A New Life
folder
X-Men: (All Movies) › Slash - Male/Male › Charles/Erik
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
21
Views:
3,516
Reviews:
5
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
X-Men: (All Movies) › Slash - Male/Male › Charles/Erik
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
21
Views:
3,516
Reviews:
5
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own any of the X-Men movies, or any of the characters from them. I make no money from from the writing of this story.
Chapter 17
Chapter 17
It was almost nightfall when Logan woke up. He realized he was lying naked in the cold snow when he regained consciousness, but he didn’t move before everything had cleared somewhat. He winked and tried to focus his eyes. Now he could see.
He was very naked, and he was lying in the snow, but that was all he knew. He didn’t know where he was, or how he had gotten there. He saw wood; huge trees and snow, as far as his eyes could see.
But he was sure of one thing; he couldn’t have been unconscious for long, because his heart was still pounding like he had run for his life only a couple of minutes earlier.
Logan heard a faint sound; it was the sound of a twig breaking, and he tensed up at once, all his senses on full stretch. A moment later he could see a frightened deer take off, about 100 yards away. The deer had to be responsible for the sound, because there was no one else around, but it surprised Logan that he had heard the sound so clearly, as though the twig had broken right under his nose.
Logan got up to his knees. When he tried to focus and remember what had happened, he soon realized he couldn’t remember anything. He didn’t even know who he was. He remembered his first name – Logan – but that was all. He didn’t know how old he was, where he came from, where he was going, or why he was here.
That shocked deeply, and his heart started racing again. And something else happened too. Six shining blades, three from each hand, were extracted from his knuckles, bursting through the skin.
Logan gave out a terrified, inhuman cry, and bounced to his feet in a micro-second. The blades were still there when he opened his eyes again, sharp, shining and just as lethal as swords.
Shocked, still not quite accepting the truth, Logwistwisted his hands, trying to see the blades from a different angle. Yes, they were coming out between his knuckles, and had obviously been concealed inside his forearm before they came out. He touched the sharp edge of one blade with his index finger, and the metal immediately pierced his skin.
Logan gave out a pained cry, just in time to watch the small wound heal itself within a few seconds.
No. This couldn’t be real. Whatever it was, it was a trick. It had to be. This wasn’t possible. No. Never. This was a dream. A bad fucking dream, and all he could do was waiting to wake up.
But this was no dream, and Logan had nothing to wake up from. There was only he, a snowy, empty wood, and a whole lot of unanswered questions.
Suddenly the blades were retracted again, and went back into his forearm, the same way they had come out. It didn’t really hurt – not like people imagine it would hurt to get three one-foot knives driven into your arm – but it felt more like a burn, like when you pull your hand too fast over a piece of fabric. It was like they had a place in there. Like they were meant to go in and out. The skin of his knuckles healed almost immediately, and all evidence of the blades’ existence were gone.
“You gotta be kiddin’…” Logan murmured to himself, regarding his hands. “This ain’t true… It can’t be.”
He discovered that the cold bothered him, but not as much as it should do. He was naked, after all, and it was very cold where he was. He should be freezing to death. But yet he wasn’t. Clothes had been nice, but he could function without them.
Another thing that Logan noticed when the primary shock had faded, was that he was very hungry. His stomach practically screamed for food, and it started to get painful. He needed to eat. Now.
When a rabbit leaped past him, a small distance away, Logan couldn’t control himself, but lunged at the small animal and caught it with reflexes he didn’t think he possessed. He seized the rabbit, and wrung its head, killing it instantly.
Meat. That was all he craved. Meat.
Ferociously, like a feral caveman, he tore away the rabbit’s fur, and sank his teeth into the warm tender flesh, relishing the hot, spicy taste of blood, filling his insides. He ate hungrily, until there was nothing left of the rabbit except bones and some tendons, and then he threw the carcass away. He had had his way with it, and his hunger was sated.
Now he was feeling much better. The meat strengthened him, and he could barely feel the cold anymore. His hands and face were smeared with the rabbit’s blood, and he figured he must look terrible. But since there was no one here to see it, it didn’t really matter. All that mattered was to get away from here, and to get his memories back.
Logan sank back down to his knees, closing his eyes, desperately trying to remember something.
