Chapter 5
V
For the second morning in a row, Logan woke with Wade’s hand over him. This time, a leg was over him too. He frowned first, then noticed his face, which had a small smile, and his frown lessened. Very slowly, he removed the arm that was over his chest, then sat up and removed the leg that was spread over his knees. Looking at the sleeping man, Logan got up. He went to the window and lifted the curtain a little. The sun was still in the process of fully rising, and the sky was mostly grey, with a dash of orange in the east. Their room was at the back of the house, and through the window, he could see the backyard bordered by a wooden fence. Beyond that, after an empty stretch, were the dense woods. The treetops were washed with golden light which hadn’t reached the land yet. He stood gazing at the scene for a while. Eventually, he nodded to himself and turned away. He pulled on the pants of his suit and, looking around, noticed a shawl hanging on the back of the door. It hadn’t been there last night, he was sure. As he draped it over his shoulder, the smells on it hit his nose. Apart from the slightly sharp smell of detergent, the shawl smelled of chocolate, gunpowder and a very faint dash of blood and cocaine – Wade. He stood there, head bowed, taking in the smells and going through the events of the last day. Barely two days ago, he was being tortured, and now he was here, in this peaceful place. He saw Wade and Laura laughing together and a small smile came to his lips. He breathed in deep and held it, scared that the memory and the peace he felt in this moment would dissipate if he exhaled. But he did, and it didn't. He then recalled Wade rushing onto the terrace last morning, his face covered with panic before he spotted Logan. Glad that he remembered this, he picked up his phone and sent a text to him, telling where he was going so he wouldn’t be worried again upon seeing an empty bed. Pushing his left forefinger against the point of one of the cat ears on its cover, he took some time to make it sound as casual and unbothered as he could. Keeping the phone back and sparing one last glance at Wade, who was in a deep sleep, he exited the room.
Nobody was up yet, and the house was dark. He exited through the back door and met the cold air outside. Feeling goosebumps rise on his arms, he hugged himself and jogged across the backyard. By the time he jumped over the fence and reached the edge of the woods, he was warmed enough to not need the shawl. He looked for a shorter tree and tucked it on a lower branch – its scent would act as his way back if he went too deep.
Though last day’s fighting and a night’s sleep had helped his body, not to mention this place away from the city, he still felt stiff. And the smells of the forest were too inviting. So, he had decided to go for a run. A no holds barred, fully feral run – something he felt his body had been wanting for a long time now. He stretched his arms, letting the muscles in his forearms and shoulders work to their limit. After a moment’s thought, he removed his shoes, then pulled his feet back, allowing the thigh-muscles to stretch. Finally, satisfied with all the stretching, wearing nothing but pants, and with one last glance back at the house, he started the run.
Beginning slowly, he gradually increased the speed. One foot after the other. Letting the instincts take over. The damp soil and sticks pricked his feet. The tree trunks went by faster, their brown barks blurring at the edge of his vision. A half-fallen log obstructed his way and he slid under it, the small stones and sticks on the ground scratching the skin behind his shoulders and back. He used a low hanging branch to pull himself to his feet, not letting the speed decrease. It left bruises on his palm. Moving through a thick clump of shrubs, his chest, stomach and face were riddled with small cuts. But this pain wasn’t bad. It was almost pleasurable. As the trees got denser, his run became less a human one and more an animal’s. He ducked and jumped and slid on the ground and the barks. Using trunks as pivots, he released and retracted claws to alter directions and heights, letting his momentum carry him ahead. He left a small dust cloud behind him, and deep grooves in the soil. If Wade was here, he would excitedly yell, “Tarzan! From the animated movie!” But Logan wouldn’t have heard him. The only thing his ears heard was a rush as he cut through the air, and, if he concentrated enough, distant sounds of the forest. He pushed himself more, going faster till it felt like he was almost gliding through the forest. As the speed increased, a grin spread on his face. His breathing became more audible, the exhalations and inhalations sounding more wolfish. He took in all the scents that the small forest had to offer. He could discern the usual ones – the trees and the leaves and the soil – along with the animals that resided here – the birds, the rodents, the larger ones like bobcats and foxes. Apart from these, he could also smell signs of human habitat nearby, probably on the edges of the small forest. Changing direction abruptly so as to not exit the woods, he hit a trunk heavily, and let out half a laugh. The tree shook with the force, dislodging leaves and sticks. There was an outraged sound as several birds flew off. Looking up, he grinned harder and kept on running. He wouldn’t call himself a misanthrope, but he also couldn’t deny that absence of too many humans and abundance of nature were his preferred conditions of existing. The city was too dense, too closed off for comfort, its smells too strange and awful and polluted; and here, running and sweating and feeling the different plants and trees against his body, made him feel much better, much more alive, more than he had felt in months. He breathed in deep.
