich."
Raven pulled the sheets around her, allowing her body to shift back to it's normal shape and color, her short red hair brushing her cheeks. Victor liked variety, and she was more than happy to turn into the woman of his dreams most nights, but she wondered what was different about this one. The way he had looked at her…
"Raven! Where's the damn mustard?"
"In the refrigerator," she answered wearily. She wished she could just ask him, but it would either provoke a silent, scornful look or one of his towering rages. Victor strolled back into the bedroom holding a plate, sitting on the edge of the bed and devouring his sandwich.
"What's on yer mind, blue?" Raven started to speak, but changed her mind.
"Nothing in particular."
"That sounds about right."
"Fuck you, Victor."
"Been there, done that." Raven gathered her clothes and stomped out of the bedroom.
"Bastard."
Victor finished his sandwich and sprawled across the now vacant bed, quickly falling asleep.
Her eyes snapped open. Something from her dream…something vague she could almost grasp. She closed her eyes, trying to bring it back to the surface.
Logan…
She jumped from the bed, running into the other room. "Mac! Mac are you awake?"
"He went to see if the roads are any clearer yet."
She looked over at Heather. "My name," she said. "I remember my name."
Heather smiled. "That's wonderful! What is it?"
"Logan."
"Is that your first name or your last name?"
Logan frowned. "How the hell should I know?"
"They're starting to move some of the fallen trees off the road. I talked to someone who said we should be able to leave by the end of the week." Mac stopped, looking at Logan. "Hi."
"Hi." Logan smiled. "I remembered my name. It's Logan."
"That's great," Mac said, beaming at her. Heather turned away from the two other people in the room, concentrating on breakfast.
"I don't remember anything else," Logan said with a frown.
Mac took her hand in his. "But it's a start…Logan."
The pain pulled her back to consciousness. Her hands…they were burning. She looked down. There was blood on the sheets. She fumbled to get out of the bed, but her fingers didn't seem to want to work right. She looked down, and… Logan screamed. What were they?
"Logan! Logan are you alright?"
The sound of Mac's voice snapped her back to the moment. She wanted to make them go away. She took a deep breath, and with a *snikt* they were gone.
Mac burst into the room. His eyes grew wide at the sight of the blood on the bed and on Logan. "What happened?"
"Uh…that time of the month?"
Mac frowned. He didn't know much about that aspect of biology. "Um, okay. I'll have Heather wash the sheets."
Logan just nodded.
"Are you going to be okay?"
"Yeah, sure. I'm just going to go change my clothes, all right?"
Mac nodded, and Logan made her way into the bathroom, picking up the jeans and sweater Heather had lent her on the way in. She shut the door and looked down at her hands. Nothing was there now, except the blood. She made a tight fist with her left hand.
*SNIKT*
Logan winced, but pushed the pain away. Three long, metal claws were protruding from the backs of her hands. She reached up, touching the tip of one. She cursed, pulling back as they pierced through the flesh.
She knew she didn't remember anything much from before the Hudsons had found her, but somehow she knew that these hadn't always been with her. And yet, at the same time, they reminded her of something from long, long ago…
She pulled the claws back in her hands. They were something she could deal with later. Right now she had other things to deal with. Like cleaning up all that blood.
She rinsed off her hands, watching the red water run down the drain. She turned off the water and gripped the edges of the sink, looking at herself in the mirror.
She sneered angrily at the stranger that looked back.
"Well, well, well if it ain't my favorite shapeshifter."
Mystique froze. "What are you doing here?"
"Takin' a hit. You?"
"Same." Mystique frowned. "Who?"
Victor pointed to a man a few feet away. "Him. You?"
"Looks like the guy was double-booked."
Victor smirked. "Ain't that sweet. Wanna pull a double like in the old days?"
"Old days? It's been less than a year since I saw you last."
"Seems like longer. You were a sweet fuck, babe."
"I'm not getting back in your bed. That's already ruined my life enough."
Victor cocked a blond eyebrow. "What are you talking about, frail?"
"You have a hit, don't you Victor?" Mystique started to walk away.
Victor grabbed her arm. "Hell no. Yer not just walkin' away from me. What were you alludin' to?"
Mystique threw his arm off of her. "You knocked me up, you bastard."
Victor stared at her for a moment, not even noticing that his hit was walking away. "So where's the kid?"
"I don't know. I left him somewhere."
"You what! What kind of a lousy mother are you?"
"What the hell do you care, Creed? Like you would've been the world's best father. You probably would've kept the kid locked up in a closet or something."
Victor snarled, grabbing her by her collar. "I wouldn't lock my kid up nowhere, frail."
Mystique tried not to let her fear show, although she figured Victor could probably smell it. "He's with people better than us."
