Hola. I’m not a professional writer, and I’m not associated with Marvel Comics in any way. (Except as a fan and loyal payer of huge amounts of money to the company every month.) I’m earning no money whatsoever from this. Honest. Don’t sue me. The following is a work of fan fiction focusing on Wolverine of the X-Men. Joining him is my own character, Kai. Some of you may remember her from an aborted fan fic series I posted over on CompuServe, but I advise you to forget whatever you read over there. That was her "formative" phase, when she was intended to be nothing more than another 2-dimensional butt-kicking woman with an attitude. She kinda went and grew on me, so I decided to let her develop a real personality and all the warts that go with such.

Umm…a little info that might prove helpful: Kai isn’t a mutant, but she was bonded a long time ago with a symbiont that acts as a healing factor and hypes up senses and strength. Anything else important about her history more or less comes out in her stories over time, so I’ll leave it with that. Forgive the lack of creativity in the titles…I figure it saves time to keep ‘em simple.

By Kaylee

We came up to Canada for one reason…to find out why an old acquaintance of mine, Benny Hallings, hadn’t checked in with his wife in over a week. May sound like a silly reason to go haring off to another country and hiking through snow-encrusted wilderness, but Benny’s wife Maggie has been real good to me in the past, and when I heard the nervous little tremble in her voice, I made up my mind to settle her questions one way or the other. I knew that Benny was a stubborn old coot…liked to drag himself up a little mountain to his tiny shack once in a while. "Get some space," he calls it. "Breathe real air." I understand that well enough, but when you’re going on sixty and not in the best of shape, taking off alone into the woods isn’t the brightest move.

I say that "we" came up to Canada because when Logan -- Wolverine of the X-Men, a group I’ve been hanging out with lately -- heard that I was heading to his old stomping grounds, he all but insisted on coming along. I didn’t know him all that well, but he was an X-Man, after all, and had a rep for being pretty good at the wilderness survival bit, so I didn’t mind him joining me. He made an all right traveling companion, too; didn’t talk too much or distract me and easily kept up for the hike. I kinda got the feeling that this was like a Sunday stroll for him. We didn’t bother with any real conversation. I didn’t figure he trusted me, what since I’d been spending time with a guy he hated, Victor Creed, while Creed was a "guest" at the X-Men’s mansion. Since I was also pretty sure I knew what we’d find when we reached Benny’s shack, I wasn’t in much of a mood to jaw anyway.

When we pushed open the door, we found something kinda like I expected; Benny’s body. Only thing was, the old guy didn’t freeze to death or have an accident and break his fool neck…he blew his brains out with an old single-action shotgun. There was a note on the table. Said, "Whoever finds this, tell Maggie that I love her, but I’m just so tired. I’m sorry. Benny." There wasn’t even enough left of his face to see what his expression had been before he pulled the trigger. The body was nearly frozen, too, since he’d been considerate enough of anyone who came up here later to turn off the gas generator that ran the small space heater in the corner.

I stared at the note for a minute rather than the body. Seventeen words, if you included his name. Seventeen words to sum up the end of a man’s life.

"Benny, you son of a bitch," I muttered.

Logan stood silently in the doorway, looking at me. Judging my response, I guessed. If he expected utter horror and disgust, he wasn’t gonna get it. Not from me. I’ve seen uglier deaths, for stupider reasons.

"Gotta call his wife," I said aloud, as much to myself as to him. The two-way radio Benny had used to contact her before was still working after I got the generator running, wonder of wonders, and I toggled with dials until I heard her hopeful, fearful voice coming across. Logan’s eyes weighted on my shoulders, assessing me against some scale I didn’t know.

"Kai? Kai, is that you, sweetie?" Poor Maggie. Always so kind to me, even when she had to know why I was the one contacting her instead of Benny.

"Yeah, Maggie, it’s me." I swallowed once before diving in. "Maggie…I’m sorry. You were right."

A staticky pause. Then a whisper I could barely make out. "So it’s true, then? He’s…dead?"

"Yeah. I’m…really sorry, Maggie."

I thought I heard a sob, but might have been mistaken. "How? How did he die?"

My head for me to look at Logan, doing my own bit of assessing as I answered her. "Looks like his heater gave out. He froze. In bed. Went in his sleep…probably never even knew what was coming." Logan’s eyes didn’t flicker. Neither did mine.

"Can you…can you bring him back to me, Kai?"

"I don’t think I can pack him out down this mountain, Maggie. There’s a blizzard on the way, and it’ll make footing pretty bad for a while. You know how he loved this place…what do you say I bury him up here? Put him to rest where he always came for peace? You could come up in the spring and visit him."

