She had hair the color of a fucking cloud and her eyes would be the matching sky. She reminded him instantly of a warm, spring afternoon.
What made Logan stand there in complete awe was the unafraid look in her eyes. She wasn't even afraid of him holding the gun to her face, she wasn't afraid of him. His mind was now racking and trying to remember different encounters with varying people in Blinder City; he couldn't put a finger on this one. With an appearance like that, Logan would have known her if he'd seen her.
She was so beautiful.
"Are ya' okay?" he finally asked firmly. He didn't want to frighten her off, but he wanted to make absolutely sure she was of sound mind and body.
The pair locked eyes, sapphire with chocolate for a moment that seemed to last forever. Logan wanted to curse himself because he couldn't stop staring at her and oh, Jesus, that layered snow white hair. She blinked at him and looked away. His gun was pretty useless to him now, and he didn't even bother trying to hide this fact.
His eyes traced over the high cheekbones, almost like the first woman he'd fallen in love with, those delicious full lips formed in a pout. Had he just described her lips as delicious?! Get it together, asshole. He leaned his head to the right, forcing his eyes to stay above her neck and oh, God, how they wanted to travel farther.
"Kid, ya' okay?"
He asked it again, the firmness in his voice gone like the minutes passed between them.
The white-haired beauty turned to him and her eyes filled with tears. In the blink of an eye, she ran to him and wrapped her arms around him. Her head rested under his chin and he couldn't help lean his head against her platinum tresses.It was the least he could do, because obviously the woman had been through enough hell.
"Don't let him get me," she whispered.
"I won't," he replied just as quietly. It was of his own volition that he'd uttered these words, and try as he might to figure out why he'd said them, he couldn't.
So there they stood, in the abandoned parking lot, with their arms around each other; the protector and the protected.
"You found her like this?" asked his partner, Scott Summers, watching the young woman in the holding room, cradling her arms around herself. It had taken quite a bit of coaxing to get Logan's new companion to release the vice grip she had on him when he'd all but dragged her into the vicinity.
Being put well together was Scott's default, though. There'd never been one thing out of place about him. With his charming, down home good looks, wire-rimmed glasses, and blindingly white smile,; Logan looked like Sasquatch standing next to him. Logan didn't care much about his own looks, let alone Scott's, so the idea of looking like the evil step-brother standing next to him was really no bother. With quintessential good looks and a charming disposition, Logan liked having Scott around when they dealt with really nasty criminals.
It just hadn't worked this time.
After the little hellcat bit Scott on the hand when he'd tried to pull her away, Logan had to literally lift her and sit her down. Under different circumstances, this would have been comical; her legs swung out and hit Scott in the groin. That much wasn't intentional, but she hadn't exactly apologized for it.
Scott, ever the perfect man, didn't swear, or even give her a dirty look, for that matter. His only response to her violent behavior was that she was distraught. It was as simple as that for him.
Her sandwich was untouched, though she looked at it longingly and the bottle of water sat rather pathetically beside it, wanting to be drunk from those luscious lips. At least, those were the thoughts reeling in Logan's mind.
He turned to Scott to distract his thoughts with something else. He nodded. "She found me, actually. I was on my way in, and I hear this scamperin' around in the garage. When I asked who it was, she comes walking out from the shadows covered in someone else's blood."
"Well," Scott pulled out a manila folder with the name Munroe, Ororo labeled neatly in its corner. "I have some news for you, Wolverine."
Logan rolled his eyes at his little nickname he'd earned the first day he joined the Blinder City Police Department.
The name "Wolverine" had not been one of those affectionate pet names a person received as an uncertifiable badge of honor. He'd been given that name the day he'd first issued the Blinder City Police Station. And it wasn't as an officer; he'd been in handcuffs of his own. The three officers he'd taken down for a crime he hadn't committed, called him " that crazy wolverine bastard," and the name just sort of ... stuck.
Not very many people could call the young detective that unless they were brave, or just plain crazy. Scott Summers just happened to be a little bit of both. Just like Logan, he was another one of those assholes that loved what he did and was crazy enough to actually enjoy this piece of shit job. It didn't help that Logan had something of a soft spot for Scott, either.
He looked at the folder and looked at Scott. Knowing immediately that his blood-stained angel wasn't exactly the most innocent person, but he also knew that she hadn't been responsible for that blood on her face and hands, either.
"I'm not saying she committed the murder," Scott began and slapped the folder impatiently against his hand.
Oh, here they go again.
"Name's Ororo Munroe," Scott began without Logan's response. "She has some petty criminal charges. She ran away from a foster home belonging to a Jonathan and Aurora Burke, we pulled both of them in for questioning when Ororo had reported that Jonathan had been sexually assaulting her." He 'hmphed' at that, and Logan felt the urge to find this Burke bastard and rip his heart from his chest.
"Ran away?" he asked; this time he turned to look at Scott and frowned.
"Yeah, she's a runaway. They've been looking for this kid for nearly three years."
Three years? He watched her again for a moment; she turned to look in his direction, and he felt as though those eyes were looking directly into his. Something stirred in him, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from her, not even while Scott went on and on about how she was a thief, how she had been a master at hijacking any sort of vehicle, and how she was even just a bit dangerous...
"She's sixteen."
Logan perked his eyebrow at that, but he hid his surprise well. He knew she'd been a little younger than him, but jail bait wasn't exactly the thought processing in his mind. He suddenly felt guilty for the thoughts he'd had about her. He still couldn't help but stare at her, though.
Scott chuckled lightly and shook his head.
If there was one thing Ororo hated more than the Blinder City police, it was being held against her will when she'd done no wrong. The man she'd seen in the garage, who she later learned was Logan, was the only person she wanted to be near or even talk to.
