Logan woke up. His cheek had pressed against the cold, hard and filthy floor of the concrete block which kept him. Dark, ink black; but this was a sight he'd come to expect, if it could be called that at all. He rolled onto his back, his arm resting against the cold, hard and filthy wall. This had been his life for... he didn't know how long. He'd been drugged, he'd known that once he came to, but by who and why, he couldn't tell. The last thing he remembered, before the black, was trying to make his way through the mass of people on the Main street sidewalk. He hated crowds, now he was justified in doing so. How the hell his captors managed to drag off an unconscious, 300lbs man in broad daylight, still remained a mystery to him. The first time he'd found himself between the four concrete walls, he'd punched, kicked and clawed at them, even trying to jump his way to some sort of door or hatch. He figured they'd put him in there somehow. The darkness had been his worst enemy, and every other sense but that of touch had been more useless than he'd ever have imagined. He hadn't spoken to anyone in... months at the very least. After shouting and growling the first few days he'd realised it was useless to do either. He took a deep breath and placed his hand on his chest; far from it's former glory. There was hardly any air reaching the room; he'd found a small vent some time ago, but it had been chiseled out of the concrete and was only five centimeters or so in length and breadth. Escape was impossible.
Isolation. Or, solitary, as some called it. As time moved on, he began to loose hope; everyone has a breaking point. Pacing the length of the small space had become futile, and after a long bout of starvation, it had become almost impossible. Later on in his captivity, a small hatch above the room had been opened; a small plastic tub of watery food... or something like it, had been dropped in. These deliveries had occurred only three or four times; they knew about his healing factor. Not only had time become a blur, but reality had begun to blur seamlessly into hallucination, which by now had begun to govern every waking moment. With almost every sense cut off, the only thing he was still able to utilise, was his mind. Though the more time he spent in the pit that held him, the more he questioned even that. His sight had been taken; his ears had become useless; the only smells his nose could detect came from him, and they'd gotten steadily worse; the slug he was given served only to keep him from death, and his hands had felt the four walls and floor before becoming just as useless. He would have let himself die a long time ago if it had been within his nature. But he just kept holding on.
Adamantium was a short length away from the thin layer of skin he now had, although, as he ran his hand down his chest, he imagined bone felt just about the same. Standing had become strenuous. He lay on the floor from the moment he woke up to the moment he fell asleep again, and since most of his imagined days blurred into assumed evenings he found no problem in doing just that. He hadn't eaten the last tub of crap; he'd moved passed that. One day soon he'd drift off and never wake up again, the idea didn't seem like a bad one. Even hell didn't seem so bad compared to this-nothing. Not knowing or feeling. Eternity had decided to give him a small taste of what it had to offer. His life began to piece itself together, from the point he could remember of course. The things he'd done in the time he knew, made him question wanting to know about his life before that; made him fear it. He'd spent too much time with his own mind, and knowing that he was far from a saint, it wasn't a mind that held up well against scrutiny. Fingers pushed back the strands of hair that covered his forehead and he chose to ignore the senses that had served him so poorly. Hands cupped the overgrown beard that hid his jaw-line. He frowned, the sensation of touch was... different. The hands that now searched his body were soft. Soft. Fingers, slender. Voice. Voice, husky. Nothing had been this vivid.
"Logan." A whisper
"Logan. It's over. You're safe."
Muffled sounds of street cars nearby, chatter on the streets below. Warmth, the sun. Soft bedding. The air was clean, fresh; he drew in a long and deep breath. He tried to open his eyes, then realised he couldn't. Where am I? Logan tried to speak, but his words found no voice. Either the fucks that had me decided to up the accommodation or... I wasn't dreaming. He thought about sitting up, and tried his hardest, but found that he didn't have the strength to. He did, however, have just enough strength to reach for the bandage around his eyes but before he could pull it off, his hands were met by another. The same soft and slender fingers clasped around his hands, placing them back down at his sides. Jesus, I didn't even hear her coming. And it was a her; his senses weren't too far gone to determine that. She smelt good, the best thing he'd smelt in a long time.
"You're going to have to leave the bandages on." The same whisper. "A doctor has examined you, and it's by his advice that you leave the bandages on, and that I whisper. Because of the sensory deprivation you were subjected to, the worst thing to do would be shock your senses by not exposing them gradually to the outside world. Before I continue I need you to promise that you won't remove that bandage without me present." Logan hesitated, then nodded. Whoever this woman was, she clearly intended on his recovery; he had no reason not to trust her. "You won't be able to talk for a while. Legions have formed within your larynx and coupled with the fact that you haven't spoken in some time, regaining your speech will be difficult, impossible according to the doctor, but we both know better." He sensed her smile. "I'm going to tell you only what you need to know for now. You're safe. We're in an apartment three floors up, so, if you suddenly decide not to trust me, don't try the balcony. My number one priority is you, and yours is getting better. After all that you've been through, it will take time to recover, since a normal man would've been long dead by now. I took care of the animals that kept you prisoner and now, I'm going to take care of you. I won't leave you. Now sleep." A kiss to the forehead.
