Chapter Three Playlist:
•Demons ~ Imagine Dragons
Note:
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Exiting the bathroom, Rogue glanced over her shoulder, cringing when she saw the smeared blood under Johanna's nostrils.
"Logan's going to be so pissed when he sees you."
"Who in the hell is Logan?" Johanna demanded.
Not watching where she was going, Johanna began walking a bit faster, until she slammed into something solid. Looking up, she couldn't help but blush. Standing before her was the tallest —and the most rugged— man she has ever seen. He definitely took care of his body —wearing a tight, crisp white t-shirt, faded jeans, with brown cowboy boots— his broad shoulders supporting arms that were extremely thick. His golden eyes, though, were a marvel to look at, flashing brightly... until it eventually faded.
Bushy sideburns hid most of his cheeks, trimmed in a way that seemed very old fashioned. His untamed, dark brown hair —almost black— was wavy, and slightly spiked on the sides of his head; in a way that reminded Johanna, of the many times her tiny baby hairs had formed into little ram horns when they got wet. But his hair, was styled like a wild animal. A wolf.
"Logan, I am so, so sorry," Rogue began apologizing —to the very man towering over Johanna. "I didn't know where you were, and—"
Logan's nostrils flared, and his chiseled jaw clenched. "Damn it, Marie! I told you to yell if there was trouble!"
Logan gently caressed Johanna's nose with two fingers, stopping as soon as she flinched.
"Yer gonna be okay, Darlin'," Logan reassured her, quickly taking a puff of his cigar before ordering a cold beer; handing it to Johanna.
"Wait, what—"
"It's supposed to help you," he clarified, placing the side of the iced bottle in front of her face —closer to the bridge of her nose; until she eventually snapped out of her dreamy daze and held it herself.
"—Logan, I hate to be a pest," Rogue interrupted. "But, we really have to go now!"
Logan followed her gaze, noticing a disheveled young woman —dressed in all black— limping out of the women's bathroom. The Sapien League scum who was sent to kill his mate.
"Let's go," he ordered, grabbing Johanna's hand and leading her out of the bar —Rogue and Lori following close behind.
He should have never left Rogue alone. Yes, she was one of the best fighters he knew. But, after looking at his mate —her nose slightly bruised— he regretted sending Rogue in while he parked the car.
Everyone quickly getting into the SUV, making sure Johanna sat in the front, Logan sped away into the night. It was going to be a long drive back to New York, and an even a longer trip spent in awkward silence.
Despite being in the presence of other mutants, Johanna couldn't help but feel... wary. Lori was the only mutant she knew, and these people —whoever they were— were still strangers.
Lori and the woman —who called herself Rogue— were resting in the backseat. But Johanna forced herself stay awake, hugging herself tightly; ignoring the bright red numbers on the radio that read twelve-thirty.
"You don't trust us, do you?" Logan asked calmly, his deep voice husky.
"I don't trust a lot of people," Johanna stressed. "So it's not personal."
Logan nodded, turning on the radio —classic rock softly playing in the background; loud enough to hear the song, but low enough so it didn't wake Lori and Rogue.
Johanna began to quietly hum the words, causing Logan to smirk; impressed that his mate had good taste.
"Didn't peg you as someone who liked Guns N' Roses."
"Well," Johanna paused, smiling sheepishly. "I only listen to my favorites. Growing up, my mom played all types of music —either around the house or in the car. But we both preferred listening to either alternative rock or Eighties rock. Eighties music is just the best..."
Realizing she had answered more than intended, Johanna's cheeks began to feel warm. She then shifted to a more comfortable position in the seat —temporarily soothing the sudden jolts of pain sent from both her thighs and back.
Casually staring into the darkness, Johanna could only make out the sudden flashes of trees passing them by. It was somehow soothing —with the soft, warm seats and the chilled air conditioning cooling her face; her eyelids suddenly grew heavy.
"I know yer exhausted, Anna," Logan finally spoke. "You should really get some sleep. We're not even close to—"
"And where are we going exactly?" Johanna asked.
"North of Salem... in New York. Xavier's School for Gifted Y—"
"Wait, wait, wait... THE Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters? As in... home and headquarters to the X-Men? No... that's —that's not possible."
Johanna couldn't believe it. It had been years since the X-men disappeared. And after the recent events with the Avengers— almost everyone believed the government wiped them all out, seeing as how the school was untraceable; looking as if it had disappeared into thin air.
Many mutants —and mutant sympathizers, like Johanna— were now either dead, or blending in; pretending to be human, like Lori. It was definitely a constant struggle to survive without being caught, and both Johanna and Lori had worked so hard to make sure they didn't draw attention to themselves. Especially after their families died, making their apartment a safe haven.
But now, they had no home. No safe haven.
"The X-Men are gone, buddy," Johanna snapped. "And I don't know who you think you are, but before you even lie to me—"
*Snikt*
Gripping the wheel with one hand, Logan extracted three shiny claws from the other; extending them to about twelve inches.