The way everyone shied away from him when he snarled at them should have made Ororo think differently about her need to hang on to him. She just didn't see him as a threat. She trusted him. Rarely was there a moment in Ororo's young life that she trusted anyone.
Hiding in the garage, her movements were fast, not wanting to waste any time to stand there and think. If she'd thought any harder, she would have run away and drunken bum would have found the woman’s corpse.
She'd been standing there for minutes, tapping her foot repeatedly. It was a nervous habit she'd developed when she was a child.
Ororo had just been wishing mere moments ago for the presence of any living soul. She needed to tell someone! Going into the department and arriving at the front desk covered in blood with a smile was just not going to be the right way. As if hearing her plea, a man came riding in on a motorcycle. Not that she was a motorcycle expert, but the bike looked to be an older model despite the smooth purring the engine emitted.
The man who got off the motorcycle was a detective. She could always tell their types - so different from the officers on their usual pre-beat mode. He was guarded even when he didn't know it, his face set in a permanent scowl.
She kind of liked it.
Her eyes took in the sight of him, and she realized that if she were going to go to someone for any sort of protection, he would be the one. Though he was not conveniently handsome like Remy or her father, he was handsome just the same. The cleft in his chin and rough features was what Ororo would like to think a “tough guy” looked like. When his expression briefly changed, she noted a dimple on each side of his mouth. He couldn't be a day over thirty, though the fine lines around the corner of his eyes and mouth gave a different idea. She eyed him, wondering how the stubble on his chin would tickle her hairless skin if he'd kissed her. It was an odd thought at a moment like this, but she hadn't regretted it.
He was not very tall; at least, not too much taller than she was, but what he lacked in height he obviously made up in bulk. His arms flexed through the black tee and she realized that he would be the man to protect her.
Purposely causing a stir as she danced through the space between abandoned cars, she'd caught his attention. It was perfect timing. The tip of his cigarette had blazed a bright orange when he'd heard her and he pointed his gun at her. He'd been so far off from his target that she actually inched over to stand in front of his pointing gun.
She slowly crept from the shadows, her eyes blazing into his. Ororo had never been afraid of guns. On more than one occasion, she'd kissed the tip of a black barrel and heard its resounding click.
The tough guy act he'd pulled asking her “whoever the fuck she was” didn't frighten her, either.
No, she knew she was safe.
Deeply regretting the decision now, she sat in the holding quarters, wanting to take a bite of that sandwich.
Had it not been for the fact that she needed to get back to Kurt and Remy, she would have. So she tortured herself, knowing that her brothers were starving and depending on her.
"No!" She'd yelled at the man in the glasses when he'd tried to pull her away from the one with the cigarette. Her legs swung when she was restrained and accidentally kicked him in his groin.
"Woah, darlin', woah!" He placed each hand firmly on her arm and shook her. She had stopped her violent fit and looked him in his eyes, her lips parting. She could feel his face getting closer to hers and something stirred inside of her that she knew shouldn't be there. She could smell the nicotine on his breath now, but he didn't seem to have intentions of kissing her. He simply looked her in her eyes and muttered.
"Stay put."
Ororo watched him for a moment and looked over his shoulder. This was her obvious "I'm going to tail it" look, but he never turned to follow her eyes, he simply kept his on her face.
"Stay put," he repeated.
"Okay," she finally said. It was her first time talking with the exception of her one-word protest. He seemed to be so surprised at the gentleness of her voice that he frowned. Just as soon as he'd frowned, his expression changed into the hard, mean expression he'd had in that garage.
Ororo played with the hole in Kurt's jeans, humming a Billie Holliday tune to herself. The moment she could get away from these men, the better. She knew exactly what they would do to her the moment they'd found that woman's body.
Both of the men walked in side by side with grave expressions. They didn't intimidate Ororo. She stood up to her full height, her eye level not too far from theirs.
"Hi, Ororo, I'm Detective Scott Summers and I'm sure you know this fellow next to me is Detective James Howlett."
She eyed them both suspiciously and pursed her lips together.
They had a staring contest for a moment and Ororo finally opened her mouth to speak. Her words were cautious, feral, and she spoke in a tone so low they both leaned in to hear exactly what she was saying.
"I know what he looks like. I know where the body is. I'll take you there and tell you what he looks like on one condition."
Logan took a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever proposition she was setting up in that mind of hers.
"You let me go."
While Logan could not hold back the snort, Scott was ever the professional and he put his hands in his pockets, shaking his head. "Ororo, we'd like more than anything to let you go, but we cannot do that. You are a key witness to a murder involving the most sought after serial killer Blinder City has seen in decades. To top it all off, you're sixteen years old."
"I'll be seventeen soon!" she retorted.
"Sixteen, seventeen - still don't make it eighteen." It was Logan who spoke this time. Ororo shot him eyes that could kill. He was betraying her and he was probably the only person she trusted. "Besides, before we can work out the kinks of you leaving - we gotta' take the clothes for evidence, photographs, and the like."
Clearly, she was not buying it.
"Look, kid, we'll pitch a deal with you if you cooperate. I know foster homes ain't always the cream of the crop, but we can't help you if you can't help us."
"What do I get? Stuck with another pervert and his bulldog bitch of a wife? No, thank you. I'd rather the Blinder City Strangler find me." She hadn't meant that. of course. but the words had already escaped her lips.
"We'll let you go back to the life you had before," Logan stated simply. Scott immediately stared at him as if he'd grown a second head.
Ororo nodded her head and began to pace across the small room. The light bulb was a pale yellow and the room smelled of coffee and cigarettes. She was starving and that pathetic sandwich was tempting her and making her sick all at the same time.
"All right. I'll do it."
