[FIC] Fever Dreams -- by Chris (1-3/?)
- Note from Kielle: This story was bumped from the
WolverineAndRogue list because it wasn't about Wolverine
WITH Rogue. Hrumph. What do you folks think about giving
it a nice warm friendly home on THIS mailing list instead?
:) Let Chris know if you want more -- I know *I* do!
By Chris (TEUFELCE@...)
Genre: Character study/Action/Romance
Pairing: Wolverine/original female character
Rating: PG-13/R (for now) for profanity, graphic violence
Summary: In his search for his past, Logan finds something else...
Disclaimer: The characters of X-Men (i.e. Logan, Professor
Xavier, etc.) belong to Marvel Comics and Twentieth
Century Fox Pictures. This story is for entertainment
purposes only and no copyright infringement is intended.
Okay, here goes -- my first Wolverine-based fanfic. Hope
you all like it, and feedback is STRONGLY encouraged...lol
Guardian of the Leather Jacket, Protector of the Beer, and
Official Licker of Spilt Beer off that Glorious Torso
On a back road, Northern Alberta, Canada...
The wind howled through the trees, the sheer force of it
driving into his face making it difficult to see the road
ahead. The snowfall, which had gotten steadily worse over
the past half hour, made steering the damn motorcycle even
MORE difficult... A small red neon sign up ahead glowed
dimly through the veil of white that surrounded Logan as he
struggled to keep the bike from skidding right off the
narrow road. With a muffled curse that was drowned out by
the wind, he managed to turn the bike into the lot in front
of the tiny beaten up motel, without impaling himself on
the huge pine that almost obscured it from the road. Not
that it would really be a problem -- just hurt like a son
of a bitch...
Leaning the bike up against the side of the office, Logan
yanked the door open and stepped in quickly out of the
bitterly cold wind. The grizzly old man behind the desk
looked up, surprised to have a guest come in out of what
looked to be one hell of a storm. He swallowed around the
sudden lump in his throat at the sight of the angry scowl
on the face of his decidedly unnerving guest and spoke up.
"What can I do you for?"
"Need a room..." The voice was low and reminded the old
man of the sound of a wolf growling. A shiver ran down his
spine and he found his hand moving of its own volition
towards the shotgun he kept under the desk. Those feral
eyes locked on him and the deep voice rumbled again. "Now
don't be doing anything stupid, oldtimer, I'm not here to
cause any trouble. All I want is a room."
The sudden ringing of the phone on the desk between them
made them both jump. Feeling sheepish about his paranoia,
the old man smiled.
"Sorry about that -- we don't get too many visitors up this
way during winter. Don't even know why I keep it open..."
he explained, as his hand lifted the receiver from the
cradle and brought it to his ear. "Hello, Fireside Motel,
can I help you?" As Logan watched, the man's eyes widened
as he turned to face him again, holding one hand over the
"Um...your name Logan?" Curious about the question, Logan
nodded. The proprietor held the phone out to him. "Then
this is for you. Professor somebody or other..." With a
sigh, Logan took the phone and held it to his ear.
"What are you bothering me for NOW, Chuck?" Although his
voice was gruff, he was laughing inside. Remembering
what'd happened the LAST time the Professor had contacted
him. Wanting to warn him that the police hadn't found any
sign of Sabretooth's body after the fight atop the Statue
of Liberty, the Professor had used Cerebro to speak
directly into Logan's mind. Unfortunately, he hadn't
thought about the reaction he might receive. Startled by
the sudden voice inside his head, Logan had lost control of
the motorcycle and skidded right off the road into a ditch.
After the torrent of curses that had spewed out of his
mouth, directed mainly at Xavier, the Professor had
obviously learned his lesson...
"Logan, I have some information that I think you'll want to
hear. Given your reaction the last time I spoke into your
mind, getting you to stop at this motel was the only way to
"Damn right I don't want you in my head, cueball... Wait a
second, you mean, all this? The snow? The wind?!" His
voice was tightening in anger with every word, realizing
that he'd been manipulated.
"Calm down, Logan. Storm acted under my instructions.
What I need to tell you is very important and it was the
Closing his eyes and counting silently to ten, Logan
swallowed the rage threatening to spill over inside and
ALMOST succeeded in not growling into the phone. "Spit it
out then. I'm practically a popsicle from your girl
Storm's 'actions,' I'm tired, and I need a drink."
Realizing that the proprietor was blatantly staring at him,
Logan spoke again. "Hold on, Chuck. I don't want an
audience." Putting the phone down on the desk, he leaned
towards the old man. "Isn't there something better you
could be doing right now?"
