ALLIES
Logan watched over Bryn even after the blood transfusion was complete, and the longer he watched the more certain he became that he had to protect her from the horrors that Barlow would most certainly put her through should he capture her again.
Meanwhile, the other X-men met in the Ready Room to discuss the ramifications of their discovery.
" If Barlow and the Templar Administration have managed to cause mutation in human DNA, as it would appear they have," Xavier said seriously. " Then it would seem they have made significant progress on Magneto's machine."
" But she's still dying," Storm put in.
" Yes, her body is not naturally capable of dealing with the stress of such power," Xavier explained. " And it is breaking down her cells, though at a significantly slower rate than we saw in Senator Kelley."
" If Barlow was an associate of Stryker's, then why would be creating mutants?" Cyclops asked.
" That is the question indeed," Beast mused. " My suggestion would be that he was intending to use her, her powers to his own advantage, not possessing them himself."
" But how'd 'e control them?" Rogue scowled.
" With the one thing they cannot get from anyone else," Xavier answered. " And for Bryn, that may just be the means to prevent her body from disintegrating."
" But is dat possible?" Gambit pressed. " If you an Doctor McCoy can't t'ink o' a way, den how would dese Templar thugs?"
" I don't know," Xavier admitted. " And there is only one way to truly find out."
" When do we leave?" Logan called resolutely striding into the Ready Room like he was ready to charge into Templar Administration headquarters that very second.
" Wait a minute," Cyclops halted. " Walking into any Templar Administration building is going to be no picnic, and we can't be sure that they do have a cure. I don't like the idea of this girl dying any more than you, but..."
" But??" Logan bristled, stepping up to Cyclops, but Storm moved between them.
" Vat if zere are more?" Nightcrawler suggested tentatively, not yet quite sure if he was a part of the group or not.
" An if dey 'av anywhere near de power dat Bryn does, an' can be manipulated..." Gambit prompted, not needing to finish his sentence.
" It is a possibility," Xavier declared. " And I don't think we can afford to sit idle while that chance remains."
Cyclops' lips pressed into a thin line and though Logan could not see his eyes for the mirrored sunglasses he always wore, he knew that daggers were being stared in his direction.
Cyclops then pushed past and exited the Ready Room without another word.
Everyone looked to Logan, though they didn't really blame him. The animosity Scott had toward Logan was a product of grief, even nine months after the death of Jean Grey. He blamed Logan for coming between he and his wife, even though Jean had made a conscious choice to be with Scott when Logan had offered her an alternative.
" Don't look at me like that," he shrugged with defensive detachment.
" This degeneration," Storm said, clearing her throat and the air. " Can you say how long her body will resist it?"
" It appears that the damage is be increased when she uses her telekinetic abilities, which is why we found her in such a state," Xavier replied, his face grave and tone solemn. " But assuming she doesn't use them and considering the current rate of degeneration, a year perhaps."
Bryn blinked from the doorway, her fingers in a white grip on the jamb, though her strength had since returned. She knew the pain that came after she used her power, she knew that her health had been slowly deteriorating, but she had never thought things were so, so, terminal.
No one saw her turn back into the corridor, but the click of the closing door gave her away.
" You should be restin," Logan said, and Bryn stopped her retreat, but did not look back at where he now stood just outside the Ready Room door.
" Doesn't seem that there's much point now, does there?" she swallowed, her eyes beginning to burn the moment she opened her mouth.
" You're writing yourself off then?" he inquired, frowning - he was amazed at how easily he had come to feel so protective of this young woman. It was conscious in his mind that he had changed much since meeting Professor Xavier, he cared for others, it hurt to see them hurt; and this woman's situation touched him deeply, personally.
" You heard him Logan," Bryn dropped, shuffling her feet until she faced him down the hall. " One year, maybe."
Even from ten metres away Logan could see the light reflecting off the tears welling in her eyes.
Logan could not ever recall being afraid of death - but then again, he'd never had anything worth losing.
" We're goin inta the Templar Administration," he told her firmly, starting forward. " We'll find a cure."
" A cure for what?" she wavered, losing her fight with the tsunami of shock and hopelessness that she had up until now kept from engulfing her. " Everyone knows that you can't cure mutation."
" Everyone knows that you can't artificially create mutation either," he pointed out, moving slowly toward her like one might do an injured but potentially dangerous animal. " But you're obviously the exception ta that rule."
" If they had a cure, they would have used it," she countered - it didn't make sense to her, that they would let her die if indeed they had made her, as seemed to be the case.
" Not necessarily," Logan disagreed, moving closer still, planting each footstep as lightly as he could so as not to startle her. " The worst man I have ever known once worked with Dylan Barlow, the guy who is responsible for your condition, and I wouldn't put it past him ta be holdin back on that cure, so he could control you."
" But why??" Bryn choked, though deep down she knew the answer.
A stream of hot tears burned their way down her cheeks as Logan placed his hands gently on her upper arms and peered into her face, with more sympathy than he thought he had ever felt - why me was the one question he had asked himself over and over again, though now he was not sure if he wanted to know, particularly if he had actually volunteered.
" Whatever the reason," he began gently, trying to sooth the sobs that shook her. " It was wrong, and we're gonna make him pay."
Bryn dropped her chin, ashamed of how pathetic she was acting, though she could not think of how else one might deal with the situation in which she now found herself - hunted in a foreign country by a paramilitary organisation, facing a death sentence caused by mutated genes and a strange group of mutants who seemed to be on her side?
