Chapter Twelve: Fear
But I fear
I have nothing to give
I have so much to lose
Here in this lonely place
Tangled up in our embrace
There’s nothing I'd like
Better than to fall
But I fear
I have nothing to give
I have so much to lose
~Sarah McLachlan
Logan understood pain. He could deal with it, grit his teeth through it, rage because of it. There was little about it he didn’t know on an intimate level. Physical pains, emotional pain, torture, hatred, murder.
Yeah, he knew about pain. He knew it so well there were times he wondered if he knew anything else.
And in this moment, pain nearly got the best of him. Watching Trish’s eyes widen with fear, the gunshot resonating through the microphone was bad enough. Knowing that Hank was likely to lose his mind made him order pregnant Ororo out of the room. One feral was bad enough, Wolverine could handle Beast.
He could, physically. What Logan found himself unprepared for was the way his friend’s pain affected him. His heart ached in his chest as Beast flew at him, spitting and snarling.
Logan was fast and grabbed his friend in a headlock. One well-placed knee winded the big blue mutant, knocking him effectively to the ground. Ororo whimpered from behind him.
“You stay back!” Wolverine shouted. “Stay out, ‘Ro.”
Beast was still screaming, roaring, weeping. Logan held him tightly, locking his legs around the larger man to keep him immobile. Hank would never forgive himself if he hurt someone, especially given Storm’s condition. Logan could restrain him, talk him down.
“Its ok, Hank,” Logan said soothingly. “Its ok to be afraid. Its all right to be pissed off, but you gotta keep it together, man.”
Hank howled. Wincing against the echo of the terrible sound, Logan shushed his friend.
“I know, man.” He continued softly. “But if you don’t calm down, we can’t find out if she’s ok. Stay with me, Hank. Come back.”
Heartbreaking sobs wracked Beast’s body as the fight eked out of him. Slowly, gently Logan released him, taking Hank by the shoulders and embracing him in a manly fashion. The sound of Ororo’s voice came to him, giving away the fact that she was on the phone with Trish’s boss, no doubt finding out where she had been taken.
“T-Trish…” Hank wept, his clawed hands grasping Logan’s shoulders.
“I know, man,” Logan swallowed hard, wondering how badly he would be off if someone had hurt ‘Ro. “We’ll go see her. I’ll go with you.”
“Damn Trask,” the furry mutant continued. “I told her…I told her to be careful. Told her they would silence her.”
Logan saw red. He took several deep breaths to kill the impulse to rage himself. He liked warm and bubbly Trish. He enjoyed talking with her about politics and football, he felt the bond between she and Storm as keenly as his lover.
He clearly saw the love in Hank’s eyes when she walked into a room. Trish was family now, damn it. This wasn’t going to be ignored.
“Henry?”
At Ororo’s voice, both men turned. Logan’s heart went out to her, noticing the tears she kept in tight check.
“She’s at the hospital,” the woman informed them. “She’s alive.”
Hank scrambled to his feet, trembling violently. Logan steadied him, taking the keys Ororo handed him wordlessly. He kissed her quickly, catching her gaze so that he could say everything that needed saying without words.
“Be careful.”
With that, the two men raced out of the house.
~**~
“Patricia took the round to the chest. It entered to the left of her spine and exited just beneath her sternum. She’s lucky to be alive.”
Henry stared at the doctor in mute horror, the sights and sounds of the hospital unnoticed to his fractured mind. Several of Patricia’s friends were in the waiting room with him, but he ignored them all. The cameraman had taken the second shot meant for Trish, likely saving her life. The boy would be in surgery for several more hours.
The drive to the airport had been a blur. Using his UN connections, he’d secured a flight from New York to Washington within minutes, but it had taken several hours to actually get to the hospital where Trish was being treated.
They had no suspects and the rifle was abandoned at the scene. No trace evidence could be found. Logan had agreed with Hank’s suspicions of a professional hit. That knowledge did not make the pain inside of him any better. Hank still felt as though a part of him was dying and he would until he held Patricia in his arms.
“The bullet missed her internal organs, but the blood loss at the scene wasn’t helpful. I expect Patricia to make a full recovery, provided she takes it easy for the next month or so.”