Soon, his lungs were burning, there was a stitch in his side and the pain in his muscles was getting more. He slowed down, allowing his body to heal from all the cuts and bruises and the fatigue. Leaning against a tree, he panted hard, letting his lungs recover, filling them to full capacity and then emptying them again. His hair, now wet, had several small sticks and leaves tangled in them, which he took a moment to shake off. He pushed them back and moved his hand through the back of his head down to his neck, removing all the sweat. Looking down at himself, covered in dirt and sweat and scratches that were healing, he smiled.
After a while, once his breathing had returned to normal, he took stock of his surroundings. Some yards away, he spotted a giant tree, its girth majestic. It towered over all others, its canopy reaching above the ones around it. Shaking his hands and jumping a little, he began climbing it. At first, he used only his hands and feet, letting his nails dig into the hard, old bark, pressing the balls of his feet against it and pushing his toes into the grooves within the bark. But as he climbed higher, the nails and toes weren’t enough. So, he released his claws and continued. He looked at the silver blades, glinting in the sunlight that was now reaching the ground. The blades certainly were efficient and deadlier, but there were times when he missed his claws before they had gotten coated with adamantium, when they were just bones. Their release also hurt him less, their rounded edges softening the friction against his flesh as they came out. Besides, he already had a love-hate relationship with the adamantium. On his own world, in the early days of his joining the X-Men, Beast had discovered that it was poisoning his body slowly, eating away at his healing factor. And the kind mutant had worked hard, with a bunch of other scientists, to devise a cure. Though Logan himself had been initially hesitant, and had even outright rejected it, out of a phobia of medical procedures and labs (born out of his memories of the Weapon-X program), he had later been convinced by Morph, Jean and, though he wouldn’t admit this to anyone, Scott. It had been a series of injections, the cure: it created a resistant layer over the adamantium in his body that prevented it from interacting with his bodily fluids and processes directly – sort of like protecting a metal from rust but reversed, as Beast had explained. And it had hurt like hell for a week after taking the cure, but in the end, it had worked. He no longer had adamantium poisoning. And now, thinking about it all, he regretted not having properly thanked Beast and his friends. For a while he climbed with these thoughts, feeling the old guilt resurface, but then he remembered where he was and what he was doing, and pushed it down. He made a mental note to talk with Laura about the adamantium in her body, and to recreate the cure for her if needed.
On upper levels, the sunlight grew brighter and hotter, making him squint and sweat harder. He left the shorter trees below as he climbed, using the thick branches to pull himself up and give his arms a rest. The branches steadily grew thinner, until he could go no higher or else he risked breaking the branch and falling almost a hundred feet. He put his feet over the branch and relaxed, letting his claws go back inside. A cool wind blew through the branches, making the leaves rustle and whisper. From up here, he could see the entire forest. To his right, in the distance, he could just spot a clear area with a bunch of houses, guessing that was where Irina and Dopinder’s farm was. Before him, far away, was the city, its skyscrapers gleaming in the sun, smoke rising from various regions and already making the clear sky muddy. Looking at it, he could imagine its different sounds and noises. He stood up on the branch, holding the trunk for support. Here, in this moment, surrounded by pleasant smelling vegetation and witnessing the urbanity from this distance, he absolutely hated the city and never wanted to go back to it.
All that so-called progress and development, and for what? He had been alive for more than two hundred years, and there were still wars, still petty differences that actually meant nothing, politicians still denying the poor and the marginalized their basic rights while hoarding cash. He had this belief that human civilization hadn’t actually progressed much. Sure, they created all these laws to follow (though not by the rich), but at the same time, they also created more and more weapons, more savage, more relentless and unforgiving. That was like taking two steps ahead and five backwards. Yeah, the humans hadn’t actually progressed. Only thing that had grown was their hate and the ways to express that hate. He never wanted to go back to the city, to other humans again, to see them do the awful things they did to each other.
