Fanfic: Fever Dreams 21/?
- Title: Fever Dreams (21/?)
Author: Chris (Teufelce@...)
Genre: Character study/Action/Romance
Pairing: Wolverine/original female character
Rating: PG-13 shades of violence and rape
Summary: Memories and frustration
Thanks to: "A very good friend... yeah, she knows who she is..." -
whom I never would've written this. Thanks, Z... And
thanks to Jo for
being an island of strength in a sea of insanity - I
wouldn't be here
Disclaimer: The characters of X-Men (i.e. Logan, Professor Xavier, etc.)
to Marvel Comics and Twentieth Century Fox Pictures.
This story is
for entertainment purposes only and no copyright
Archive: Hell yes, just let me know where!
In those quiet moments, as the first rays of muted sunlight filtered through
the window and lay an illusory blanket of peace over the room, Logan found
his mind turning inward. Turning to those few, tightly guarded memories he
When he'd awoken, cold and naked, in the middle of the Canadian wilderness,
he'd been little more than a nameless beast, trapped in the body of a man.
He had stumbled through the snow for miles - his mind a roiling mass of
terrified pain as sensory images bombarded it. How could a man... yes, he
was a man... he remembered that much now... How could a man know, from smell
alone, that there was a deer in the woods fifty yards off to his right, and
not know his name? He remembered staring at the backs of his hands, knowing
there was something there.. something else he should know... With a spasm of
the muscles in his forearms, six gleaming claws had shot out from between his
knuckles and he'd cried out at the sudden pain. Had stared down at the
claws, his mind screaming that this was part of him, and not part of him.
And then the images of a tub filled with liquid, of scalpels reddened with
his own blood, of a champagne toast to the success of the experiment while he
screamed in agony, slammed into his overloaded mind and he'd passed out face
down in the snow.
He'd come to again and still remembered that he was a man. The name 'Logan'
had flitted across his barely conscious mind and he'd latched onto it with
desparation. He rolled over in the snow and the sensation of cold metal
pressing against his chest had brought his hand up to find the source. Numb
fingers closed around a chain and he lifted it to peer at the bright metal.
Dogtags. Stamped with a series of numbers and one word - 'Wolverine'. That
was him, somehow he knew this. But he was 'Logan', too. So he'd climbed to
his feet and staggered onwards to the nearest cabin. Clutching those names
to his soul, wrapping those shredded remnants of an identity around himself
as a ward against the pain he could still feel inside. The pain and the
The following years had seen a slow progress in discovering who he now was.
Who he had been only came to him at night, in nightmares that brought him
screaming and shaking out of sleep. In frightening images that faded to a
dull haze in his subconscious the moment he was fully awake... With all
that, the unfocused anger he'd first felt in that desolate forest had
steadily grown into a rage that continually threatened to swallow the
tattered vestiges of his humanity. And with that rage had come hate... hate
for the faceless people who were responsible for what was done to him. The
rage and hate had driven him to spend those years in constant movement, from
town to town, bar to bar. Making a living venting that terrible anger on
whoever dared to oppose him in the fight cage, spending most of his nights
trying to fend off the nightmares with large quantities of alcohol and the
occasional woman. But always, always he'd moved on after less than a week.
Always chasing after a past he was desperate to piece together...
And now, here he was - fifteen long years later, lying on a cold wood floor,
with his arms wrapped around a living, breathing part of his past. A woman
whose soft, amber eyes soothed the pain, brought him a level of wholeness, of
completeness, that he'd not felt in all the time he could remember. A woman
whose love he hadn't even known he'd lost until a twist of fate had led him
to her again. With that thought had come the memories of seeing her lying on
that lab table, of her tears washing down her face, of the Professor's
compassionate voice telling him the words he'd never wanted to hear. Telling
him of what had been done to her, all because of him... And of opening his
eyes, the sharp ends of his claws still cutting into the skin beneath his
jaw, to see her own eyes staring back at him. Filled with love, forgiveness
and pleading. Pleading not to leave her alone. Not again...
His arms tightened around her still body, a low growl building in his chest.
Never again. Never again would he let them take her from him. He'd rather
die first... He closed his eyes against the panic that surged through him,
his arms tightening further as he buried his face in her hair. Never again...
Soft waking sounds and the stirring of the body wrapped in his arms brought
him back to himself with a start. He lifted a hand to gently brush the hair
back from Kiara's forehead and found her eyes open, looking up at him.
Watched as the sleepy smile on her face died beneath the returning memories
of what had happened... Her gaze dropped to focus on the floor next to them.