“When can I see her?” Hank demanded, heedless to the restraining hand Logan put on his arm.
“I’ll send the nurse down as soon as Patricia is out of recovery.”
“Thanks, doc,” Logan answered while Hank steadied himself.
“Of course,” the young doctor paused. “She was asking for you, Dr. McCoy.”
Hank felt tears sting the back of his eyes. He should have been there. She shouldn’t have had to face the fear and pain alone. Why did he let her return to Washington without him? Were his political goals overshadowing everything in his life? He had told Trish that Trask would take her out if she began stomping too large a path in his direction. Why hadn’t he listened to his instincts?
As the doctor moved away, Henry turned to his companion. Though he knew Logan would have preferred to be at home with his lover and child, here he was. The shorter man took a seat in a nearby chair, stretching his arms and rolling his neck from side to side.
Hank rubbed his hands on his dark slacks, coming over to take a seat beside his friend. Never in a million years would he have thought to look to Wolverine for moral support, but here he was. He had taken care of the hotel just down the street, had clothing brought for Hank by his assistant, called Ororo with updates so she would not worry herself sick.
Though he knew he should insist his friend return home, Hank selfishly chose not to. Logan’s swift reaction time to his feral state likely saved someone from getting hurt. He would never have forgiven himself if he had caused Ororo more pain or “ God forbid “ injured one of the children in her care.
Logan, to his great surprise, was a calming influence. Should trouble arise, he knew he had backup of the best variety. He fretted, however, about Ororo’s security. Even the hallowed ground of Xavier’s haven could be breached. He trusted her to keep the children safe, and the elder among them to protect her. Still…
“Ambassador?”
No. It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t dare.
Hank stood slowly, turning his head until he caught sight of the dark, brooding man that was the cause of his current strife. The hot violence returned, struggling to be free as Hank faced Bolivar Trask.
Logan was on his feet as well, his hands clenching into fists. It was Hank’s turn to calm Logan with a single, furry palm on his shoulder. They could not risk open confrontation, not here among so many innocent souls. They would have to behave as gentlemen.
“Trask.” Hank’s voice was a low growl, which forced Logan to move closer. “What are you doing here?”
“Checking on Miss Tilby, of course.”
Copper flooded his tongue again, the thirst for blood almost a living thing inside of him. Logan shook his head almost imperceptibly. There were likely guards nearby, waiting for the opportunity to strike at the two mutants.
“Like any of us believe that,” came the youthful voice of Trish’s protégé, Melissa Fredrick. “You’re just hoping she’s dead.”
“Mel,” said Mitch as he took her hand. “This isn’t the time.”
“Bullshit!”
“Melissa, calm yourself,” Hank said soothingly. The girl clenched her jaw and glared at Trask, but she heeded Mitch’s entreating embrace and stepped back.
Hank and Logan moved closer to Trask.
“So you’re Trask,” Logan said almost causally. Hank could read the alert stance of his friend, knowing at any moment his hands could bring forth death and destruction.
“Wolverine.”
If the easy greeting surprised Logan, he didn’t let it show. Hank fixed Trask with an angry glare; standing so close only the three in the immediate area could hear his words. Oh yes, Trask would pay for this attack on Patricia. Somehow, Henry would bring him to justice.
“I’m surprised to find you here, Ambassador,” Trask said almost conversationally. “I had no idea you shared so close a relationship with Miss Tilby.”
“Yeah,” Logan answered. “She’s close with all of us.”
Trask glanced around, his sharp eyes taking in every worried and angry face in the waiting room.
“And where is Xavier’s heir? I am shocked to see that Miss Munroe has kept herself apart from this.”
Logan growled. Hank kept his face impassive by the grace of God alone.
“She is keeping a close eye, I assure you.”
“No doubt her delicate condition prevents her from being here in person.”
Trask’s tone was nearly giddy, making blood run cold through Hank’s veins. He refused to flinch from the steely gaze, a thousand questions rushing through Hank’s mind so quickly it nearly winded him.
“Yes,” Hank said with faux joviality. “She is very excited about the impending arrival.”
Trask turned to Logan. “I believe congratulations are in order.”
“Yeah,” Logan grinned, baring sharp canines. “Thanks.”