Letting out a deep breath, he shook his head. Too pessimistic – he told himself – it isn’t all bad, though it’s hard to find the good sometimes. He thought back to Wade and Laura, to his friends, to the good that had happened to him, to all the kindnesses he had witnessed, to the forest and wildlife that was being saved by efforts of people who actually cared, to people who fought every day to counter the injustices that were so easy to impose. There was still hope, which made humanity go on, helped it survive, in spite of the threat it faced from itself. Yeah, it wasn’t all bad. Though he still disliked the city, it appeared a little better to him. He looked back towards where he was sure the house was. Gazing at it, feeling the wind on his body, he stood like that for a while, taking in as much of the forest as he could before he had to inevitably return to the house and to the city. He decided something then and nodded to himself.
xxx
Wade got up late. He opened his eyes slowly, screwing them against the sunlight streaming inside the room through the window. It took him a moment to remember where he was. He looked to the side and found the bed empty. Getting up with a jerk, his eyes opened wide, all sleep now gone. He looked around, but the room was empty. He was about to get up and go search for him, when he noticed Logan’s phone on his side of the bed. Turning around, he picked up his phone. There were two notifications, both messages. The top one was from Logan, and he had failed at making it sound casual enough, but Wade was too relieved to notice – Going for a run. Nothing to worry about. Be back soon.
Wade sighed, letting his shoulders droop. “We didn’t hook up last night.” He looks at you. “Then why do I feel like the girl who wakes up to find the bed empty and the asshole guy gone, and then questions her life choices?” He sighs again.
The text was sent at half past six, and it was half past nine now. Maybe he was downstairs – he thought, or hoped. The second text was from last night, and was from an unknown number. He opened it – Wade Wilson, your days are fucking numbered. Don’t think blowing up one facility means you’ve won. This isn’t over.
He frowned and reread it, then looking at the number to see if he recognized it. He didn’t. “Hmm, clichéd threat, but…sinister enough.” He got up. “Should give this to Cable, see if he can trace the source. More dipshits to find and kill!” He put it in his pocket, which only made the pants tighter. The door to Irina and Dopinder’s bedroom, located directly opposite to his room, was open and the lights were out. He went downstairs. There was nobody in the dining room, but he could hear sounds coming from the kitchen.
Dopinder was sitting in the living room, putting the packets of drugs inside the small cartons and sealing them. As Wade entered, he added a label on the box he had just sealed and said, “That’s done for Mr. Lahmani.”
Irina held a cup of coffee, and with the free hand, crossed out a name from a list that was kept on the counter. “Good morning!” She said when she saw Wade standing in the passage.
“Oh, hi, DeePee!”
“Hey!” He nodded at them both. “Early morning business stuff?”
“It’s half past nine.” Irina said.
“Yeah, like I said, early.”
Dopinder shrugged. “Just wrapping up what we can.”
“There’s some coffee left. You want it?” She asked.
He lifted a hand. “No, I’m good.”
“When does Mr. Wolverine wake up?”
“Just Logan is fine.” He rolled his eyes in view of Irina, who smiled. “And he’s been up for some time now. I actually thought he’d be down here.”
“We didn’t see him. Did he say where he was going?” She asked, sipping the coffee.
“For a run, I don’t know where.” He sat beside Dopinder. “He left around three hours ago.”
She raised her eyebrows. “That’s quite a long run.”
He tilted his head, his expression tired. “He’s a wild animal, probably likes the jungle better than the house.”
“It’s pleasant in the morning for a run.” Dopinder said. “Maybe he’s on his way back now.”
There was a sound from the back of the house. “Speak of the devil,” Irina said just as Logan appeared in the hallway. The shawl that Wade was wearing last night was on his left shoulder, but that was the last thing anyone noticed. Silence reigned for a few seconds as everyone stared at him. His face was bright with perspiration. His chest and stomach were covered with dirt and sweat. His pants had smudges of green mixed with the brown dirt, while his shoes were weirdly clean. Strangest of all, as Wade noticed, he had an unselfconscious smile on his lips, and his eyes were brighter than he had ever seen before.
“What the fuck!” Wade said, partly as an honest reaction and partly to mask his suddenly awake horniness. “I guess the greasy tits can’t be put away for more than a few chapters, but did you also fight a bear or something?”
“No, just a run.” He said, making the smile vanish. “Sorry about the shawl,” He pulled it down from his shoulder and looked at Dopinder. “I’ll wash it before we leave.”
“Oh, it’s all right.” He said.
Irina looked at Wade, who was still staring at Logan, his eyes wandering all over his chest and arms and pants and—. She coughed, breaking his enchantment. He noticed her grinning and looked away, feeling his ears growing hot.
“You want some coffee?” She asked Logan, who nodded and thanked her as she handed him a cup.
Directly after coffee, Logan went to take a shower. Wade had told him to re-wear the pants of his suit, as they’d be better washed at the laundromat. The plan was to wear their suits on the way back, just as they had done when coming here. Wade helped Irina with preparing sandwiches while Dopinder finished up the packing. As Logan got out from the bathroom, he stood up. “My turn!” He said, raising two fingers.
Remembering his thoughts about regret from the morning, Logan stopped Wade by holding his arm as he was passing him by. “Hey,”
Wade, surprised at the contact, froze for a moment, then recovered. “Hmm?”