With a squeak, the proprietor nodded his head quickly.
"Yep, just gonna go get that room ready for you now..." He
scurried off, leaving Logan alone in the office. With a
tired sigh, he picked the phone back up.
"All right, shoot."
"An old acquaintance of mine was recently up that way.
Actually, not far from Alkali Lake. He passed along to me
something he'd seen. Apparently, there's a woman who lives
in the woods up there. The Native American population is
convinced she's a manitou, a spirit of some kind. The
locals think she's just some kind of crazy hermit."
"And just what the hell does this all have to do with ME,
Professor?" Logan ground out, fighting to keep his growing
annoyance out of his voice.
"I am getting to that, Logan," Xavier chuckled. Chastised,
Logan muttered a short "sorry." "As I was saying, he said
he had seen something he thought I might find interesting.
Seems this woman, whomever she might be, was attacked
recently. My acquaintance witnessed the tail end of it and
swears he saw metal claws appear out of her hands."
As Xavier's words slowly sank in, Logan stared at the wall
in numb shock. He wasn't the only one...the bastards had
done it to someone else...someone who might still
remember... All the rage, all the pain, all the hate that
had been brewing inside him for the past fifteen years
boiled up and he was vaguely aware of the claws sliding out
of his hand. Xavier's voice shouting from the phone
brought him slowly back to reality.
"Logan? Logan, are you there? Logan, answer me!"
"Keep your shirt on, Chuck. I'm still here." But not
alone. Not anymore... As Xavier gave him directions to
where the woman had been sighted, Logan grabbed a scrap of
paper off the desk and quickly wrote them down. "So, you
gonna have..." Even as the words left his lips, he could
see the snow dying down outside to a light flurry.
"Already done, my friend," Xavier responded with a low
"Dammit, cueball, you know how I feel when you read my
mind!" Logan growled, amused in spite of himself.
"It wouldn't take a telepath to know what you're thinking,
Logan. Are you going to head there now?"
Eyeing the growing darkness outside and feeling the
exhaustion deep in his bones, Logan stifled a curse. "No.
Think I'm gonna hole up here and head out in the morning."
"Wise choice...and Logan?"
"I hope you find what you're looking for." The professor's
voice was soft and kind, and his words made Logan feel
uncomfortable. He owed this man a lot. More than he could
probably ever repay...
"Yeah. Thanks...Charles." Before any more could be said,
he hung up the phone. Standing in the empty office, he
stared down at the adamantium claws that had been both the
result and source of so much pain in his life. That had
marked him as different, even from other mutants. But not
anymore. Now there was someone out there just like him.
And no matter what it took, he was going to find her...
*After the Almighty Beta's approval, I submit for your
perusal Chapter 2 of Fever Dreams -- again , feedback
Logan lay awake well into the night. Just staring up at
the ceiling... For once in the past 15 years, it wasn't the
fear of what sleep would bring that kept him awake. It was
the thought of what he'd heard from Xavier might mean. The
Here was this woman, whom the Professor's "acquaintance"
claimed to have claws like his own. And that could mean
only one thing in his mind -- if she'd survive the hellish
nightmare that had given HIM an adamantium skeleton, then
she had to have the same power to heal herself. There was
no other way. Without it, no amount of painkillers, no
amount of antibiotics would have kept her alive. The
extensive, repetitive surgeries required were simply
impossible for someone without the ability to regenerate
their own tissue.
She'd been "attacked," Xavier had said...by whom? And why?
He rubbed a tired hand over his eyes, filing the questions
away to the back of his mind for now. He wouldn't be able
to even begin to find the answers to them until he reached
his destination. Tomorrow...
Exhaustion finally won out and his eyes slid closed into
*FLASH* scalpels slowly descending...
*FLASH* horrific pain as drills bite into his bones...
*FLASH* through the corner of his terrified eyes, another
figure submerged in an identical tub...
*FLASH* PAIN!!!! unbearable...
*FLASH* screaming...his own?
Logan came awake with a shuddering gasp, a scream dying on
his lips as his body shot upright in the bed. With shaking
hands, he wiped away the sweat that ran in rivulets from
his forehead. Always the same damn nightmares... As the
last of sleep released its hold on his brain, he stopped
moving. Wait..not the same this time. There was someone
else there... Tired and with the adrenaline of fear still
coursing through his veins, Logan shook his head angrily.
*Get a grip, asshole... it only changed once you'd heard
about the woman... there IS no one else like you...* an
insidious voice whispered inside of him. The same voice
that had driven him to attempt to take his own life when
he'd first woken up in that forest so many years ago, when
he'd realized what had been done to him...
