//Flashback//
Twelve hours after the accident,
His clothes in tatters, his body carrying nary a scar but positioned in an odd position with one leg twisted around a broken tree trunk, the other inside its hollow, with one arm under his back while the other lying flat on the ground, Logan, the mutant known as Wolverine, gained consciousness, groaning and rolling over to both free his arm and to move away from the gentle moonlight streaming through the foliage.
Cracking his eyes open, acting on pure instinct, the first thing he did was do a quick sight, smell and sound survey of the surrounding area. From the looks (and smells and sounds) of it, he was in some sort of wooded area, with the closest non-fauna living-being being a family of birds about fifteen feet up in a tree a couple of feet away from him.
“What the fuck happen….” Shaking his head to get rid of the buzzing sensation, Logan stopped mid-sentence, stilling for a second as the collective wave of the memories of the events from a few hours ago washed over him, as did the realization of something else…something alarming. He was alone. He was ALONE! Where was Ororo?
Scrambling up on his feet, and grabbing at the tree for support, he called out. “’Ro…” All he got in response was the silence of the night and the own hooting in the far distance. So he called out again, louder the second time. “’Ro….Ororo? ORORO!!”
---
Sometime Later,
He had been walking for almost seven straight hours and even with his healing factor….his currently ‘strained’ healing factor, it had started to weigh heavily on his body. However, as far as his mind…and his heart were concerned, they were already in a different place.
Before setting on his journey to the nearest human settlement, Logan had spent over three hours tearing through the countryside, going every and which direction…all for even for just a whiff if nothing else. Nothing. He found nothing. No trace of Scott or any of the other X-Men or their jet. And definitely no Ororo. All he had was the tattered remains of her cape, just a section…but enough for him to smell her on it…and confirm that he wasn’t hallucinating. Given his current location and his past, even that small piece of clothing was like a lifeline to him, for it and Ororo’s trace on it proved that SHE had been real….they had been real and not just a figment of his imagination.
Finally, giving up his fool’s run he started walking, keeping his eyes and ears open for any city or town. Reaching a semblance of a road, he started on it, traveling in the direction that the single set of tire tracks were headed in.
However, it would only after almost eight hours, with the day was fully dawned over, that he reached his first town…if that is what one could call a handful of broken down buildings and about three dozen cabins. Still not knowing where his exact location was, but having confirmed he was somehow back in Canada, he stomped into the town, making a beeline for the default ‘information kiosk’ of such places…the local bar.
*Cling Cling!!*
“Welcome stranger. What can I get ya to….?”
“What’s this place?” Cutting through all the introductory bull of the slightly pudgy but ‘friendly’ faced, salt n’ pepper haired bartender, Logan straightaway got down to business. ‘What a dumphole?’ he cursed internally, correcting himself the very next second. ‘Seen worse.’
Realizing that the newcomer wasn’t exactly the talkative type, and taking note of his body visible under his torn X-jacket, the older man perceptively dialed back on the usual talkative banter.
“Nowhere.”
Even as he answered, he near about jumped back at the growl from the tired, not to mentioned severely pissed off Wolverine. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“Nowhere,” suddenly fearing for his wellbeing, even possibly his life, the man fumbled over his words, trying to gauge that if…when the stranger attacked whether he would be able to get to the shotgun stored under the cash counter in time. “The town. Its name is Nowhere. That’s what is its name. It just got named because its….I mean, the people just started to call it…”
“Got a phone?” asked Logan still not able to catch sight of any communication device.
“No man. No phone, no TV nothin’. It don’t work here. The closest post-office is about hundred fifty kilometers that way,” he jerked his hand over his shoulder.
“I need money.” Those words near about drove his rising fear home. Praying to the lord for mercy, he quickly promised that if he just lived through this, he would stop troubling his goodly wife and even stop feeding her more often than not rubbery food to the dog. As it is, the mutt was perpetually getting the runs. “Know any place…”
“Look man, take what ya want. Just don’t kill me okay.”
“Fuck,” Logan cursed aloud again. “I ain’t here ta steal frem ya or kill ya,” he moved away from the man trying his best to look non-threatening, a near impossible feat for him. “I….I had an accident and lost all my stuff an’ my camper,” he lifted his hands, pointing his palms against the old man in a show of peace. “I’ve been walking the whole night. I need some money…earn it so that I can get on my way.”
“Oh,” though not completely at ease, Logan’s words seemed to have a somewhat calming effect. “How much do ya need?”
“I said don’t want yer money,” already at the last of his patience, Logan flexed his hand even further to avoid letting his claws out. “I just wanna know if there is some kinda work….a fight or something.”
“Fight!” That brought a twinkle to the bartender cum’ owner’s eyes. “Figures,” he nodded his head as he looked at Logan, up and down and then up again. “Someone like ya…” he stopped at the look on Logan’s face. “But yer late. The fight was here last week. Must be in the next county by now.”
“When will it be back again?” Logan asked with a hope against hope. Having done the circuit himself, he knew from experience that it might even be months before the fight came back to this place.
“Hmmm….there’s one at the end of the next month. Don’t think ya will wanta wait that long.”
“No shit Sherlock,” Logan snapped at him. “Anything else?”
Mulling for a few seconds, the older man spoke again. “Well, seeing as ya look like a strong fella. I do have some work that ya might wanna do. Its kinda long…”
“How much money?” Logan cut him off again.
“Dontcha want to know what the work is?” Suddenly finding himself in a strong position, the old man tried to use it to its advantage. One deep growl took care of all that….and of his bravado too.
“There is a buncha trees I need to be cut down. About two dozen.” Originally planning on getting twenty, he added a few more. ‘Why not milk it fer all its worth?’ “Money’s good. Thirty five a tree. You cut all, you get fifty…seventy five bonus.”
