Chapter 4
I awoke a few hours later to a loud, persistent knocking on the hall door. I buried my head under my pillow, muttering several choice words about a certain very rude person's questionable parentage and sexual orientation.
The pounding came again, muffled but still very audible. "Whaaaat?!?" I moaned angrily, projecting my considerable irritation at the asshole on the other side of the door.
It didn't faze him. –BANG, BANG- "Vixen? It's me!" Logan's voice filtered through the fabric encased heap of goose feathers covering my ears. Oooh, and he had coffee, judging from the tantalizing scent of Colombian roast I now picked up wafting under the door.
I threw my pillow aside and rolled to my feet. Eyes still half closed, I staggered to the door, threw the bolt and then went and resumed my previous position: face down on the bed.
"Jesus, you're a crabass in the morning," Logan observed wryly, with a complete lack of irritation. "We'd probably kill each other if we ever woke up together." I raised my left hand and popped the middle finger at him, inducing a low chuckle.
The coffee was winning me over, though. The rich aroma enticed me enough to sit up and take the mug Logan offered. "Thanks," I mumbled grudgingly. Sipping carefully, I looked up at Logan in surprise and asked, "How'd you know?" indicating my cup of black-with-sugar, which was exactly how I liked it. He just arched an eyebrow at me and said nothing.
A few more swallows and I was caffienated enough to get moving. A quick splash of water to my face, a hasty swipe at my curls with the thoughtfully provided hairbrush, and we were heading downstairs to the dining hall.
Armed with a bowl of Grape-nuts and a second cup of coffee, I followed Logan through the maze of tables. Several curious heads turned to look as we passed, wondering who Wolverine's new friend was. One particularly intense stare was coming from a striking young lady with a shock of pure white hair running from the peak of her forehead, in sharp contrast to the rest of her thick chestnut tresses. I gave her as friendly a smile as I could muster this early in the morning. She started guiltily and smiled back, quickly turning again to her friends.
We found two empty seats at what turned out to be the main table. Jean Grey was finishing her orange juice and greeted us warmly. "Good morning, you two. How did you sleep, Brianna?" I could sense her amusement as she took in my appearance, particularly the fact that I was wearing Logan's shirt.
"Like a rock, Doc, " I replied with a grin. I sent Jean a quick mental flash, the empathic equivalent of a Pretty cool, hey? We both laughed out loud, and somehow I knew the foundation of a solid friendship had been formed.
"Girl talk," Logan grumbled, and planted himself and his breakfast tray across the table from Dr. Grey. I plopped down next to him and then first took note of the others at the table.
"Brianna, this is Scott Summers, my fiancé." Jean introduced me to the good-looking, clean-shaven man sitting next to her. He was wearing a really odd pair of sunglasses although we were indoors, the lenses ruby red and opaque.
"Hi," I said meekly, suddenly feeling a bit overwhelmed by the whole situation. What was I doing here? Why should these people give a rat's ass about me? Then Logan's hand was on my knee, giving me a reassuring squeeze. There was nothing suggestive about the gesture, but his touch sent a tingle up my thigh, nonetheless. I smiled inwardly at him in return, grateful for his presence.
Scott gave me a polite, unsmiling nod. "Nice to meet you. I understand you and Logan had a run in with Sabertooth last night."
"Are you alright, my dear?" I thought I felt a crackle of electricity in the air as a coffee-skinned beauty with snow white hair addressed me in concern. "Sabertooth is quite a formidable adversary."
Jean introduced the striking woman as Ororo Munroe. I shook her hand, casting a sideways glance at Logan. Indignation rolled off of him in waves, but he kept it easily hidden from the rest of the table. Amused, I replied, "Of course, I'm fine. I had the Wolverine fighting for me."
"You're no slouch yourself, Vixen," Logan admitted into his plate of Canadian bacon and eggs. The corner of his mouth curled in a slight, intimate smile only I could see.
I blushed, absurdly pleased by the unexpected half-compliment. "Uh…thanks." Our eyes met, and the heat in my face deepened. That intense gaze sent all kinds of thrills racing through my nerves.
"I hate to break up your mutual admiration society here," Scott spoke rather sharply, "but what exactly happened last night, Logan?"
My eyes widened in shock, impressed that Scott had the nerve to talk to Logan that way. I looked quickly at Jean, who just shook her head and rolled her eyes in exasperation. Men, she mouthed silently, and I snorted in amusement.
"Well, I was out at the Barley Pop and Vixen happened to be singin'." Logan leaned back easily in his chair, swallowing his mouthful of eggs. I could sense his intense dislike for Scott, but also knew he held a grudging admiration for the younger man, as well. "I bought her a drink, we talked a little and I found out she was a mutant." Logan fixed Scott with a stare that brooked no comment in regards to our "meeting". I had the feeling Mr. Summers did not drink frequently, nor did he put much stock in those who did. "Sabertooth showed up just as Vixen was finishing her last set," Logan continued, "and it was pretty obvious what he was after. So when the lady left the bar for the night, I tailed her. Creed was waitin' for her near her motel."