"Logan, I'm sorry..." The eerie echo of her tormented words from the night
before sent a kiss of fear racing through him and his own voice was hoarse in
"You have nothing to be sorry for, Kiara," he whispered against her hair.
She slowly raised her head to stare at him, her pained eyes lingering on the
dried blood stains that still graced his chest and arm.
"I hurt you." Those three simple words held such a wealth of torment and
regret in them, Logan felt like his heart was being squeezed in a vise. He
forced a small smile onto his face and cupped her cheek with his hands.
"I was stupid - I tried to wake you from a nightmare. You had no idea what
you were doing, Kiara. You didn't mean to hurt me."
"No, I meant to hurt someone else..." Her reply was barely audible and before
he could question her on it, she was smiling up at him. "Well," she said, a
small glint in her eyes, "I think someone needs a shower, then." The teasing
tone of her voice surprised him and he hesitated. A moment ago, she'd been
wracked with guilt over hurting him, and now she was all smiles and mischief.
He arched an eyebrow and stared deep into her eyes for a long moment. The
smile remained on her face, but a hint of pleading crept into her eyes.
Yielding to her unspoken desire to let things be for now, Logan grinned back
"But the shower's all the way across the room..." She laughed and slapped
him lightly on the chest, before rolling off him and climbing to her feet.
"Come on, you big baby - if you don't keep me waiting, I promise I'll wash
your back..." With an impish look over her shoulder, she sauntered across
the floor and into the bathroom. Logan chuckled low in his throat and padded
silently after her.
By the time he reached the bathroom, she had the shower running and was in
the process of pulling her nightgown over her head. The sight of the smooth
expanse of her back sent an immediate shiver of lust rolling down his spine,
and a corresponding tightening in his groin. He started to move forwards
when another, stranger feeling swept over him. Guilt. The strenghth and
shock of it stopped him in his tracks, eyes widened. Guilt... Why the hell
should he suddenly feel guilty for wanting her? Before the thought had even
finished itself, he knew part of the answer. Some part of him still felt
irrationally guilty for what was done to her. For the brutal rapes she'd
endured... And that part of him was terrified to touch her. To have any
remnant of those horrible memories associate themselves in her mind with
*his* touch. To cause her any more pain than she already bore...
"You going to stand there all day?" The surface of her words were soft,
velvet-coated passion. But beneath that, he could hear the uncertainty, the
nervousness, and that decided him. In a few short strides, he was behind
her, his arms rising to pull her gently against him as his mouth fell to her
"Just enjoying the view..." he murmured against her sweet skin and felt a
tremor run through her body in response. His kisses grew bolder, as a soft
moan whispered past her lips, and he slid a hand down to rest against the
small of her stomach. Strong fingers stretching and kneading at the skin
there, as lips and teeth bit and caressed a line along her left shoulder.
She moaned again, shifting her hips to rub against him, and his arms
tightened around her in response. Holding her more tightly to him as his
kisses became more urgent and his hand fell lower... Suddenly, he felt her
body start and stiffen. He lifted his lips from her shoulder, about to ask
what was wrong, and then she was pulling free from his embrace. Her arms
rising to hug herself as she turned to face him. The unshed tears in her
eyes and the barely hidden fear on her face stole the air from his lungs.
"Logan, I'm sorry... I just... I can't... I'm sorry..." Her voice cracked and
she grabbed up a towel, wrapping it around herself as she pushed past his
rigid form. Stopping next to him to whisper once last time, "I'm sorry...",
and then she was gone. Leaving him standing alone in the bathroom, hands
clenched in fists at his side. With a groan of frustration, he forced his
hands flat against the smooth tiles of the counter and stared into the
mirror. Struggled against the rage sweeping through him at the damage that
had been done to Kiara, and lost the battle when an image of her broken and
bruised body flashed through his mind. His fist was connecting with the
glass before he was even aware of it, and he felt the sharp relief of pain as
it shattered. As the ragged edges sliced and tore at the skin of his hand...
Felt frustration return as the wounds knit and healed instantly and he was
left staring down at bloodied, unbroken skin. Heard the slam of the bedroom
door as Kiara left and felt a pang of regret that she'd heard the breaking
glass. The physical frustration he could deal with, that wasn't what was
eating at him. No, it was the loss of trust. A trust that had come to be a
part of him, something he didn't need to think about. Until now, Kiara had
felt the same way. But the awakened memories of the trauma she'd undergone
had damaged that trust. Had damaged *her* to the point where she wasn't even
able to bear the intimate touch of the one person who would gladly die for
her at the drop of a hat. Who never, ever wanted her to hurt again... Who
had no idea how to undo the damage that had been done...
End of Chapter 21