Maggie’s a trooper. She understood the logic of what I said, and she agreed without more than a moment’s hesitation. I told her that I’d lay him to rest and put a cross over his grave for her, and she said that would be nice. As quickly as she rang off I’m sure the tears were about to overwhelm her.

"Bastard," I told Benny. "Weak-willed little bastard."

Logan didn’t comment on my narrative. Instead he disappeared outside for a bit, then came back around with a pick and a shovel from the all-purpose shed out back. Leaned in the door again and just asked, "Where do you wanna bury him?"

I led the way outside and found a bit of ground that would suit Maggie. Logan tossed the shovel aside and started tearing up hard packed and frozen earth with the pick. I went around and picked up the shovel myself.

"I can handle this," he said without looking at me.

"It’ll go faster with two."

"Suit yourself." I did.

We worked for a while, until I felt the muscles in shoulders and back aching from the strain and until sweat had formed a chilling layer over my skin. The frigid air bit into me, but I ignored it with gritted teeth. As soon as Benny was put to ground, I’d turn on that space heater and put on some extra layers of clothing to warm up before we trekked down the mountain. Until then…well, a little chill wasn’t gonna kill me. Even if my mind tried to tell me it would.

The hole, by the time we finished, was deep enough for any law codes. I stood at the bottom and realized with some surprise that the walls were a good bit higher than my head. I’m short, yeah, but it’s strange and disconcerting to be completely beneath the surface of the ground, standing in a grave. I tossed the shovel out, then caught the lip of the grave, spilling dirt down into my hair, and sprang lightly up, levering myself out easily. I turned at the top and realized that Logan had stepped forward to help me before seeing that I could make it. That brought a grin, which I was surprised to see him answer. I leaned down and offered him my hand, thinking that turnabout was fair play. He gave me a wry look and pulled himself out as easily as I had, without help.

Then it was just a matter of wrapping Benny’s body in a blanket and carrying him to his resting place. Logan offered, but I told him that it was my responsibility. He nodded and backed away as I carried the almost too slight weight and dropped down into the grave to lay him out. I didn’t bother with much ceremony during the process. The body was no longer Benny; and even if it had been I was pretty pissed at the old coot about then. When I finished there I jumped back out and started to reach for the shovel. Logan already had it.

"You’ve done more than enough," he told me firmly. "I’ll finish."

"Sure," I said, and went inside to survey the mess I’d have to clean before leaving this place. A shotgun is a pretty inconsiderate way to kill yourself. The wall behind where he’d been sitting was liberally splashed. I listened to the sound of the shovel "shushing" dirt over the body as I went to turn on the space heater and dig out some rags to clean with. By the time Logan finished, the shack was warming and the wall was coming more or less clean. I’d probably have to find something to coat it with to cover lingering stains, but at least there wouldn’t actually be parts of him on it.

"You got a good stomach," Logan observed, watching me finish with the wall.

"Not about everything."

"You’re takin’ this whole thing pretty well."

"I knew he’d be dead. Only question was how." I tied the rags into a larger one, then set the bundle aside. It would have to be buried later. Then I grabbed a match from the tin on the rickety counter and took the suicide note outside to the grave. Standing over the freshly turned earth and the flat stones Logan had laid down, I lit the note and held it so the ashes fell over it. It seemed like a moment to say something…some sort of parting to Benny.

"You weren’t a bad guy, Benny. You drank too much and you got stupid notions, but you never hurt anyone. Sorry Maggie won’t get your final message, but it’s better for her this way. If you don’t see that, wherever the hell you are, then you’re a selfish old codger and I hope you rot." Whoa, bad choice of words there, considering. "I mean, I hope that if there’s an afterlife, yours is miserable. If you don’t see that."

No answer from Benny. I took that to mean I’d said enough. The last of the note blackened and crisped away to fall to the earth, and then I backed from it and just stared at the grave for a bit, letting one of those moments of…not deeper thoughts, but…cessation of thought on a deep level take me.

Eventually I turned away. Logan was staring at me again. I gave him a raised eyebrow. "What?"

"Blizzard’s movin’ in. Don’t think we’re gonna make it out before it hits."

"Figures." I headed into the shack to check supplies. I tend to over-pack when heading into cold wilderness, so with what we’d brought with us we should be fine for a few days if necessary. And hell, we were both pretty tough individuals. If push came to shove I was betting we could make it through a snowstorm without killing ourselves.

I took a moment to pull on an extra layer of warmth, then set about ordering the shack to make it somewhat less uncomfortable for a slightly extended stay. There was only the one bed, little more than a cot really, but there were some extra blankets that could cushion the floor for whoever elected for it. Logan was off somewhere outside, so I dug out rations and started preparing some food with the weak little hot plate I found in the cupboard. My cooking’s absolutely abysmal, but the rations were plain enough fare and couldn’t get much worse.

