Chapter 6
VI
The first stab was from Wade. As Logan moved towards him, he pulled the katana out from the wood and jumped from the bed right onto his shoulders. Unfortunately for him, he miscalculated the height and got his thighs pinned under Logan’s arms, but still managed to plant the sword in his ass. With a twitch and a yell, Logan thrust his claws into his sides and slammed him on the bed, going down with him. Wade let out a small “Oof!” and, as Logan pulled back his left fist to stab again, he flexed his thighs, still around his torso, and pushed him to the side. The left set of claws instead went into the mattress as Logan tried to stay on the bed, shredding it. The sword in his ass clanged down to the floor. Wade slid out of the bed and dived for the floor, grabbing the katana lying there, but as he turned, his jaw met Logan’s right fist. Wade had the sense to grab his wrist before he saw white, and used the momentum to allow his body to flip, letting out a loose but fast kick, which threw Logan back into the bed.
“Bringing fists to a knife fight, you fucker,” He sighed on the floor as his jaw healed. He quickly jumped up and pushed the sword into Logan’s chest through to the bed behind him, pinning him down. Standing up before him, he said, “Willing to talk now?”
Logan just growled louder, bent his legs and pushed himself up, the sword sliding deeper into him. Wade tilted his head, eyebrows raised, getting a little turned on at this display of rage that disregarded pain. With only two inches before the hilt, Logan grabbed both of Wade’s arms and pulled him in. Wade got in a confused, “We’re hugging?” before the blunt end of the hilt knocked the wind out of him. Logan then jumped back, using the blade inside him as a pivot, making a small arc as he fell on the bed. As his body slid back down the blade, he held Wade tight, letting the hilt go in deeper. With a crunch, his sternum was crushed as the sword went through the bed and into the floor underneath. Logan lay on the bed, his feet hanging down and touching the floor, with Wade on top of him, lifted a foot up by the hilt inside his chest.
Looking at the bloody blade between them, Wade managed to choke out, “Fuck you.”
“Had enough?” Logan said, his teeth bared in a grimace.
In response, Wade planted his knees on the bed and his palms on Logan’s shoulders, and pushed himself up. He let out a groan as the hilt squelched out, blood from his mouth and chest dripping down onto Logan. Finally, he stood kneeling on the bed, steadying himself by the wet hilt. The bed creaked dangerously.
As his lungs and sternum healed, he panted out, “You…are one…creative motherfucker,” Looking to his right where the other sword was lying on the floor, he let out a heavy breath and said, “But so am I. Baby knife!” He pulled out the small blade from its sheath on his calf and pushed it into Logan’s left bicep, before throwing himself down and grabbing the sword. Logan yelled and tried to grip the hilt, but it was too slippery. His hands kept sliding off. Wade went under the bed, put his feet against it and applied force, tilting it up. Logan’s feet left the floor. With space enough for the katana to fit under, he called out, “I’m not letting you go till you talk to me!” and thrust the sword into the bed. he carefully moved his hips to the side, keeping his feet against the lifted bed, and placed the end of the sword on the floor. “Happy Hanukkah!” He grunted and let go, pulling his feet back. The bed fell down with a crash, but its legs held, and the sword went up into Logan’s stomach. He yelled out as the second blade stuck out of his torso.
Wade crawled out and looked at his handiwork. Logan lay effectively attached to the bed, his claws useless as he tried unsuccessfully to move. “Should I take a woodworking class?” Wade asked. “I think I have a knack for it.” He flicked the second blade. “Can we please, please and please talk now?”
Logan spread his legs at the end of the bed. His feet found the legs of the bed and moved behind them. Wade looked at him, puzzled. “What? Inviting me between your legs? Not a very sophisticated way to ask, milord.”
But the mutant only grunted as he pushed. Just as Wade understood what he was doing, the legs gave way with a loud CRA-ACK! and the bed pitched forward. The detached legs flew off, one of them hitting Wade in the crotch. He doubled over with pain, kneeling down. Logan ripped out the cover from the bloody mattress and used it to hold the sticky hilt, sliding down as the bed tilted. His feet found enough hold for him to lift himself up. Pulling out the first blade, he slid out of the second and jumped onto Wade, who was still on the ground, his hands between his legs. Dripping blood everywhere as his wounds healed, Logan threw down the sword and grabbed Wade’s neck, slamming him back onto the half-broken bed. His stomach hit its wooden edge, his face barely an inch away from the naked blade still sticking out of it. He turned quickly, only to yell out in pain as claws met his stomach. Grabbing the baby knife still stuck on Logan’s arm, he pushed it deeper and turned it, making him cry out and move, giving Wade enough space to kick him back.