"Fuck off..." Logan muttered, sliding his legs over the
side of the bed and making his way to the small bathroom
that graced the pathetic dump of a room he'd found himself
in. Turning the shower water on full, he stepped into the
spray and let the hot water wash away the last of the sweat
from his body. As his senses became more alert, freed
finally from the lingering remains of the nightmare, he
decided that he'd had enough of waiting. The two hours of
sleep he'd managed before the dreams came again would just
have to do -- it was time to go find this woman and maybe
answer some questions.
The black motorcycle roared into the tiny town of Crooked
River at 2 in the morning. The only sign of life came from
the light shining through the grimy windows of what
appeared to be the only bar around. Needing somewhere to
warm up after the frigid ride, and beer on top of that,
Logan leaned the bike against the side of the building and
headed for the door. Place actually reminded him a lot of
the dive where he'd first met Rogue... *Hope it turns out
to be half as much fun,* he laughed to himself as he pulled
the metal door open.
For a bar, it was fairly typical. There were a number of
beer-bellied, tough-guy trucker types playing pool in the
back, and not a woman to be seen. The smoke of several
cigarettes filled the air, the smell of stale piss and
vomit assaulted his heightened sense of smell, and he had
to take several shallow breaths before heading for a stool
at the bar.
The barkeep looked up from wiping glasses, gave Logan a
bland look and asked, "What can I get you?"
"I'll have a beer." As the bartender put the Molson on the
bar before him, Logan spoke again before he could move
away. "Listen, I heard there's a woman living in the woods
a short way from here -- know anything about her?"
"You mean the mutie?" One of the drunken truckers who'd
waddled up to the bar for a refill spoke up. Logan simply
turned and stared at the man. Who was, unfortunately, too
drunk to notice the rising anger on Logan's face. "Yeah, I
know all about that freak -- she marked up Marty good few
nights back. Stupid bitch, all he wanted was a little
kiss. And she goes all crazy on us -- stabs him in the arm
with these long-ass freaking claws that just shot out of
her hands. Man, damn mutants oughta be locked up
Logan took a long swallow of his beer before slamming it
back down on the bartop. Standing up, he turned to face
"You know what I think?" he growled out between clenched
teeth. After a moment to process the question, the other
"I think your momma should've kept her legs crossed..."
Logan said it with a smile on his face, knowing full well
the reaction he was provoking. But hell, he'd had just
about enough talk like the kind this maggot was spewing and
he was itching for some satisfaction. The drunk trucker's
face turned beet-red and his arm came up in a swing at
Logan's jaw. Having seen it coming a mile away, it was
easy for him to dodge the punch and stepped underneath to
lay a swift punch of his own right upside the man's head.
He dropped like a stone to the floor. His buddies, who'd
been watching the exchange from the safety of the pool
table, started forward.
"Now, now," Logan laughed with a feral smile on his face.
"You wouldn't wanna mess with another 'mutie' now would
you?" With those words, he let the claws that had just
been ITCHING to come out slide through his skin to their
full length. Suddenly, the man on the floor's buddies
weren't so eager. Stopped right in their tracks and just
stared. Logan heard one of them whisper, "Shit, freak's
just like her..."
Tired of wasting his time with the likes of these assholes
and confident that they wouldn't be following him, Logan
slid the claws back in, slapped a few bills on the bar,
thanked the shell-shocked bartender for the beer, and
stepped back outside into the frigid wind. As he sat
astride the bike, pulling on his gloves, he caught a
glimpse of motion in the dark woods bordering the small
town. A small lithe figure running away, disappearing into
the shadows. A sweet feminine smell wafted to him on the
wind and he knew he'd just glimpsed the woman he was after.
He drew in a deep breath, imprinting the smell of her into
every cell of his being. Now that he knew it, he'd find
her again. And next time, he wouldn't let her run away.
Knowing inside that pushing himself much further would be
sheer stupidity and liable to make him miss something,
Logan turned the bike back onto the road heading north out
of town. For once, the freezing wind on his face didn't
bother him. His mind was too alive with thoughts of what
he'd glimpsed. Of who he'd glimpsed... The moment he
thought of her, her scent filled his senses like a perfume.
Sweet, and yet, with a subtle warm spice undertone.