Night was falling and the wind was picking up before I heard the scuff of boots through snow and then caught a whiff of Logan’s wild, masculine scent. (Strange, part of me noted. His scent’s not the same as Victor’s, not nearly…but there’s something similar about them. Just as there’s something similar about the men themselves.) The door opened, letting out precious warmth, and then he tossed a dead, field-gutted rabbit on the counter.

"Thought we could flesh out dinner a bit."

"Sure. Build us a fire, would you?" I prepared the rabbit while he got a flame going in the long neglected fireplace. He almost smoked us out before realizing that Benny had shut the chimney off to preserve heat. By the time the air was semi-clear again, we had the rabbit roasting and were munching on the cooling stew I’d already prepared.

Slightly fuller stomachs and the scent of cooking meat brought on conversation. "So, this Benny guy…ya weren’t too close to him."

"Nope. He and Maggie took me in for a winter, once, but it was really her I got to know. Benny was just the old drunk in the corner. Never hurt her or anything, but she deserved better."

He grunted understanding. "You were pretty handy with that rabbit. Do that sort o’ thing much?"

"Not lately, but I used to. Had some pretty intensive survival training a ways back, and then later came out to the woods to clear my head, from time to time." I was tired of answering questions. It's never been my favorite thing to do. "What’s it like, being with the X-Men as long as you have?"

"It’s gotten pretty intense a time or twenty," he answered wryly, something not entirely pleasant flickering deep in the dark eyes. "But ya know…it’s just one o’ those things. Ya just deal with the day to day stuff, and it’s only when you look back ya see how much has gone on."

"Quite a lot, from what I heard. You guys have even been to space." Oops, didn’t mean to let that note slip into my voice. I’ve always been a touch awed by the stars; by what’s Out There, beyond where we petty little humans can reach. He caught the tone and smiled faintly, his eyes distant.

"It’s…somethin’. Really makes ya value home that much more, though."

We were avoiding an issue I knew would come up. It had to be bugging him…might even be the whole reason he came. I’d been visiting with Vic Creed to try to smooth out some of the wildness he was feeling, being locked up and treated like…like something less than human. I understood, after reading up on him, why the X-Men felt the way they did. I even understood the necessity for keeping the guy contained and under observation.

But I also understood what it felt like to be in his position, and so I’d reached out to him, just a little. And he’d been more receptive than I’d expected, perhaps just glad to find someone who didn’t bring up the past or the future in every conversation.

I suspected that Logan thought I considered Vic a friend. Not quite. More along the lines of an unknown quantity that I could somewhat empathize with. But if Logan thought I felt pretty strongly about him, he had to be wondering if I bore him a grudge for what had happened between them…when Logan punched a claw through Creed’s brain. The other man’s healing factor had kept him alive, but he acted now like…like an animal. Not the savage, dangerous kind, either. Like a kitten, or a puppy, or something innocent. Was it real? No telling. Would it last? I doubted it. But it had certainly changed my routine, and yes, I was upset that it had happened.

However, I also saw the security tapes of the incident. I heard what Creed said about hunting down and killing everyone Logan cared about. I saw the blood flying, and not all of it Vic’s. Under the circumstances, I’d have done the same thing.

Oh, what the hell. Why not get it over with? "Tell me something, Logan…did you come along to sound me out about the whole Creed thing?"

He blinked at my directness, but answered readily enough. "In part."

"Are you wondering if I’m gonna have some sort of fit and try to tear you a new hole?"

"Thought had crossed my mind."

I grimaced. Rose to turn the rabbit. Sat again. "Well it can uncross. I don’t blame you. You were well in your rights, doing what you did."

"You really believe that?" There was true surprise in his voice.

"Wouldn’t have said it, otherwise."

He shook his head slowly from side to side. "Wild," he mused. "Even my own teammates think I overdid it, and the lady who actually spent the most time with him understands."

"Yeah, well…my life’s taught me a thing or two about the hard choices."

"Has it?" He looked at me with something more in his eyes than I wanted to see. Something like empathy. No wonder, damn idiot that I was to go and let myself show too much.

Must be getting rattled by the blizzard, I thought. Getting nervous about the…cold.

"Well," I said with a smile. "Rabbit’s probably ready by now." He didn’t object to the rapid change of direction. I suppose he wasn’t too comfortable with the sudden bit of sharing between us, either.

The rabbit was still rare, but I didn’t mind. We partitioned the meat and fell to with good appetite, though once or twice the vision of finding Benny tried to intrude. I shoved it away resolutely and ate. By the time we finished the wind was howling with a vengeance outside the little shack and the walls were shaking. The space heater wasn’t doing much good, anymore, and neither was the fire. I reflected bitterly that if Benny hadn’t offed himself, he probably would have frozen to death.

