Disclaimer: You've heard it beforeMaggie and Jessica are mine. The others ain't. Life continues to be a bitch that way.

I managed to squeeze in this somewhat shorter than I originally intended chapter because I'm off on holiday in a few days and I won't be returning until mid August. Because I'm such a vicious cuss I've left it on a cliffie. I'll try to write while I'm away so I'll have something to post on my return but where I'm going there's no internet access so I'm not going to be able to post anything or read my emails so don't panic it you try to contact me and don't get a reply. I will get back to you – eventually.

Thanks to Dee (MidLifeCrisis), dayrunner 145, and Taluliaka, and firefly750 (LMAO firefly) for their encouraging reviews.

Chapter 11: Dark Night of the Soul

"Two rib-eye steaks rare, fries, eggs over easy and sides," the waitress drones mechanically, a world-weary expression on her florid face. Guess working the graveyard shift in a twenty-four hour diner can put a crimp on anyone's job satisfaction, especially since she's probably still got at least six hours 'til the day staff arrive. Usually, I would expect the delicious aroma wafting off the plates to compensate for her ennui but not tonight. I manage to grunt a half-hearted thank you but it's lost beneath Jessie's more enthusiastic gratitude.

The waitress mumbles another well worn litany, "You're welcome. Just call if you need anything else."

Strands of Jessie's hair fall forwards as she unwraps her cutlery. Using her fingers to comb the hair from her face, she reveals the full glory of her swollen cheek and its spectacular purple and black bruise. No longer concealed by Jessie's honey tresses, the injury is painfully evident. The waitress's expression transforms from bored to grim and she casts me a venomous stare. Not liking the way the innocent get so easily convicted I shoot one even more venomous straight back at her. I didn't hurt Jessie so I don't give a fuck.

Jessie, aware of the waitress's tacit accusation cuts in with, "Thanks for the concern but the son of a bitch who did this went home with worse okay."

"If you say so, hon." Sauntering back to the counter the waitress perches her ample backside on a stool, picks up a magazine and begins to read.

"Food smells great," Jessie says as she impales a fry on her fork. I watch as her to moist lips envelope the food and she begins to munch with genuine relish. This girl has no use for rabbit food and low-carb crap and that's gratifying to see.

"'Sure does," I mutter.

The diner's clean, decorated in faux Fifties style kitsch, red vinyl and wall mounted neon signs advertising various beers. I've been here before. The food's damn good, affordable and there's plenty of it which is why I've bought Jessie here. There are two other couples enjoying meals but I deliberately picked to booth furthest from them. It's difficult to maintain privacy in a near empty room. Not enough din to drown out conversation.

My own appetite has been diminishing exponentially with the sense of anxiety that has been building in me all evening. Having eaten nothing since Maggie's monster sandwiches I should be attacking my steak like a starved man. It's bloody, just the way I like it and tender too and all I can do is stare at the fucking plate because my stomach is too tightly knotted to desire food. Problem is, my paranoia has been kicking up a stink all night. Nice girl from Virginia working in a rat pit bar in Salem Centre fulfils a prophecy spouted by some loony old woman when she meets my gaze across a crowded room. Jeezus! How fucking lame is that?

"So," Jessie manages to say around a mouthful of fries, "You've been Mister Dark and Brooding all evening. You want to finally come clean about what's bothering you, Heathcliff, or shall we play Twenty Questions?"

She's beautiful, ain't no denying that. I'm still scorched from the sexual chemistry that erupted between us last night and I can feel her rampant pheromones going to work on me right this minute, irresistible as a siren's call and potent as the purest moonshine. But her turning up in Westchester, at this time, is too much of a coincidence for me to ignore. She's just too good to be true.

The motherfuckers who ripped my body apart and erased my memories know where I am. They'll want payback for Alkali Lake. Setting a bitch in heat before a lone wolf with enhanced senses and a sex drive the size of Texas is one hell of a honey trap. Last night I threw caution to the wind, allowed my brain to migrate to my dick. Problem is, my brain likes being on vacation and refuses to go home making it difficult for me to think straight in her presence.