The world had gone mad, there was little doubt of it.
Bryn felt weak and vulnerable, but somehow this man seemed so concerned for her, so willing to risk his life for her, that her tears began to slow.
" I don't, I don't want to be so, pathetic," she managed, glancing back up into his eyes. " But I am afraid."
A stricken scowl excavated canyonous furrows across his forehead and Logan could not help but draw Bryn into his arms.
" We're gonna protect you," he whispered into her hair. " I'm gonna protect you."
Bryn suddenly felt the urge to scream and tantrum rising up in her - of course there was nothing patronising about his tone, nor did she doubt that he believed what he said, but how could that really comfort someone just told they had a year to live - maybe.
His hold was firm, but with her strength returned, Bryn pried herself from his chest and stepped back, pulling the IV stand with her. She said nothing, not daring to open her mouth again should a banshee screech escape, roaring out her fear, her desperate fear and how tragically unfair the whole situation was.
She internalized it, and backed away with a nod, keeping her face as blank as possible.
Logan's chest felt tight, like magnets were squeezing his metal reinforced ribcage, prickling his heart with adamantium spikes.
Bryn turned and walked away, returning to the medical lab, leaving Logan to wonder what next to do. Jean would have known how to rest that demon fear from Bryn's heart, she would have known the right words and had the right touch to allay uncertainty and apprehension.
She was gone.
Rogue saw Bryn to a comfortable room upstairs and handed her a pile of clothes.
" Maybe when ya feelin better, we could go shoppin," she suggested, watching Bryn move numbly to the window and peer out through the rolling beads of water at the lush, green garden below.
Bryn didn't answer.
" Oh well," Rogue shrugged, trying to remain cheerful. " These clothes should do for now, you and Jeanie have very similar builds."
" Thanks," Bryn murmured, and Rogue didn't know what else to say, backing silently out and closing the door.
Doctor McCoy had told her to avoid using her telekinesis as much as she could. He had explained that Logan's white blood cells might serve as a short-term remedy, but were not the key to curing her. The good news was that the deterioration was not exponential - if she didn't use her powers, it would continue at the same rate regardless of how ill she became.
She had called her parents in Australia, managed somehow to convince them that they needed to stay at home and not to worry. Her mother had cried, her father tried to hide it and told her to look after herself - and she hadn't even had the heart to tell them that her time was limited. She had held it together and though she felt worse for having heard their voices, knowing she may never see them again, her tears were spent, there were no more.
The afternoon ticked by, and still Bryn did not move, it was as if she moved that the world felt more real - if she remained immobile then she could float in the void in her mind and feel nothing.
" Will you lock yourself away forever?" the Professor's voice echoed between her ears.
Bryn didn't turn around, she knew she would not find him physically there.
" I don't have forever," she said out loud, her breath forming nebulous clouds against the cold glass.
" Is that not a reason to live every second?" he perked.
" Please stay out of my head Professor," she told him in a monotone.
The door opened, followed by the mechanical whir of an electric wheelchair.
" I apologise," Xavier said solemnly, extending an appropriate expression even though she had her back to him still.
" A year ago, the father of a close friend of mine was told he had an aggressive type of cancer, that it would kill in within twelve months," Bryn said out of the blue. " I cried and cried, not because I felt sorry for him or his family, but because I was so glad it wasn't me."
" That is natural," Xavier assessed.
" Now it is me," Bryn went on.
" We cannot be sure that there isn't a way to reverse the gene manipulation," Xavier told her.
" But you do know there is no way to reverse mutation."
" Natural mutation."
" You struggle don't you?" Bryn perked, turning slowly and blinking across the bed at him.
" Struggle?" he frowned, not quite sure what she meant.
" Whether it is better to encourage hope where there can be none and have the last blow be absolutely crushing, or whether to foster acceptance that the end comes more gently."
Bryn could not read his thoughts, nor did she know him at all, except for this one, insightful, observation. Xavier did not answer right away, considering what she had said carefully.
" I believe it is better to live what life you have, however short," he replied finally.
" The human mind was never so rational," Bryn murmured, turning back to the window, adding her last so quietly Xavier struggled to hear it. " But then again, I'm not entirely human any more am I?"
" You have two choices," Xavier told her plainly, reaching for that part of her he knew was in fact rational. " You can accept what is and move on with life, or, you can effectively die now."
He left her with that thought, adding it to the pile already banked up in her mind, but Bryn heard it - doing it however, was another matter entirely.
The walls clawed at her hungrily, the warmth pouring through the heating vents wrapped itself around her, squeezing until she could no longer stand to be in that room - she ran, trying to escape the voices, and found herself outside.
It wasn't long before the rain drenched Bryn's hair, and her clothes, and squelched in her boots. Rivers ran down her face, her neck, her hands, but she ignored it, walking slowly across the grassy compound toward a lightly treed area.
The property was extensive - she had not yet seen a gate or fence, not that she was looking terribly hard.
There was a pond at the center of the trees. The rain ruptured its dark surface angrily, though beneath, the Japanese koi swam unperturbed by the savage weather above.
Ignoring the shivers that she could no longer control, Bryn sat down on the concrete edge and exhaled a long, visible breath. In her head a hundred thoughts raced, all at once, in all directions - some she could make out, audible, tangible, but others existed as fragments there and then gone and quickly replaced.
She had long felt that her mind filtered much less than most people, but had always been able to sort through the rubble and make sense of the white noise, but now the crescendo inside her skull reached fever pitch and there was only panic and the ever-increasing sense that the walls were constricting around her.