I tried not to show how much the cold was bothering me.

A full stomach finally allowed the exhaustion from a hard day to crash down. I blinked tiredly at Logan. "Cot or floor?"

"I’ll take the floor."

I tucked myself under the blankets and shivered while he doused the little lantern and slid into his space on the floor. Cold air blasted through little cracks in the walls. I pulled the covers up to my ears and tried to think warm thoughts.

Found instead my mind drifting to an endless field of snow. Of cold biting into my flesh, my lungs, my heart.

No. I could handle this. It wasn’t all that bad, really. There was the cheerful glow of the banked fire (going out! it’s going out!) and the hum of the space heater. It just felt colder than it was, that was all.

I shivered and stared at the ceiling, trying to recapture the feeling of being tired. It wasn’t working. My instincts for cold were to stay awake, to force myself on, to warm up and get the hell out of it. Sleep was…giving in.

Stupid. It really wasn’t cold enough to freeze us, not with the space heater.

Right about then, the generator outside chugged a funny noise. The space heater sparked once and then went silent, its red glow fading.

"Well, fuck."

Logan shifted in his blankets and sat up. "Ya might wanna move over by the fire."

"Yeah," I grumbled. "That’ll really make a difference." But I moved anyway, bringing every blanket on the cot and wrapping myself in them like a sausage in a bun. He’d shifted over too, and I saw his slightly amused smile at the picture I presented.

"Shut up," I told him warningly before he could say a word. He held up two hands in a gesture of peace, grinning.

I tried to sleep again, but the wind blasted through at odd intervals, threatening to douse the fire or send sparks onto us, and it seemed pretty perilous to actually close my eyes. I was shivering even more, and my mind kept returning to the half-real, half-imagined memory of men and women standing over me where I was curled up naked in the snow. That was the real part. The imagined part was where I tried to ask them repeatedly for help, and they just laughed. See, I hadn’t asked for help back then. I hadn’t spoken unless spoken to, back then, because if I had they’d have done worse than letting me freeze. Instead of laughing, they’d just spoken in clinical, professional voices while they assessed how my body handled the cold.

I would've liked to see how their bodies handled it…

I didn’t know how much time had passed, but the fire had lowered a good bit when Logan spoke. "Still can’t sleep?"

"Too…damned…cold," I chattered, not even feeling up to cursing myself for revealing a weakness. It was pretty obvious, after all. "Why couldn’t Benny…have picked…a tropical island…for a get away spot?"

I heard blankets rustle, and then he shifted over beside me and started to unwind my own.

"Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?" I asked in a reasonably calm and steady voice.

"I’m not after your ‘virtue’ or anything, girl. Relax. Two bodies in twice the blankets’ll be a lot warmer."

"Oh." We wrapped ourselves tightly in the covers, and his arms slipped around my waist in a gesture that could have been intimate…but given the situation, I wasn’t gonna argue. And it was warmer, though still not precisely comfortable. After a while my shivers subsided a bit and I felt my mind willingly drift towards hazy sleep and vague dreams.

I snapped out of sleep perhaps an hour later. The fire was out and the air was bitterly chill, but that wasn’t what woke me. Logan’s arms had tightened around me, and I felt a tremor pass through his sleeping body. I shifted around and slid out of his grasp, and his arms went to clutch against his stomach as if bound there, holding tight. His face was twisted as though in pain. His teeth were clenched, and agonized sounding little groans bled out from his drawn back lips.

"Must be some nightmare," I observed to the air. I placed a hand over one of his and said his name, quietly.

Then gasped and jerked the hand back as claws sprang from his hand and sliced three shallow furrows along my palm and fingers. Cursing at the sting, I held the bleeding hand away from me and waited for it to heal. He was still moaning, and occasionally I thought I heard a growl.

Blood stopped flowing, though the wounds still smarted. I stood and grabbed a rag to wipe off the blood, then slipped back into the covers and put hands to his shoulders, well away from the claws.

"Logan, wake up. It’s just a nightmare. Wake up."

He shuddered, caught up in something real bad. I didn’t want to be too rough in trying to wake him, since I’ve known people who would come out of the dream thinking it was reality, and if he was fighting someone in his sleep I wasn’t gonna encourage him to wake up fighting me. Gently, I shook his shoulders, ran hands along his face, spoke to him. All the while I wondered what the hell could be bad enough to cause that rising odor of fear mixed with pain that tinged his sweat.

His eyes snapped open, staring wildly up through me. In them, I saw the desperation of the trapped wild thing; being hurt, being violated, being tortured. In a second, he was gonna go nuts…I could feel it in the trembling tension in his shoulders, hear it in the raging rate of his heartbeat, smell it in the wild mix of agony, terror, and rising rage that wafted off of him like some obscene cologne.

