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Chapter Twenty-Four: Reckoning

What ravages of spirit
Conjured this tempestuous rage
Created you a monster
Broken by the rules of love
~Sarah McLachlan


He shouldn’t have left her.

He sat in the jet beside One-Eye, co-piloting as Iceman, Beast, and Colossus readied themselves in the back of the jet. It was the third run they’d made of refugees, settling them at other mutant havens throughout the Rockies, most of which were better protected than one Friends of Humanity had targeted.

Hours spent locating and relocating terrified mutants had only pushed his rage closer to the surface. All of this and not a single fight. It was wearing on his nerves.

They had maintained a strict radio and telepathic silence through the entire mission. Mystique’s brief communiqué had warned that they had a telepath working for them. While not adept, they would be scanning for the X-Men, especially as they thought Storm was dead. They expected vengeance.

Cyclops had kept Wolverine on a tight leash, his “no-killing” policy in effect even after he’d witnessed the devastating wounds Ororo had suffered at the hands of malicious bastards.

Mystique had joined them after the last run, slipping onto the jet while disguised as Iceman. When Bobby had come face to face with his double, he’d nearly been scared out of ice. Logan hadn’t thought it was very funny. Mystique took his threats with a roll of her eerie yellow eyes.

They were heading back to Mutant Haven to look for more “refugees”, though the others had said there were no more.

Logan knew what they were after. Cyclops may not have wanted to kill Ororo’s attacker, but he definitely wanted a word with him.

When they were at a safe altitude, Cyclops flipped on the autopilot and turned to Mystique.

“You’re on, Mystique. Where are they?”

The blue mutant activated their holo-map quickly, her eyes on Wolverine the entire time. Logan wanted to gut her for daring to still have the hint of arousal on her scent whenever she looked at him. Did she not understand him during their last meeting almost a year ago?

“They’ve holed up in a cave just to the north of the camp,” she said in that hollow echo her voice adopted while in her natural form.

“Why?”

“They believe that with Storm dead,” she said the word carefully, judging Logan’s reaction. “That the X-Men will come to the camp to find them.”

“How do they know we’re on to them?” Peter asked in his deep baritone.

“I told them,” she shrugged. “I thought it would scare them into delaying at least a little while. Instead, they went after Storm.”

“I wonder how they even knew she was even out of the mansion,” Scott mused, staring at the map.

“Do you really not know?” Mystique asked, clearly surprised.

The men shook their heads. She rolled her eyes heavenward.

“Gonna clue us in, Mysty?” Wolverine growled, irritated with how calmly she was taking the whole thing.

“You have a mole, a student, I think. They referred to him as “the kid” constantly,” she offered. “My personal belief is that it’s the boy Storm and Wolverine picked up in Chicago a few months ago.”

The entire group stood, looking at the metamorph in complete shock. Logan felt his fury rising. There was no way that Jeffrey would ever betray the X-Men. He was student, he doted on Ororo, he was always eager for her classes…

“Holy shit,” Wolverine looked to Scott. “Jeff was in ‘Ro’s class the other mornin’, when she got the flowers.”

Scott shook his head. “Come on, Logan. Jeffery? A spy?”

Bobby took a step into the group. “Wait…”

He looked to Peter. The older boy nodded sadly, looking to their leaders.

“Several weeks ago, Iceman and I were on our way to the Danger Room when we heard Jeffrey on the phone. He mentioned something to the other person about Storm,” Peter’s slow speech made Logan want to claw something.

“We asked why he was telling someone about Storm and Wolverine’s…erm…change in relationship,” Bobby said as delicately as he could. “And he said he was telling his father, as his father was always interested in Storm.”

Scott snapped his fingers. “It’s not Jeffrey, it’s his father.”

Logan thought back to the telephone call Storm had received. He had been able to hear the other voice, the subtle change in pitch when it spoke to Ororo. Hadn’t that seemed vaguely familiar?

“Bobby, when you answered the phone the other night, did that voice sound familiar?”

Iceman paused, thinking back on it. “Yeah, it did, actually. Holy shit!”

Mystique was patiently waiting for them to finish their mystery solving, but broke in at that point, her eyes on Bobby.

