Chapter Three: Order
I try to breathe
Memories overtaking me
I try to face them
But the thought is too much to conceive
~Staind
Anchorage
After a swift flight, Logan found himself back at the Anchorage airport. Gates had gone off to refuel the plane and gather supplies for a few damaged buildings back in his hometown, so Logan was left to his own devices.
Carrying the “creepy” doctor’s address, he hailed a cab and headed toward the southern edge of the city. He paid no attention to the streets and buildings he passed, anxiety welling up in his chest with every mile. He had that strange precognitive feeling that this doctor was bad news.
If he had anything to do with taking Ororo, Logan was likely to just snap.
He dwelled on thoughts that he had not expected. If Ororo was still alive, was she all right? Had the bastard fed her? Was she hurt? Cold? Afraid? Did she know he was coming for her? That he would tear the world apart stone by stone to bring her home? Had she bet on that and called for him for that reason?
It frightened him. Though they had known each other a scant amount of time, memories of her were steadily overtaking him. He could remember nothing of the timely rescue in Canada, but he knew every expression her face had made that day in the Professor’s office.
She had that sort of cool, frosty calm that he wished for himself. She had given him the faintest hint of a smile while those eyes dashed over the features of his face. Grace was in her every step, conviction in her words, her voice, and an all-encompassing warmth flooded her sky-colored eyes.
Hank had once said that the mind works much like a camera when it comes to images. Logan never realized how much he remembered of that moment, that woman, than now. It was like studying a photograph from years before, suddenly remembering a million details the mind had simply glossed over.
Magneto’s right, there is a war coming. Are you sure you’re on the right side?
At least I’ve chosen a side.
God, he loved that memory. He didn’t know why, had no idea why it seemed so important now, but that single moment of Storm was his favorite. Watching her as she stood so fearless against him, completely sure that she was right and nothing would shake her faith.
She had given him pause. While before he wanted merely to get his answers and run away, her damn challenge stopped him. His need to find this woman grew with every moment. An insistent need that spoke to his animalistic nature and newfound loyalty. She needed to be returned to her family, to the people and world she had abandoned.
Even if she chose to remain here, Ororo deserved someone to save her, free her, give her the choice.
“Here ya are, sir,” the cab driver said as the car slowed to a stop. “That’s fifty US dollars.”
“Damn,” Logan sighed, reaching for his wallet. “I’ll give ya an extra hundred to wait ten minutes.”
“Sure t’ing,” the man said cheerfully.
Logan opened the car door as the driver flipped the gear into park. The street was something familiar. Dark, rank with scents of human waste and garbage, it could have easily been a street from any city anywhere in the world.
The street light was out, shrouding the building he needed to enter in darkness. Logan had to hand it to the cab driver, it was ballsy to simply sit on the curb in a place like this, waiting for a fare.
He grinned to himself when the door locks clicked into place behind him. Staring up at the two-story townhouse, Logan weighed his options. He could ring the bell and pretend he was there to fix the gas, or he could just kick the door down.
Yeah, that sounded more fitting his mood.
Stomping up the snow and ice covered walk, Logan paused for only a moment to bring his leg sharply back. One swift kick brought the door off the hinge, splintering the wood around the now useless deadbolt.
Taking two steps inside, Logan recoiled. Thick were the rancid scents of amphetamines, alcohol, and unwashed bodies. It was enough to make his head swim. He stumbled over something lying in the foyer and growled with annoyance.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he noted a shadowy form dart from one room to another at the end of the corridor. Snarling, Logan leapt toward the fleeing shadow, paying no mind to he trash and clothing littering the floor.
He chased his new prey through the lab set up in the kitchen and into what looked to be a basement. For one, terrifyingly hopeful moment, Logan thought he smelled Ororo on the air. He stopped dead in his tracks, looking around quickly.
Finding no trace of her, he turned his attention on the cowering form in the pitch black corner of the room.
Snikt!
Six long, adamantium claws extended from the backs of his hands, glinting in the sliver of moonlight cutting into the darkness through the slender window. Logan took one step toward the trembling man, a low growl coming from the back of his throat.
“Where is she?”
The demand cracked through the room and echoed off of the walls like thunder. Another step brought him closer to the man, whom whimpered in fear.