I pressed his shoulders down hard and shouted his name. The eyes didn’t change, and his hands started to rise for me. Cursing, swearing, thinking, I raced through options in my mind in the blink of an eye. With desperate decision I eased my grip on his shoulders and crushed my lips over his, hoping that it would be enough of a dramatic difference from the horror of his dream that he’d be shocked out of it.

For a moment he was frozen under me, his hands hovering somewhere near, ready to fight if his mind let them. His eyes still stared wildly, but gradually the focus shifted from past me to meeting my own eyes. I saw rationality in them at last, and broke off the one-sided kiss.

"Are you okay?" I asked quietly. His throat worked. I’m sure the stink of fear and the memory of the nightmare were wreaking havoc on him.

"I…" He closed his arms on me and caught me to him, pressing his face to my shoulder and trembling all over. I slipped my arms up around his and sat back, pulling him up into a seated position so I could wrap my arms around him in return.

"It’s all right," I said softly. "It was a dream." Something occurred to me, and I added very quietly, "Or maybe a memory." Didn’t know how I guessed that…maybe just from seeing the intensity of the emotions. But the shudder that wracked him at the word "memory" made it clear I was right. I closed my eyes and held him, understanding far better than he knew the power old ghosts of the past can have over us.

"There were these people," I told him. "Years ago. Did some hard stuff to me. Ran lots of…tests. I get flashbacks sometimes, like this. Just takes a while to remember what’s real and what’s not."

"You’re real," he said after a moment. "This goddamned freezing shack is real."

"Yeah." I felt him squeeze his arms against me gently, then let go. Sliding back to sit on my heels, I looked at him searchingly. He still appeared pretty rattled, but more in control.

And more than a bit embarrassed. I tried to ease it with a grin. "It’s a bitch when these things happen around people you barely know, huh?"

A forced chuckle. "Yeah." Then he caught sight of my hand, and the traces of blood that still marred it. He caught it swiftly and held it up, looking for injuries. Only faint red lines marred the flesh now.

"I did that?!"

"No biggie. My fault, really. It’s fine."

"Oh god, I’m sorry, Kai. I didn’t mean…"

"I know. It’s nothing."

"It ain’t nothin’. I cut you."

I flexed the hand easily, smiling. "All better, see? I’m fine." Another blast of wind rattled the shack, reminding me that it was really, really cold. I pulled my hand away from him and caught up blankets, snugging them around me. Then, seeing the way he shivered a bit but didn’t try to get closer for warmth, I reached out and wrapped the blankets around his shoulders, too, so that we were close together and sharing body heat. He held himself stiffly, perhaps out of guilt for injuring me. Since we were pressed so tightly together, that was a bit awkward.

"Relax, would ya? I’m fine, you’re fine, but we’re both gonna freeze if we don’t keep warm."

Gradually he relaxed against me, though it took a long while for him to start easing into sleep again. We were considerably warmer, though, so I let my eyes close and my breathing steady until once again, I was claimed by the foggy world of dreams.

***

Morning brought no ease of the snowstorm. When I woke up Logan was disentangling himself and saying something about firewood. I muttered a response and staggered up to see if I had any more clothes to layer over what I already wore. Muzzily, I started to dig out more rations. There wouldn’t be any hunting during the blizzard, so we were stuck with plain fare. Ah well.

While I waited for Logan to get back in, my mind wandered freely over tidbits I’d learned about cold survival in the past. One line, told to me by a grinning woman who kept her arm tightly linked with her husband, played through my head. "It’s warmer to sleep nude under blankets, and warmer still for two to sleep nude together." A little smile tugged my lips as I let the picture play out.

Logan came in with an armload of wood from the rickety shed out back, then set about making a fire. Idly I watched him, admiring the quick efficiency of his movements and the way his body flexed smoothly.

I headed for the door. "Gotta visit the little girls’ tree. Wanna see what you can do to make breakfast edible?"

"I’ll give it a shot."

I tended nature’s call, then spent a few minutes walking around and loosening up. I was tempted to run through some katas and really get the blood flowing, but the howling wind was discouragement enough to drive me back into the dubious shelter of the shack before long. The fire was crackling nicely, and whatever stew Logan was cooking over it smelled considerably better than my efforts from last night. He offered me a bowl and spoon, and I took a generous mouthful.

Then choked, my eyes watering as I swallowed it down and felt it burn all the way into my stomach. "Ach!" I gasped. "Hot!"

He grinned and spooned up a mouthful. "Yep."

"Spicy!" I added.

"Yep. Warm ya up."

