To Catch a Fox

Authors Note/Disclaimer:
I do not own the X Men or the fictional universe they live in. This is a work of fan fiction. I’m just borrowing them for my own amusement and yours. I am making no money from this.

Please tell me what you think by posting a review or emailing me at ginevrasn@yahoo.com. Put AFF in the subject line if you do so, so I don’t delete it by mistake. I do not have a beta to proof for me, so don’t be shy.

More action and some introspection for our favorite Cajun. There will be one more chapter after this to wrap things up. Enjoy.

Warnings: More violence and a few bad words here and there.

Chapter Eleven: Sabertooth

The Wolverine ran until he could run no farther. Before him was a cliff that dropped off sharply into a fast flowing river. Beneath his feet was snow covered granite.

He picked out a likely spot, where his back was protected by a craggy boulder and he had a clear view of the tree line. It was damned cold here. Cold enough that he felt it in his bones, its icy chill creeping through his metal-laced skeleton. He was tempted to pull out a stogie and at least warm his lungs, but that would dull his senses.

He’d gotten the first lick in, but knowing his old rival, that was long healed. He settled for chewing on some jerky and waiting. The moon was bright enough that he’d have no problem seeing Sabertooth coming. It wouldn’t happen this time…Creed wasn’t going to get his claws on Winter Moon or her daughter. He’d see to that.

The wind had shifted and he could smell snow on it. He could also smell something else…

Sabertooth was close, probably just inside the tree line. He put aside the jerky and extended his claws, listening and watching for any sign of movement. He knew that Creed was just as comfortable in this sort of environment as he was.

He waited patiently for the other mutant to make his move, taking the opportunity to rest.

There it was…A small noise, the sound of twigs brushing against cloth…The crunching of snow. He followed Sabertooth’s progress with his ears rather than his eyes, continuing to scan the trees as if he hadn’t located his enemy.

He made a show of relaxing, retracting his claws. He crouched down as if to get something from his pack. In truth he was reaching the knife in his boot.

Sabertooth’s roar echoed off the boulders as he came charging out of the forest. His fangs were bared and his claws glinted in the moonlight. Wolverine’s hand flashed, sending the knife slicing through the air and into its target.

The knife hit Sabertooth squarely in the throat and he clutched at it. His momentum sent him lurching toward his enemy. The Wolverine rose, extending his claws and bracing himself for the impact. Sabertooth fell heavily against him and he drove his claws deep into the other man’s chest. The wounded mutant’s bulk knocked him to the ground.

The two men grappled with one another, rolling across the ice and snow. Sabertooth managed to pull the knife free, blood bubbling from the wound in his neck. Wolverine withdrew his claws one hand at a time and struck over and over again. Sabertooth retaliated with vicious slashes across Wolverine’s ribs. Already the wound in his neck was beginning to heal, though his breathing was wet and labored. The struggle carried the two snarling mutants closer and closer to the edge of the cliff.

The knife strike had bought Wolverine a slight advantage, but that advantage was shrinking by the second. Sabertooth recovered quickly and used his greater bulk to try to pin the smaller man to the unyielding stone beneath them. Sensing the danger, Wolverine twisted beneath him seeking leverage. With a sudden burst of strength, he threw the larger man off. Before Sabertooth could recover, he pressed his attack. His charge sent Sabertooth slipping backwards across icy granite.

Sabertooth immediately recognized his danger and grabbed for Wolverine, digging his claws into Wolverine’s flesh. The smaller mutant growled and drove his head into Sabertooth’s face. There was an audible crunch and a spray of blood in the air. Stunned, Sabertooth teetered on the edge of the cliff for a moment before toppling into the frigid water below. Wolverine watched the water close over his limp body and carry it away.

“Shit.” He’d never got a chance to find out if Creed was here on his own.

He stood staring at the rushing water for a long moment. It was too much to hope Creed was dead. The fucker was just too mean to die. With any luck the river would carry him far away. Far enough that he wouldn’t bother coming back. And if he did, the Wolverine would be waiting for him.

