Instinct

Logan grits his teeth as Frost’s voice continues in his ear. She knew. She knew there would be a kid. Of course she has the nerve for such a dirty move. Of course it was a set up. Of course. Get your dog to do the dirty work but keep him blind and improvising. Great philosophy.

“Get him to his car.”

His nostrils flare. Right. The job. Just roll with it. His ribs still twinge slightly from the beating Lehnsherr served him. The guy sure can aim a punch, he’ll give him that. He watches the man balance more steadily on his knees, his expression wary, his eyes once again sharp. Logan is at a loss. He is the muscle, Frost has made that pretty clear. Why is he in charge of diplomacy? The boy’s throat moves against his blades and Logan’s attention is redirected. He eases up a little.

A cleared throat in his ear gets the message across. He locks eyes with Lehnsherr.

“A mission. You’re going to complete it for them.” He sees the corner of Lehnsherr’s jaw protrude sharply as he clenches it. The man’s eyes dart between Logan and his son.

“What kind of mission?” His voice is still forcibly calm. His eyes tell a different story. The resignation is too familiar.

“Does it matter?” Logan snaps.

It doesn’t. Not to Logan. Not anymore. He is a tool. Now Lehnsherr is too. This is not a choice. They will not allow him to fail.  

Lehnsherr lets his eyes close briefly. Logan sees him size up the distance between them. The odds. The blades. His son. He comes up short and Logan sees his frustration. His helplessness.

“They are tracing your car. Get into it. Go from there.”

Lehnsherr scowls at that. Logan knows the feeling well. The realization that everything has been orchestrated against you without your consent. Without your knowledge. Yeah. Not a comfort.

Logan forces the blades to retract into his hand, keeping a firm grip on the boy’s arm. He can feel a pulse thrumming quickly against his palm. He curls his other hand loosely around the boy’s neck. His hand closes over the red finger lines already emblazoned there. He grimaces and meets Lehnsherr’s eyes.

“He stays here. Do what they tell you and he stays alive.” If not…The thought leaves him cold. Blood-stained blonde hair. Empty eyes. A pale throat slit beneath his hands.

He has done it before.

His orders are clear. There are no parameters.

He looks right at Lehnsherr.

“Understand? If they tell me to, I will.”

Erik slams the driver’s door shut beside him. Knuckles white. Lips pressed tightly together. His head throbs.

He strikes out, punching the dashboard. Once. Twice. Pain slices through his knuckles and up his arm. This is a nightmare but he is not waking up. There is a ‘they’ pulling strings. Alex is still up there with that man. Erik has left him with that man.

“Alex.” He had no words to say. Words would not protect his son where his body had failed. His only hope was to convey as much love, as much reassurance as he could into one word. That and a final, hopeless plea to the man that held his whole life in his hands.

“Please.” Don’t hurt him. Don’t do this. Don’t. “Please.”

And he left him there.

He stares out his windscreen. He wants to be back up there. Doing something. The skin on his knuckles stretches over bone. He aches. His glove box rings.

He wants to break something.

He answers and brings the phone up to his ear.

“Hello Erik.”

Emma Frost.

Emma Frost. His therapist. The voice that coaxed him through his panic attacks. The voice he clung to, slumped in her office, exhausted, after grueling physiotherapy sessions. A lifeline. A friend.

Who else?

His throat is tight and he cannot press any words through it. His mind tries to reassess. Realign. Is Armando involved? Has he been tracking Erik’s movements? God, he let him near Alex. He left him alone with Alex. Raven? Testing a new part on him today of all days. Throwing him off balance. No. That one hurts too much to think about.

Emma’s voice breaks through again.

“Erik. It’s been some time since our last session. I have a new task for you that I think is really going to help with your recovery.”

She is calm, open. Exactly as he remembers. He feels dizzy. He has told her everything. Everything.

He fights to form a thought. Form a sound.

“What?” He manages to whisper.

“We are going to finish what Shaw started.”

He drops the phone, fumbles with the car door, shoves it open and throws up.

No. No. No. He is gone. He escaped. He is out.

He leans down, head level with his knee, breathing heavily. He focuses on the road. He reaches blindly for the phone on the seat behind him.

He cannot even say the name.

“He did this?” He chokes.

“Of course, Erik. Shaw is working for the military. His work is vital to national defense. You are a key part of that Erik.”

Everything is imploding. The military. Shaw. The source of his nightmares. The pain, the memories he has tried to bury. Caused by the people he dedicated his life to. Betrayal. He was free. He left it behind.

“I got out. You. You…helped me get out.” His memories are distorting. Sliding into place like a guillotine. Emma, sympathetic, gentle, gathering intel after his ‘rescue’ from Shaw. The sudden availability of a job she had found. Something with Raven. A familiar face. Somewhere he could do some good.

Somewhere they could keep an eye on him.

“Oh Erik. You never left.” She replies.

Shaw.

He is going back to Shaw. It rushes at him like a tidal wave from within. Water. Darkness. The electricity. The injections. Agony. His leg.   

“No.” He whispers. Over and over. 

Emma cuts him off. Her voice is cold. “Logan. Cut the boy’s throat.”

“No! Don’t!” His fist hits the dashboard. His eyes blur with tears. “I’m here. I’m here. Where do I go?” He chokes on a sob. “Please. Don’t touch him.”

There is a deafening pause on the other end of the line before Emma’s voice breaks through. Hard and sharp. “Do not forget what is at stake Erik.”

Alex. This is the only way forward. The only way to save his son. He must do it.

“Understood.” He rasps.

“Good. Now, I need to you to pay Dr McCoy a visit.”

Erik murmurs his assent.

He drops his forehead into his hands. It is clammy to the touch. All he can think is he should have said goodbye to Alex. This is Shaw.

He should have said goodbye.