“What did it sound like?”

“Raspy, sort of deep, but it was altered. Like he was trying to mask it,” Bobby answered immediately.

“And what does this boy’s father look like?”

Logan took that one. “6’1”, 240lbs, hair a shade lighter than Slim’s, eyes like mine, big chin, archaic nose, left ear slightly higher than the right. Weak right knee, but looks like he can handle himself in a fight.”

Mystique’s body seemed to melt, the familiar squishing sound of her…scales echoing in the room. When she was finished, she spoke, her voice altered to match that of Jeffrey’s father.

“Like this?”

Wolverine nodded, claws biting into the inside of his hands, begging to slice the image to pieces, though he knew it was Mystique. Hell, it was just an excuse to hit something.

“Yeah, that’s him.”

Mystique transformed back into her blue scaly self, touching the control panel for the holo-map. A dossier and photograph appeared above the map.

“Charles Stevenson,” she indicated to the photograph. “He’s one of the higher ups in the FoH chain of command. In fact, he’s leading the task force for the Haven raid.”

“Let me guess, he’s the loudest voice against Storm and her gifts?” Scott offered with a sardonic smile.

“Yes,” Mystique said frankly, pushing another button on the controls. “This is his son, Jacob.”

The photograph and dossier appeared beside the other and Logan’s teeth ground together. It was the kid Ororo had fingered as the attacker in the woods and the mall parking lot. Things were starting to make sense, finally.

“My turn,” Henry said from his seat. “The son was with you during the “attack” on the Stevenson home?”

“Yes,” the metamorph nodded once.

“And Jeffrey is his son, but used to locate mutant hideouts.”

“Yes.”

“And you know exactly where they are.”

Mystique rewarded Scott with one of her sly smiles and that strange sway to her lithe body, as though she was turned on by all of the talk of secrets and spy games.

“Of course.”

“Good,” Scott said, turning back to the controls. “Give me the location.”

Wolverine grinned at Mystique, cracking the knuckles of his hands slowly, deliberately.

He was going to get into a fight after all.

~@~


They landed just a mile south of the encampment, opening the ramp and leaving the jet in a tight formation. Mystique had insisted on coming along, saying her beloved Erik wanted files from Stevenson regarding how much the Friends knew about mutant locations.

Cyclops went along with it, mainly because he wanted the information for the Professor. Logan was almost amused by how much the Brotherhood and the X-Men echoed one another. The only difference was how far each team was willing to go to achieve mutant freedom.

It had been forty-four hours since Ororo’s accident. Had she woken? Was she still there, waiting for him to come home? Or had she slipped away some time during the night?

He tried to not think of that option. She was in the hospital, waiting for him. Perhaps she would wake when he spoke to her this time. He would give the world to see her eyes open, a small smile upon her lovely lips. Anything.

Logan missed her and he had regretted the decision to join the mission every time he thought about her limp body on the hospital bed, a tube in her throat to breathe for her. The sad fact was that he did not trust anyone else to do this. He had to be here.

The group slipped into one of the caves, following Mystique whom walked through the tunnels as though she could find her way blindfolded, deaf, and without the use of her legs. She kept a close distance with the rest of them, seemingly not wanting to be out of range.

Cyclops motioned for Logan to take position behind her, Iceman in the middle beside him and Colossus with Beast in the back. The tunnel was barely wide enough for them all to walk side by side, leaving them very little fighting room.

Mystique pulled up to a halt, snapping to get Logan’s attention. She pointed to a fork in the tunnel and then to his ears.

Catching her drift, Wolverine concentrated as best he could on his hearing. Light footsteps to the east, water dripping to the north. He shot a look to Mystique and she mouthed a single word.

Water.

Nodding, he pointed to the tunnel toward the north. She nodded and resumed her walking, quickly changing her shape into that of a female guard. Logan shook his head to clear it. Hanging out with Mystique was a constant source of headache.

Too bad she was so damn good at what she did.

Testing the air with his sensitive nose every few minutes, Logan and the X-Men followed their shape shifting guard toward wherever it was they were going.

He smelled a few human scents, but nothing familiar. There was a scent of cleansers, as though there was an infirmary or laboratory nearby. Mystique held her hand up to halt them all and rounded a corner alone.