She was living up to her word, day after day. Every meal was a nutrient mix. Aside from the liquid breakfast, lunch and dinner every damn day, I can't complain. He thought. The first hurdle had been to get his arms and legs moving again. They hadn't been used for a while, but his healing factor had made quick work of his weak muscles. Within a week, he was able to get to the bathroom without her assistance. He'd never imagined having to learn how to pick up a glass, or walk for that matter. The thought made him realise that the only other time he'd done that, was at the beginning of a childhood he no longer remembered. She massaged his muscles every night and morning, just to make sure that they were kept alert. She whispered tales of her trips to the local grocer and the characters that she had gotten to know in order to take his mind off things, but she never informed him of anything news worthy, aside from the weather. Goddamnit, I wish I could talk to her, say something, thank her. He could feel his throat healing, but it was all kinds of pain even trying to talk.
"So darlin', you ever plan on tellin' me yer name?" Logan asked, though his attempt at a decent baritone resulted in little more than a whisper.
"Sshh. You know you shouldn't be talking yet." She replied.
"That ain't an answer, that's a diversion." His grin was just as smug as his comment.
"Keep your eyes closed." She ordered, gently unwrapping the bandage around his eyes. They too were adjusting, and it was time to let a little more light through. He did as he was told, resisting the urge to open his eyes for just a split second to see her. "Patience is a virtue." - as though she'd read his mind. She redressed his eyes, using a thinner gauze and less coverage. He opened them under the dressing, and smiled. "I imagine you're pleased to find that your sight is returning?" She asked.
"Don't get me wrong, that's a good thing to be pleased about, but... I'm more pleased to find what's sitting in my sights." A pillow connected with him before she got up and walked away.
His nose was beginning to find it's former glory, having detected the most subtle changes in scent, including hers. It drove him wild midday, when she'd just returned from her daily errands. It was slightly musky, a cue to him that the climate was hot; and all natural. The scent was unfamiliar, but he couldn't fight the feeling that he knew her. The fact that her voice never reached higher than a few decibels didn't help, although he had to wonder if it was really for his ears or if she just enjoyed keeping him guessing.
It had been almost two weeks and by now, it was a given that Logan's healing factor had brought him very close to full health. Then why did they both continue on as if he was still a patient? Well, he knew why he did: I don't think I've ever been more turned on by a woman I've never laid eyes on. He thought to himself, one of the many evenings she had fallen asleep in the chair not too far away from his bed. She spent most of the evenings with him, sometimes they talked, but often she read while she thought he was asleep. Honestly, he was hardly ever asleep. It was... nice, just having someone there. Jesus Christ, I'm turning into a woman. He didn't know her name, her face, her voice; all he knew was the sound of a whisper, the feel of her lips accidentally brushing against his ear and hovering within and inch just there when she whispered to him; the touch that had, in his mind, single-handedly healed every wound on his body. I know why I do it, but why does she? He asked himself again. For her part, she had been completely at ease with him, allowing him full reign about the apartment once he had the strength to walk consistently. No one else seemed to live there aside from the two of them, which, while sitting at the kitchen table, made him wonder:
"I gotta ask darlin', what's a woman like you, doin' here, alone?"
"And what kind of woman am I? Where exactly is here? And what do you mean alone?" She joked.
"A good one. An apartment that isn't yours. I mean, alone." Logan said flatly.
"I told you, I'd tell you what you needed to know, when you needed to know it."
"Yeah, well I think now's a pretty good time fer me t' know." His voice had found its strength.
"Logan, don't push yourself..."
"I'm not! I've healed, we both know that, and I can take whatever it is that you don' wanna tell me." For the first time since his rescue, he'd shown his anger.
"I'm through bein' in the dark!"
There was a knock at the door. The two of them were silent for a moment. She left her seat and went to the door. Logan's ears perked up as he heard pieces of the conversation, which she quickly moved to the hallway. He got up slowly, and made his way, unheard, to the door. My Arabic's a little rusty.He thought to himself, identifying the language of the two... three men that were outside. The conversation didn't seem to be very light hearted; he could recognize a threat in any language. Even in the midst of what was very quickly escalating into an attack, he stopped to listen to her voice - he knew her voice; he'd recognize it no matter what language she spoke. Logan stepped through into the hallway, not all too bothered that he might've been dressed in a rather loud pair of 'Taz the Tasmanian Devil' boxers and a faded grey bathrobe. "There a problem here, bub?" He moved in close, though the giant he faced was a good foot or more taller than him.
"Logan, leave us." That voice again.
"What is it they want?"
"They are looking for someone who used to live here. Logan, please go back inside."
