Disclaimer: Several new characters are mine, including the plot. X-Men belongs to Marvel and Fox.
Xcoolcomic: Oh, I always though it was the other way round. Oh well. Logan is incredibly heavy though, not slightly heavier, so it might be affected a bit? Doesn't matter, what's most important is that you liked the chapter :D
Omala: Yay tears! That's kinda a good thing, lol, proves it was emotional! Er, and if he'll be with Aurora.. it kinda spoils it if I say.. let's just leave it at a tantalising hint: It's going to be very unstable for them.. a few.. disturbances, shall we say?
Blix: Aye, it was sad ): But it made up an interesting chapter!
Araceil: Of course Logan can't die! Where would my story be without the Almighty Wolverine?? Hehe. Well, he'd been out for an hour or so, and even going unconscious is a large feat for Logan's body because his healing normally prevents him from going near anything as serious as that. But he's woken since he's healed up a bit more, though is still unstable and weak, but he's not unconscious.
Zenna: Hello! Welcome to the stories! Did you like the other two before this? Hehe, you sound dependent on it, lucky for you, I have updated!
Chapter 38"Excuse me? Logan?"
The snow of the sweet earth soaked in through the battered and ripped jeans of Logan's knees. His bowed head meant his eyes stared at the blindingly clear floor of white, his gaze still and intense, tears continuing to slowly drift from his weary eyes. His bare hands clasped at clumps of snow in his reddened hands. His ribcage still shook with his frightened breaths; his heart was hammering with such a rush of emotion that he could feel his bloody speeding past his ears, drumming painfully into his skull. His head lifted slowly, the gust of growing wind billowing through his ruffled hair before spreading to the heavens with the specks of petite snowflakes. His eyes followed the wind upwards, eyes happening upon the departing helicopter of the passion from his past..
Logan slowly tore his eyes from the departing helicopter to the same medic leader, Robert. Logan didn't reply to the mans words, he just removed his eyes from the man as soon as he could, staring intently at the floor with the same powerful sadness
"Logan, we need to go now, there's causalities on the other side of the mountain, apparently an explosion has occurred, do you know anything about it?"
"Yeah.." he murmured softly, "There was an explosion.. the Government base blew up, it was on self-destruct.. "Logan slowly rose to hit feet, keeping the grimace out of his face as best as possible, "I need to go now," he suddenly said.
"Go? Go where?" asked Robert, frowning to the man, "You need to go to the hospital."
"No.. I don't," insisted Logan softly, "My injuries are healing.. you need to go and help the other casualties.. they'll need you more than I do. I can go and find my car.. "with that Logan turned once again, treading through the snow with light crunches as he headed back into the woodland to return to the abandoned jeep.
"Where are you going?" cried Robert into the wind as he saw the man leaving.
Logan paused gently, his back to the man as he answered simply, "I'm going home."
The spirit of the wind guided crisped leaves of momentous gold and red through the cool bitter air. The light fall of autumn rain splashed against the clear windowpanes with such a careful spray. The colours of the autumn wind drifted elegantly by the window, the leaves circling delicately before soaring off into the flow of the wind. An extremely sorrowful Aurora watched the scene out of the window from the small leather window seat. Her lips constantly breathed out heavy sighs, eyes drifting shut to try and stop more tears from seeping from her watery eyes. Since Charles had admitted that there was nothing more he could do, the team had departed hurriedly and gone their separate ways to grieve. The mansion was missing such a vibrancy that seemed incongruous to say it was Logan's. For everyone knew Logan was the reserved character who only spoke his own beliefs, and in his own words, didn't give a simple shit for anyone else's opinion. It was peculiar how the mansion seemed so empty without him there, even though he was so often hidden away in the gardens, or in the Danger Room, or even pacing the corridors. But this.. Aurora knew.. was something she was going to have to get used to.
A life without Logan.
How was she supposed to get by each day without helplessly crying and wishing to the heavens that this wasn't reality? How could she sleep each night knowing that it is indeed real, and there's nothing that can be done. Absolutely nothing. It chilled her blood as she pondered over the possible future. A lonely and dull future..
The 'fact' of Logan's death was an impossible one to take in; the almighty harmless Wolverine, the beast of solid adamantium and strength.. dead? It put things into perspective.. that God certainly did have a twisted way about life, no matter how much people fight against nature, everybody has their ends. Adamantium bones or not. Nature laughs last, death laughs last..
But at least Logan was free of what was going to be his on-going torment of his past, which still seemed by far worse than hers. He was now free with the wind, in his home country of Canada.
Aurora let her sadness fall in silent tears, but she unknowingly grieved for the man that was indeed still alive. The man who was supposed to be able to defeat anything on earth had defeated death itself. Her forehead pressed against the cold and clammy window, eyes staring out at the blustery grounds and the grey skies. She was angry at herself for not giving up hope.. still deep down inside something was nagging at her grief.. Something told her he was still alive. But she pushed it aside.. she was only thinking what her heart wanted.. She needed to move on as soon as possible.. she needed to focus on her responsibility as an X-Woman..
The scenery was extremely beautiful, even with the chilling winds and fall of gentle rain. Remy Lebeau walked through the grounds of Xavier's mansion, his trench coat collar turned up high against the winds, his hands in his pockets. It was his first time out in the gardens, and it was true what Storm told him.. that this place was the best place to reflect on the day. Each season brought out different aspects of beauty in the garden, the current feature was the delicate leaves that skimmed the pond's tops, the leaves dancing upon their frost tipped edges, like twirling ballerinas upon their stage. The water's ripples lightly shivered to the touch of the glowing leaves, brushing them along carelessly as the leaves continued on in the current of the wind.
A lonely wet bench was Gambit's choice of seating, quiet and tucked away at the end of the main lawn. Behind the bench, the orchard of late summer flowers still brightened the area with the shimmering petals, a few of them curling up and dropping away as the autumn frost began to settle in on the foliage. Gambit slowly sat down, the bench creaking faintly to his weight. The man's head remained downwards, his eyes on his lap as he remained ever so quiet. It had surprised him that an X-Men member had been took away so easily, especially one of their strongest members, strength in the body and mind. It was a certain valuable loss to such a praise-worthy team. Gambit had not been aware of the mansion's first grievance of Jean – he wasn't sure of the full effect her death caused, nor of the recent Kurt. But all the deaths appeared to revert the mansion into an unhappy silence and since the first, nobody had manage to come back out of their grief.. they plundered on half blind by sadness.
An outsider was ideal. Gambit could help the team find their feet and get them back on track to defending their own world. Losses were indeed distressing, but they were also interruption to the task ahead, the ultimate goal of a free world of no mutant hostility. Gambit longed for this as much as the mutants here did, and with the team running out, he had to get them back on track, it wouldn't be long before the world would have had enough of the 'fiends' and soon discard them off their earth by any means necessary.
Gambit raised his head slightly to look up at the glorious mansion stood before him. His eyes searched across it's stunning exterior, but their keen gaze soon paused upon one of the upper floor windows. He spotted a familiar face sat there, looking down at him in return.
Aurora.
If Gambit was to start anywhere, the worst effected were first..
www(dot)freewebs(dot)com/tpftp