My jaw dropped in shock. "I didn't see him at the bar, OR smell him," I interjected.
"Well, he wouldn't just belly up to the bar now, would he?" Logan retorted. "Creed knows how to keep from being spotted when he's stalkin' someone."
I shuddered involuntarily at the thought of being that vile creature's prey. Sabertooth terrified me more deeply that I had ever been in my life. The brief glimpse I'd had of his intentions for me on that cold, hard sidewalk had left me with the impression of pure evil and no mercy in that dark soul. My hands began to tremble violently, and suddenly the coffee mug I was holding exploded. Hot liquid and ceramic shards sprayed in every direction. Logan's arm shot out to keep me from falling out of my chair and almost missed. He got a hold of my wrist just in time to keep the side of my face from hitting the table's edge.
My brain waves felt like they were short circuiting. That strange surge of energy Logan and I had experienced at the bar the night before had just hit me again, this time leaving me clutching my head and desperately trying not to vomit.
"Brianna? Are you all right?" Jean knelt beside my chair and peered at me anxiously. I could feel her gentle presence in my mind, like a psychic Dramamine, calming the whirlpool of emotions. I took a shaky breath and tried to smile, weakly. "Anyone get the number of that truck?"
Jean explored a bit further, lightly soothing any spots of disharmony she encountered. Satisfied that there was no neurological damage, she withdrew her mental connection and smiled reassuringly. Standing, she asked, with medical detachment, "Has this ever happened before?"
"Last night," Logan immediately replied, drawing sudden, curious glances from Ororo and Scott, who were busy cleaning up the remains of my morning coffee. "Almost knocked us both off our feet." His worry echoed in my mind, along with a touch of amusement, telling me he remembered ALL the details of our encounter the previous evening. My face flamed crimson, as if I'd just eaten a habanero pepper.
"Um, yeah, last night," I mumbled, suddenly fascinated by the pattern of the parquet floor. "Never before that, though. That I can remember, anyway."
"What could cause something like this?" Scott asked, looking from me to Jean and back again.
Dr. Grey seemed puzzled. "It could have something to do with her empathic mutation," she mused, "but I'd rather have the Professor do any further investigating."
"The sooner the better," I concurred. "This is starting to bug the hell out of me."
It wasn't until we rose to go that I realized Logan was still holding my hand.
I awoke a few hours later to a loud, persistent knocking on the hall door. I buried my head under my pillow, muttering several choice words about a certain very rude person's questionable parentage and sexual orientation.
The pounding came again, muffled but still very audible. "Whaaaat?!?" I moaned angrily, projecting my considerable irritation at the asshole on the other side of the door.
It didn't faze him. –BANG, BANG- "Vixen? It's me!" Logan's voice filtered through the fabric encased heap of goose feathers covering my ears. Oooh, and he had coffee, judging from the tantalizing scent of Colombian roast I now picked up wafting under the door.
I threw my pillow aside and rolled to my feet. Eyes still half closed, I staggered to the door, threw the bolt and then went and resumed my previous position: face down on the bed.
"Jesus, you're a crabass in the morning," Logan observed wryly, with a complete lack of irritation. "We'd probably kill each other if we ever woke up together." I raised my left hand and popped the middle finger at him, inducing a low chuckle.
The coffee was winning me over, though. The rich aroma enticed me enough to sit up and take the mug Logan offered. "Thanks," I mumbled grudgingly. Sipping carefully, I looked up at Logan in surprise and asked, "How'd you know?" indicating my cup of black-with-sugar, which was exactly how I liked it. He just arched an eyebrow at me and said nothing.
A few more swallows and I was caffienated enough to get moving. A quick splash of water to my face, a hasty swipe at my curls with the thoughtfully provided hairbrush, and we were heading downstairs to the dining hall.
Armed with a bowl of Grape-nuts and a second cup of coffee, I followed Logan through the maze of tables. Several curious heads turned to look as we passed, wondering who Wolverine's new friend was. One particularly intense stare was coming from a striking young lady with a shock of pure white hair running from the peak of her forehead, in sharp contrast to the rest of her thick chestnut tresses. I gave her as friendly a smile as I could muster this early in the morning. She started guiltily and smiled back, quickly turning again to her friends.
We found two empty seats at what turned out to be the main table. Jean Grey was finishing her orange juice and greeted us warmly. "Good morning, you two. How did you sleep, Brianna?" I could sense her amusement as she took in my appearance, particularly the fact that I was wearing Logan's shirt.
"Like a rock, Doc, " I replied with a grin. I sent Jean a quick mental flash, the empathic equivalent of a Pretty cool, hey? We both laughed out loud, and somehow I knew the foundation of a solid friendship had been formed.