“Do you honestly think we believe this hogwash?” Hank questioned quietly. “This charade will not last for long.”
“Perhaps not,” Trask replied in an equally soft tone. “But I will see justice done.”
“Wanna see justice?” Logan inquired, raising one hand. “I’ll give ya justice, ya murderin’ bastard.”
The smile that curved the dark man’s lips was terrifying in it’s righteousness. This man had no conception of what he was doing, of who he was hurting. There were no consequences to him, nothing but a bleak black-and-white sense of right and wrong.
“It’s been a pleasure chatting, gentlemen,” Trask said a touch louder. “Please give Miss Munroe my congratulations and regards. Do tell Miss Tilby that I hope she makes a speedy recovery.”
“I will.” Hank nodded. “Good night, Secretary.”
“Ambassador.”
Without a look back or even a hint of fear, he turned his back on Logan and Hank. As he moved away, Logan snarled under his breath, the crackling of metal on metal hinting that he was popping the knuckles in his lethal hands.
“He knows,” Logan growled to Hank.
“I understand that,” Hank said thoughtfully. “We are being watched more closely than I had anticipated.”
“I don’t like it, Hank,” the feral replied. “He’s comin’ after my woman.”
Hank was amused for the first time since Patricia’s shooting. He looked to his friend, a smile touching his blue lips.
“Your woman? Does Ororo know you refer to her as such?”
To his credit, Logan kept his angry scowl in place for several seconds before he broke into a small grin. “Shut up, Furball.”
They sat back down, each man consumed by his thoughts. Hank looked down at his hands, wondering how deep they were all in for it. Between the car accident, Trask’s vendetta against Storm and Patricia’s shooting things seemed rather bleak for the heroic X-Men. The blue mutant sighed, looking back to Logan.
If nothing else, they had a birth to prepare for. The coming of a child should not be so shrouded with anxiety and fear.
“How does it feel, Logan?” Hank asked suddenly.
“How’s what feel?” The other man responded, staring at the floor.
“Ororo’s pregnancy,” he supplied, watching the expressions on Logan’s familiar face.
“I don’t know, you’d have to ask her,” he quipped, making Hank put an exasperated hand to his forehead.
“Logan.”
His friend was silent for a moment, his gaze faraway and expression unreadable.
“It’s weird,” he admitted softly. “I mean, we both wanted this and all, but it ain’t real yet, I think.”
“She will begin to show soon, I suppose that will help,” Hank offered kindly.
“Maybe,” Logan grunted. “It’s amazin’, Hank. I can’t describe it. We’ve made a whole person, on purpose even. I can hear the baby’s heartbeat, taste the change in her scent…It’s like bein’ home for the first time in my life. I can’t get enough of that feeling.”
The back of his eyes prickled with tears, the emotion in the usually stoic man’s words so honest it made Hank look away. His beloved weather goddess had no idea what kind of man now handed her his heart. There was so much in Logan that begged to be soothed, to be loved, how could anyone deny him? Ororo had chosen well, he believed. Logan was loyal to a fault and deadly when something he loved was threatened.
Their child would never be lacking for love or affection, much less security. Hank felt that last piece of his heart that he believed would always be Ororo’s come back to him. He would always adore her, love her as his friend, but things were as they ought to be.
“You love her,” Hank observed quietly.
“You’ve got no fuckin’ idea,” Logan chuckled mirthlessly.
“I’m happy for you both, Logan, I hope you realize that.”
His friend nodded immediately, still staring at the floor.
“Shitty part is she don’t love me back, Furball.”
The sheer pain in those simple words lanced Hank’s heart. “What?”
“She cares for me, a lot, but she ain’t in love. Just the way it is.” Logan shrugged, finally sitting back and meeting Hank’s gaze.
If she didn’t love this man, if she held back her heart from him, she was a damn fool. Here was everything she had wanted “ even the things Hank himself could never provide “ and she seemed to be holding back. Why? What frightened her so?
“Don’t worry about it,” Logan said with another shrug. “It’s not a big deal.”
“It is,” Hank replied. “Give her time.”
“That’s all I’ve got, bub.”
Before either of them could speak again, a petite nurse came from the elevator banks, looking through the crowd carefully. As though she were afraid of being mobbed for news of the injured reporter, she cleared her throat.