“WHERE IS SHE?”
This time his shout brought a sob-like groan from his captive.
“W-Who?”
Infuriated more than he expected, Logan launched himself at his enemy, grabbing him by the shabby shirt he was wearing. Controlling the roll of his stomach at the putrid scents coming off of this would-be drug dealer, Logan brought him off the ground to face him.
“You know who.” He snarled, shaking the man. “Ororo Munroe. Tall, dark skinned, white hair, hard ta forget.”
“I-I-I d-don’t…”
“Bullshit,” Wolverine hissed in a deadly tone. “Where the hell is she?”
“Look, I don’t know! I’m just the errand boy!”
“What?”
Fury was alive inside of him as the whimpering man attempted to explain himself. It was all Logan could do to keep himself from gutting the sick, foul-smelling bastard right here in his own basement.
After several seconds, the man seemed to get a hold of himself. “He sends me to a town or somethin’. I find out what I can about the mark. I don’t know what happens after that!”
“Who? Who sends you, boy?” Logan demanded. “Where can I find him?”
“I don’t know!” the man said with a squeak of fear. “I get a letter in the mail, no return address. I leave the information in an unmarked envelope in my mailbox. Couple of days later, there’s money in there. That’s all I know!”
Logan released the man roughly, dropping him without compassion onto the cold, hard floor. He resisted the urge to kick him, instead formulating a plan in his head.
“I’m leavin’ you my number. He wants more information from ya, ya call me. Got it?”
“Y-yeah…but he’ll kill me!”
“I’ll kill you! Just do it, understand?”
“Y-Yes s-sir.”
“Good.”
~**~
He had never made it to Ororo’s house the night he arrived in Alaska. After taking charge of the Husky pair, he’d merely gone back to his hotel room. Sleep had been much-needed, but his reasons were far more personal.
So much he was learning of Ororo had been done in the third person. He knew she was loyal, friendly, intelligent, and caring, but what she carried in her heart could not be reflected in another person’s eyes.
A home was very different. Every touch would represent something to her, a piece of that mysterious organ that beat within her chest. He really wasn’t sure if he would feel intrusive in her home or if it would only reveal her favorite color.
He wanted to do this without an audience. Mary was a sweet girl and all, but if something did strike him, he didn’t want someone looking over his shoulder.
The trip back from Anchorage was uneventful. He stopped by to report on his findings to the sheriff, whom seemed dead set on trying to help. Logan let him run his background checks and anything else he might want to do. Every little bit helped, after all.
It was with tired eyes and a weary mind that Logan turned off the main highway in his rented Explorer, following the map that Mary had written on a napkin for him. Ororo’s home was, as he expected, straddling the border between unkempt wilds and ordered society. There was a frozen lake to the east, which he imagined glittered in dawn light. Trees and underbrush surrounded the small valley. It looked like something out of a movie. Everything here was perfect, though covered with that thick darkness.
The lights twinkled above him, not in the mocking way he thought they would. They were welcoming, a woman’s elegant hand beckoning him closer. He scratched Andine’s furry muzzle as he steered the truck toward the house, pulling up behind the blue Dodge Ram that was registered to Ororo.
Both dogs began to bark and fidget in the truck, so he reached over to open the passenger door, letting them both free. Tongues wagging and tails swinging, the pair of Huskies bolted from the car to roll in the snow of their territory.
It took Logan a moment to locate the spare key Mary had given him, and he used to it quiet his nerves. Grabbing the cellular phone from the glove box as well, he forced himself out of the truck. Both dogs made a beeline for him, then turned sharply to run back toward the house.
“Andine! Yer gonna yank those stitches out! Calm down, girl!”
The bitch turned to give him a reproachful look, so he shouted a warning to Eliar as well. She seemed satisfied by that.
He followed the dogs around the house, checking for anything the police, wildlife, and snowfall might have left behind as clues. The house was recently built, a sturdy one-story cottage. It was equipped with a wrap-around porch dotted with comfortable looking deck furniture.
There were no curtains on the windows that he could see, but thick, dependable blinds that could allow a wealth of sunlight inside or cover the sun completely. Around the back, he found traces of a small garden adjacent to a generous greenhouse…
And a hot tub.