Careful of the sharp blade in the bed, Wade rolled back as Logan came at him again. Now with his back to the wall, he made a smooching sound as Logan pulled back his fist and struck. At the last second, Wade moved to the left, making Logan’s claws hit the wall and get stuck. In the short time it took for Logan to pull back his fist, find the claws stuck and retract them, Wade had moved off the bed to its side and under it. Logan pursued. Wade reached under and found the hilt of the second katana. “Bingo! Ow, fuck!” He whispered as claws found his legs. He kicked Logan, grabbed the sword with his right hand and pulled it out, sliding further back. Logan planted his claws into the floor and used them to propel himself forward. Just as he slid closer, Wade swung his hand into an arc and cut off the third leg of the bed, rolling back quickly as the bed fell further. Logan, who was entirely under it, yelled out as he struck the wood. The bed was held now by a single leg. Wade jumped onto the bed and went over to the other side. He slid down and prepared to strike. Just as his sword swung close to the final leg, there was a loud CLANG! as three blades stopped its progress. Logan’s other hand reached out from under the bed, claws glinting, and slashed Wade’s kneeling left leg. The leg went rolling across the room from the force of the blades. As he cried out, Logan tried to get out from the now narrow space, but Wade jumped up on his remaining leg, did a flip and landed heavily on the bed. The last leg gave out, smashing the bed down. Logan, his head sticking out from under, cried out as he felt the weight of the bed and Wade on top of him. Wade slowly turned and went to him. With their heads inches apart, separated by the sturdy frame of the bed, he asked, “You ready to talk now, or would you rather we fight till we fuck and then go to sleep? Because honestly, I think I’m down with either now.”
Logan just strained against the weight. Wade was exasperated. He held the frame and shook his body, making the bed pivot left and right with Logan as its fulcrum. “Why don’t you want to talk about it? Why haven’t you gone to the mansion? Why won’t you go inside??”
“BECAUSE I CAN’T FACE THEM!” Logan yelled at last. He stopped straining, and repeated, “Because I can’t face them.” He looked away, all strength gone out.
Wade was uncertain. “Can’t face…who?” He asked slowly.
“Everyone.” He said, his voice low. “Everyone whom I let down. Who…who died because of me.”
Wade began, “They didn’t—”
“Yes, they did. And it’s…it’s fine, I’ve accepted that.” He sighed. “But inside that mansion, inside that school…are all those places, all those scents, all those…memories. Those faces.” He looked into Wade’s eyes then. “I can’t face them, Wade.”
Wade was the first to break the contact. He couldn’t bear to see the sadness and guilt inside those eyes. He got up from the bed, hobbled over to where Logan lay, and helped him lift the bed enough to get out. They let it fall back down, its height much lower now, and sat on it.
“Logan, it’s…” Wade started, but wasn’t sure of what to say.
After a moment, not looking at him, Logan said, “Ever since I came here, to this world, I’d been scared. To meet them. Going to meet with Laura, I couldn’t bring myself to even look at the school. When Colossus told that they were all missing, I was…I hated myself for it, but I was relieved. Relieved that I wouldn’t have to face them. But then, when we went back to the mansion, stood outside it, I was…I was scared again. I didn’t...” He swallowed hard. “I don’t have the strength. I can’t.”
Wade put an arm around him, slowly and gingerly at first, to see if he resisted, but he didn’t. “You can, Logan.” When he shook his head, Wade added, “It’s okay. You’re allowed to be scared, allowed to run and avoid, as much as you want. But…this running, it’s like, it’s like walking up an escalator that’s moving down.”
Logan smiled a little. “You had no better metaphor?”
“First, note my use of the world ‘like’, it’s a simile. And second, just listen to it, will you?” Logan nodded and he continued, “This escalator that you’re trying to climb, this escalator that’s going down – you aren’t actually going anywhere. You’re still in the same place, just exhausting yourself but reaching nowhere. When you turn, the fear is still just a step behind, ready to hurt and break you.” He squeezed his shoulder. “And you being immortal isn’t helping it either. I mean, you literally can run forever and only end up making yourself miserable.”
Logan kept looking down, his eyes clouded. Eventually, he grunted a “Hmm.”
Wade removed his arm. “You know another bad thing that avoiding it does? It distances you from those who love you. Think of Laura.” His eyes cleared as he looked at him. Wade nodded and went on, “Did you know how confused she was when you wouldn’t go inside? You don’t talk about it, you avoid it, which only makes her feel that you don’t trust her enough to tell her.”