Now he pulled out the stogie he’d been wanting so badly. He let the pungent scent cloud the air, blotting out the scent of blood. He wondered how the kid was doing. Not many survived an attack by Sabertooth. Maybe Creed was slipping.

He snorted. Not much hope of that, either. He watched the smoke from his cigar float up into the sky. Clouds were gathering above him obscuring the moon’s brightness.

“Hmph.” Enough woolgathering. Snow was beginning to fall and he had a long cold walk ahead of him.

He retrieved his knife, cleaned it, and slipped it back in his boot. Then he grabbed his pack and started walking. Even before he passed the first rank of trees, snow had begun to cover the traces of his struggle with a fresh new blanket of white…


Remy watched Jean and Kit tend to the boy. Scott kept peering out at the moonlit snow outside, pacing back and forth from one small window to another. Remy’s nerves were jangling from all the tension pouring off his companions and he desperately wanted a smoke.

Instead he pulled out a deck of cards and began shuffling. The feel of the slick paper in his fingers and the familiar motion helped calm his nerves. He only set them down when Jean or Kit asked him for something.

The fox-boy was still unconscious and his wounds looked even worse in the lamplight. That he had managed to get as far as he did with those injuries spoke of an iron constitution. Shape shifters were usually pretty tough, he mused.

Still, he looked smaller and younger than Remy remembered from their brief encounter. Jean finished bandaging his wounds and Kit wrapped him in a heavy blanket. Kit’s face was pale and her lips were drawn in a thin line. He could feel the worry and guilt pouring off of her. She bit her lip and looked up at him.

“Could you carry him to Logan’s room? We can build up the fire in there to keep him warm.”

“Oui.” He tucked the cards back into his pocket and stood over the boy. He lifted Gray Mantle carefully, not wanting to cause him any pain or disturb his bandages. It was awkward carrying the bundle through the narrow hallway, but soon enough he was lowering the boy onto Logan’s bed. Kit was already tending to the fire in the wood stove.

“Do you want me to stay with him? You two must be tired.” Jean spoke from the doorway, one hand on the curtain.

“I’ll stay with him. He doesn’t know any of you well enough to trust you.” Kit spoke without looking at her, intent on her task.

“You wan’ Remy to stay?” He tucked the blankets around the boy.

“You go get some rest.” She walked over to him and rested a hand on his shoulder, rubbing gently. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Remy worry ‘bout all of us, ‘till Logan get back.”

“Go to sleep, Remy.” She gave him one more rub, and then sat on the bed beside the boy. She gave Remy a little smile, then shifted form. The fox curled up next to the boy, nudging her muzzle under the boy’s hand.

“Good night, cher.” He ruffled the fur at her shoulders and scratched an ear. The fox sighed and closed her eyes.

He turned to leave the room, finding Jean already gone. He walked the short distance to their room and kicked off his boots. He didn’t bother to do more than loosen his clothing before climbing into bed. Sleep was slow in coming and he stared at the ceiling for a long time before he finally fell asleep.

Morning dawned cold and clear. A fresh blanket of snow covered everything, including the sled they had left outside in their haste. Remy braved the cold to smoke one of his precious cigarettes and to escape the tense atmosphere in the cabin for a few moments.

He didn’t know much about this kind of country. Or snow for that matter. But, he hoped the fresh snowfall would cover the fox-boy’s trail and theirs. In case Logan failed to stop Sabertooth…or if the killer wasn’t acting alone.

He inhaled deeply, letting the smoke fill his lungs. Rogue and Jean were always nagging at him to quit. Saying the things would probably kill him. He let the smoke out slowly, watching it curl lazily through the air. Of all the dangers he faced as an X Man, these little things were probably the least of his worries.

He leaned against the porch column, admiring the wild beauty of the forest around them. The cabin and the sled were the only signs of human occupation in sight. Maybe he was starting to get used to the cold. Or maybe he was just stalling, not wanting to face Kit and the boy just yet. The boy’s color was better this morning and he’d probably wake soon.