Blinking, Logan trotted over to the covered tub, lifting the vinyl quickly. To his surprise, it was in ready-to-heat condition, even at this point in winter. Quirking a brow at the strange placement of such a thing, Logan shook his head and turned back toward the house.
The back porch had more furniture, a gas grill, and what looked to be a dog sled. Curious, Logan whistled for the dogs and marched up the steps. The screen door was pulled open, held back from smacking him in the face with a shoulder as he keyed into Ororo’s home.
Immediately, he wished he hadn’t.
No one had cleaned the “crime scene”, apparently. Books and glass were strewn all over the house. Blood still stained the thick cocoa colored carpeting and he found more than one bullet hole in the walls.
Heart aching, the image of her screaming for help fabricating in his mind, Logan closed his eyes. Both dogs whimpered as they followed him into the house. Spoiled food and blood could not erase the scent that saturated the air still. One of rain and earth, a hint of lavender.
Without really thinking about it, Logan removed his coat, closing the door behind him. He moved into the kitchen, mindlessly gathering broken dishes. Garbage bags were found under the sink, so he continued.
Plates “ the heavy ceramic sort with soft blue paint “ were washed and put away. Cups, bowls and anything else he could salvage were treated the same. He washed the counters, swept the floor.
When it was back in order, he made his way to the kitchen. Where everything in the cooking area was wood or stainless steel, the living space was just plain cozy. Squashy sofas covered in butter-soft cotton were easily cleared off. The dogs took up residence on them, sinking into the cushions. More of that mocha carpet was vacuumed, spots cleaned out of it.
He rescued photographs from broken frames, removing the glass from others and setting the pictures back without it. The mahogany mantle needed a good polish, so he finished that before setting the fallen pictures from where he thought she placed them.
Logan made a note that her prized painting of a Tanzanian plain was torn as he took it down. Setting it by the front door, he intended to have it fixed. Once the living space was back in order, Logan made his way toward the bedroom.
Swallowing over his rage, that fabricated mental image of Ororo’s pleading call, he stepped over chalk lines where shell casings had been found. Her bedroom bore the most signs of damage. Her bed was a mess, pillows and blankets strewn over the entire room.
Trying to not think about it, Logan went about his business. He took the bloodied linens in his hands and paused. It smelled like human blood. She’d been injured.
“Where are ya, ‘Ro?” he said to the empty air, using a nickname for the first time. “Be strong, you’ll get through it. I’m here. I didn’t abandon ya.”
He put the linens in a trash bag, determined to burn them when he was finished. Another set was in the hall closet, which made him smile. She was a meticulous person, she’d never run out of anything.
After making the bed, he washed the blood from the carpet, from the door. The bathroom was untouched, but he freshened it up anyway. When she returned, he would have everything in order. He wouldn’t let her home be lost in bad memories for her.
He’d called Mary just after finishing the kitchen, asking if she would mind him staying in Ororo’s house. The girl seemed slightly surprised, but promised to bring him fresh groceries and his things from the hotel.
Once that was done, Logan gathered up the trash bags and headed outside, dogs in tow. The Northern Lights were blinking and winking above, but their call seemed different somehow. He thought it felt like a warning.
This flight of fancy made him jump out of his skin when the cellular phone rang. Keeping a watchful eye on the romping pups, Logan set the trash to the side and reached for the phone.
“Yeah?”
“Wolverine?”
“Hey, Hank,” Logan said, relieved for some reason. “How’s it going?”
“I could ask the same of you.” Hank’s voice was cheerful, though strained. Logan could only guess at what the poor man was going through.
“I got a lead, sorta,” Logan admitted. “I’m at her house now.”
“How bad was it?” the other mutant asked cautiously.
“Bad,” Logan grunted. “But it coulda been worse, man. I’ll find her.”
“Of that, my friend, I have very little doubt,” Hank said in a tone that betrayed what Logan knew were tears in his eyes. “We had quite a surprise here today.”
“What’s that?”
“The Professor returned.”
“Well, that’s some good news,” Logan allowed himself to smile as he lit a cigar. “Kids have a fit?”