Five seconds later, they heard muffled cries of surprise and then two bodies hitting the floor. Wolverine peered around the corner. She stood above two guards, their necks quite obviously broken and crooked a finger at him seductively.

Wolverine turned to Cyclops.

“She doesn’t leave me alone, I’m gonna stab her again and I’ll enjoy it.”

One-Eye had the nerve to smirk. “I won’t tell Storm.”

They followed Mystique around the corner. Logan noted the walls were changing from jagged rock to smoothed to cool metal. The scent of gunpowder and explosives assaulted his nostrils as they came to another juncture.

Mystique turned to them.

“Wolverine and I will take the southern corridor. Cyclops and Colossus should take the north. Iceman and Beast go east.”

“Why?” Cyclops asked, obviously not wanting to split up.

“There is a small holding area for mutants in the northern section. When I was there several hours ago, they had four mutants captive. To the east is the biggest cache of weaponry the Friends have, it should be destroyed. And the files I need are to the south.”

Before Cyclops could interject, Wolverine agreed. “Yeah, split up and meet back at the jet in an hour.”

One look to Scott told Logan all he needed to know. Mystique was taking him to Stevenson and getting Cyclops out of the way so as to not sully his lily-white hands. And Scott knew it.

“Fine, split up. Break radio silence only if something goes to hell. Got it?”

The others nodded as they broke into their respective teams, heading down one hallway or another. Cyclops maintained eye contact with Wolverine until they were completely out of one another’s eye line.

Once he was alone with Mystique, he turned to her with a growl. “You get me to Stevenson and I’ll forget you’re the one that shot Storm.”

She shrugged, swaying her backside enticingly. “What does she have that I don’t?”

“Class,” Wolverine bit off, keeping his eyes and ears trained on their surroundings.

The entire tunnel was encased in what looked like bomb-proofed metals, complete with thick insulation, making it hard for his ears to pick up anything coming toward them. It unnerved him. This entire facility had been built some time ago, right under the noses of the mutants five miles down the mountain. They could have taken the encampment out at any time.

He figured Mystique was to thank for that. She had probably led the entire organization around by the nose for months.

“Down,” he said as he caught a whiff of someone on the air.

Mystique melted against the wall as an older guard with a machine gun at the ready came around the corner. He stared in shock as Wolverine unleashed his claws.

Snikt!

The guard was dead before he could fire a shot. Wolverine was starting to feel better already as he retracted his claws from the man’s back.

Mystique continued on.

“Light on guards,” he commented with a grunt.

“Overconfident,” she replied in her eerie voice. “We’re almost to the meeting room. There will be plenty for you to kill while I download from Stevenson’s main computer.”

“Good.”

They walked together in silence, taking out four more guards, whom had hidden in alcoves just to the sides of an enormous door.

“Why do they think hiding like that is gonna protect them?” he asked, tossing a body aside.

“Reminds them of the womb,” she supplied, transforming into Stevenson again.

“Ready?”

Logan grunted. Mystique placed her hand on the control panel, which buzzed loudly in the otherwise silent room.

Wolverine took position beside the door as Mystique entered. He could smell at least a dozen guards inside…and one faintly familiar scent from days at the mansion.

Stevenson.

Snikt.

He claws ripped through his skin as surprised shouts sounded from within, combined with the squishing noise that told him Mystique had changed forms.

Darting inside the room with a feral howl, Logan turned and rammed his claws into the door’s controls, closing it with a loud hiss as he took in the scene.

A dozen men in various types of uniforms were around a table, most of them reaching for firearms over the table, which was littered with files and photos. To his astonishment, he noted one of Ororo’s car…and her lifeless body within.

They had tried to murder her and then photographed it.

Wolverine finally allowed the howling beast within to surface, screaming with rage as he leaped onto the table, claws flashing. He lost track of Mystique as he used one man for a shield, neatly catching every bullet sent his way before turning and sinking his claws into the nearest bastard he could see.

The scent of blood overwhelmed him. These were the ones that hurt his Ororo…his mate. He snarled, turning from the dead man at his feet to the next, cleaning slipping his claws into the man’s chest cavity, watching with a sort of muted pleasure when blood spurted from his mouth.