Victor pushed her away. "It was a boy."
"Yes. I…I named him Graydon Creed."
"Heh. Nice to know my son's name." He glared at Mystique. "Don't come back around me. I'll kill you."
He walked away, pushing past anyone who got in his way, the hit long since forgotten.
The setting was familiar to Logan—a small room inside a military installation, her teammates around her, command personnel going in and out. She sat on the edge of her cot and surveyed the small space. It felt like home. It felt right.
"How are you adjusting?" Mac poked his head in. Logan smiled at him.
"Not bad."
"It can seem sort of monastic at first, but we can get you some stuff to dress it up."
"It's perfect." Mac nodded.
"Good. Come down to the common area when you're ready and meet the rest of the team." He left, shutting the door behind him. Logan opened her small duffle bag full of hand me down clothes, and the one blue sweater she'd never returned to Heather Hudson. She knew it set off her eyes, and anyway, redheads wearing blue wasn't the most attractive thing on earth.
She put her few things in the drawers of her dresser while she thought about Heather and Mac. Mac was a wonderful, outgoing man who had been nothing but kind to her, but she sensed that Heather bore her some resentment. Well, Logan reasoned, she had interrupted their honeymoon. That would make her cranky.
The last thing in Logan's bag jingled as she drew it out. Another piece of the puzzle that was her past. Tarnished dogtags that had been around her neck when Mac found her, or so he claimed. They bore a serial number and a name. Wolverine. What kind of a name was that, anyway?
Logan put the tags around her neck, tucking them under her shirt. Somehow that felt right. She smoothed her long hair back, wondering why she cared how she looked. She was pretty, but who was she trying to impress? There was no one here but the rest of her team.
"Logan, this is Alpha Flight. Everyone, this is Logan." Mac gestured to the other people in the comfortable lounge. A chorus of assorted hellos came back. Logan felt suddenly intimidated. "Have a seat," said Mac. "Our CO will be in in just a moment." Logan sank into the nearest seat, which happened to be on a couch next to a very short man.
"Howya doin'?" he stuck out his hand. "Name's Puck." Logan shook it tentatively.
"Hi there Puck."
"So where's a pretty girl like you from?"
"Like she'd tell you." Logan looked up to see a tall, elegant white-haired woman standing over her. "Snowbird. Pleased to meet you."
"Hey."
"Puck suffers from what we like to call a severe lack of tact, coupled with stalker tendencies." Puck grinned.
"Aw, baby, you just want me and you can't have me."
"Not in my darkest nightmares." She smiled at Logan. "How did you come to be a member of Alpha Flight, my dear?"
"Mac found her in the woods," said Heather. "Brought her home like a stray."
"Ah," said Snowbird. Heather gave Logan a look and then stalked to the opposite end of the room. "Don't mind her," said Snowbird. "Heather has permanent PMS, plus she's paranoid Guardian is cheating on her."
"Guardian?"
"James."
"Oh," said Logan. "Is he?"
"Of course not!" said Snowbird. "He's the most faithful man in Canada. Heather is just a…well…"
"A raving bitch," supplied Puck. Snowbird looked down her nose at him.
"If you have to use that kind of language."
"They seemed happy to me," said Logan.
"Did they really find you wandering around the woods?" said Puck. Logan nodded.
"I don't remember much before that. Heather said I must have experienced a trauma." Puck and Snowbird looked sympathetic.
"What are your abilities?" Snowbird inquired. Logan looked down at her hands.
"Fast healing."
"That sounds handy," said Puck.
"Very," said Logan. "I can't even get drunk, really."
"Damn," said Puck. "Sign me up for one of those." Snowbird sat on the other side of her.
"Well, you'll find us generally a friendly bunch, although we do our share of bickering, like any team. The CO really doesn't keep a close eye on us, and autonomy breeds anarchy."
"I don't wanna start any trouble," said Logan.
"Of course you don't, dear." The door at the opposite end of the room opened and a man in a khaki green army uniform stepped through. Logan's eyes lit on her face and for a second she couldn't breath.
I know him…
"Where's this new star member I've been hearing about, Mac?" he said, clapping Guardian heartily on the back. Mac lead him over to Logan.
"Logan, this is General Howard Chasen. Sir, this is Logan." Chasen stuck out his hand.
"Good to have you aboard, Ms. Logan." Logan blinked and swallowed.
"Yeah. Uh, good to be here." Chasen cocked his head.
"Something the matter?" Logan's head pounded, but the memory would not surface. She realized her hands were shaking and took a calming breath.
"No, sir."
"Good. Mac and I will review your abilities and combat level and then we'll place you on a sub-team, alright?"
"Fine, sir."