“Thirty five a tree,” Logan repeated as he stepped forward to the counter. “Hundred bonus fer getting all...an’ a place to stay and eat. An’ I work when I want.”
“Hundred bon….”
“Hundred. And. Fifty.” Logan brought his hands up to the counter.
“Y..You got it,” the man nodded hastily. “But that’s just ‘cause ya look like a good man.” Even to someone without enhanced senses the lie was as clear as day.
“Yeah sure.” Logan grunted his answer. “Gimmie the room now. Send the food. I’ll start at sundown.”
“Sundown?” That was something rather odd. Most people tended to work during the day and rest at night. What he did not know was that both Logan’s strength and healing factor were nearly exhausted. Moreover, although like others, Logan too would be using his hands…just not in the same way.
Neglecting the questioning look, Logan shoved his hand out for the room key....and with that and a full bottle of whatever whisky was at hand, he was soon on his way to the equally weathered building next door.
----
Even later,
“Good afternoon. How may I help you sir?” The sweet saccharine but bored voice greeted over the phone. Having made quick work of the trees, and paid three hundred of his nearly thousand dollars for a second….third….god knows how old bike, Logan was soon on his way to the next town in hopes of getting to a phone. However, it wouldn’t be until he reached the third town that he found one that was available. At the first stop, he was told that a freak flash from a couple of night ago had caused all the communication lines to crash. Putting two and two together, he hightailed it out of there…in case someone started to ask the wrong questions and linked him to the flash that he took as whatever it was that flung him wherever he had landed. It was the same problem at the second stop.
Finally, here he was, using the phone to call Ororo…but always getting ‘Please check the number you have dialed.” Trying Xavier, and then Scott and last of all Hank’s private numbers, not to mention the school’s public one, he got the same response.
“Yeah,” he grunted in response to the operator’s query, his feeling of confusion rapidly being replaced by alarm. “I want a listing for Ororo Monroe in Salem Center, Westchester County, New York.”
“Just a minute sir.” After a few seconds of silence. “Please hold sir.” Silence again. “Sorry sir. There is no one of that name in Westchester County. I also….”
“What do you mean there isn’t anyone of that name in Westchester County?” Logan’s claws shot out from his free hand.
“Sir,” the operator’s shot back. “As I said. There is no one of that name in either Westchester County or in the rest of New York state.”
“Try Charles Xavier….or Scott Summers or…”
“Sir, one name at a time.”
“Charles Xavier. He has a school for….he has a school in Salem Center. Professor Charles Xavier.”
Once again there was silence as the operator checked for Charles Xavier.
“Sir,” she started a few seconds later. “There is a Charles Xavier, Professor.”
“Connect me to him.”
Connecting, there were a few rings before someone….a female voice answered from the other side.
“Yes. Emma Frost speaking. How may I help you?”
‘Emma Frost? Who the fuck is that?’ The frown on Logan’s face deepened ever further. ‘Xavier got someone new working for him now?’ “Where’s Chu…Xavier? Where’s Xavier?”
From the awkward pause that followed, Logan’s alarm jumped up even more. Where was Xavier? More…most importantly, where was Ororo? And who was this Emma Frost?
“Professor Xavier is not available at this number anymore,” the answer was voiced in a cool, detached yet oddly somewhat emotional tone. “Please do not call here…”
“What do you mean he ain’t available anymore?” Logan literally snarled at her. “Who are you? Get me Ororo. Where’s Cyke…Scott. Where’s Summers?”
“Excuse me sir,” Emma responded evenly. “But there is no one of that name here. I do not know how you know Professor Xavier or how you got this number, but as I told you he is not available at this number anymore….and before you ask, I do not know where he is. Nor do I care. Thank you and have a good day.”
Click!
“He….y,” even before he could get a word out, Logan found himself listening to the dial tone and starring at the digital readout on the base…..the digital readout that told him the time of the day…and the date.
“No!” Falling away from his hand, the hand piece struck the side of the booth again and again as it swung through the air.
“No. This can’t be….No…..”
----
Further down the line,
He was only three miles from the mansion when, he just lost it. It wasn’t like anything he had ever felt before…ever. Not even the torture he suffered at the hands of those fuckers in Weapon X affected him the same way….caused him to literally seize with fear, the raggedy motorcycle veering off the road, into the foliage and finally onto the slope leading to a ten feet deep ditch.
Something was wrong. Something was seriously wrong…..and it wasn’t with him, but with Ororo. He could feel it…feel her. She was in pain, intense pain and feeling her suffering the way she was both angered and chilled him with fear.
Stumbling up the ditch, his wounds already healed over, Logan once again fell to the ground, a cry of pain and want tearing from his lips.
“ORORO!!”
---
It would be three hours before he would be able to get up and on his way. It was the first place he was going to…barely holding to hope, the latest…whatever it was, practically ripping him into two. It was as if Ororo had been calling….coming to him, only to be interrupted by someone and torn away.
Whatever it was, he was going to get to the bottom of it. He had to. There was no other way….he just had to. Just as he had to find Ororo.
//End Flashback//
----
“You KNOW him!” Scott exclaimed at the way Xavier greeted the stranger….from the looks of it and by the name the Professor called him, the other Logan. Most probably the one from the same world…dimension as the other Ororo.
Looking over his shoulder, at the stupefied looks on everyone, including the Logan and Ororo of this (Ultimate) world, Xavier nodded in confirmation.
“I have met him…once…almost seven years ago.”
Note: It ain’t over yet. More (movie) Logan and (ultimate) Xavier coming up.
'Nowhere' is completely fictitious i.e. made up.
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