Quivering lips parted, a violent scream gathered momentum in her lungs then roared up her esophagus and leapt from her tongue.
The air vibrated with a yell so forceful, so filled with anguish that even windows in the distant mansion shuddered for the duration. Bryn poured every inch of energy, all the emotional trauma, the claustrophobia, and isolated anguish into that sound, driving it from her bones and flesh and thoughts until there was no breath left in her.
The silence that followed as her head lowered and her body slumped, was perhaps even more deafening than the cry itself - it rushed in to fill the crater around her, but, at least it was singular.
" Feel better?" Logan inquired cautiously, and Bryn turned her head slowly to see him appear from behind the trees on the boundary side of the pond.
" A little," she answered, surprisingly unembarrassed.
" Probably won't last ya know," he ventured in an offhand tone, as he swaggered in her direction. " Seeing as you're likely ta spend the next two weeks hold up in bed with a wicked cold."
" I like the rain," she smiled vaguely, her skin bitingly cold with prickling goose pimples.
" Well you're not exactly dressed for an all weather adventure."
It was then that Logan recognized the soaked sweater that she was wearing.
" Come on," he urged, walking around the pond and standing right in front of her.
" Did the Professor send you, or are you following me of your own volition?" Bryn dropped unexpectedly, blinking up at him sharply with an expression that demanded and answer, and a truthful one.
" Ah, actually, I was makin some adjustments to an old bike in the shack I have out the back here, when I nearly put a screwdriver through the fuel tank."
" Sorry," she apologized flatly, getting to her feet and stepping around him.
" Hey wait a minute," Logan frowned, catching her arm, and Bryn's head snapped to glare into his face.
" Whoa!" he coughed defensively, removing his hold and lifting his hands in a defensive gesture. " I'm just tryin ta help."
" You don't know me," Bryn charged with unexpected ferocity, her eyes flashing with sudden anger. " Why would you care?
Logan was not at all unfamiliar with the defensiveness that accompanied a feeling of dislocation, nor the quick shift in emotion that uncertainty could stir, so he knew not to be offended by her attack - it wasn't at him, that the real attack was directed.
His reply came in a gentle rumble that filled Bryn's ears and leaked heavy warmth all throughout her body.
" Because if we don't, who will?
Bryn looked at her feet, as vehemently ashamed as she had been enraged a moment ago.
" Come on," he said again, once more venturing to place a hand on her arm. " You're shivering."
Bryn nodded meekly and allowed Logan to lead her to what constituted his shack - a small cabin of wood with a garage door front and a couple of windows.
" Ahhh, here," Logan said, throwing aside some strips of grubby cloth and handing her a towel that had been underneath.
" Thanks," she nodded, smiling thinly, but she began to towel her sopping hair.
Logan removed his leather jacket and threw it over the back of a chair and then turned up the radiator.
Bryn meanwhile peered around.
The small slate floored building was divided into three sections as far as she could see, with a door at the far end and a partition that cordoned off a single unmade bed.
" You sleep out here?" she inquired with a mild frown.
" Sometimes," he answered, digging through another pile of clothes. " I spent the best part of sixteen years traveling on my own, sometimes too many people are just, unsettling."
Bryn turned her head him, tilting it to one side a little.
" You don't strike me as the type to get easily unsettled," she noted.
" Crowds just aren't my thing," he shrugged. " Do you wanna dry shirt?"
Logan held out a dark brown t-shirt to her tentatively, his brows rose in an expression that was supposed to tell her it was all right.
" Ahh," Bryn hesitated.
" It's clean," he promised.
She took the shirt.
" Where'd you get the bike?" she asked, as she walked around behind the neck high partition - just her long arms and the top of her head was visible as she removed her soaked top and hung it over the partial wall.
" Won it," he answered shortly.
Logan would have been lying if he said he didn't wish the partition wasn't there. Despite her predicament and the unpredictable way it was making her behave, there was something inexplicably appealing about her. She was tall and well proportioned, and though she was understandably vulnerable, her countenance and her eyes still warned of deep strength and intelligence - the trick would be to bring it out of her.
It wasn't until she coughed that Logan realized that Bryn had stepped out from behind the partition in his shirt and was peering at him with eyebrows raised.
" I'm going to assume you didn't hear me," she concluded, even managing a smirk.
" Ahhh," he stalled.
" Won it how?" she repeated, picking her way around the object strewn floor to closer inspect the motorcycle, like she knew anything about them.
" Well, that's an interesting story," he began evasively, rubbing the back of his neck. " But the short of it was that the guy disagreed with me on the matter of mutant registration.
" I see," she nodded, running her cold fingers over the now polished metal plate on the fuel tank, with the word Wolverine engraved in it.
" Why Wolverine?" Bryn frowned, straightening as Logan opened a bar fridge and took out a bottle.
" Beer?" he inquired.
" Yeah," she replied, and he threw a bottle of Corona in her direction before even thinking about it.
" Why Wolverine?" Bryn said again as she twisted the top of the bottle off and took a long pull of the yellowish liquid.
" It was a name given ta me somewhere in my past," he answered, holding his arms out either side of him, even with his beer in one hand, and pushed out his razor claws.
Bryn flinched as the adamantium spikes slid out from just above Logan's knuckles, but was surprisingly not afraid. Finding herself fascinated, she did not hesitate to scrutinize them much more closely, eventually touching his hand where the metal appeared to join with the skin.