Paranoia aside, I fail to detect the smallest whiff of deception on her and no one is that good at hidings such things from me. Body chemistry will give away even the most accomplished liar every time. Having this edge makes me almost unbeatable at poker. I always know when to fold or when a player is bluffing. But this is different. Jessie ain't bluffing and I don't wanna fold. I want to be with her and to do that I need to lay my cards on the table, the ones I'm prepared to deal anyway.

Part of me, the don't give a fuck hardass part, wishes I hadn't decided on this course of action. What the fuck was I thinking? What if she hates mutants? Ain't it better to enjoy her company while it lasts? Just take what I can get and then run? The old cage fighting Logan would. He'd amuse himself and then walk away without a second glance, too afraid to see if she was doing the same and terrified in case she wasn't. With the conflict and paranoia raging inside my head I find I can't quite bring myself to look Jessie in the eye so I pick at the food on my plate.

"Of course," she continues when my reply isn't forthcoming, "Other than in the biblical sense, we barely know one another so you would be within your rights to tell me to go fuck myself. Of course, it's much more fun to do it with a friend." She grins, making a joke of my caginess to put me at my ease. Wish to hell there was an easy way to deal with this.

Ain't gonna let my pathological suspicion of people ruin what might be a wonderful relationship. If she can't handle me being a mutant then best to let her go. If she turns out to be bait I'll deal with the situation in my own way.

Keeping my voice low so as not to be overheard I tell her, "You're an amazing woman, Jessie. I really want to get to know you better but there are some things ya need to know about me first…I mean before…"

I falter, lost for words. The psychotic demon inside my head rages, it doesn't understand that I'm sick and tired of running. Sick to the bottom of my empty, aching heart of being alone.

"Before what, Logan? Is there someone else? God, you're not married are you?"

I know she checked me for a wedding ring last night but the lack of one means squat. It's strangely gratifying to feel her distress at the prospect of me being attached. I can see it in her eyes, in her slightly down turned lips, in her stiffening posture.

"No," I assure her. But it's false assurance. For all I know I got a family somewhere sitting at home and wondering what the hell happened to me. But I ain't come across any milk cartons with my face plastered on 'em so I reckon I'm entitled to call my denial plausible.

"On the run?"

That's a good one. I've been running away from my nightmares and the fuckers who gave them to me for fifteen years. I fight back an irrational urge to run right now, get as far the hell away from her as I can.

"Not in the way you think." I fall silent, desperate to utter words that are disinclined to be spoken.

"Logan? If you're not comfortable about this it can wait for another time."

It's gotta be said and the longer I leave it the harder it will become. Drawing a deep breath I dive in head first. "What I'm gonna say ain't pretty. When I explain what I am and ya feel ya gotta get the hell away from me I ain't gonna hold it against ya."

Exasperated, she rolls her eyes. "For chrissake Logan, just tell me already."

"I'm a mutant." That wasn't so bad. I study her, trying to gauge her reaction.

She looks at me, a strange expression on her face that seems to be a mixture of annoyance and relief. At least she ain't stabbing me in the face with her fork and running out the door. My inner Logan's screaming has reached fever pitch. Exposing what I am to a human, revealing a genetic heritage that most humans consider abhorrent, is alien to me. My infatuation for her has left me vulnerable in a way I would never have allowed before coming to Westchester. I gotta be losing what's left of my shattered mind.

"That's it?" she asks, her eyebrows arched in surprise. "That's what's been bothering you all night?" She laughs though not unkindly and the skin around her blue eyes crinkles with honest humour.

"Well obviously it bothers me more than it does you," I snap, more than a little flummoxed by her offhand reaction.

She shakes her head sadly. "Logan, I suspected as much when I climbed into your Jeep last night."

"You did?"

"Gimme some credit will you? Your shirt and jeans were soaked in way too much blood to pass off as someone else's nosebleed. The gore dripping from the blade you lodged in the ceiling was an indicator but what really gave the game away was when I pulled your clothes out of my washer/dryer this morning. There was a knife hole in the shirt and I reckon it didn't spontaneously appear. My guess is, you can heal almost instantaneously. That's a useful mutation to have especially for someone who thinks nothing about taking on a barful of pissed off badasses."

Ya don't know the half of it darlin'. "Me being a mutant doesn't bother you then?"