“Doctor McCoy?”
He stood with Logan at his side. “Yes?”
“Oh,” the girl blinked at his appearance. Hank inwardly winced. “Um. Miss Tilby has been moved and she’s asking for you. Loudly.”
Hank smiled, nodding his head. “Of course.”
Logan touched his shoulder, jerking his head down the opposite end of the hall. “I’m gonna call ‘Ro again to say goodnight. I’ll come check on you two in a minute.”
Understanding that Logan wanted to give Hank some time alone with Patricia, the blue mutant nodded curtly. “Tell her goodnight for me as well.”
“You got it.”
The two broke apart, heading toward opposite ends of the same hall with much on their minds.
~**~
She felt like death warmed over. Groggy from the various medications pumped into her system in the last…however long it had been. She could still feel the bullet tearing through her flesh, the panic and fear she had known in that single moment.
Over the years, she’d known friends and co-workers who’d taken a bullet, usually in some hostile war zone. They always said they couldn’t remember the instant the projectile tore into their bodies. Trish thought they were all insane.
She could remember, with eerie clarity, every nanosecond of the damn shooting. Hot tears leaked from her eyes as she stared at the ceiling. Damn it. She needed her Hank.
As though he’d heard her silent call, the door to her room opened. The enormously blue form of the man she loved slipped into the room. He was quiet, even when her eyes immediately locked onto his. She offered him a smile, teary smile as he closed the door behind himself with a faint click.
“Oh,” he whispered brokenly. “My beloved?”
“Hank,” she croaked, still aching from the intubation tube.
Raising one pale hand, she beckoned him closer. Hank flew to her side, taking her limp hand in his. Trish closed her eyes briefly, drawing on the strength he carried so innocently inside of him. She felt wetness on her palm and opened her eyes, not surprised to find her love was weeping.
She reached up as much as her chest wound would allow, touching his face tenderly.
“I’m right here,” she whispered. “I’m not going anywhere, Henry.”
Hank took her hand, pressing her palm to his lips. Her heart ached at the broken sound coming from his lips, the pain she could feel coming off of him in waves. She drew him closer, allowing him to shift her IV tubing so he could kiss her lips.
“I have never in all my life been so afraid, Patricia,” Hank whispered. “My God, I went feral.”
Trish chuckled weakly. “Feral? Like Logan? All growly and shit?”
Hank shook his head, fondly rolling his eyes. “Yes. All “growly” and shit.”
“Huh,” she cleared her dry throat. “That’s nice.”
“Morphine?” He asked, raising a blue brow as his eyes dried.
“Mmm,” she said, smacking her lips. “Morphine good.”
Her blue companion threaded their fingers together, resting their joined hands on the bed gently. Trish sighed contently, everything seeming to be right back on course now that Hank was with her. She couldn’t escape the fear that threatened to overwhelm her, but it was easier to ignore with her big, blue sentinel standing by her side.
“How’s Rob?”
“We’re not sure yet,” Hank replied softly. “He is still in surgery.”
Trish frowned, sadness welling in her throat. “He’s been with me for years.”
“I know. He saved your life.”
Tears leaked from tired eyes again. “Remember when I was in Rwanda? I called you at like two in the morning?”
“I remember,” Hank answered.
“I told you I should get shot to get a peek behind enemy lines? Rob told me I was insane.”
Hank smiled softly. “Yes, I remember that clearly.”
Trish dissolved into quiet, shoulder-shaking sobs. Hank gingerly put his arms around her, letting her wind her hands around his neck. She soaked his fur with her tears, sorrow taking over now that she could be certain of her immediate safety.
“Don’t let go,” she pled with her beloved Henry. “Don’t let me go, Blue.”
“I will never let you go, Trish.” He answered, kissing her forehead. “Rest, my love. I will watch over you.”
As though his words had induced a coma, Trish drifted into blissful darkness knowing he would never break that promise.
~**~
She was in bed with her book propped on her thighs, a carrot stick in her hand when the telephone rang. Ororo popped the remainder of the carrot into her mouth, used her finger to mark her page and picked up the private line.
“Logan?”
“Nope.” His voice was filled with amusement. That had to be a good sign.