Logan shivered at her touch - her fingertips were icy cold.
The claws retracted, but he took her hand in his, wrapping his large warm fingers around hers.
" You're freezing!" he scowled, gently inching her back toward the radiator.
" I've always had bad circulation," she shrugged, but did not pull away from him this time. " You don't like to talk about your past?" she pressed, grasping at this opportunity to drag her mind from her own misfortunes.
" It's difficult when you don't remember much of it," he answered flippantly, but his eyes told Bryn that he was bothered by this.
" Well then," Bryn murmured. " I suppose that makes us two of a kind. You don't have a past and I don't have a future."
" Hey now," Logan frowned, and felt like that was all he did around her. " You're not dead yet."
" No I'm not," she swallowed, then exhaled slowly.
" Right," Logan affirmed. " So, what did you do before becoming a super mutant on the run?" he perked, but cringed internally - maybe she didn't want to talk about the home she had left behind.
" Teaching," she answered, shifting a toolbox from a stool and sitting down in front of the radiator. " I ahh, stopped some guys from shooting a parent at school, and was floored the next day. Guess I drew too much attention for Barlow's liking."
The words came with surprising ease, and as she spoke them, even though it was refreshing the haunting truth that was her situation, it felt oddly unburdening to retell her tale.
" You're a teacher?" Logan perked - she did not look like any teacher he had ever seen, though granted he had not exactly seen a wealth of educators outside of Xavier's school for Gifted Youngsters.
Bryn nodded affirmatively.
" History, English and Geography, but I can also take some psychology."
" You'll fit right in around here then," Logan chuckled, then emptied his beer.
Bryn followed suit before replying.
" I'm not sure fitting in is what I want to do," she sighed, placing the bottle on the concrete floor beneath the stool. " I don't know if I can just go back to normal like that."
She snapped her fingers.
" I know what you mean," Logan nodded, feeling more and more akin to this woman the longer he spent with her.
" Is it, too awkward a question for me to ask how you actually, know, Dylan Barlow?" Bryn said carefully - as the beer took its effect she felt less of her own fear and more of a need to know these people around her, particularly this Wolverine.
Logan took another couple of beers from the fridge, and leaned over the motorcycle to hand one to Bryn, who took it, but kept her eyes on him intently.
" It's all a little hazy," Logan began, perching himself on top of the bar fridge - his eyes were no longer focused on her, but looking upward, reaching into his memory. " But last year when that big human and mutant brain thing went down, I came across the guy that gave me the claws."
" Stryker?" Bryn interrupted, and Logan nodded - she had been paying attention.
" Apparently the story is, that before the, procedure, I worked for him, with Barlow, but the guy left ta do his own thing when Stryker refused ta give him the authority he wanted."
" You don't remember specifics?" Bryn pushed - if this was the man that was responsible for her being the way she now was, then she wanted to know everything she could about him.
" I remember that he's an asshole," Logan dropped. " And that he has little ta no respect for anything or anyone other than himself."
" He's going to try and find me isn't he?" she concluded, turning the unopened bottle of beer over and over in her hands, absently watching the label do laps.
" Yeah," Logan answered, and opened his mouth to reassure her, but she beat him to it.
" I appreciate your honesty," she said with a smile, looking over at him solemnly. " And I appreciate that you donated your blood for me, and that everyone here seems to have genuine concern for me, what I don't understand is why?"
Ok, so the question was a weighty one, but Logan couldn't help but smile.
" You sound just like I did when I first came here," he noted, his own beer now also forgotten in his hand. " And when people are out ta get you, or you're running from something sinister it is difficult ta see why anyone would want ta do you a favour or help you out, but, these people just genuinely care about others."
" And you came here, and stayed?"
" I don't have anywhere else in particular ta go," he pointed out. " They're the only family I can ever remember having."
Bryn didn't mean to be rude, but she couldn't help but yawn, though she covered it with her hand.
" Sorry," she apologised, and though she was tired, she didn't want to go back to the mansion - for some reason she felt a connection to Logan, that his loss of past, and the way her future was threatened made them kindred spirits.
Logan didn't need to be a mind reader to skim this much from her body language.
" You're welcome to stay out here tonight," he offered, putting his beer down and standing up.
Bryn blinked at him.
" I don't want to get in your way Logan, you've been more than accommodating," Bryn said, though she was looking for any excuse to accept his offer.
" It's not a big deal," he assured her quickly. " Ah, you can take the bed, I have a, a spare mattress here."
Jumping awkwardly over an oil tray and various mechanic parts he pulled a tarp away from one pile against the other wall to reveal the before mentioned mattress.
" I'll take the mattress," Bryn insisted, and cut him off again before he could protest. " This is your shack and it's your bed, so, the mattress will be fine."
" Oh ok," he conceded. " There, should be some spare blankets, here," he indicated, opening what Bryn supposed constituted the linen closet, and removed and armful of blankets. " We can leave the radiator on."
" It's great," Bryn smiled. " Thanks."
Logan pulled the mattress down, tucked the sheet and blankets around it and even found her a pillow, and within fifteen minutes, the light went out.
Bryn stared up at the ceiling, listening to the creek of springs on the other side of the partition as Logan climbed into bed.
" Good night Logan," Bryn said softly, and she heard him turn over and speak directly at the thin partial wall that separated them.
" Good night Bryn," he bid her soberly. " Sweet dreams."
Bryn closed her eyes and tried not to think of how alone she felt, and eventually drifted into an uncomfortable sleep.