"How could it when my twin brother is a mutant too?"

She has a mutant twin? But Jessie ain't a mutant, of that I'm certain.

"Give me your hand."

She complies without question and I turn it palm upwards, all but burying my face in it as I sniff deeply. Her pulse quickens to my touch and I can feel heat flush her skin. Filtering out the artificial smells of her perfume, toiletries and the stink from an evening spent working at the Auger, I isolate her natural essence and let the animal part of my brain analyse it, break it down into its chemical components. There it is; elusive but unmistakeable. I kiss her wrist.

"Logan, what are you doing?"

"You're X Factor positive," I announce keeping my voice neutral and releasing my grasp.

Pulling her hand away she gasps, "How…how can you possibly know that?"

"I can smell your latency. The healing factor is only part of my mutation. I got heightened senses keener than any animal."

Blue eyes open wide she says, "Whoa, that's amazing." Bewilderment quickly displaces amazement. "But Logan, if your nose is so sensitive, how can you stand living in a town or a city? It must be hell on earth for you breathing in all that pollution."

"I don't like it but ya learn to filter stuff out." How do I explain the rest? "That ain't all."

The food has been forgotten, her attention riveted on me. "Go on."

"Some mutants are telepathic, some can move things with their minds, others can manipulate matter or the elements and some can teleport. My own powers are more intrinsic. I'm a feral. I got the instincts and sometimes the temperament of an animal. I also got claws."

"Feral?"

"There are times when I'm more animal than human. I'm not safe to be around when that happens."

Her heartbeat quickens but there's no fear. She is frowning though, her arched eyebrows creasing into lines of puzzlement. "What, it's like a full moon thing? Like a werewolf?"

"No. I don't physically transform and it don't go in regular cycles. I'm usually in control but there are times when it…slips free or I'm forced to release it and the animal takes over. I suffer from berserker rages triggered by either extreme pain or emotional duress."

"Berserker? You mean like a Viking?"

"I suppose."

"I'd better not piss you off then." She smiles but this time the humour ain't so apparent. "The wolf that walks like a man. That's what went through my mind the first time I laid eyes on you."

"Huh?"

"Like in the Crocodile Dundee film."

"Oh, right." I haven't clue one what the fuck she's talking about but I ain't gonna let it distract me. "There's worse, Jessie. I got brain-wiped. I have no memory of my existence prior to nineteen eighty nine. I've no idea who I am, how old I am or where I come from, although the general consensus is that I'm probably Canadian."

I see some sort of realisation dawn on her face. "That's why you're just Logan," she says, harking back to the conversation we had this morning.

"Just Logan. Yeah. I ain't even certain me and that name are mutually exclusive. All I know is I woke up naked in a snowdrift somewhere in British Columbia with that name bouncing around inside my skull." I ain't mentioning the fact I was also covered in the dried blood of many different people at the time. She don't need the unexpurgated version. "I also woke up with these." Concealing my left hand inside my jacket I spring my claws. "Adamantium, strongest metal known."

Jessie's mouth falls open in an O of shock. "Oh my God. Who would do such a thing?"

Sheathing the claws I continue relentlessly, "I got more of this crap molecularly bonded to my skeleton. Some inhuman fuckwads tore my body apart and coated my bones with more than a hundred pounds of this unbreakable shit."

Her gaze fastens on the thin lines of blood where the blades emerged. "Isn't freeing your claws painful?"

"Hurts like fuck. The blades slice through muscle and flesh every time I pop 'em. If it wasn't for the healing factor it's possible I would bleed out like a son of a bitch.

"That's appalling. Have you reported this to the authorities?"

The laughter that emerges is harsh, devoid of any humour. "Which authorities are those, Jessie? The government sanctioned black project who fucked me over royally or the government paymasters who sanction black projects like this one with Christ knows how many billions of taxpayers dollars?"

She's frightened now but for me rather than of me. Angry too. "But why would anyone do something so…so heartless and cruel."

"To forge me into a weapon designed to kill my own kind. They ripped away everything I was and now I got a hole in my head wider and deeper than the Jersey Tunnel. Somehow I managed to escape but they left me more animal than man and I've been running ever since in case they find me again."

"But you've stopped running now?"