It was one thing to pursue this…this thing with the girl here. But, facing one of her kind, even a half-grown boy brought forth thoughts he’d been trying to avoid. He never meant for this to be more than a little adventure. Jean and Scott thought he was using the girl. Maybe they were right. She wasn’t Rogue…She was…too young, too different, and too…Too tied to this forest and its “people.”

If things continued as they were going, one day his child would be one of these “people of the forest.” Perhaps the child would be like Kit, caught between two worlds. Or like himself, unable to settle down or commit to anyone or anything. Rogue and the X Men were the closest he’d come so far…

Remy’s attention was drawn by a flicker of movement in the trees to the left. He drew on his cigarette once more before stubbing it out on the post beside him. He continued to watch the trees, not sure if he had seen something or the sun on the snow had dazzled his eyes.

There it was again...A flash of white fur, closer this time. He relaxed slightly. Not Sabertooth or Logan then. After a moment, the creature showed itself, stepping out of the trees. It stood still, tail and ears raised, eyes fixed on Remy.

He straightened, but didn’t move. This was one of Kit’s “people of forest.” He raised his hands slowly, showing he meant no harm.

“You gon’ come say hello, mon ami?” He called softly and the fox’s ears twitched. He beckoned with one hand. The fox moved, crossing the clearing to sniff at the snow covered sled curiously.

“De boy inside, wit’ us.” He continued to speak softly, not knowing if the creature could understand him. The fox looked up at him and whined. Then it left the sled and walked toward him slowly. It stopped at the foot of the small flight of steps that led up to the porch and looked up at him.

Then it shifted, changing in the span of a few heartbeats into a woman. Remy gave a start of recognition. The family resemblance was unmistakable. She didn’t speak; her steady gaze seemed to be measuring him. He smiled and offered his hand to cover the slight nervousness he felt.

“Winter Moon?” She looked at his hand for a moment before taking it, allowing him to guide her up the steps.

“Yes.” She waited patiently as he opened the door for her, ushering her inside.

“We have a guest, mes amis.” He announced as he shut the door behind them.

Jean and Scott were in the process of cleaning up the remains of their breakfast. They turned, surprised to see Remy’s companion.

“Who is she?” Scott tossed the dishtowel aside. Jean let the mug she was washing slip back into the sudsy water.

“I am Winter Moon. I wish to see the children.”

“Dey safe. Dey in de back. Remy show you.” He waved toward the tunnel and the rooms beyond.

“I know the way.” She strode past Jean and Scott and into the tunnel.

“O’ course she do…” Remy grumbled as he moved to follow.

“Maybe you should let them talk alone.” Jean moved between him and the hallway.

“Maybe you right.” He could feel Kit’s reaction from here. Surprise, resentment, anger, worry, hope…Jean had a point.

“Gon’ go for a walk. Maybe get some more wood.” He gestured at the stack of firewood that had shrunk considerably during the night. He grabbed the axe from its place by the door on his way out.

“Should I bother telling him to be careful?” Scott asked, picking the dishtowel back up.

“No.” Jean sighed and reached back into the dishwater to retrieve the runaway mug.


Maybe there was something to be said for this big empty forest. It certainly made it easier to distance himself from the emotional chaos brewing inside the cabin. He shouldered the axe and wandered the edges of the clearing, looking for deadfall. After a few moments he found a good sized tree that Logan had already begun to dismember. He set to work with the axe, letting his mind roam as his muscles worked.

He almost hoped the mother would leave before he returned.

He was angry at her for leaving Kit so unprepared. He was angry at himself for having toyed with the girl’s affections. He was angry at Jean and especially Scott for judging him. He was angry most of all because they were right.

He attacked the tree savagely, the sound of metal cleaving wood ringing through the trees. He cursed to himself under his breath.

They were right. He was using the girl. It was he who wanted a child, not Kit. He and her “family.” He would go home to Rogue and allow his farce of a marriage to Belle to continue. Would she hate him when the child came and she was left alone to care for it?