“How are you, darling?” Ororo asked of her lover, smiling at the simple pleasure in hearing his voice as she finished chewing on her snack.
“I’m fine, had somethin’ interestin’ happen a minute ago though.” She heard him inhale and exhale. He was smoking.
“Oh? Did the Volkswagen Bus filled with cheerleaders finally arrive?” Teasing him about a revealed fantasy always got his goat.
“Oh, yer funny,” he chuckled. “Not exactly.”
The weighted pause made Ororo unconsciously flatten a hand to her belly. She could almost feel the change in her Wolverine, the things he was leaving unsaid. Something was worrying him. That worried her more than anything.
“Logan?”
“Trask was here,” he said quickly. “He wanted to congratulate us.”
Ororo’s hand flexed slightly, her eyes going to her nightgown-covered stomach. Her enemy knew about her child. How? She did not show yet, nor had she even left the mansion in several weeks. Trish would not have told anyone, knowing the danger.
“Darlin’?”
“I’m here,” she said breathlessly. “Logan…”
“He won’t hurt either of you,” her lover said harshly. “Don’t even go thinkin’ that. He ain’t comin’ near the two of you, I swear, baby.”
Ororo fought the fear back, relaxing her hand a fraction as she shifted the phone against her ear. “I’m scared.”
Admitting her alarm cost her heart a great deal. Never in her life had she willingly admitted to fear, even to Jean or Henry. She felt her heart reaching for Logan, wanting to drown in the security and unfettered love that seemed to flow so easily from him.
“Don’t be scared, baby,” Logan soothed in a tone most would believe him incapable of. “We’ll be ok.”
Taking him at his word, Ororo set her book aside and adjusted the phone once more.
“How’s Trish?”
“Hank’s with her now,” he said, obviously enjoying the subject change. “Bullet missed anything important, clean through and through, but they had a hell of a time stitchin’ her up.”
“How’s Robbie?”
“Cameraman? Dunno yet.”
“When are you coming home?” Ororo pouted, letting the action filter into her words. She was more than thrilled that Trish was all right, but she missed her Wolverine terribly.
He had been gone twenty-four hours now, most of the time spent in a panic as they awaited word during Trish’s long surgery. She didn’t like being separated, though she knew Hank needed him more than she did at the moment.
“Soon, darlin’.” There was an unfamiliar catch in his voice. “You doin’ ok?”
“Aside from the mind-numbing panic and nausea, I’m fine.”
“Baby givin’ you grief?” His question was affectionate.
“It is your child. Are you surprised?” She teased in return.
“Nope,” Logan chuckled. “Go to bed, baby. I’m headin’ in to check on Trish and then going to sleep for a few hours.”
“All right, will you call me in the morning?”
“You know it, ‘Ro.” He paused, as though contemplating. “I love ya.”
He hung up before she could reply. Ororo stared at the receiver for a long moment before cradling it. Logan didn’t expect her to return the words probably because she hadn’t yet. Swallowing hard, Ororo put both hands to her belly.
She didn’t know if she loved him. She could, yes. There was amazing potential for her to fall head over heels for their resident feral. Ororo conceded that she already carried his child, which some could argue was an ultimate show of love. But she had known going into this that Logan did not have her heart.
Did he know that now? Was he aware of just how much she was holding back?
Deciding no more could be worked out tonight, Ororo placed her book on the nightstand and switched the light off. She turned onto her side, smiling down at her tummy. Sleep would come eventually; when she forced herself to forget Logan wasn’t beside her.
~**~
“Engaging night vision.”
The screen blinked for a moment as the mutant woman pulled the covers up to her shoulders.
“She’s alone,” the other man replied. “I don’t see why we don’t take her now.”
“Alone?” The first snorted. “She’s got over twenty mutant kids in that school, most willing to die for her.”
“So? They’re kids. We should go when that animal isn’t there.”
“Yeah, well, our orders are to watch and keep our traps shut.”
Both men glanced at the green-tinted screen, watching as the pregnant mutant rubbed her stomach lovingly.
“God, that’s disgusting. These things breed like us.”
“Too bad, though. She’s a fine lookin’ woman.”
“Yeah, too bad.”
They went back to their football game, ignoring the woman several miles away as she lay alone in the dark.