Hank laughed slightly. “Rogue screamed and fainted.”
“Damn! Did ya have a camera out?”
“Unfortunately not,” Beast continued to chuckle. “She may have killed me if I had.”
“There’s a good point. Hang on,” Logan pulled the phone away, grabbing his cigar with the other hand. “Andine! Eliar! Get yer asses back here!”
Sharp eyes caught the hint of white fur as the dogs bounced and sniffed along the tree line. Aware that bears and all manner of creatures tended to appear even out of season in areas such as these, he began to trot over to them.
“Damn dogs,” Logan said into the phone again.
“What is it?”
“Think they found a dead animal or somethin’,” Logan said on a sigh as he moved toward the dogs.
“Oh, dear.”
A moment later, Logan’s footsteps stopped altogether. He could hear Mary’s truck pulling up, something loud and annoying blaring from her stereo. But his eyes remained on the tree line.
Something…someone was walking out of that thick darkness. His heart stuttered and stopped in his chest, the phone falling from his hand along with the still-lit cigar. A lean silhouette was stumbling forward, the dogs howling into the chilly air.
“Holy…shit.”
His breathy words were lost on the air as Mary scrambled out of her truck.
“ORORO!” Her despairing scream thundered through the air, bringing Logan from his stupor as she began to run.
Logan was far ahead of her. Breaking into a full run, he bolted for the tall, dark form moving aimlessly from behind the trees. That cascade of white hair was signature. He tripped over something on the ground, but managed to keep himself from eating snow.
When he was close enough to see her face, he felt rage boil up inside of him again. Ororo’s eyes were circled with dark bruises, likely from lack of sleep. Her hair was matted, streaked with blood and earth.
“Logan?”
One word. She reached for him. Her long legs, bare to the freezing snow by what looked to be a white hospital gown, buckled beneath her. Logan leapt forward in time to catch her waif-like form, drawing her quickly to his chest.
“Mary! Go get some blankets and keep the truck runnin’!”
“Oh, God.” The girl said over and over. “Oh, God.”
“GO!” Logan’s scream seemed to jar her into action and she raced back toward the house.
“Hang on, girl,” he whispered to Ororo as the dogs began sniffing her. “I’ve got ya. I’m here, darlin’.”
“Don…” her voice rasped. “Don…”
“What is it, darlin’?” He pressed, shrugging out of his jacket to wrap her in it even as her body began to tremble with shock.
“Don’t hurt me.”
Choking, Logan pulled her into his arms even more tightly, kissing the top of her head. He was reminded, painfully, of Jean’s last moments. Of holding her his way. He rocked Ororo in his arms, unable to believe he had found her. Or had she found him?
As Mary reappeared, blankets in hand, he stood with the battered mutant in his arms. He carried her to the waiting truck, whistling for the dogs to follow. Placing her gently in the back seat, he ordered Mary to put the dogs into the bed of the truck. The girl did as he asked while he tucked Ororo in quickly.
As he checked her arms and legs for wounds that would need immediate attention, he found a small bracelet on her wrist. It looked like something from the hospital.
“Mutant Number 3480131 Munroe, Ororo. Type: Elite”
“What does that mean?” Mary asked as she slid into the passenger’s seat. She reached back to hold Ororo’s limp hand.
“I dunno, darlin’.” Logan closed the back door and jumped into the driver’s seat. “But I’m gonna find out. An’ then, I’m gonna gut the bastard that did this to her like a trout.”
“Can I watch?”
Logan only replied with a half-grin in Mary’s direction as he pulled out of the drive. Mary gave him directions to the nearest hospital before climbing in the back to hold her dear friend close. The dogs howled, but Logan concentrated on the drive.
~**~
30 miles east of Henry
There was little pain when she felt herself begin to wake. Blurred images that could have been memory drifted in and out of her terrified mind. She knew something had happened to her after the terrible invasion of her home, but the specifics were elusive.
She could hear voices nearby. Many of them were unfamiliar, bringing feelings of entrapment and fear back to the surface. But under the din, beneath the frightening sounds, was one voice that brought her comfort. His growled words chased away the fear, dulled the remnants of pain.