"If it doesn’t kill me!" But it was, indeed, spreading heat through my blood. I took another, more tentative spoonful.

"Ah…it won’t kill ya. Just put hair on your chest."

"Oh, yeah…that’d do wonders for my social life," I wheezed.

He looked as if he was considering this, then said, "Yeah, your boyfriend might not thank me."

I fought down the smile that brought, keeping as serious an expression as I could, what with the tears in my eyes. "Yeah, probably not." His face fell just a little. "If I had a boyfriend." Was I imagining it, or did he actually brighten at that? I still kept the grin at bay. "If this is the kinda food you make for your girlfriend, she must be a sight."

His lip twitched in acknowledgment of what was going on. "No girlfriend," he informed me mildly. "Maybe it’s my cooking."

"Good guess. She’d need a healing factor to survive." He couldn’t quite suppress his snort of laughter, and I finally let the grin slip through.

We finished up without saying much, and the spicy food had me bucking to move around. The shack was small, but with some judicious rearranging of the sparse furniture I managed to clear a spot big enough to run through some katas in. Logan propped himself on the cot in the corner and watched with interest while I stretched and started moving. It didn’t take me long to forget my audience and give myself over to the moves, and not long after that I started shedding layers of clothing as I warmed up, just before I started to sweat. I kept to the more basic forms because of the lack of room, but put a lot of zing into all the movements. It felt good to get back to these simple foundations of martial arts. I could almost hear Sensei’s voice guiding me through motion after motion, critiquing my weak spots and occasionally making a grunt of approval at my strong. By the time I let the strikes and blocks wind down to a finish I was stripped down to my tank top and loose canvass pants and barely feeling the chill air that surrounded me. I brushed sweaty auburn hair back out of matching eyes where it was coming loose from the low tail I had it tied in. Logan’s voice almost surprised me, as focused as I’d been.

"Glad to see Scott wasn’t blowin’ smoke."

"Huh?"

"He said ya were damn good. I was wonderin’ whether or not he’d recognize real skill."

Even though I knew very well how good I was, I couldn’t help smiling at the compliment. "I had a good teacher." Then I grinned mischievously. He’d gotten to watch me. Only fair I returned the favor. "Your turn."

He got up without complaint, and I plopped into the vacated spot on the cot, watching as he loosened up and started into some forms that were vaguely familiar to me. Like me, he was limited to short range motions because of the small space. He made the most of it, though, and I got lost in the observation as he stripped down to bare chest and trousers once he got into it. His musculature was extremely well developed…flat, hard muscles of true strength. Dark chest hair sheened with sweat. Skin rolled smoothly over muscles. I admired the near-perfection of the motions with a distracted part of my mind; admired the man with more of it. He was good, damned good. And focused. And fit. Dark eyes were intense and caught up in fighting his imaginary enemy.

Damn, a fight between us would be something to sell tickets for.

Damn, I’d rather do something else energetically physical with him.

Cabin fever, I told myself. I’m going batty from the storm. Yeah, that’s it. I hardly even know this guy.

But I knew what he fought for. I knew what he’d laid down his life for, in the past.

He wound down to a finish, then shook sweat from his eyes and sent a grin my way. "We even?"

"Yep. You’re not so shabby yourself, y’know that?"

He didn’t bother answering that. Of course he knew, but admitting it would sound insufferably arrogant. He helped himself to the pitcher of melted snow we’d set by the fire, then brought it over to me and offered. I cupped my hands over his while I drank, feeling annoyingly flushed where our skin contacted. He set the pitcher aside and sank to a small spot of clear floor, resting forearms on upraised knees.

"So whadda you wanna do?"

For a moment, still caught up in the pleasure of watching him practice, I almost thought he was referring to the growing attraction I was pretty sure I felt between us. Then another howling blast of wind reminded me of the situation.

"You mean do we try to make it out today?"

"Yep."

"I dunno. It’ll be a pretty rough trek…"

"Got a compass?"

"Yeah. That’ll help. I gotta admit, I’m not looking forward to freezing my ass off another night up here."

He nodded. "Then we try for it. What else do ya need to finish up here?"

A glance at the far wall that had been gore-splattered yesterday showed that the stains weren’t really noticeable. I surveyed the shack briefly. "Nothing, really. I’ll let Maggie know about the generator when we get back."

"Then let’s pack up. Might as well get moving while we’re still loose."

We straightened up and packed, then shouldered our things and dived out into the driving snow. I’d debated taking the shotgun with us, but found it hard to touch the thing. Didn’t really need it, I rationalized. There wouldn’t be anyone or anything crazy enough to be out in this storm.

Except us.