"Yeah," I reply, surprised that it's true.

"Good."

"Why good?"

"Because I don't plan on losing you anytime soon." The expression on her face tells me she means business.

"How can you say that, ya barely know me?"

"And you barely know me so why are you telling me this?" she counters, staring intently into my eyes. "You feel it too, don't you? That we're meant to be together."

"Are we?" Those two words fall between us like an impenetrable barrier.

Dropping her gaze to her plate she picks up her knife and fork. "Food's going cold." I get the distinct impression she's biting back her words. There seems to be the slightest hint of tears in her eyes. I don't wanna hurt her.

Hurt her! An awful truth hits me hard, knocking me sick. "I don't wanna see ya get hurt, darlin'. The world I live in is a real shitty place. I got some pretty nasty enemies who wouldn't think twice at trying to get to me through you. I'm too dangerous for you to associate with. Maybe it's best that I leave now." The thought of someone like Stryker or Magneto using her as bait sends an arctic chill down my spine.

"Maybe you should just shut up and eat," she replies, cutting into her steak, her expression blank. "You can reason your way out of this as much as you want but I know in here," she touches her forehead, "and in here," she touches her heart, "that you and I are one soul. I'm a big girl, Logan. I've been taking care of myself for a long time. Let me decide whether or not I want to be around you."

"Ya not listening, Jessie. Being associated with me might make ya a target."

"And the sky might fall and bury us all ass deep in magic moon dust," she returns.

"This ain't no joking matter, kid."

"I'm sure it isn't. And don't call me kid. Is it whatever you do when your not drinking or brawling that generates such misgivings over my welfare?

What is it that I do? Wilderness bum, prize-fighter, hard drinker, kicker of nasty mutant ass? Revenge killing? Mentoring a teenage werewolf? Being the world's biggest asshole?

"I…yeah, it is."

She picks up on my hesitancy. "But you can't tell me because then you'll have to kill me, right?"

"Nah! I suppose ya could say I'm a security consultant and attitude adjuster." I manage a dry chuckle. "Yer one hell of a woman, ya know that?"

She smiles. "I do now."

"Mind if we change the subject?"

"Sure."

"So," I begin tentatively, finally taking an interest in my own food. "What's you're story?"

"Well, I hail from the l'il old historic town of Keswick, Virginia. Dad runs his own business designing and installing heating and ventilation systems. Mom teaches English in junior high. My brother, is a cancer specialist at Northeastern Vermont Hospital, Washington. With his mutation he couldn't possibly have done anything else."

"What's his power?"

"He has the ability to touch someone and diagnose any medical condition they may be suffering from. His diagnosis rate so far is one hundred percent accurate."

"Must save a lot of lives." I can smell sickness and disease. It's not something I'd like to work with though.

"I like to think he does. His gift is nothing short of a awesome." Ain't gonna argue with that. Far better to mend people than break them.

"How about you, What did you do before you tapped Sol for a job?"

"Up until three months ago I was a Navy Lieutenant. I've got over nine thousand hours logged flying Seahawks."

"You're a helicopter pilot? Why ain'tcha flying 'em any more?" That's the sort of job people dream about. Why the fuck did she give it up? Was she grounded or something?

Her faced reddens. "I up and quit."

It ain't embarrassment that's flowing off of her. It's red full on rage. "Ya don't strike me as a quitter, kid."

"I fell in love with the wrong man, a superior officer. When we were found out I discovered he loved his career more than he loved me. The rat accused me of sexually harassing him and blackmailing him to sleep with me to save his own neck. Everyone knew that was a crock of shit but it was his word against mine and he was the son of an admiral, fourth generation Navy. I was pressured into resigning to spare the Navy the embarrassment of hauling my ass up on an Article 32."

So she's running away because some fucking micro-dick moron set her up when he got caught with his fingers in the candy jar. She probably dodged the pre court-martial investigation not only to protect the ass of the rat bastard who dumped her like hot shit but also because the US military is fundamentally sensitive about the sexual peccadilloes of female officers being splashed across the media. Aw, what the hell do I know? Am I an expert 'coz I caught a few episodes of JAG?

"Why didn'tcha fight it? Ya shouldn't have let the rat bastard get away with it."

