Instinct

Alex startles at the first knock. By the second, Logan has a hand clamped firmly over his mouth, pinning him to the couch. Alex breathes heavily through his nose. He does not dare move.

“Hello? Alex?”

Armando. The voice is a comfort. Something so completely normal. He is just outside the door. It might as well be a mile. There is another knock on the door. This one more urgent.

“Erik?”

A sickening, mechanical noise draws his attention. Metal claws are just beginning to pierce the skin of Logan’s hand. Small droplets of blood well around the silver points. No. Alex shakes his head as much as he can under Logan’s hand. The man meets his eyes, narrowed and tense.

“You get rid of him them.” He breathes. The hand is removed and Alex feels a rush of blood back across his face. He gulps in a breath, steadying himself before calling out.

“I’m coming!”

He stands and walks slowly towards the door. Logan shadows his steps, stopping at the wall beside the doorframe. Alex glances at him. All tensed muscle, claws slowly lengthening. Logan raises an eyebrow and Alex unlocks the door.

He is greeted by Armando’s raised arm, an oily paper bag held out in offering.

“Finally!” His neighbour grins. 

Alex forces his mouth to mimic the movement. He knows he has failed when Armando’s own smile falters. Armando takes a step forward, his expression turning to one of concern. Alex shifts back further into the shadow of the door.

“Is your dad home? He said he didn’t need a lift.” Alex cannot meet his eyes, too aware of the claws now resting a few inches from his ribs.

“Yeah. His car got fixed.” He says to the floor. Belatedly, he reaches out for the bag still dangling in the air. “Thanks.” Realizing he has not answered the question, he quickly adds “He’s not here.”

Armando nods absently, still trying to catch Alex’s eye.

“Did something happen? Do you want to come down to mine for dinner?”

Alex wants to leap out the front door. He is so close. This is Darwin. He is safe. Family. But he has seen Logan in action. The man could kill them both. He cringes when the sharp point of Logan’s claw jabs his hip.

“Alex. Talk to me.”

Alex looks up. Darwin’s face is so open. He wants to cry. Gripping the bag tightly in his fist, he nods and then tilts his head, gesturing inside.

“Thanks for this. I’ll talk to you later. I’d better…” He moves to close the door, to seal himself in once again.

Armando’s arm shoots out, lightning fast, bracing the door before he can close it. His other arm reaches out, gently cupping around Alex’s neck.

“Alex. Who did this?” His voice is unfamiliar. Angry. Broken. Alex flinches at his touch.

The bruises. Oh god. Words escape him. There is no mistaking they are finger marks. He feels paralyzed. No lie is forthcoming. There is nothing he can do.

Logan seems to know it too.

Alex feels himself yanked backwards. Logan’s hand clamps around his wrist and he gasps from the pain. Struggling to pull himself free only tightens the grip.

“Let go. Now.”

Alex looks up from his place beside Logan, his arm held between them, and sees Armando standing front on, gun drawn and face stony.

Logan sighs.

“I don’t reckon that’s gonna do you much good pal.” He states, staring Armando down.

Alex feels his heart thumping frantically. He yanks on his arm, forcing Logan to look at him. He hisses through the pain of his bones grinding against each other.  

“Alex. Look at me.” Armando calls out. His voice is calm and Alex is drawn to it. He shouldn’t be here. Armando should be safely downstairs with his squishy couch and his goldfish. Armando should not be here.

“Alex. Is there anyone else here?” Armando asks, eyes never leaving Alex’s.

No. He has no idea where his Dad is or what he is doing or if he is okay. All he knows is that he said goodbye like it might be the last time.

Alex shakes his head.

Logan growls, drops his wrist and lunges forwards.

Armando fires.

Clang!

Logan swipes the bullet aside as it cuts through the air. The blades from his fist spark at the impact. He barrels into the newcomer but the man rolls with the impact and ducks around him.

Logan backs up and rounds on the man. He has taken up position in front of Alex, arms taut behind the gun, shielding the boy with his body. He fires two more bullets at Logan, each cut down before they reach their target, and Logan is on him. A shoulder to the gut sends the gun clattering away. He blocks a jab aiming for his temple but takes a harsh kick to the knee.