Definitely one of the more pleasant smells he'd
encountered. One he'd like to smell again... With a
mental smack upside the head, Logan cut his internal
"For chrissake, you haven't even SEEN her yet, asshole..."
he laughed out loud. He was still chuckling under his
breath when he finally saw another little motel off the
side of the road. It was out in the middle of nowhere, set
slightly back into the woods that lined the roadway, but it
was still a driveable distance ot Crooked River. All in
all, it would suit him just fine. He'd have his privacy,
and still be able to look around. Make a few inquiries...
The man behind the counter wasn't nearly so jumpy as the
proprietor of the last motel, and Logan was checked into
his room with a minimum of fuss. The moment he was in the
door, the leather jacket hit the floor, the denim landed on
a chair, and he was face down on the bed. God, he was
exhausted... Just hoped that the nightmares let him sleep
a little bit longer this time...
*FLASH* hands holding him down, struggling...
*FLASH* mask being pulled over his face, eyes wide open...
*FLASH* voice screaming: LOGAN!!!!!
*FLASH* being lowered into liquid, all sounds drowned
Logan shot upright in the bed, sheets tangled around him,
his chest heaving and gasping for air. Without a conscious
thought, the claws popped out into the mattress at either
side of his trembling body. A voice...there had been a
voice this time...a woman's voice...
The unfamiliar sensation of tears trickling down his face
brought him back to himself with a cold shock. The claws
slid back in, and he brought up a numb hand to wipe them
away. As he stared at the glistening drops on his
fingertips, questions ran rampant through his mind. Who
the hell was this woman?! And what exactly did she mean to
With an groan filled with too many long days and nights of
not knowing a thing about his past, he threw himself back
down on the bed and lay staring at the ceiling. Eyes wide
open, he stared at the cracks in the plaster for hours..
until exhaustion claimed him again and his eyes slid shut
into sleep. This time, undisturbed by nightmares of a past
he couldn't even remember...
The weak sun of a late winter afternoon was filtering its
way through the blinds when Logan finally rolled over and
opened his eyes. Despite having slept only a few more
uninterrupted hours, he felt more focused than he had in
the past several days. After a breakfast of beef jerky
washed down by instant coffee made with hot tap water, he
was back on the motorcycle and headed for Crooked River at
a wreckless pace. With the day's light rapidly vanishing,
he wanted to at least reach the town before most of the
locals holed up for the night. Last night alone had proven
that the drunks at the bar weren't going to be much help...
As the bike sped along the barren highway, his thoughts
drifted once more to the figure he'd seen darting between
the trees. She'd moved with a speed and lithe grace that
alone would have marked her as something other than human.
She'd seemed on the shorter side, but with nothing other
than timber trees and pines to compare her to, he couldn't
be certain of that. And although, like his other senses,
his eyesight was excellent, the darkness had obscured her
coloring. Hell, she coud've been brown, black, green or
purple, for all he knew. All he was certain of was that
the fleeing figure had been that of a woman. A woman with
a very intriguing scent... One that, upon recollection,
arose instantly from memory to pervade his senses. With
nothing more to do than keep an eye on the road, he let his
mind wander and wrapped himself in the remembrance of it...
That is, until it became far too powerful and real for it
to be just a figment of his imagination. With a snap, he
came back to himself. Slowing the bike and tilting his
head to the side, he inhaled deeply. Yep, there it
was...she was somewhere in the woods off to his left. The
direction the wind was coming from... And with that wind,
came the sound of baying hounds. Hunting dogs...
An instantaneous rush of adrenaline and rage shot through
him as he realized exactly who was likely being hunted.
Spinning the bike in a half circle that left skid marks on
the tar, Logan acclerated and hit the side of the road,
jumping clear over the incline that ran parallel to it.
Almost losing his balance on the unbroken hardpacked snow,
he had to fight to regain control before taking off into
the woods in the direction the scent and baying was coming
from. He got maybe fifty yards from the road, before the
front wheel of the cycle bogged down in the softer snow and
he had to abandon it to proceed on foot. At a dead run,
adrenaline pumping, he could now smell the dogs, the heavy
stink of sweat on the men (two? maybe three?) as he rapidly
closed the gap. The scents weren't changing direction
anymore, and they were getting stronger -- the hounds
must've brought their quarry to bay. Logan cursed under
his breath as he drove himself to go even faster.