Logan watched over Bryn even after the blood transfusion was complete, and the longer he watched the more certain he became that he had to protect her from the horrors that Barlow would most certainly put her through should he capture her again.
Meanwhile, the other X-men met in the Ready Room to discuss the ramifications of their discovery.
" If Barlow and the Templar Administration have managed to cause mutation in human DNA, as it would appear they have," Xavier said seriously. " Then it would seem they have made significant progress on Magneto's machine."
" But she's still dying," Storm put in.
" Yes, her body is not naturally capable of dealing with the stress of such power," Xavier explained. " And it is breaking down her cells, though at a significantly slower rate than we saw in Senator Kelley."
" If Barlow was an associate of Stryker's, then why would be creating mutants?" Cyclops asked.
" That is the question indeed," Beast mused. " My suggestion would be that he was intending to use her, her powers to his own advantage, not possessing them himself."
" But how'd 'e control them?" Rogue scowled.
" With the one thing they cannot get from anyone else," Xavier answered. " And for Bryn, that may just be the means to prevent her body from disintegrating."
" But is dat possible?" Gambit pressed. " If you an Doctor McCoy can't t'ink o' a way, den how would dese Templar thugs?"
" I don't know," Xavier admitted. " And there is only one way to truly find out."
" When do we leave?" Logan called resolutely striding into the Ready Room like he was ready to charge into Templar Administration headquarters that very second.
" Wait a minute," Cyclops halted. " Walking into any Templar Administration building is going to be no picnic, and we can't be sure that they do have a cure. I don't like the idea of this girl dying any more than you, but..."
" But??" Logan bristled, stepping up to Cyclops, but Storm moved between them.
" Vat if zere are more?" Nightcrawler suggested tentatively, not yet quite sure if he was a part of the group or not.
" An if dey 'av anywhere near de power dat Bryn does, an' can be manipulated..." Gambit prompted, not needing to finish his sentence.
" It is a possibility," Xavier declared. " And I don't think we can afford to sit idle while that chance remains."
Cyclops' lips pressed into a thin line and though Logan could not see his eyes for the mirrored sunglasses he always wore, he knew that daggers were being stared in his direction.
Cyclops then pushed past and exited the Ready Room without another word.
Everyone looked to Logan, though they didn't really blame him. The animosity Scott had toward Logan was a product of grief, even nine months after the death of Jean Grey. He blamed Logan for coming between he and his wife, even though Jean had made a conscious choice to be with Scott when Logan had offered her an alternative.
" Don't look at me like that," he shrugged with defensive detachment.
" This degeneration," Storm said, clearing her throat and the air. " Can you say how long her body will resist it?"
" It appears that the damage is be increased when she uses her telekinetic abilities, which is why we found her in such a state," Xavier replied, his face grave and tone solemn. " But assuming she doesn't use them and considering the current rate of degeneration, a year perhaps."
Bryn blinked from the doorway, her fingers in a white grip on the jamb, though her strength had since returned. She knew the pain that came after she used her power, she knew that her health had been slowly deteriorating, but she had never thought things were so, so, terminal.
No one saw her turn back into the corridor, but the click of the closing door gave her away.
" You should be restin," Logan said, and Bryn stopped her retreat, but did not look back at where he now stood just outside the Ready Room door.
" Doesn't seem that there's much point now, does there?" she swallowed, her eyes beginning to burn the moment she opened her mouth.
" You're writing yourself off then?" he inquired, frowning - he was amazed at how easily he had come to feel so protective of this young woman. It was conscious in his mind that he had changed much since meeting Professor Xavier, he cared for others, it hurt to see them hurt; and this woman's situation touched him deeply, personally.
" You heard him Logan," Bryn dropped, shuffling her feet until she faced him down the hall. " One year, maybe."
Even from ten metres away Logan could see the light reflecting off the tears welling in her eyes.
Logan could not ever recall being afraid of death - but then again, he'd never had anything worth losing.
" We're goin inta the Templar Administration," he told her firmly, starting forward. " We'll find a cure."
" A cure for what?" she wavered, losing her fight with the tsunami of shock and hopelessness that she had up until now kept from engulfing her. " Everyone knows that you can't cure mutation."
" Everyone knows that you can't artificially create mutation either," he pointed out, moving slowly toward her like one might do an injured but potentially dangerous animal. " But you're obviously the exception ta that rule."
" If they had a cure, they would have used it," she countered - it didn't make sense to her, that they would let her die if indeed they had made her, as seemed to be the case.
" Not necessarily," Logan disagreed, moving closer still, planting each footstep as lightly as he could so as not to startle her. " The worst man I have ever known once worked with Dylan Barlow, the guy who is responsible for your condition, and I wouldn't put it past him ta be holdin back on that cure, so he could control you."
" But why??" Bryn choked, though deep down she knew the answer.
A stream of hot tears burned their way down her cheeks as Logan placed his hands gently on her upper arms and peered into her face, with more sympathy than he thought he had ever felt - why me was the one question he had asked himself over and over again, though now he was not sure if he wanted to know, particularly if he had actually volunteered.
" Whatever the reason," he began gently, trying to sooth the sobs that shook her. " It was wrong, and we're gonna make him pay."
Bryn dropped her chin, ashamed of how pathetic she was acting, though she could not think of how else one might deal with the situation in which she now found herself - hunted in a foreign country by a paramilitary organisation, facing a death sentence caused by mutated genes and a strange group of mutants who seemed to be on her side?