"See you tomorrow, little lady." Chasen walked out with Mac.
"Oily as they come," said Snowbird. "Word is he worked on some kind of top secret weapons program before they transferred him here. Don't trust him." Logan looked at her.
"I'll remember that…"
"You looked as if you'd seen a ghost when he came in."
Logan stood. "I'm just fine. Peachy, in fact. It was nice meeting you two. See you later." She walked quickly out of the room to try to make sense of the tangled jumble of barely tangible thoughts inside her head.
"Mac?"
"Yes, Logan?"
"Where did Chasen work before here?"
"I don't know, somewhere in the Canadian government, I suppose."
Logan frowned. "That isn't much of an answer, Hudson."
Mac shrugged. "Sorry, Logan, but it's the best I can give you." He paused. "Why did you ask?"
"It's just, well, for the past two months since I came to Alpha Flight I've been trying to place why he looks so familiar, and I just can't."
"Who knows why he looks familiar. Maybe he reminds you of your father or something, and you just don't remember."
"Yeah…maybe." Logan wasn't appeased by that answer, but she decided to let it go.
Mac yawned. "Sorry," he said. "Long night."
"Lots of paperwork?"
"I wish. Heather and I had an argument."
Logan looked at him sympathetically. "Is everything all right with the two of you now?"
"Yeah, I guess." Mac ran his fingers through his hair. "I love her so much, it's just that all this work with Alpha Flight is already weighing on our marriage. I'm not there for her as much as I should be."
"Well, if I were your wife, I'd think you were doing a great job." She patted him on the hand. "You seem to love her a lot, and I know you do what you can for her."
"She means the world to me, you know."
Logan tried not to let it show how much those words stung. "You're a good man, Mac."
"I'm just a man, Logan. I do the best I can, but I don't always do what's right."
"We all make mistakes. Heck, who knows what I did before you found me. I was naked in the woods after all."
Mac blushed a bit at the memory. "I'm sure you couldn't have been anything less than wonderful."
"Heh. Thanks, Mac." Logan shifted uncomfortably.
Mac stared at her, wishing she was wearing anything but her all-too tight uniform. "I have some, um, paperwork I have to get filed."
Logan stood up. "Yeah. I'll see you around, Mac."
"See ya."
As soon as she was gone, Mac slumped back in the chair, letting out a deep breath.
Victor stood on a pleasant suburban street in Maryland, watching the Tudor house across the way. He had been standing there for a while, just waiting. Victor could be patient when he wanted too—it was part of being a hunter. No one was on the street, except for a single red station wagon making its way towards him at the 25-mile-per-hour speed limit. It pulled into the driveway of the house.
"Honey, don't forget Don's diaper bag," a blond woman called to her husband as she got out of the passenger side and unstrapped a small toddler from his car seat.
"Got it, honey." The man was tall, well-groomed and in a suit. He had a briefcase as well as the diaper bag. Victor's lip curled with reflexive scorn. But then he took a step back. The little blond boy was smiling up at the man. Stretching out his arms. Saying "Daddy."
Victor growled low in his throat and walked back to his waiting car. The kid was alright. There was nothing more he could do.
"You've been awfully quiet recently, Wolverine."
Logan frowned. "I'm fine, Snowbird."
"You sure? You've been moodier than usual. And you keep zoning out." She gave Logan a sideways look. "You're not in love, are you?"
Logan grew pale. "No!"
"That wasn't very convincing," Snowbird said. "Who is he? That cute assistant of Chasen's?"
Logan looked away. "I'd rather not talk about it."
Snowbird frowned. "It's not Puck is it?"
"Ah! No!"
"Good, you worried me." Snowbird patted Logan on the shoulder. "Well, if you need anyone to talk to, I'm here."
"Thank you."
Logan curled up on the couch after Snowbird left. She hated it when people got her pegged that well. She hadn't been able to get Mac Hudson off her mind since she'd met him, and each day it was just getting worse.
She didn't want to do something that would hurt Heather—after all, the woman had let her stay at her cabin in the middle of her honeymoon—but she couldn't deny what she felt for Mac. And she was pretty sure it was mutual.
Logan couldn't take it anymore. It was driving her crazy. She had to talk to Mac, had to clear the air. She went to his office, going in without even knocking. "We need to talk."
Mac looked up from the file he was reading. "Yes, Logan?"
"Look, I'm going to be perfectly honest here—I like you. More than I should. I know you're married, but I…" Logan looked at the pale expression on Mac's face. "And I've said way too much and I should go."
Mac jumped up from his desk, almost knocking over a file cabinet. He grabbed Logan. "Wait…"
She looked at him. "Yes."
Mac turned away from her wide, blue eyes. "I shouldn't want this, too, Logan, but I do."