"Nah, I think I like it just fine out here." It had been too long. They were itching for a fight, every one of his... five senses were telling him that, and he felt he had to oblige.
The giant laughed. "Woman, get this blind American out of my face before I do something I won't regret." He ordered dismissively.
"She's got a name, and I'd use it with respect if I were you." Logan growled.
"Get out of my way, little man." He bent lower, coming face to face with Logan.
"Make me." He extended his claws, the trademark sound of rushing steel filling the cramped space and sending pain through his flesh. The gun that had come out of the giant's holster didn't have a chance to take aim. Logan caught it between his claws and flipped it out of his hands, stabbing him in the shoulder with his other set. He head-butted him and let him drop to the ground before turning to the blurry figures of the other two goons. "Try somethin'. Please." Both men shook their heads, then moved to drag off the third. He watched as they disappeared behind elevator doors, and turned just in time to see her make her way inside the apartment. "Don't approve of the way I handled things out there, darlin'?"
"That was reckless, Logan. I could've handled that on my own."
He unwrapped the bandage around his eyes.
"I know you could've, 'Ro."
Logan stared at Ororo Munroe from across the restaurant table. It was night time; he didn't need to shade his eyes. The revelation earlier on had sparked the obvious questions; she suggested dinner. The walk from the apartment block to the restaurant had told him a lot about where they were. North Africa, Cairo by his best guess; which she'd later confirmed to be right. But that had been where she'd stopped answering his questions. Logan had so many that he'd be lucky if he knew where to start. He wasn't opposed to her idea of getting a good solid meal in him, and the restaurant was nice: warm lighting, good atmosphere, a good band of Middle Eastern performers; all was right with the world so far. She'd dressed up, he liked that; a classic black dress, classy and elegant, though she wore a black wig to conceal her attention grabbing white hair, which he was still on the fence about.
"You gonna tell me the story about those three guys?" Logan finally asked, taking a swig of the cold beer he'd missed.
"Well, you already figured out the apartment wasn't mine."
"Smell gave it away." He added.
"It belonged to an old friend who found some trouble with loan sharks. She'd advised me not to take it, since she herself was going to leave it far behind, but I said it would be alright. I paid her for it. I needed to move without being seen while I looked for you, and checking into a hotel would've been like putting up a neon sign." She explained. "I still didn't know who had you, or where exactly you were, so I had to do things the old fashioned way; find contacts, people who owed me favors, keep low key."
"Cloak and dagger stuff?" He smiled.
"Yes, cloak and dagger stuff." She returned the smile.
"So, why you? Where's the rest of the team?" He asked.
"Bloody to rare, more on the bloody." The waiter interrupted, setting down the steak that Logan had ordered. "And the fish of the day for the lady. Enjoy." And with the exchange of a few more pleasantries, he was gone.
"Logan." She paused a moment, finding the words. "This is what I wanted to avoid telling you, even though I know that it is impossible. One day, you just vanished. It's not as if you've never done it before. Days turned into weeks, weeks months, and even though there was no reason to assume you were in danger, I just did not feel comfortable. There was no ransom note, no communication from anyone to say that you had been abducted, it's just..." She drew a deep breath. "I felt that, with the way things were between us, that, you had a reason to stay." Ororo's eyes didn't meet his. "I sought you out, and it was no easy task. The others believed that is was futile, and unnecessary but I kept on searching until I found you."
He nodded his head slowly, cutting into his steak. "And where exactly did you find me?" He paid more attention to the steak than he needed to.
"A bunker, outside Cairo. It didn't appear to be military, in fact it seemed made for your purposes, and your purposes alone. There were two guards, and the only thing they were guarding, was you. The prison they kept you in was solid concrete, thick, but exactly how thick I couldn't tell you." She waited for him to look at her. "Logan, I can't imagine what it must've been like for you to spend that time..."
"How long was I down there?" He cut her off.
She paused. "21 months." She said sternly, realising that he wasn't in the mood for a heart to heart.
He took another swig of beer and cut away at his steak. "Any idea how they kept me down there, kept me weak?"
"The doctor who examined you when I got you out of there, said that it was starvation." She began. "I told him that you had a faster rate of healing, a faster metabolic rate, and he told me that regardless of those facts, you could still starve and dehydrate like the rest of us, and it was that that would hinder your healing factor and cause you to loose your strength. Your weakened immune system allowed the legions in your throat to form, as well as the sores on your body. Apparently, you're only as mortal as what you eat." She smiled, gesturing down to his steak.
"I wanna find the son'sabitches who did this to me."
She nodded. "First, we need to get you back to the Institute, after that, happy hunting. Being locked away... it's over. Now it's time for you to begin."
"'Ro." He caught her blue eyes with his own. "Thanks fer..."
"You're welcome, Logan." She tucked a stray hair behind her ear.
"And 'Ro?"
"Yes, Logan?"
"Get rid o' that wig."
To Be Continued...