Logan let go. He looked away and said, “I, uh, never got a chance to thank you,” he met Wade's eyes, “for rescuing me.”
“It's all cool, you don't have to—”
“No, I...I should.” He said, “Thank you. I, um, I appreciate it.”
Wade looked at him and with a bright smile, said, “You're welcome, peanut!” Then, before he could stop himself, he added, “Does this mean we can cuddle now?”
Logan's discomfort changed into usual annoyance as he muttered, “Fuck you,” and walked away, suppressing a small smile that threatened to become visible on his lips, while Wade was grateful that he had moved away, as he wasn't sure what else would come out of his mouth next.
A few hours later, having had sandwiches and orange juice for breakfast, Logan, Wade and Dopinder left the farm. Unbeknownst to Logan, Wade had also taken a bunch of drugs with him, compliments of the chef, Irina.
“Pal pal ye dil ghabraaye,
Pal pal ye dil sharmaaye…
Kuch kehta hai, aur kuch kar jaaye...”
The taxi speakers sang out.
“Why don't you get another car?” Wade asked, pushing down the button to lower the window which was stuck. “It's not like you can't afford it.”
Dopinder said, “This is more inconspicuous, especially in New York.”
He nodded. “Hmm, makes sense.”
The song continued:
“Tu sabar to kar mere yaar,
Zara saans to le dildaar…
Chal fikar nu goli maar,
Yaar hain din jindadi de chaar…
Haule haule ho jayega pyaar, challeya,
Haule haule ho jayega pyaar...”
“Why do all your song choices mirror my life and times?” Wade said lazily.
Dopinder looked at him, surprised. “You know what this song means?”
“I don't,” he said, “but the writer does, which is why he made me say that.”
“I don't know what that means.” He said, confused.
“I don't know, man, authorial intention and expectation are weird things. Let's just forget what I said.” He pressed two fingers against his temple. “This fourth wall break hurts my head.”
They reached the city quicker than it had taken to reached the farm a day ago, mostly because there were no buses involved and only a single cab. But it still took two hours, so it was noon by the time Dopinder dropped them off at the apartment. On the way, they had also stopped at the bar, from where Wade picked up his backpack stuffed with his civilian clothes (which he admitted he had forgotten). Jack tried to get them all to stay for a drink, but it was still too early, though Logan eyed the bottles desirously.
Entering the small flat, Wade removed his weapons and flopped down on the bed as Logan went to the kitchen for a glass of water. Al and Mary Puppins weren’t at home, probably either out shopping or one of tens of different places Al visited or worked at. Wade looked at the mutant who was now drinking a second glass of water, and recalled his talk last night with Irina. As good a time as any – he thought to himself as he wondered how to begin. When Logan came over to the couch, he propped himself up on his arm. “Hey, peanut, I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”
“Yeah, what?” Logan said, sitting down on the couch.
“How long have you been here, in this world?”
“Why?”
“Just humour me.”
“Doesn’t everybody?” He muttered under his breath, then said, “Around four months.”
Wade breathed in and said slowly, “And have you even once visited the mansion?”
Logan said nothing, though his breathing indicated he was not at ease. “Doesn’t concern you.” He said eventually, not looking at him.
“It doesn’t, but I’m making it my concern anyway.” He sat up. “Why haven’t you gone inside? Is something wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong.” He stood up suddenly. “It’s nothing.” He looked around, then looked at the door. “I’m going—”
“Oh, you aren’t going anywhere,” Wade said, his voice rising without him intending to, his hand reaching for the katanas. “I’m not letting you run away from this.”
“I’m not running away from anything.” He growled, beginning to move towards the door. There was a SWISH! and a muffled THUNK! as the katana flew through the room and stuck on the side of the door, right in front of Logan. His brows furrowed and teeth out, he looked at Wade, whose hand was still outstretched. “Don’t do this, Wade. I’m in a good mood. Don’t ruin it.”
He replied, “Oh, trust me, I don’t want to, but I think you need to. Long term benefits, babygirl.”
SNIKT! The claws came out as Logan growled louder. Ignoring Wade, he moved around the sword, but a second one struck the door right in the middle, where he would have been a moment later. He was pinned between the two katanas. Teeth clenched and claws still out, he pulled out both the swords and threw them at Wade, though his aim wasn’t as good. One hit the floor before the bed, its blade leaving a deep slash, and the other got stuck in the wood on the side of the bed.
“Why do I get myself in these situations with you? Is talking that difficult??” Wade half-whined and half-shouted. “I’m not even as big of a pain whore as you are. Fuck it,” He sighed. “Maximum effort, I guess.”