Logan grabbed him and kissed him, not able to control herself anymore. Mac hefted her up off her feet, kissing her back as he used one hand to knock everything off his desk and lying her down. Logan ripped at his shirt, buttons flying to the floor with little clicks. Mac groaned. It wasn't like this with Heather…
Logan allowed herself to just focus on the present, pushing out the guilty thoughts in her head.
Logan sat beside Mac, both of them leaning against his desk. He tried to smooth his ruffled hair. "We shouldn't have done that," he said softly. "Oh God, I can't believe I just did that to Heather."
Logan stood up, gathering her clothes from the random places they had ended up in the office. "I'm sorry, Mac."
"That cannot happen again," Mac said in his stern, Guardian voice.
Logan bristled. "It wasn't entirely my idea, James."
Mac glared up at her. "You came into my office professing attraction."
"I didn't make you throw me on your desk and fuck me!"
Mac's eyes grew wide at her language. "I think you better go now, Logan."
Logan looked down at Mac, a sudden disillusionment coming over her. "You're not the man I thought you were."
"I told you before—I'm just a man."
"Yeah, I guess you are."
Logan left his office and didn't stop going until she was off the compound.
She smelled Snowbird before she saw her. Snowbird took a look at her sullen, morose-looking teammate and came over, putting a comforting arm around her shoulders.
"He rejected you, my dear?" Logan snorted.
"Nah. The opposite, in fact." Snowbird raised an eyebrow.
"You seem upset by that."
"I don't seem it, I am fucking upset!" Logan shouted. Snowbird took a step back.
"You're a bit wound up." She drew a pack of filtered cigarettes from her parka. "Have one. It will calm your nerves."
"Those things will kill you."
"I think you're safe, Wolverine."
"I don't know if I even smoked." Snowbird passed her one and Logan took it, accepting the light from the other woman's monogrammed lighter. She inhaled and exhaled once. It seemed natural, and Snowbird was right—it was calming.
"You will find someone else who is worthy of your time and attention," said Snowbird. "I assure you."
"I don't care any more," said Logan as she exhaled again. "Men are nothing but trouble."
"You have discovered one of the fundamental facts of life, my dear." She and Snowbird smoked in silence for a few more moments, then Snowbird flicked her butt into a snow bank. "I am going in…enjoy your solitude."
"Yeah, thanks for the smoke." Snowbird left her alone. Logan looked out over the treeline and exhaled bitterly. Who the fuck did Mac Hudson think he was, anyway, Saint of the Great White North? He was no better than any other man who cheated on his wife, for whatever reason. If his wife was too frigid to satisfy him, Logan knew she didn't deserve to have it taken out on her. She was angry, really angry, the rage coursing through her like a drug. She dropped the cigarette on the ground and let out a growl. It felt cleansing, almost.
Logan knew with a sudden clarity that this rage was coming to her from her past, that this feeling had served as an integral part of her old life. And it felt good. Logan walked towards the trees, a walk that quickly turned into a run as she chased the anger, not wanting to lose it.
"Wolverine, may I speak to you in Guardian's office?"
Logan heart clinched at the tone in Chasen's voice, coupled with the look on his face. "Yeah, sure, general."
She went into Mac's office trying to keep her eyes off the desk. A chagrined Mac Hudson stood beside a rather-angry looking Heather. Logan guessed the proverbial shit was about to hit the fan. "Is there a problem?" she asked.
"You're dang right there's a problem!" Heather exclaimed.
"Calm down, Vindicator," Chasen said. "Let me handle this." He turned to Logan. "A certain…indiscretion has been brought to my attention, and I believe that it may cause problems for the team—something I cannot have. Wolverine, I'm afraid I'm going to have to move you to another division."
"Fuck that!" Logan yelled. "Mac was just as involved as I was! How come I'm the one who's getting the shaft?"
"Wolverine, Guardian is the leader of Alpha Flight. He can't leave. You can. There's a place open in the business division…"
"Business division? Do I look like a goddam secretary? You know what you can do with your transfer, Chasen? You can shove it up your pasty white ass, ya bastard!"
Chasen sighed. Yeah, this was the Logan he remembered. He needed to get her out of this potentially dangerous situation. "It would only be temporary, until we can find a more suitable position for you. There's nothing else we can do, Logan. It's not like you can just walk out…"
"Oh no? Watch me, bub." She started to walk away, and Chasen stepped in front of her.
"You can't leave."
Logan's claws popped out and she sliced Chasen's tie at the knot. He grew pale. "Um, I…"
"Outta my way."
Chasen stepped back, deciding that it might be better to let her go for now than to risk his life with an unstable personality.
Logan stalked out of the base, not even going back to collect her things or to say her good byes.