He stopped to lean on the axe and rest for a moment. Sweat was beading on his forehead and he was tempted to open his parka. He watched his breath steam as he panted.

“Merde.”

How could he tell the mother that he would leave? That he would never be more than a visitor and a bank account to her daughter and grandchild? Would she ask?

Kit…

He sighed and picked up the axe again. This time he swung with more care, setting the lengths of wood up to split them neatly. This he’d done before, only it was in the much milder climate of his home in Louisiana.

Kit never spoke of her feelings for him…But, he knew them anyway. She would be hurt when he left in the spring. No matter that she knew it was coming. She was young and this was all new to her.

What if he hadn’t flirted with her, hadn’t tricked her into that first kiss? Would this still have happened? Would she have abandoned them for one of those “bachelors?” The thought brought up a vague sense of unease.

The axe rose and fell in time with his questions.

Would she have pursued him instead? Or would it have been Logan? That thought sparked fresh anger. He was surprised at his own reaction. It wasn’t like him to feel so possessive about a woman. Better him than Logan. At least for her…

He grunted with effort as he swung the axe harder, not liking the direction of his thoughts. He was so wrapped up in his musings that he failed to sense someone approaching him.

“Nice ta see ya doin’ some real work for a change there, Gumbo.” Logan rested against a tree, watching.

Remy whirled, axe poised to strike.

“Whoa there…Didn’t mean ta startle ya.” Logan raised one hand.

“Sorry, homme. Was tinkin’ hard.”

“Yer lucky it’s me, bub. Creed coulda ripped yer kidneys out before ya even blinked.”

The Cajun lowered the axe to the ground.

“You take care o’ him?”

“Don’t think we’ll see him again fer a while. But, I wouldn’t count him dead yet.”

Remy began to gather an armful of wood. Logan did the same.

“Winter Moon inside wit’ Kit.”

“So that’s why yer hidin’ out here.”

“Remy don’ hide. We need de wood.” Remy concentrated on balancing the load of wood as he reached for the axe.

“Hmph.” Logan glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “How’s the kid?”

“He lookin’ a little better dis morning. But, he don’ wake up yet.”

“Damned lucky.”

“Oui.”

When they entered the cabin they found Kit and her mother sitting at the table sipping coffee and talking quietly. Scott and Jean were nowhere in sight. Remy was relieved to find Kit’s mind relatively calm and quiet.

“Logan! You are safe.” Winter Moon’s smile was warm as she rose and waited for him to add his load of firewood to the pile and drop his pack.

“Was more worried about you and yer daughter here.” He smiled as the woman embraced him.

“You must tell me of this man-monster that Grey Mantle speaks of.”

“De boy is awake?” Remy dropped his load next to Logan’s and turned to Kit.

“He woke up a little while ago. Jean and Scott are in the back clearing out that other room. We put him in your room, Logan. We’ll move him in a little bit.”

“Ain’t gotta move him on account of me.”

“There is blood…Are you hurt?” Winter Moon drew back in concern, fingers tracing the rents in the fabric of his parka.

“Naw. I heal fast.” The woman inhaled sharply, face close to his chest.

“This is the man-beast’s scent?”

“Yeah. Calls himself Sabertooth. Ya ever run across him, ya run.” Logan shed his parka, letting Winter Moon take it from him. Instead of hanging it up on one of the pegs near the door, she handed it to Kit. Kit looked at her then inhaled, nostrils flaring.

“You will not forget this scent.”

“I have it.” Kit rose and hung the parka up in its usual place.

“What dis all ‘bout?” Remy watched the little exchange curiously as he shed his parka and joined Kit at the table.

“If he returns, we will know him.” Winter Moon poured another mug of coffee. She offered it to Logan, and then sat back down.

“If he returns, he’ll die.” Kit sipped at her mug.

“He ain’t that easy ta kill.” Logan scowled as he took the mug and sat at the table beside Winter Moon.

“Then tell us of this man-beast…” Winter Moon nodded to Logan.

Logan took a large swallow of the hot coffee then began to tell them about his battle with Sabertooth…