“That’s not—”
“I know that isn’t true, but that’s what it probably feels like to her.”
“I…I understand.” He nodded slowly.
Wade continued, “And Logan, they don’t blame you for what happened.” Logan breathed in sharply, but he went on. “I don’t think they’d be very happy if they knew thinking about them makes you sad and guilty. I don’t think they’d like it very much.” He paused, then said, “And I don’t think they deserve to be remembered like that.”
Logan looked at him, his expressions unreadable. “No, they don’t.” He said, “You’re…right.”
“Well, that’s a first, thank you for the honour.” Wade lowered his head in a mock bow, making Logan smile.
They stood in silence for some time. Then Wade said, “What if we go to the mansion…not today, maybe tomorrow. What if we just go there and, I don’t know, you see if you think you can go inside?”
“What if I can’t?” Logan asked.
“Then we go back the next day. And if you aren’t ready then, we go back the day after that. As long as you need. I’ll be with you, Logan.”
“You will?” He asked, his eyes on Wade, who quickly looked away.
“Yes, I will. I am.” He said.
After a while, Logan said in a low voice, “Thank you.”
Before Wade could respond, the door opened and Al walked in with Mary Puppins. As she moved forward, the broken leg of the bed met her walking stick. She prodded it and it rolled away. Her hand on the door found the crack left behind by the sword.
“Wade, you in?” She shouted, a confused expression on her face.
“Yup, I am.” Wade said.
“Good, get your fucking dog then, and, what in motherfucking hell—” This last part was spoken as her stick and her shoes entered the blood on the floor. “Is there…” She lightly stomped her feet. “Did you spill something on the floor?”
Wade looked around. The entire room was in a horrifying state. There was blood all over the floor. Cotton and feathers from the mattress and pillows were mixed in with the blood, adding to the sticky mess. The broken parts of the bed were lying around. Mary Puppins was playing with one leg, the one that had rolled away from Al’s walking stick. The bed itself was the worst, beyond any hope of repair.
“Althea, I think I know why God made you blind.” Wade said, looking around.
“And why the fuck is that?” She said, trying to find the couch without slipping. Logan stood up to help her.
“So that one day, when you entered your home, you would be spared from seeing what your flatmates have done.”
“What the fuck have you done?” She asked, apprehensive.
He shrugged at Logan, wondering how to explain. Then settled on this: “Let’s just leave it at the fact that we’ll need to buy a new bed. And a lot of floor-cleaner, like, a lot!”
Between Al’s curses and questions, and Wade’s answers and comments, Logan looked around and just guiltily smiled.
xxx
Wade and Logan stood in front of the gates of the X-Mansion. They had spent the last day cleaning the apartment and their suits, and putting the remains of the bed out in the trash. Buying the bed was next on the list after ‘Logan deals with trauma and visits the mansion’. They were both wearing normal clothes, as their suits were still drying off. Wade wore his green hoodie over a Golden Girls t-shirt. Logan wore his leather jacket over a red checkered shirt (Wade had said upon seeing him, “Ah, your signature clothes, very nice, very fitting.”).
Wade had called Laura to tell her that they would be visiting, hoping if Logan faltered, seeing her would help him. He wasn’t wrong. Logan took in a deep breath and let it out. He looked at the ground, then looked up at the front gates and quickly looked to the side at the hedges. As two cars went by fast, Wade put his hand behind him and, with two fingers, gently pushed him forward, closer. He noticed the plate declaring the school’s name and looked at Logan, who was also looking at it. His eyes seemed brighter, but it might have been the sunlight. Laura appeared at the door, a brilliant smile on her lips.
When Logan saw her, the fear in his eyes dissolved. He smiled back.
“I am so glad you decided to visit!” She said, hugging Logan, who hugged her back.
Wade grinned. “Yup, he didn’t want to keep the fans waiting.”
“Oh, there are,” Laura said, “Your fans. A lot of kids, actually. I’ve been asked multiple times about you.” When Logan looked uncomfortable, she added, “Don’t worry, nobody will swarm you. Classes are on, so we should find the school corridors mostly empty.”
“Besides, everyone is scared of Grumpy McScowl here anyway.” Wade said with a wink to Laura, who chuckled.
The trio walked inside and the gates closed behind them.
At the door of the mansion, Colossus, Yukio and Ellie met them. Logan and Colossus shook hands. Wade lifted his hand, middle and ring fingers parted and thumb extended. “Greetings!”
Ellie rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to remind you’re old every time.”