Johanna couldn't help but choke on her saliva.
"Believe me now, sweetheart?" Logan asked harshly. "Because I would never lie to you. Ever. Got it?"
Johanna nodded.
The Wolverine.
Johanna was talking to The. Freaking. Wolverine. Of course, he looked different without his suit and mask on, but it all made sense now! The woman who called herself Rogue was... well... actually Rogue!
*Snikt*
Retracting his claws, Logan continued focusing on the road, occasionally stealing a couple glances at Johanna; who was still speechless.
"Wow," was all she managed to say.
"Yeah, well..." Logan shrugged.
Usually, most people were afraid of him, especially when they first saw his claws. But her? No. Fear was definitely not a scent Logan got from her. Johanna was in awe. And that alone calmed the animal within; knowing that his mate wasn't afraid of him. Or pissed at him anymore. And yet, despite his heightened senses, the silence still made him itch with curiosity.
"Now that you know who we are... do you... wanna get some rest... or—"
Johanna shook her head in disbelief, as if Logan had suggested something crazy —like jumping out of the car.
"No! Not after what just happened tonight! I mean, hell! How can I? I'm just too... wired..." Truthfully, Johanna didn't want to admit that she still didn't trust him. Although he was a well known superhero —most definitely her favorite— he was still a man.
"Okay," Logan nodded, smelling a bit of nervousness that she gave off. "Fair enough."
Wired, Logan thought; scoffing. Sure. And yet, here she was, yawning and barely keeping her eyes open as if her life depended on it. Shaking his head, Logan let a few songs play, allowing his mind to wander —vaguely remembering the many late nights when Laura also refused to sleep; when they had first brought her back to the mansion. Living in a new place —surrounded by many people she didn't trust— was extremely overwhelming for her.
Storm had suggested he read to her every night —and when that seemed to slightly work, Rogue suggested playing a game called QA. Simply asking the other person a question —taking turns— was a game the younger students played on the first day of school; to get to know each other better.
Of course, the way Logan played it —asking numerous questions back to back— eventually put Laura to sleep. Now a Senior in high school, Laura is thankfully used to a normal routine. And Logan was proud. Although still a loner, she attends her classes on time, has a curfew, does her homework. Though —as a habit— Logan still asks his little sister a few questions every night; usually pertaining to how her day normally went.
Almost like cracking a code to the most secured safe, Logan smirked. Bingo. Problem solved. That's exactly what he was going to do. Not only would this probably work for Johanna, calming her nerves a bit, but also... what better way to get to know his mate?
Logan tried to decide exactly what to ask her, sifting through the many different questions that raced throughout his mind —until he finally gruffly blurted out, "So tell me about yourself."
Johanna quickly glanced over, thinking Logan was probably just joking or being sarcastic —only to find that he was actually serious; his golden eyes glowing again.
"Why do your eyes change color like that?"
Realizing the wolf was trying to gain control, Logan shut his eyes. After a few seconds, he opened them —taking deep a breath before sighing; the gold now replaced with a normal brown. The full moon was definitely illuminating tonight, but this wasn't the most ideal time to let The Wolverine run loose.
"It's a long story," he said flatly. "But technically... I was the one who asked the question first, sweetheart." He was smirking now, his eyebrow cocked.
That cheeky studmuffin, Johanna thought. Taken aback, she quickly bit her upper lip; attempting not to laugh. Johanna was slowly starting to admire —among many other things— just how blunt this guy really was.
Tell me about yourself. With a question like that, where does one start? Does she travel back into her youth and start from the beginning? Or was it a simple talk-about-what-you-like and so on?
She shrugged her shoulders, looking briefly to her left, only to find Logan staring back at her; intense, but pensive. Like he was trying to figure her out.
"Do you really wanna open up that Pandora's box? I'm not sure if I'm even that interesting. You might get bored."
Logan's grin was as sharp as a knife, showing off his white, pointy teeth; making the inside of Johanna's stomach perform a few somersaults, like a professional acrobat in Cirque du Soleil.
"Try me." He challenged. "What's yer favorite animal?"
Johanna blushed when she had answered Wolves, without much thought.
Flipping her hair to the opposite side, concealing her —now red— cheeks, Logan thankfully —without pressing any further— just nodded, keeping his eyes on the road; the corner of his mouth twitching.
So she likes wolves. The Wolverine was definitely pleased.
After a brief moment of silence, just when Johanna thought he gave up, he proved her wrong.
More questions carried on throughout the next couple of hours. Logan would push for more details, and Johanna —who was equally willful— would push right back.
She would rattle on about her passion for reading and writing, her love for all types of foods, her favorite movies, tv shows, and her all-time-favorite band —The Killers. How she hated math, and joked about how Algebra came straight from hell, so she avoided it entirely, and how she didn't have a lot of hobbies but enjoyed riding her Vespa; dreading the realization that she probably won't be able to get it back anytime soon.