The world had gone mad, there was little doubt of it.
Bryn felt weak and vulnerable, but somehow this man seemed so concerned for her, so willing to risk his life for her, that her tears began to slow.
" I don't, I don't want to be so, pathetic," she managed, glancing back up into his eyes. " But I am afraid."
A stricken scowl excavated canyonous furrows across his forehead and Logan could not help but draw Bryn into his arms.
" We're gonna protect you," he whispered into her hair. " I'm gonna protect you."
Bryn suddenly felt the urge to scream and tantrum rising up in her - of course there was nothing patronising about his tone, nor did she doubt that he believed what he said, but how could that really comfort someone just told they had a year to live - maybe.
His hold was firm, but with her strength returned, Bryn pried herself from his chest and stepped back, pulling the IV stand with her. She said nothing, not daring to open her mouth again should a banshee screech escape, roaring out her fear, her desperate fear and how tragically unfair the whole situation was.
She internalized it, and backed away with a nod, keeping her face as blank as possible.
Logan's chest felt tight, like magnets were squeezing his metal reinforced ribcage, prickling his heart with adamantium spikes.
Bryn turned and walked away, returning to the medical lab, leaving Logan to wonder what next to do. Jean would have known how to rest that demon fear from Bryn's heart, she would have known the right words and had the right touch to allay uncertainty and apprehension.
She was gone.
Rogue saw Bryn to a comfortable room upstairs and handed her a pile of clothes.
" Maybe when ya feelin better, we could go shoppin," she suggested, watching Bryn move numbly to the window and peer out through the rolling beads of water at the lush, green garden below.
Bryn didn't answer.
" Oh well," Rogue shrugged, trying to remain cheerful. " These clothes should do for now, you and Jeanie have very similar builds."
" Thanks," Bryn murmured, and Rogue didn't know what else to say, backing silently out and closing the door.
Doctor McCoy had told her to avoid using her telekinesis as much as she could. He had explained that Logan's white blood cells might serve as a short-term remedy, but were not the key to curing her. The good news was that the deterioration was not exponential - if she didn't use her powers, it would continue at the same rate regardless of how ill she became.
She had called her parents in Australia, managed somehow to convince them that they needed to stay at home and not to worry. Her mother had cried, her father tried to hide it and told her to look after herself - and she hadn't even had the heart to tell them that her time was limited. She had held it together and though she felt worse for having heard their voices, knowing she may never see them again, her tears were spent, there were no more.
The afternoon ticked by, and still Bryn did not move, it was as if she moved that the world felt more real - if she remained immobile then she could float in the void in her mind and feel nothing.
" Will you lock yourself away forever?" the Professor's voice echoed between her ears.
Bryn didn't turn around, she knew she would not find him physically there.
" I don't have forever," she said out loud, her breath forming nebulous clouds against the cold glass.
" Is that not a reason to live every second?" he perked.
" Please stay out of my head Professor," she told him in a monotone.
The door opened, followed by the mechanical whir of an electric wheelchair.
" I apologise," Xavier said solemnly, extending an appropriate expression even though she had her back to him still.
" A year ago, the father of a close friend of mine was told he had an aggressive type of cancer, that it would kill in within twelve months," Bryn said out of the blue. " I cried and cried, not because I felt sorry for him or his family, but because I was so glad it wasn't me."
" That is natural," Xavier assessed.
" Now it is me," Bryn went on.
" We cannot be sure that there isn't a way to reverse the gene manipulation," Xavier told her.
" But you do know there is no way to reverse mutation."
" Natural mutation."
" You struggle don't you?" Bryn perked, turning slowly and blinking across the bed at him.
" Struggle?" he frowned, not quite sure what she meant.
" Whether it is better to encourage hope where there can be none and have the last blow be absolutely crushing, or whether to foster acceptance that the end comes more gently."
Bryn could not read his thoughts, nor did she know him at all, except for this one, insightful, observation. Xavier did not answer right away, considering what she had said carefully.
" I believe it is better to live what life you have, however short," he replied finally.
" The human mind was never so rational," Bryn murmured, turning back to the window, adding her last so quietly Xavier struggled to hear it. " But then again, I'm not entirely human any more am I?"
" You have two choices," Xavier told her plainly, reaching for that part of her he knew was in fact rational. " You can accept what is and move on with life, or, you can effectively die now."
He left her with that thought, adding it to the pile already banked up in her mind, but Bryn heard it - doing it however, was another matter entirely.
The walls clawed at her hungrily, the warmth pouring through the heating vents wrapped itself around her, squeezing until she could no longer stand to be in that room - she ran, trying to escape the voices, and found herself outside.
It wasn't long before the rain drenched Bryn's hair, and her clothes, and squelched in her boots. Rivers ran down her face, her neck, her hands, but she ignored it, walking slowly across the grassy compound toward a lightly treed area.
The property was extensive - she had not yet seen a gate or fence, not that she was looking terribly hard.
There was a pond at the center of the trees. The rain ruptured its dark surface angrily, though beneath, the Japanese koi swam unperturbed by the savage weather above.
Ignoring the shivers that she could no longer control, Bryn sat down on the concrete edge and exhaled a long, visible breath. In her head a hundred thoughts raced, all at once, in all directions - some she could make out, audible, tangible, but others existed as fragments there and then gone and quickly replaced.
She had long felt that her mind filtered much less than most people, but had always been able to sort through the rubble and make sense of the white noise, but now the crescendo inside her skull reached fever pitch and there was only panic and the ever-increasing sense that the walls were constricting around her.