We stuck close to each other, taking turns in the lead. Hours crept by, marked with sweating and cursing and the occasional slip that dumped one or the other of us on our butt. No way to judge the time from the sky, and my watch was dead. We took breaks now and then in whatever stand of trees afforded a little protection from the bite of the blizzard. Ice ate into my bones even beneath all the layers of clothing. No matter how much we moved, I just couldn’t seem to get warm. I was actually starting to think of the shack with fond longing.

It was my turn to lead, and my head was down against the snow. Might not have made any difference if I was looking…the stream was barely visible in the white curtain that surrounded us. I tripped gracefully over a jutting root and fell face first in the icy water. For a moment I was too shocked to even swear, which is a rare state of events for me. Then Logan’s hands were grabbing me and pulling me back, and I started spitting out every oath that came to mind.

"Easy," he said close to my ear so I could hear over the wind. "C'mon." I let him half-drag me back a little ways in the direction we’d come from. My blood felt sluggish and my teeth were chattering hard enough to hurt. He pulled me into a little hollow in a stand of rocks that was too shallow to properly be called a cave, but it did cut the wind. My skin was turning an interesting shade of blue, I noted with fascinated distraction. He stripped my pack off and started peeling soaked clothing away quickly. I shivered and tried to help, but my fingers wouldn’t bend right and I got in the way more than anything. He told me to be still and yanked the rest of my clothes off, then opened his pack and jerked out a blanket, wrapping it around me tightly.

"I’ll be right back," he promised as he dived out into whiteness. A moment later, he returned dragging a thick branch. I shuddered uncontrollably while he struggled with snow-crusted wood to build a fire. Finally, after what seemed like ages, a little lick of flame reluctantly surged upwards. He fed it until it was strong enough to last on its own, then grabbed out more blankets, stripped down to the waist, and wrapped himself and the other blankets around me near the fire.

"I…h-hate…c-c-cold," I confessed when I could manage words. He tucked arms more tightly around me and held me closer. I rambled on, trying to keep my mind off the scary numbness in hands and feet. "They t-tested me…m-my healing ab-bility. Every env-v-vironmental extreme they c-could think of. It w-was only the c-c-cold that p-put me d-d-down. C-colder than this. Ever s-since, I’ve had this psychological thing ab-b-bout it."

"Who were ‘they’?"

"Scientists…s-sorta. W-worked f-f-for this organization that w-wanted me in with them. I d-d-didn’t get a s-say in the m-matter."

He was silent for a moment. Then said, "Sounds like quite a story."

I laughed shakily, bitterly. "If you’re a S-stephen K-king fan, maybe."

"How’d ya get away?"

"I…" Suddenly I didn’t wanna talk about this anymore. It was still raw, even after all this time. "I just d-did," I finished lamely. He didn’t push, but only tucked the blankets more tightly around us.

Slowly, the heat of his body crept into mine. Hands and feet started to tingle, then to hurt in earnest. I knew from experience that my healing symbiont could cope with frostbite, but it was painful as all get out. I kept my swearing internal this time, figuring he’d heard enough of my foul mouth to last a lifetime.

"Storm’s dyin’ down," he observed some unknowable time later. I opened drowsy eyes and stared out at the snow. It was falling more lightly, and more or less straight down instead of sideways.

"Finally." It was growing dark. He unclasped a hand from around my waist to reach out and drop some more wood on the fire. I stared at the flames, mesmerized by their flickering dance.

"We’ll stay here. Go on in the mornin’, if you’re up to it."

"I’ll be up to it."

"We’ll see in the mornin’. How’re your hands?"

I flexed them experimentally. "Better. And the feet."

"Thank god for healing factors, huh?"

"Say that again." I was suddenly aware -- all at once, like I’d been away somewhere -- that I was stark nude and in the arms of a half-naked man. Now that the body heat was doing its work, his hands were loosely clasped across my stomach, his legs straddling me, and his chest pressed into my back. I couldn’t decide whether I should immediately extricate myself from this position or squirm around to make it even more personal.

So for the moment I just stayed still. "Logan, I’m not real good at ‘thanks’…"

"Don’t bother. You’d've done the same."

Well, I would’ve, but… "How do you know that?"

The shrug shifted his pectoral muscles against my back. "Just do. Kinda got a feel for who you are, this trip."

That was disturbing. I didn’t like people knowing me too well. "Maybe I’m a good actress."

"I bet you are. But I don’t think ya like acting, much. You’re too blunt an’ outspoken for that."

Doubly disturbing. I decided to turn the tables; show him I’d figured him out, too. "Yeah, well…even though you put out the tough guy front, you’re really a big soft heart."

"What?!"

"You are. This entire trip, you’ve been considerate and generous, without making a show of it. You helped me out with an ugly situation that wasn’t your concern."