The misery on her face twists my gut. "I couldn't stomach the thought of the inevitable media feeding frenzy. Besides, my parents are staunch Catholics. I didn't want to bring shame on them."

I gotta respect that even if I thinks it's stupid ideal to live up to. "Westchester's quite a ways from Keswick, Virginia. What'cha doing here?"

"Looking for a job. Oconus Logistics is in town recruiting ex-military personnel and I'm sort of hoping they need a good helicopter pilot. I had an interview last week. If I'm acceptable and receive the go ahead I need to move out fast."

Ex-military? Hitch told me he was a medically discharged marine. Jessie is ex-navy and she's an exotic fish out of water working for a slimeball like Sal. Looks like my crack about a convention wasn't that wide of the mark after all. Ah, fuck. OCONUS. It's a military acronym for Outside CONtinental US. Dunno how I know that, never served in the military as far as I know.

Christ on a pogo stick. "Jessie, ya not trying to tell me you're a merc are ya?"

"Not exactly. OL is a civilian contractor for the Pentagon. They supply advisors, security personnel, keep the supply lines open in war zones and for overseas bases. If they want me I'll be on my way to wherever pretty soon."

And I thought her being around me was fucking dangerous.

"What about a civilian aviation outfit? Ain't any of them needing a Navy trained pilot? I'd have thought they'd be queuing up ta get their mitts on ya."

"Hasn't happened. I get interviews and then nada. It's like I'm poison or something."

"You could end up in Iraq or Afghanistan. Al-Qaeda and Mujahideen insurgents don't distinguish between male or female, military or civilian. To them we're all fucking targets."

"It's the risk I took when I entered the Naval Academy. The difference is, OL pay more and I sign up for however long I need the job. I used the last of my cash to pay a month's rent on my apartment. Sal was good enough to give me a job to get me by but what I earn at the Auger ain't gonna cover the rent and pay all the other bills. I need a job, Logan. Without money I face trailing all the way back to Virginia and explaining to my parents how their little girl managed to crap out."

"Wouldn't Virginia be better than getting a bird shot out from under ya by some lucky strike camel herder?"

"Would that bother you?"

"What do you think?" A though struck me. "Ya say ya want to be with me yet yer talking about hauling yer ass out to the Middle East. That don't make much sense."

"Do I have a choice?" The timbre of her voice tells me she might not be that hard to convince.

"Actually, yeah you do."

"Oh?"

"Yer a karate black belt. How d'ya feel about teaching martial arts and self defence at a private school?"

Looking taken aback she asks, "What sort of school has martial arts on its curriculum?"

"The sort that made the national news a few weeks back."

That's got her thinking. Doesn't take her long to make the connection. "The one that was under investigation? The school for training mutant terrorists?"

"It wasn't under investigation and there ain't no terrorists, just a bunch of school kids who are a bit out of the ordinary. We were attacked by a hostile force lead by a bastard called Stryker who had a mandate issued by the fucking President stuffed in his wallet. Raiding a terrorist stronghold was the excuse he used to get his hands on some radical technology he needed to commit mutant genocide.

"They came in helicopters and armed to the teeth with explosives and live rounds. Some of the kids got tranquilised and taken to a secret government facility in Canada. Didn't know it at the time but Stryker had also put the snatch on Charlie Xavier, the headmaster and one of his senior staff. They ended up in Canada too and subjected to mind control. It turned out to be the same facility I got given my claws and reinforced skeleton."

"I thought you said you didn't remember anything prior to waking up in the snow."

"I have nightmares, flashbacks of the things they did to me. I helped rescue the captives. When I found the lab they tortured me in, I recognised it straight away." And then Jeanie died. I feel my heart constrict and all the pain floods back.

Shock drains the colour from her face. "Yours has got to be the worst case of Dark Night of the Soul I've ever come across."

"Ya think they pumped me full of molten metal and ripped my head apart so I could find God?" That comes out more harshly than I intend. She reacts like I've struck her.

Jessie shakes her head vehemently. "Of course not. I'm just trying to understand and put into words the living hell you've suffered since this happened."

"There ain't any fucking words for it, darlin'." I shove the plate away, unable to eat a single bite. Rage is trickling into my head and I can feel it beginning to seep through my entire being like hot plasma.