After all that missing time, after the pain endured without reason or remorse, someone was here to look after her. No one would harm her on his watch. His dominance and fury were unmatched against anything not found in nature.
Memories that seemed not her own came back to her as the mind tried again and again to rouse into full wakefulness. The door bursting open, the beloved dogs leaping to her aid. She had reached for the phone, only to find that the mansion’s number was changed.
When the gunshots began, she could only cry out for help, knowing that it would not appear over the thousands of miles that separated them. Jean and Scott and Charles could not protect her, though she knew they might try from beyond the grave. Her mind could only deduce that one man would be her salvation.
“Logan?”
Unaware that she had called his name, she fought to open sore eyes. Hissing against the intrusive light after so long in the dark, Ororo felt a familiar hand grasp her own. It was not, however, the gruff, masculine hand she had expected, but that of a dainty female.
“Mary?”
“Hey, sweetie,” a tearful voice replied as someone killed the burning light.
Though her head swam unpleasantly, she managed to open her eyes and keep them that way. The light was dim now, making it easier on her eyes. She glanced around the unfamiliar room, spotting Logan standing in the back corner, Mary at her side, and a doctor coming around the other.
“Hi,” she said for Logan and Logan alone.
“Hey.” He replied quietly. “How ya feelin’?”
“Like I have been dragged through a frozen lake, tossed into the heart of the sun, and then used as Mike Tyson’s punching bag.”
That brought a small, welcome smile to his face.
“Miss Munroe? I’m Doctor Forrester, may I check your vitals?”
She nodded once, flinching a little when he shone light into her eyes. Throughout the examinations, she felt a cold fear bubble inside of her. Something about this was familiar, in a way that frightened her.
Understanding shone from Logan’s dark eyes and he took a few steps closer. When he reached the foot of the bed, he gently reached for one of her toes and squeezed it in a tickling manner. Appreciating his silent support, she rewarded him with a smile.
“You’re dehydrated and malnourished,” the doctor said when he finished. “I’ve got you on a vitamin saline solution right now and mild pain killers. Can you talk about what’s happened?”
“Hell no,” Logan butted in before she could answer. “She’s been knocked fuckin’ unconscious for two fuckin’ days. Give her some time!”
“Mr. Hope, I assure you…”
“I have to agree with Logan,” Mary chimed in as Ororo fought the urge to giggle at Logan’s new surname. “Let’s give her a little while to relax and brush her hair.”
“Brush her hair?” Logan said over the doctor’s shoulder.
“You’re not a girl,” Mary shot back, flipping a lock of that shiny black hair over her shoulder. “You wouldn’t understand.”
A deep, annoyed sigh came from the doctor beside Ororo. “I’ll be back soon, Miss Munroe. If you need anything, Mr. Hope can show you the call button.”
The trio was silent as Doctor Forrester left the room. Ororo laid back against the pillows, looking from one friend to the other.
“So,” she began lightly. “You two have met?”
“’Roro, you’ve got a weird sense of humor,” Mary chided as she tucked the blankets in more firmly around her friend.
Logan sat on the edge of the bed, watching her carefully. She knew he had questions, and she had a good deal to ask of the man she had not seen in a year. Asking Mary to fetch her a toothbrush and cold water, she managed to get her friend from the room without being rude.
The moment the door shut behind Mary, Logan cleared his throat.
“Ya called fer me.”
Knowing it must have weighed on his mind, Ororo nodded. “I needed the sort of help you excel at.”
“I heard,” he nodded, scooting a little closer. “Police an’ the like weren’t a lotta help.”
“No?” Ororo asked, frowning.
“Nope,” Logan shook his head. “I’d love ta know how ya just come walkin’ outta the woods like that.”
Tears, hot and stinging burned at Ororo’s eyes. Above all others, he would understand her fear, the unknowable terror that would come to her for years after this moment.
“I cannot remember anything,” she whispered, choking on her tears. “Logan, they took something from me, but I don’t know what it is. I don’t know what is memory or lies. I…”
“Shh,” he said, coming closer immediately to wrap her in a comforting embrace. “Ya don’t have ta tell anyone yet.”
Crying quietly into his shoulder, Ororo let the grief and pain consume her, knowing he was there to catch her. She was safe. Home.