"Aww, that’s just…"

"Considerate and generous," I finished for him. "Not what one expects from a guy who calls himself ‘Wolverine.’"

Defensively, he said, "Well you’re more caring than ya show."

"You’re respectful," I countered.

"You’re compassionate about people’s feelings."

"You’re unselfish about making others comfortable."

Silence for a moment as we ran out of jibes. His breath brushed past my ear.

"You’re beautiful," he said softly. I felt my heart give a little jump, and schooled it to calmness firmly.

"Not too many people say that," I answered quietly, holding very still. "Pretty, maybe…"

I felt his head shake. "No. Beautiful. Strong and independent and full o’ character."

I swallowed with some difficulty. "Yeah, well you’re fiercely alive and wildly attractive and determinedly individual." His skin was burning against mine. "…and warmer still for two to sleep nude together," whispered the memory voice in my head. Desperately, I forced a grin. "Beat that."

He chuckled smugly. "You’re butt-naked."

"That’s off topic," I told him, starting to squirm around to face him. "And besides, you had a hand in that, and I fell in a stream."

His arms loosened while I wrestled with blankets to turn, and then we were pressed tightly to each other, face to face, and I was finding it suspiciously hard to catch a breath while I looked into his eyes.

"So what’s a guy gotta do to get a kiss without havin’ a nightmare first?"

I considered with a thoughtful expression. "Hmm…be considerate and generous. Respectful. Unselfish. And save me from freezing to death."

"Is that all?" he asked in amusement.

"No," I said decisively. "He also has to be wrapped up tight in a bunch of blankets where he can’t possibly get away." And then I decided that there had been enough talking, so I closed the short distance between our lips and let actions carry the conversation.

The night was cold, but I barely felt it. It was indeed warmer for two people to sleep nude together.

***

Morning brought sunlight that shined with painful brightness off of the fresh-fallen snow. I dressed in spare clothes from my pack, cracking ice from the ones I’d worn the day before and tucking them away. We donned sunglasses to protect our eyes from the glare, fixed a sketchy meal from travel rations, and then started our way down the rest of the mountain. In daylight, with the new snow covering everything, it was really quite beautiful. Of course it was also annoying because we had to wade through hip-deep drifts, but I was in a considerably better mood today, and he seemed downright cheerful. We trudged down the slopes without undue falling, and a little after noon we finally reached the road and the alcove where we’d stashed the Jeep.

"My baby," I crooned to the faithful vehicle. "I’ve missed you." It started loyally, and soon we were zipping down the road…okay, crawling slowly down the road…with the heater blazing wonderfully scorching air over us. We hit the little town an hour later, treated ourselves to a hot meal and a phone call to Maggie, then gassed up the Jeep and headed for the border.

Logan had an arm resting casually on the back of the seat and kept lightly trailing a finger up and down my neck. "So what’re your plans from here on out?"

"What do you mean?"

"With the X-Men. Ya gonna stay on at the mansion?"

I watched the road slip by beneath us, musing. "Y’know, I’ve done a lot in my life. Saved some lives. Righted some wrongs. But what you people have done…it’s so far beyond my past it’s not even funny."

"We’ve just dealt with what’s been put in front of us. Same as anyone else’d do."

I shook my head. "No, it’s more than that. You guys have saved the whole damned world."

"Universe, actually." He grinned at my startled look, then amended. "Only a few times, though."

"See?" I scowled at pavement. "You’ve done enough to joke about it. That says a lot."

"But it don’t say whether or not you’re stayin’ on." Was I only imagining the note of tense hope in his voice?

"Every one of you has given up a piece of your life to make a difference in the world." I gazed out over that world as I spoke, watching the snow glint, the trees wave, the distant flight of a hardy bird of some sort. "And you really have made a difference, even if most of the people in it don’t know." I glanced at him hesitantly, feeling bare at the confession I was about to make. "I’d like to get a chance to do the same."

He grinned broadly and tweaked my ponytail. "So you’re stayin’."

"I’m staying." A brief pause. "If everyone’ll have me."

He outright laughed. "Darlin’, you’ll fit right in. Believe me, any outfit that’d take me in has more’n enough room for you."

That brought a wry twist to my mouth. "How do you know I’m not worse than you?" I challenged out of habit. "I’ll have you know that I can be a royal bitch, when I wanna."

"I’ve seen a trace or two o’ that temper. Mine’s worse."

"Oh yeah? A guy pissed me off once, and I left him singing soprano for the rest of his days."

"Think that’s somethin’? Once, a fella tried to take me out, an’ I…"

And so it went for the rest of the drive…companionable bickering that made me feel right at home.

At home. I hadn’t called any place "home" since Sensei had died.

I thought he’d rather approve of the one I chose.