"I'm so sorry, Logan."

My voice drops lower, becomes controlled and edged with hostility she doesn't really deserve. "I don't want any fucking pity. Not from you. Not from anyone." The walls of the diner are closing in on me. I need to get out, get away. The memory of Alkali Lake is still too raw. And Jeanie… Oh God! The abyss is opening up inside me again. All those nightmare emotions are welling up in me. I can't stop them.

"And I'm not offering any. I was simply apologising for raking up something that obviously causes you pain."

The distress in her voice has been put there by me. I've misjudged her intentions. I've snapped at her like I'm a terrier with a thistle up its ass. She's the one good thing that's happened to me since Jeanie died and I'm in danger of pushing her away 'coz I'm too fucking weak to rein in my anger and paranoia.

"You didn't. I did. I'm sorry for coming on like a prize asshole." Fuck. If I'm apologising I must be in a bad way.

She takes my hands in hers and squeezes them tenderly. Her touch sends a frisson along my nerves and into my brain. "Apology accepted. As are your credentials."

Huh? What credentials? "What do you mean?"

"It means, lover, that whatever your reasons for being dark and brooding, I'm not letting a predestined hunk like you walk away without a fight. You know I'm good for it." Her smile is wicked sexy. "Let's go home."

It's just the tonic my miserable ass needs. I find my appetite's returning but not for food. "I'll get the check."

-o0o-

Bathed in post-coital sweat we lie in each others arms, our legs entangled. The taut muscles in my belly pulse to the rhythm of my pounding heartbeat, sending ecstatic aftershocks through my body. The intensity of my release is like nothing I've ever experienced before. It felt like I was pouring my soul into Jessie, that somehow our life forces joined and became a larger, glorious whole. Before Jessie, having sex was a sordid if enjoyable pastime, ultimately meaningless. Now it's been transcended into something…I have no words to describe.

Jessie's breathing is slow and even, she's sleeping, cradled in my arms, her head on my chest. Nuzzling her hair with my lips I hold her tightly to me, almost afraid that she'll evaporate like mist in the sun. The heavy, slightly salty musk of sex hangs in the air. Mixed with the tangs of sweat and satiation it's a heady mixture but I'm beyond stimulation right now. Gently, so as not to wake her, I nuzzle her hair with my cheek and stroke her face, tracing the delicate contours with my fingers. As I touch her lips she stirs and I can feel her smile in her sleep. There's no way I'm gonna fuck this woman and walk away. She's mine. For as long as she wants me. With that startling thought rattling in my brain I fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

-o0o-

The storm hit Westchester County in the early hours of the morning bringing with it torrential rain and high winds. The wipers can't cope with the volume of water obscuring the windscreen and the roads in low lying areas are beginning to flood. The jeep can cope with the water but fallen trees are a serious problem. Although I haven't had any close shaves, I've been forced to backtrack twice and take a more circuitous route along lesser known back roads to reach the school. Already the journey has taken me twice as long as normal. And I am so fucking hungry I could eat my own jacket. I dunno which is worse, the howling of the wind or the growling of my stomach. Maggie's sandwiches are nothing but a distant memory and breakfast was the last thing on mine or Jessie's mind this morning. The truth is, we didn't want to waste time eating. If it hadn't been for Rahne, I probably would've stayed with Jessie and happily died of a combination of ecstasy, exhaustion and starvation.

Finally I find a way onto Graymalkin Lane and arrive at the mansion's gate without any more diversions. Responding to the electronic signal, the gates swing open and I drive though, heading for the garage. Checking my watch I find it's already half past twelve. I'm late. Fuck it! No time to park the Jeep in the garage. Instead I opt for driving up to the main wing of the school and leaving the Jeep near the porch until later. Climbing out of the cab the rain, whipped into a solid wall of water by the gale, soaks me in less than the time it takes to run the few feet to the shelter of the large porch. As expected, the front door is unlocked so I slip inside, grateful to be out of the weather. Shaking off as much water as I can I head for the library.

Rahne is there, sitting in a chair facing the door, red head bowed over a book. There're a few other kids around, some working, some reading but none I really know.