"Girl talk," Logan grumbled, and planted himself and his breakfast tray across the table from Dr. Grey. I plopped down next to him and then first took note of the others at the table.
"Brianna, this is Scott Summers, my fiancé." Jean introduced me to the good-looking, clean-shaven man sitting next to her. He was wearing a really odd pair of sunglasses although we were indoors, the lenses ruby red and opaque.
"Hi," I said meekly, suddenly feeling a bit overwhelmed by the whole situation. What was I doing here? Why should these people give a rat's ass about me? Then Logan's hand was on my knee, giving me a reassuring squeeze. There was nothing suggestive about the gesture, but his touch sent a tingle up my thigh, nonetheless. I smiled inwardly at him in return, grateful for his presence.
Scott gave me a polite, unsmiling nod. "Nice to meet you. I understand you and Logan had a run in with Sabertooth last night."
"Are you alright, my dear?" I thought I felt a crackle of electricity in the air as a coffee-skinned beauty with snow white hair addressed me in concern. "Sabertooth is quite a formidable adversary."
Jean introduced the striking woman as Ororo Munroe. I shook her hand, casting a sideways glance at Logan. Indignation rolled off of him in waves, but he kept it easily hidden from the rest of the table. Amused, I replied, "Of course, I'm fine. I had the Wolverine fighting for me."
"You're no slouch yourself, Vixen," Logan admitted into his plate of Canadian bacon and eggs. The corner of his mouth curled in a slight, intimate smile only I could see.
I blushed, absurdly pleased by the unexpected half-compliment. "Uh…thanks." Our eyes met, and the heat in my face deepened. That intense gaze sent all kinds of thrills racing through my nerves.
"I hate to break up your mutual admiration society here," Scott spoke rather sharply, "but what exactly happened last night, Logan?"
My eyes widened in shock, impressed that Scott had the nerve to talk to Logan that way. I looked quickly at Jean, who just shook her head and rolled her eyes in exasperation. Men, she mouthed silently, and I snorted in amusement.
"Well, I was out at the Barley Pop and Vixen happened to be singin'." Logan leaned back easily in his chair, swallowing his mouthful of eggs. I could sense his intense dislike for Scott, but also knew he held a grudging admiration for the younger man, as well. "I bought her a drink, we talked a little and I found out she was a mutant." Logan fixed Scott with a stare that brooked no comment in regards to our "meeting". I had the feeling Mr. Summers did not drink frequently, nor did he put much stock in those who did. "Sabertooth showed up just as Vixen was finishing her last set," Logan continued, "and it was pretty obvious what he was after. So when the lady left the bar for the night, I tailed her. Creed was waitin' for her near her motel."
My jaw dropped in shock. "I didn't see him at the bar, OR smell him," I interjected.
"Well, he wouldn't just belly up to the bar now, would he?" Logan retorted. "Creed knows how to keep from being spotted when he's stalkin' someone."
I shuddered involuntarily at the thought of being that vile creature's prey. Sabertooth terrified me more deeply that I had ever been in my life. The brief glimpse I'd had of his intentions for me on that cold, hard sidewalk had left me with the impression of pure evil and no mercy in that dark soul. My hands began to tremble violently, and suddenly the coffee mug I was holding exploded. Hot liquid and ceramic shards sprayed in every direction. Logan's arm shot out to keep me from falling out of my chair and almost missed. He got a hold of my wrist just in time to keep the side of my face from hitting the table's edge.
My brain waves felt like they were short circuiting. That strange surge of energy Logan and I had experienced at the bar the night before had just hit me again, this time leaving me clutching my head and desperately trying not to vomit.
"Brianna? Are you all right?" Jean knelt beside my chair and peered at me anxiously. I could feel her gentle presence in my mind, like a psychic Dramamine, calming the whirlpool of emotions. I took a shaky breath and tried to smile, weakly. "Anyone get the number of that truck?"
Jean explored a bit further, lightly soothing any spots of disharmony she encountered. Satisfied that there was no neurological damage, she withdrew her mental connection and smiled reassuringly. Standing, she asked, with medical detachment, "Has this ever happened before?"
"Last night," Logan immediately replied, drawing sudden, curious glances from Ororo and Scott, who were busy cleaning up the remains of my morning coffee. "Almost knocked us both off our feet." His worry echoed in my mind, along with a touch of amusement, telling me he remembered ALL the details of our encounter the previous evening. My face flamed crimson, as if I'd just eaten a habanero pepper.
"Um, yeah, last night," I mumbled, suddenly fascinated by the pattern of the parquet floor. "Never before that, though. That I can remember, anyway."
"What could cause something like this?" Scott asked, looking from me to Jean and back again.
Dr. Grey seemed puzzled. "It could have something to do with her empathic mutation," she mused, "but I'd rather have the Professor do any further investigating."
"The sooner the better," I concurred. "This is starting to bug the hell out of me."
It wasn't until we rose to go that I realized Logan was still holding my hand.