“Picked the wrong girl, bub,” he said, echoing his words from the attack on the mansion.

Two more tried to rush him, only to be met with three adamantium death warrants each. One to the face. One to the neck. Blood was everywhere.

Just as Ororo’s had been all over her car.

Turning quickly, he dimly noted Mystique taking down two of her own near the large computer set up and smirked.

The cold barrel of a gun pressed against his forehead. Breathing hard, Wolverine turned his eyes to the firearm, grinning manically when he noted the kid behind the gun.

“Been lookin’ for you, bub,” he growled.

“Thought so,” the kid smirked. “Did it take her a long time to die, I wonder? Five bullets and she still thought she had a chance.”

Wolverine saw red. “You miss the meetin’? She’s alive.”

Jacob’s eyes registered shock for a moment. “She can’t be.”

“She is. And I’m here to see she gets her revenge,” he turned his body, pressing his head against the barrel of the gun, daring Jacob to pull the trigger.

“Not for long,” he countered, seemingly finding his strength.

“You pulled the trigger?”

“Yeah, I did. Stupid slut didn’t know what hit her.”

Wolverine flicked a wrist, burying his claws into the kid’s stomach with an enraged growl. His eyes went wide, looking from Wolverine’s face to the fist at his gut. Slowly, Logan pushed the other set of claws into his chest.

“She’s mine. You won’t hurt her again,” Wolverine snarled.

Faster than the kid could register, Logan pulled his hands together, ripping the mutant hater apart. He died instantly, falling to the ground as his shredded entrails snagged on Wolverine’s claws.

Watching the body slump over, Wolverine felt the grim satisfaction of revenge.

He was breathing hard as he looked about the devastated conference room. Blood soaked the walls, floor, and table, bodies over everything. Mystique was on top of the table, in her natural form, weaving her long legs through the bodies as she walked to him.

“Nice work,” she told him, showing him four disks. “I’ve got what I came for.”

“Where’s Stevenson?” he snarled in return.

The blue mutant nodded her head, indicating to a gasping figure on the floor near the computers. He was the only breathing Friend in the room.

“He came for me, I left him alive…as a gift,” Mystique said almost sweetly.

Without pause, Wolverine stomped over to the older bastard. He’d broken several bones during his fight with the metamorph. Crouching low, claws still dripping with his son’s blood, he snarled at the older man.

“What did ya have against her that was so fuckin’ bad?” he growled.

Fear registered in Stevenson’s eyes. Logan could smell it on him, with the stench of urine and blood.

“Too powerful…will betray…all…” he gasped.

“Ya don’t know her, bub. She protects sick fucks like you,” Wolverine dragged his claws over the man’s chest.

“Jacob?”

“Killed him. And I enjoyed it.”

Stevenson began to sob. Sighing, Wolverine pulled his claws back. It would be merciful of him to just end his life here and now.

“Go to hell,” Wolverine growled a beat before he sank twenty-seven inches of razor sharp adamantium into the dying man’s breast.

The erratic breathing stopped immediately.

“We should go,” Mystique called to him. “Your team will be looking for us.”

Wolverine retracted his claws with a grating snikt.

“Yeah, I got what I came for.”

“And what was that?”

Logan looked at his bloodstained hands.

“A reckoning.”

~@~


No one said a word when Wolverine and Mystique met them at the jet. Beast held a detonator in his hand, Iceman looked a little more than exhausted, and Colossus was as stoic as ever.

The blood on Wolverine’s uniform seemed to go unnoticed.

Cyclops did not ask as they strapped in. Wolverine noted three new mutants, all with various injuries, strapped into the jet as they lifted off. Beast tended to their injuries, pausing only to click the detonator,

A muted explosion sounded from below as the weapons cache and what seemed to be the rest of the base was destroyed as dawn broke over the Rockies.

“It’s not over, but they’ve been wounded,” Peter said, reminding Logan of Kurt all of the sudden.

Logan grunted, settling back in his seat.

They all lapsed into silence, broken only when they dropped Mystique near her rendezvous point with Magneto.

“Thank you,” she said curtly.