Quivering lips parted, a violent scream gathered momentum in her lungs then roared up her esophagus and leapt from her tongue.
The air vibrated with a yell so forceful, so filled with anguish that even windows in the distant mansion shuddered for the duration. Bryn poured every inch of energy, all the emotional trauma, the claustrophobia, and isolated anguish into that sound, driving it from her bones and flesh and thoughts until there was no breath left in her.
The silence that followed as her head lowered and her body slumped, was perhaps even more deafening than the cry itself - it rushed in to fill the crater around her, but, at least it was singular.
" Feel better?" Logan inquired cautiously, and Bryn turned her head slowly to see him appear from behind the trees on the boundary side of the pond.
" A little," she answered, surprisingly unembarrassed.
" Probably won't last ya know," he ventured in an offhand tone, as he swaggered in her direction. " Seeing as you're likely ta spend the next two weeks hold up in bed with a wicked cold."
" I like the rain," she smiled vaguely, her skin bitingly cold with prickling goose pimples.
" Well you're not exactly dressed for an all weather adventure."
It was then that Logan recognized the soaked sweater that she was wearing.
" Come on," he urged, walking around the pond and standing right in front of her.
" Did the Professor send you, or are you following me of your own volition?" Bryn dropped unexpectedly, blinking up at him sharply with an expression that demanded and answer, and a truthful one.
" Ah, actually, I was makin some adjustments to an old bike in the shack I have out the back here, when I nearly put a screwdriver through the fuel tank."
" Sorry," she apologized flatly, getting to her feet and stepping around him.
" Hey wait a minute," Logan frowned, catching her arm, and Bryn's head snapped to glare into his face.
" Whoa!" he coughed defensively, removing his hold and lifting his hands in a defensive gesture. " I'm just tryin ta help."
" You don't know me," Bryn charged with unexpected ferocity, her eyes flashing with sudden anger. " Why would you care?
Logan was not at all unfamiliar with the defensiveness that accompanied a feeling of dislocation, nor the quick shift in emotion that uncertainty could stir, so he knew not to be offended by her attack - it wasn't at him, that the real attack was directed.
His reply came in a gentle rumble that filled Bryn's ears and leaked heavy warmth all throughout her body.
" Because if we don't, who will?
Bryn looked at her feet, as vehemently ashamed as she had been enraged a moment ago.
" Come on," he said again, once more venturing to place a hand on her arm. " You're shivering."
Bryn nodded meekly and allowed Logan to lead her to what constituted his shack - a small cabin of wood with a garage door front and a couple of windows.
" Ahhh, here," Logan said, throwing aside some strips of grubby cloth and handing her a towel that had been underneath.
" Thanks," she nodded, smiling thinly, but she began to towel her sopping hair.
Logan removed his leather jacket and threw it over the back of a chair and then turned up the radiator.
Bryn meanwhile peered around.
The small slate floored building was divided into three sections as far as she could see, with a door at the far end and a partition that cordoned off a single unmade bed.
" You sleep out here?" she inquired with a mild frown.
" Sometimes," he answered, digging through another pile of clothes. " I spent the best part of sixteen years traveling on my own, sometimes too many people are just, unsettling."
Bryn turned her head him, tilting it to one side a little.
" You don't strike me as the type to get easily unsettled," she noted.
" Crowds just aren't my thing," he shrugged. " Do you wanna dry shirt?"
Logan held out a dark brown t-shirt to her tentatively, his brows rose in an expression that was supposed to tell her it was all right.
" Ahh," Bryn hesitated.
" It's clean," he promised.
She took the shirt.
" Where'd you get the bike?" she asked, as she walked around behind the neck high partition - just her long arms and the top of her head was visible as she removed her soaked top and hung it over the partial wall.
" Won it," he answered shortly.
Logan would have been lying if he said he didn't wish the partition wasn't there. Despite her predicament and the unpredictable way it was making her behave, there was something inexplicably appealing about her. She was tall and well proportioned, and though she was understandably vulnerable, her countenance and her eyes still warned of deep strength and intelligence - the trick would be to bring it out of her.
It wasn't until she coughed that Logan realized that Bryn had stepped out from behind the partition in his shirt and was peering at him with eyebrows raised.
" I'm going to assume you didn't hear me," she concluded, even managing a smirk.
" Ahhh," he stalled.
" Won it how?" she repeated, picking her way around the object strewn floor to closer inspect the motorcycle, like she knew anything about them.
" Well, that's an interesting story," he began evasively, rubbing the back of his neck. " But the short of it was that the guy disagreed with me on the matter of mutant registration.
" I see," she nodded, running her cold fingers over the now polished metal plate on the fuel tank, with the word Wolverine engraved in it.
" Why Wolverine?" Bryn frowned, straightening as Logan opened a bar fridge and took out a bottle.
" Beer?" he inquired.
" Yeah," she replied, and he threw a bottle of Corona in her direction before even thinking about it.
" Why Wolverine?" Bryn said again as she twisted the top of the bottle off and took a long pull of the yellowish liquid.
" It was a name given ta me somewhere in my past," he answered, holding his arms out either side of him, even with his beer in one hand, and pushed out his razor claws.
Bryn flinched as the adamantium spikes slid out from just above Logan's knuckles, but was surprisingly not afraid. Finding herself fascinated, she did not hesitate to scrutinize them much more closely, eventually touching his hand where the metal appeared to join with the skin.