“Sorry, Ellie,” He said with a grin as she groaned. He went on, “which incidentally, is also the name of the one of the main characters of Ice Age series. The female mammoth. Whose daughter was Peaches. And whose husband was Manny. And whose—”
“Okay, okay.” She said as everyone went inside.
“Are your parents fans of Ice Age?” He asked, to which she responded with her middle finger.
Logan was hit with a multitude of memories as he stepped inside. He remembered the many times he had been here, and he also remembered how long it had been since he had been here. He remembered the people who had asked him to return soon when he had set off one some mission, and people who greeted him when he had returned after a long journey. He remembered the Professor, and his gentle, knowing smile. He remembered Jean, standing usually with the Professor, knowing almost as much as him but never assuming. He remembered Scott, and their trivial feuds. He remembered Storm and the power she exuded, along with a welcome warmth. He remembered Beast and his deep intelligent eyes. He remembered Morph, the lightness they brought with them, and how Logan always felt much more like himself with them.
And with the people came the flames, the lifeless eyes within the embers, the bodies piled on top of one another. The charred walls that were closing in, about to imprison him with those he had failed and with the flames that would deservedly burn him. Logan squeezed his hands, his nails digging into his palms, and closed his eyes, forcing the memories to go away, and failing. Suddenly, he felt a soft touch on his fist, and opened his eyes. Laura was looking at him, her eyes filled with concern. He loosened his fist and she held it, and just like that, the darker memories began to recede. They were still there, at the edges of his mind, but they no longer threatened to overwhelm. He gave her a grateful smile and they moved forward together.
They went into the Professor’s office first, where Logan relived all his meetings and talks with the old man. He remembered their private chats, his outbursts, the professor sharing his own regrets and mistakes. The walls and the books and the tables looked the same. For a moment, Logan forgot that this wasn’t his own world. Colossus explained that he kept everything the same, for when everyone would return (nobody missed the note of sadness and hope in his voice). Leaning against the chair in the office for a moment, Logan was now glad that he had come. He was recalling things that he hadn’t remembered in a long time, and no longer felt that the bad memories would intervene and darken everything.
Logan went to where they had slept. The rooms were empty now, all the teachers probably teaching. Logan’s room was given to someone else, but he could still see the claw marks above and beside the bed. Nobody had repaired the wall or the wood, either out of hope that he would return someday (Colossus), or out of reverence (Aforementioned fans).
“Some people come here sometimes to touch them, for good luck.” Yukio said.
Logan only felt strange at this gesture reserved for the dead or the divine.
They went next to the school, which was located behind the mansion, separated from it by a couple of passages. They could hear the teachers inside the classes. From some rooms, sounds of discussions or debates came. Logan smiled as he remembered his own experiences here. He had been awful as a student, and even worse as a teacher, till eventually the Professor had been forced to appoint him as only an emergency substitute (at which he had failed as well, taking the students to do dangerous or loud stuff). Some of the classes had their doors closed, while some were open. Through the open doors, he saw rooms that he remembered and ones that he didn’t. The students all had very familiar expressions, though: boredom, disinterest, curiosity, mischief. He didn’t know most of the teachers, and tried not to stay near a class too long, lest anyone recognize him. There were instances when he had to remind himself that Wolverine, in this world, had a much better reputation than in his own.
He was about to turn back and head back to the others when he heard a familiar voice. Moths fluttered in his stomach as he slowly followed it. It was coming from a classroom at the end of a corridor. The door was open, and light streamed out from the door. Inside, the classroom was brightly lit, three big, wide windows open to the grounds outside. The class was mostly quiet, with low murmuring here and there. At the back, one kid was surreptitiously passing a note to her neighbour. And at the front of the class, she stood. She was wearing dark green gloves and a yellow jacket, colours that he was so familiar with. And there were two white streaks in her dark hair. It was the accent which reminded him that she wasn’t her. Hers was clearly and loudly southern, but the one who stood here in the class didn’t have it so distinct, though the voice was the same. He stood gazing at her, unable to look away. It was the same face, the same height, the same mannerism as she pushed back the white locks. It was difficult to believe she wasn’t the same girl he had given a ride to in his pickup truck all those years ago, the same girl he had formed a bond with through the years, the one he had supported when she had decided to take a cure for her powers, the one he had brought back to the school when the cure had eventually worn off, the one by whose side he had fought, and the one he had left behind only to find her… So much history, so many memories, the same face, yet a different person. He stood there, rooted, till she noticed and looked up, and felt just as much of a shock as he had.
Rogue and Logan looked at each other, and neither knew what to say.