She handed Cyclops two of her disks. “Everything Stevenson had. I made equal copies.”

“How do I know that?” Scott asked, tucking the disks into his pocket.

“A gesture of good faith, for having to shoot Storm.”

And with that, she was gone.

“God, she’s complicated. Good, but complicated,” Bobby said when they were airborne again.

“I wouldn’t mention that to Rogue,” Logan quipped.

The remainder of the trip was spent in silence. What would greet them upon returning? What would they do about Jeffrey? Wolverine had killed his brother and father in cold blood. He would admit it to the boy; get his side of things before taking drastic measures.

Jacob had at least been an adult and fully aware of what he was doing.

As they reached communication range with the mansion, Jean’s voice came over the comm., startling them all from their seats.

“Scott?”

Cyclops flicked a switch. “We’re here. All alive and heavy three.”

There was a sigh of relief. “Logan?”

“Yeah?” he paused, swallowing hard, expecting the worst.

“She’s awake.”

~@~


Logan would have to thank Jean for keeping spare clothing on the jet. He changed into one of the sweat suits they always kept, embossed with an ‘X’ and cleaned his hands as best he could with some of the alcohol Beast gave him from the med-kit.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have shoes, but it really wasn’t an issue. The issue was why the jet didn’t go faster.

They landed at twenty past one in the afternoon. Nearly three days had passed since Ororo’s accident. Cheering children cleared the basketball court as the jet prepared to land. The entire group was exhausted; spending days running refugees and dodging terrorists had that effect on someone.

Scott lowered the ramp before he cut the engine, giving Logan his cue to tear ass through the mansion in search of his girl.

And that’s exactly what he did.

He knew that the others were following, albeit at a lesser degree. Most would need a trip to the infirmary for minor wounds before they could go upstairs and pass out on their beds. He figured they knew it was pointless to try to see Ororo. Logan would be dominating her time for the next few hours.

Logan slid into the elevator, bouncing up and down on his feet until it reached the mansion’s main level.

“Mr. Logan!”

He waved off a few of the children that greeted him, barreling up the stairs toward the teacher’s level as though all the demons of hell were snapping at his heels. In some ways, they were. Darkness would consume him and only ‘Ro was strong enough to beat it all back.

Jean was outside of Ororo’s bedroom when he approached. She looked up at him, flashing a fond smile that told him all he really needed to know from a medical standpoint. Breathing hard, he slowed his advance, coming around the corner to look into her room as though in slow motion.

The scent of fallen rain slammed into him with the weight of a hurricane-force wind. No more blood, only the earthy smell that was all hers coupled with that of fresh flowers and a lovable pooch.

Standing in the doorway, Logan felt tears sting his eyes and blinked them back furiously. Ororo was propped up on her headboard, just slightly. Her hair was clean and she wore one of his flannel shirts. She was smiling at Rogue as the younger girl sat beside her, spooning what smelled like beef broth into Ororo’s mouth with almost motherly care.

She still had a needle in her arm, but there was color to her cheeks. Her lips once more plump, though a little dry. The monitors beeped with the steady thrum of her heart.

Without a word, Logan took a barefoot step into the room, wanting to just hold her until the world came down around their ears. Rogue looked up at him and grinned.

“Hiya, Logan.”

Of course, she was a smart girl. She placed the bowl of broth on the rolling tray beside the bed and stood, giving Ororo’s hand a squeeze as Logan tiptoed closer. Tunza was at the foot of the bed, his head on his mistress’ leg, tail wagging just slightly in greeting.

“Hello, stranger,” Ororo greeted him as he approached.

“Hey, darlin’,” his breath caught as he gazed into those beautiful eyes.

She was smiling.

“Come here, my Logan.”

Rushing the last few steps to her bed, Logan fell to his knees as the bedroom door closed. They were alone when he took her hand, leaning up to kiss her warm lips, which weakly pushed back at him.

“You’re awake,” he breathed, noting tears in her eyes.

“Yes. And I intend to stay that way.”

Logan gently placed his ear to her chest, mindful of the injuries she had sustained. A single tear rolled down his cheek as he closed his eyes, listening to the strong beat of her heart.





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