Logan shivered at her touch - her fingertips were icy cold.
The claws retracted, but he took her hand in his, wrapping his large warm fingers around hers.
" You're freezing!" he scowled, gently inching her back toward the radiator.
" I've always had bad circulation," she shrugged, but did not pull away from him this time. " You don't like to talk about your past?" she pressed, grasping at this opportunity to drag her mind from her own misfortunes.
" It's difficult when you don't remember much of it," he answered flippantly, but his eyes told Bryn that he was bothered by this.
" Well then," Bryn murmured. " I suppose that makes us two of a kind. You don't have a past and I don't have a future."
" Hey now," Logan frowned, and felt like that was all he did around her. " You're not dead yet."
" No I'm not," she swallowed, then exhaled slowly.
" Right," Logan affirmed. " So, what did you do before becoming a super mutant on the run?" he perked, but cringed internally - maybe she didn't want to talk about the home she had left behind.
" Teaching," she answered, shifting a toolbox from a stool and sitting down in front of the radiator. " I ahh, stopped some guys from shooting a parent at school, and was floored the next day. Guess I drew too much attention for Barlow's liking."
The words came with surprising ease, and as she spoke them, even though it was refreshing the haunting truth that was her situation, it felt oddly unburdening to retell her tale.
" You're a teacher?" Logan perked - she did not look like any teacher he had ever seen, though granted he had not exactly seen a wealth of educators outside of Xavier's school for Gifted Youngsters.
Bryn nodded affirmatively.
" History, English and Geography, but I can also take some psychology."
" You'll fit right in around here then," Logan chuckled, then emptied his beer.
Bryn followed suit before replying.
" I'm not sure fitting in is what I want to do," she sighed, placing the bottle on the concrete floor beneath the stool. " I don't know if I can just go back to normal like that."
She snapped her fingers.
" I know what you mean," Logan nodded, feeling more and more akin to this woman the longer he spent with her.
" Is it, too awkward a question for me to ask how you actually, know, Dylan Barlow?" Bryn said carefully - as the beer took its effect she felt less of her own fear and more of a need to know these people around her, particularly this Wolverine.
Logan took another couple of beers from the fridge, and leaned over the motorcycle to hand one to Bryn, who took it, but kept her eyes on him intently.
" It's all a little hazy," Logan began, perching himself on top of the bar fridge - his eyes were no longer focused on her, but looking upward, reaching into his memory. " But last year when that big human and mutant brain thing went down, I came across the guy that gave me the claws."
" Stryker?" Bryn interrupted, and Logan nodded - she had been paying attention.
" Apparently the story is, that before the, procedure, I worked for him, with Barlow, but the guy left ta do his own thing when Stryker refused ta give him the authority he wanted."
" You don't remember specifics?" Bryn pushed - if this was the man that was responsible for her being the way she now was, then she wanted to know everything she could about him.
" I remember that he's an asshole," Logan dropped. " And that he has little ta no respect for anything or anyone other than himself."
" He's going to try and find me isn't he?" she concluded, turning the unopened bottle of beer over and over in her hands, absently watching the label do laps.
" Yeah," Logan answered, and opened his mouth to reassure her, but she beat him to it.
" I appreciate your honesty," she said with a smile, looking over at him solemnly. " And I appreciate that you donated your blood for me, and that everyone here seems to have genuine concern for me, what I don't understand is why?"
Ok, so the question was a weighty one, but Logan couldn't help but smile.
" You sound just like I did when I first came here," he noted, his own beer now also forgotten in his hand. " And when people are out ta get you, or you're running from something sinister it is difficult ta see why anyone would want ta do you a favour or help you out, but, these people just genuinely care about others."
" And you came here, and stayed?"
" I don't have anywhere else in particular ta go," he pointed out. " They're the only family I can ever remember having."
Bryn didn't mean to be rude, but she couldn't help but yawn, though she covered it with her hand.
" Sorry," she apologised, and though she was tired, she didn't want to go back to the mansion - for some reason she felt a connection to Logan, that his loss of past, and the way her future was threatened made them kindred spirits.
Logan didn't need to be a mind reader to skim this much from her body language.
" You're welcome to stay out here tonight," he offered, putting his beer down and standing up.
Bryn blinked at him.
" I don't want to get in your way Logan, you've been more than accommodating," Bryn said, though she was looking for any excuse to accept his offer.
" It's not a big deal," he assured her quickly. " Ah, you can take the bed, I have a, a spare mattress here."
Jumping awkwardly over an oil tray and various mechanic parts he pulled a tarp away from one pile against the other wall to reveal the before mentioned mattress.
" I'll take the mattress," Bryn insisted, and cut him off again before he could protest. " This is your shack and it's your bed, so, the mattress will be fine."
" Oh ok," he conceded. " There, should be some spare blankets, here," he indicated, opening what Bryn supposed constituted the linen closet, and removed and armful of blankets. " We can leave the radiator on."
" It's great," Bryn smiled. " Thanks."
Logan pulled the mattress down, tucked the sheet and blankets around it and even found her a pillow, and within fifteen minutes, the light went out.
Bryn stared up at the ceiling, listening to the creek of springs on the other side of the partition as Logan climbed into bed.
" Good night Logan," Bryn said softly, and she heard him turn over and speak directly at the thin partial wall that separated them.
" Good night Bryn," he bid her soberly. " Sweet dreams."
Bryn closed her eyes and tried not to think of how alone she felt, and eventually drifted into an uncomfortable sleep.