Running out of things to say, Johanna eventually took a break. Feeling overly relaxed to divulge so much information —most would find often trivial and ordinary— Johanna began to feel a little embarrassed... and then pissed with herself; worried she was probably boring Logan or coming across as annoying and chatty. That was until she saw how engaged and absorbed he was.
Treating her as if she was the most fascinating thing he ever saw, Logan eventually wanted to know more about how and where she grew up —surprised to find out she once lived in Queens— why her parents separated when she was only two and finally divorced when she was six. Where she went to school, who were her favorite teachers, and even —how he worded it— the *holes who messed with her; playfully threatening to hunt them down and slice them. He brushed it off as a joke, of course. But the darkness in his eyes and the harshness in his voice said otherwise.
Though most questions were lighthearted, Johanna certainly wasn't prepared when Logan asked a question that hit close so to home.
"So, tell me about yer mom. Sounds like you two were close."
Like ripping off a bandaid, Johanna attempted to answer as calmly as she could; swallowing the lump in her throat that burned going down.
"Yeah. We were." Johanna answered slowly.
Mary and Johanna Rivera were often mistaken for being sisters, rather than mother and daughter.A sight to behold, Johanna's mom could've been a model —with her thick, dark curls, sharp features, and Latin curves. Confident, brave, hardworking, and extremely smart, Johanna was still proud of her. And although she was strict, her mom never failed at being present when Johanna needed her the most; always there in her corner like a cheerleader, rooting for their favorite athlete.
"She... was my best friend..." Johanna mumbled. Was.
Gritting her teeth, Johanna knew couldn't continue —suddenly chewing on the inside of her cheek until it bled.
Only up until now, Johanna had never fully accepted that her mother was with God. It had been three years since the tragedy, and Johanna repressed the feelings she should have felt.
She should have mourned, but she didn't.
She should have been a better daughter, but she wasn't.
She should have said goodbye... but she couldn't.
It was already too late.
Grief, heartache, and anger crashed down on her like a cold, heavy wave. The sudden emotions overwhelming his senses, invading his nostrils, Logan whipped his head, only to find Johanna with her eyes closed, breathing slowly; concentrating.
"Hey. Hey, Darlin', what's wrong?" Logan began to shake her shoulder, until she opened her eyes; which were now flooded with tears.
Johanna shook her head, quickly wiping her cheeks with her jacket sleeve.
"I'm so sorry," she choked. "It's just... people that I love... tend to die when they're around me. You probably wouldn't understand," she sighed. "No one does."
Logan's lips formed into a tight line, his brows furrowed.
"Oh, but I do. Believe it or not..." he paused, "we're the same. You and I. We're survivors. We lose many and gain very little —having to go through the pits of hell, just to get a glimpse of happiness."
Studying Johanna once more, Logan fully grasped how much pain she was truly carrying on her fragile, little shoulders. It was eating her alive —gnawing at her heart. He desperately wanted to comfort her. To take the pain away. But he couldn't. Johanna would soon come to accept that she needed the pain to keep going. To survive. Just like Logan —who had endured centuries worth of loss and suffering— it made her who she is today, and she shouldn't change that.
But for now, she needed to rest.
"Anna, I know yer hurting. Life definitely wasn't fair to you, and I'm sorry. But I hope ya know you have someone you can talk to now. I won't judge ya, and if ya need me to, I'll just listen."
Noticing she was feeling a little bit better, Logan held out his hand; taking a gigantic leap of faith.
"This might sound crazy, but... if ya want... you can hold my hand. I'll attack the nightmares if they try to get to you."
Johanna's mouth opened slightly, her eyes narrowed and her voice cracked when she spoke. "How'd you know I had night—"
Logan chuckled bitterly. "All survivors battle against terrible dreams, Darlin'. But tonight... I'll keep them away. You need to sleep."
Johanna nodded.
Ever since she had met Logan, just hours prior, she had noticed something. He was thoughtful, sure. Perceptive, even. But... there was something else that stood out from his evident, gruff exterior.
After talking with him, Johanna noticed how he treated her, compared to the other two; when they were awake. It was as if Logan had been her close friend for many years, and they were just reunited after being apart for so long.
Although they were practically strangers, Johanna also couldn't deny the sudden connection —the immense attachment— she felt when she first met him... or whenever he spoke... or —my God— whenever he looked at her. This new feeling was different for Johanna, contrary to anything she's ever felt before. And... she didn't want to jinx whatever this was by being a total douche.
"Okay," she sighed, looking at her hands; worried if they were too rough or sweaty. "Are you sure you don't mind? You don't really have to—"
Logan snorted, gently taking her hand in his —which tingled when they touched. "Just get some shuteye, and I'll wake ya up later."
Hesitant at first, Johanna eventually smiled, leaning her head against the seatbelt for support —allowing the exhaustion to finally overpower her.
And before the darkness completely took over, she heard Logan shifting —their arms moving slightly until he abruptly stopped— letting her hand go before embracing it again; slowly covering her lap with his jacket.
"Sweet dreams," he purred deeply.
And Johanna was out cold.