"Hey, Rahne," I say softly as I pad up to her. My wet jeans chafe my skin and I wish I'd had the opportunity to change into dry clothes but I reckon I can live with it. It ain't like it's the first time I've ever been cold and wet. Living in Westchester is turning me into a wuss.

She looks up from her book. "You're late," she accuses.

"The wind's brought a few trees down. I had to take the long way back here." Why the hell am I justifying myself to a kid?

"Oh. I didnae know yeh'd gone out."

I sit in a chair opposite to her, taking care not to make any sudden moves that might startle her. "What'cha reading?"

"The latest Harry Potter. Moira bought it for me on Saturday."

"Any good?"

"Aye."

"Wanna put it away while be talk?"

Rahne closes the book and stuffs it down the side of the chair. She takes her time, as if she's reluctant to engage in any meaningful conversation. I don't sense fear coming from her but she's wary, there's anxiety too. I suppose it's to be expected. After all, the last time we met I threw her into the fountain.

I break the awkward silence. "I know the male of the species ain't exactly flavour of the month with ya, kid, but ya need to understand that I ain't gonna hurt ya. I'm here to help. Get the picture?"

Rahne nods her head slowly, her green eyes unblinking, never leaving my face. She's suspicious of my motives, that much is clear. It's gonna take more than words to win her trust.

"Ya know what anger and humour smell like?"

"Aye. I can smell what people are feeling."

"Good. Then yer'll know I ain't posing a threat to ya. Take a sniff."

Rahne's nostrils flare as she tests the air, sucking in the subtle odours my body is producing. Without warning she leaps to her feet, snarling and transforming instantly. The hate she's projecting hits me like a battering ram.

"Ya smell just like him!" she howls and then she's on me, sinking her teeth into my arm and biting bone deep. Shaking her head violently she shreds flesh until her teeth, red with gore, grate on metal, like a dog worrying a bone. What the fuck did I do?

"Get out," I manage to yell to the kids in the room. I can hear screams and the sound of running feet.

Seizing Rahne by the scruff on the neck and exerting a force that stops short of injurious, I try to pull her free of my mangled arm. My grip's gotta be hurting her but it doesn't persuade her to release her grip.

"Rahne! What the fuck has gotten in to ya, kid," I snarl through teeth clenched tightly shut with agony. Too late I realise that seizing her neck is a serious tactical error. With both hands occupied I leave myself open to her wickedly sharp claws. She brings them to bear and I feel a ragged, searing pain as she rakes them across the side of my neck and jaw. Skin and muscle tears and a hot surge of blood pulses almost explosively outwards, soaking my jacket and shirt in a sticky, scarlet warmth. It spatters her fur, her muzzle and everything else within reach. She must have ruptured my carotid artery. Miraculously the pressure of her jaws slacken and I tear my arm free and kick her hard in the gut, putting distance between us. She goes down yelping in pain but she recovers fast and I follow up with a punch to the head, trying to contain my own rage enough to render her unconscious and not crush her skull. As my fist connects her head lolls to one side and suddenly I'm looking at a teenage girl lying at my feet. She's as pale as a day old corpse but I can see her chest rising and falling.

The blood is still gushing and I slap the hand of my uninjured hand to the wound in an attempt to apply pressure and stanch the bleeding. I dunno if it's possible for me to bleed to death but I ain't planning on finding out. The plan is head for the med-lab so I stagger to the doorway on legs that seem to have turned to rubber. I can't see so well through the mist that seems to be fogging my vision and I collide with something rushing through the doorway. Something warm that smells suspiciously of Summers.

"Logan, what the hell…oh, God."

I feel hands gripping me, holding me upright but to no avail. As my legs buckle I managed to gasp out, "I think I hurt Rahne," before collapsing.

From a long way away I hear Summers yelling for help and I feel new pressure being applied to my neck wound. The world seems to be collapsing in on me, shrinking and spiralling as my vision narrows to a tiny pinprick of brightness. I feel like I'm falling down a bottomless well As I watch the light recede I wonder if this is what dying is like. Nothing to fear. You just drift away.

The light blinks out and darkness folds in on me, taking away the pain and everything else. My last conscious thought is – I hope I didn't kill her.

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