The man stumbles as Logan's elbow connects with his jaw. He is still between Logan and Alex. Swaying but determined. This needs to end. Now.

He lands another heavy blow to the man’s cheek and uses the disorientation to bodily lift the other man, throwing him into the wall below the window. The man crumples, groaning. Logan moves quickly, retrieving the gun from behind him. He raises the barrel, walking towards the fallen man. The neighbours have already heard the gunshots. What is one more? No parameters. Eliminate the threat. 

The man looks up, eyes widening.

He is not looking at the gun. He is looking in horror at Alex who has thrown himself between them. He is blocking the man. His arm outstretched, palm inches from the barrel.

“Don’t.” Alex begs. “Please don’t.”

The kid’s hand is shaking but he is looking right at Logan.

The man is desperately trying to pull himself up, grasping at Alex’s shoulder. His eyes are locked onto Logan’s hands like he thinks he will kill Alex. He realizes with a start that the evidence is all there. On Alex’s throat, in his terrified stare. Killing Alex is not part of the mission. Not yet. But the other man…Killing him falls within his orders.

Killing is always a part of his mission.

There is a kid begging him not to.

He is a tool to be used. A gun to be pointed. A dog on a leash. He is many things. In this moment he can choose exactly what he is.

He looks down into terrified, determined eyes. Right now, he does not want to be a killer.

The gun dips.

His earpiece buzzes. Brief as always.

“Bring him in.”

Orders. Nothing about the situation at hand. He can choose.

He can choose.

He realizes he already has.

He looks past the gun. At Alex.

“We’re leaving. You come with me quietly, get in the car downstairs and I leave him up here. Alive.”

Alex is nodding and scrambling to his feet.

The man behind him has made it to his knees.

“No.” He groans. “Alex, no.”

Logan brings the gun down swiftly on his temple and the man drops to ground again. Alex makes a noise of protest and reaches for the fallen man but Logan grabs his elbow harshly.

“We agreed. Let’s go.”

Alex glares at him but allows himself to be pulled out the door with one final glance back inside.

Logan clocks the steady rise and fall of the man’s chest before guiding Alex towards the stairwell.

“Thank you.” The boy whispers beside him.

Logan’s brow furrows. He does not know how to categorize his decision. He has no justification for it. It did not make the mission easier. It did not make it harder.

He just knows he made a choice.

He does not regret it.

 Erik steps out of the elevator, knuckles clenched, jaw tight.

The testing lab stretches out before him. This morning’s test seems like a lifetime ago. The calming greys and sharp angles of the benches only make his skin crawl, reminding him of pain and helplessness rather than the order and routine he has finally established.

Emma Frost is waiting for him.

The screw’s tip sends a sharp strike of pain into his palm when he clenches it tighter.

Emma gestures to a chair positioned beside a bench in the middle of the room.

“Have a seat, Erik.” She invites.

He bites his tongue and walks to his execution.

Screwdrivers and compasses are spread haphazardly on the bench nearby. Raven never leaves her tools in a mess. She has too much respect for her craft. A spare sheet of paper has found its way onto the spotless floor.

It is fitting that even the familiar workroom is not as it should be.

Nothing is.

He lowers himself into the chair, forcing his arms down against the arm rests. He allows Emma to secure zip ties around his wrists. There are too many variables. He has to wait. He has to know more.

Until he does, he is trapped.

“I got you your information. Where is my son?” He stares straight ahead as Emma circles. A meticulously kempt vulture.

“Oh, he’ll be along shortly. Don’t worry.” She soothes. “We have a few things to do first.”

“No!” He jerks against the restraints. “I did what you asked. You let him go.” The bend of the chair is awkward for his left leg. He feels off balance.

“We let him live.” Emma corrects.

They both look up as the elevator doors slide open. A woman enters, acknowledging Emma behind him.

Behind her is Sebastian Shaw.

He locks eyes with Erik.

He is grinning.