There. Up ahead, in a clearing... He came to an abrupt
halt behind a large evergreen, as he caught sight of three
men halfway encircling a large oak. One of them had two
hounds on a lead, and the dogs were lunging and snarling at
whatever stood before the men. As Logan eased silently up
behind them, he caught a glimpse of a terrified woman,
backed up against the tree, panicked eyes darting left and
right. Amber eyes, like a wolf... One of the other two
men laughed and tossed a branch at her. With a speed that
made it almost a blur of motion, the woman brought up a
hand tipped with three gleaming claws -- claws exactly like
his own -- and sliced the branch in two before it could hit
her. Rather than be frightened by this display of skill,
it only made the men laugh harder. Logan could feel his
anger rising to the point where his vision became tinged
with red and a low growl began to rise from his chest.
Twenty feet away...maybe...
The man who'd thrown the branch nudged one of his buddies.
"Hey, think she could hit two at the same time?" This
brought guffaws from his pals and they each reached down to
pick up a branch. They had their arms back, prepared to
throw, when a deep, angry voice broke the silence behind
"I know I could..."
Two of the men whipped around to face Logan as he stepped
out from where he'd been crouching. The third man kept his
eye on the small woman still pressed against the tree
trunk. He had to give them credit, they weren't COMPLETELY
"What d'you think you're doing out here, mister?" the
largest of the three men bit out, trying to put Logan on
the defensive. Logan just smiled a slow, lethal smile, as
"Might ask the same of you." Obviously taken aback by the
fact that the strange man facing all three of them wasn't
the least intimidated, the big man brought up the shotgun
he'd held at his side and pointed it directly at Logan's
"I'd say, mind your own business, stranger." One gun...not
bad odds...yeah, it'd hurt like hell, but his body would
heal it even as he was moving and he doubted the idiot
would be able to reload for a second shot. Logan let out a
low chuckle and all three men felt the hairs on the back of
their necks rise. That's when the second man brought
another shotgun to bear on him. Okay, now that was NOT
Out of the corner of his eye, Logan could see the dog
handler backing away towards the edge of the clearing,
pulling his dogs after him. Obviously not as ready to
commit murder as his friends... Another quick glance
showed the woman still up against the tree. This time,
though, he could see a slight change in her stance. She
was preparing for something -- he just didn't know what...
Figuring that she was probably getting ready to bolt, Logan
took a chance. Shot twice, he'd be out of it. But they'd
leave him for dead and he'd eventually heal it. Important
thing was, their focus would be on him, and not the woman.
Give her a better chance at getting away... With a slight
outwards motion of both arms, out came the claws.
"Holy shit, Marty!! He's just like her! A goddamn
mutant!!" the smaller of the two men shouted, his gun
starting to waver slightly. The big man hissed for him to
"Marty, huh?" Logan drawled sarcastically. "Still having
trouble getting it up?" The instant he said it, Logan saw
the other man's eyes narrow in rage and he knew what was
coming. Still not enough time to prepare for it. Never
Excruciating pain blossomed across his chest as Marty
pulled the trigger. A second later, the other gun went off
and before Logan's body had even stopped reeling from the
first shot, new pain exploded in his side. As he spit out
a weak curse and felt his body falling backwards, Logan saw
a blur of movement behind the other two men. The woman...
Then his eyes rolled up in his head and he saw no more...
Warmth radiating from his chest and side... A spicy scent
mixing with the copper smell of blood... Pain that was
steadily diminishing... Much faster than it should be...
With a supreme effort, Logan managed to open his eyes.
Crouching over him, with one hand over the wound in his
chest and one over that in his side, was the mystery woman
he'd been looking for. As his swimming vision fought to
focus, he could see that she had her eyes tightly closed
and her lips were clenched in pain. He continued to watch
as her face seemed to draw in, the skin stretching over the
high cheekbones. With sudden understanding, Logan knew
what she was doing. She was healing him. Taking the pain
into herself and using her own energies to heal his wounds.
But at what cost to herself?
Even as he thought it, she gave a low moan and pitched over
backwards. He struggled to sit up on arms that felt like
they had a serious case of pins and needles and pulled
himself to her side. Her eyes had rolled up into her head
and her breathing was shallow. The cost had apparently
Feeling his own abilities finishing what she'd started,
Logan climbed to his feet and looked around the clearing.
The two men, Marty and his buddy, lay where they'd fallen.
Both necks slashed wide open, their blood already
congealing on the cold snow.
Shaking his head at their stupidity, Logan bent down and
managed to get his arms under the still weight of the
woman. Straightening, he let her head loll against his
chest as he slowly made his way back to the bike.
Shoulder-length black hair fell down across her pale
beautiful face and Logan found himself staring down at her.
Something there, stirring at the back of his mind,
something he couldn't quite touch... He shook his aching
head to clear it and pushed onwards.
Driving a bike with dead weight in his lap was gonna be a
To Be Continued...