//He was strapped up, unable to move his limbs, and he was being lowered into some kind of strange, black liquid. He was unable to move, but he could still see, and he could *feel*. The thick, black oil-like substance was now surrounding him completely, smothering him, seeping inside him through every poor, and he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t do anything, only…//
Logan wore up from the awful memory, and unsheathed his “claws” again. That’s what they were. Claws. Claws for an animal.
He was hyperventilating, and his pulse was very high. By now Logan was sure he was being chased, even though there was no one around. He was as sure of it as a predator that can smell a prey. Someone – or something – was after him.
He started to run.
He ran until he was forced to stop and catch his breath, and suddenly he felt nauseous. He leaned against a massive pine tree for support, and fought not to throw up the remains of the rabbits in his stomach. What was happening to him, and why? How did he end up here? And who was after him?
Suddenly another memory flashes through his mind. He saw a little boy; maybe twelve years old, with dark hair, white skin and the bluest eyes he had ever seen. The child laughed warmly and reached forward to give him a hug.
Logan jerked and the image of the child faded from his mind. He couldn’t remember the boy’s name, but he was sure he knew him. Or at least he had *known* him in the past. Before this happened.
Suddenly Logan noticed that something was hanging around his neck. He checked to see what it was, and discovered that it was a metallic dog tag with the inscription “Wolverine” followed by a multi-digit number.
Wolverine, he thought. That’s me. I’m Wolverine. I’m the Wolverine.
For a split second the thought about tearing the dog tag away and getting rid of it, but then he changed his mind. It was the only link to his life before he woke up naked in the snow a couple of hours ago, and he wasn’t going to lose it.
Logan the Wolverine started running again.
TBC
It was almost nightfall when Logan woke up. He realized he was lying naked in the cold snow when he regained consciousness, but he didn’t move before everything had cleared somewhat. He winked and tried to focus his eyes. Now he could see.
He was very naked, and he was lying in the snow, but that was all he knew. He didn’t know where he was, or how he had gotten there. He saw wood; huge trees and snow, as far as his eyes could see.
But he was sure of one thing; he couldn’t have been unconscious for long, because his heart was still pounding like he had run for his life only a couple of minutes earlier.
Logan heard a faint sound; it was the sound of a twig breaking, and he tensed up at once, all his senses on full stretch. A moment later he could see a frightened deer take off, about 100 yards away. The deer had to be responsible for the sound, because there was no one else around, but it surprised Logan that he had heard the sound so clearly, as though the twig had broken right under his nose.
Logan got up to his knees. When he tried to focus and remember what had happened, he soon realized he couldn’t remember anything. He didn’t even know who he was. He remembered his first name – Logan – but that was all. He didn’t know how old he was, where he came from, where he was going, or why he was here.
That shocked deeply, and his heart started racing again. And something else happened too. Six shining blades, three from each hand, were extracted from his knuckles, bursting through the skin.
Logan gave out a terrified, inhuman cry, and bounced to his feet in a micro-second. The blades were still there when he opened his eyes again, sharp, shining and just as lethal as swords.
Shocked, still not quite accepting the truth, Logwistwisted his hands, trying to see the blades from a different angle. Yes, they were coming out between his knuckles, and had obviously been concealed inside his forearm before they came out. He touched the sharp edge of one blade with his index finger, and the metal immediately pierced his skin.
Logan gave out a pained cry, just in time to watch the small wound heal itself within a few seconds.
No. This couldn’t be real. Whatever it was, it was a trick. It had to be. This wasn’t possible. No. Never. This was a dream. A bad fucking dream, and all he could do was waiting to wake up.
But this was no dream, and Logan had nothing to wake up from. There was only he, a snowy, empty wood, and a whole lot of unanswered questions.
Suddenly the blades were retracted again, and went back into his forearm, the same way they had come out. It didn’t really hurt – not like people imagine it would hurt to get three one-foot knives driven into your arm – but it felt more like a burn, like when you pull your hand too fast over a piece of fabric. It was like they had a place in there. Like they were meant to go in and out. The skin of his knuckles healed almost immediately, and all evidence of the blades’ existence were gone.
“You gotta be kiddin’…” Logan murmured to himself, regarding his hands. “This ain’t true… It can’t be.”
He discovered that the cold bothered him, but not as much as it should do. He was naked, after all, and it was very cold where he was. He should be freezing to death. But yet he wasn’t. Clothes had been nice, but he could function without them.
Another thing that Logan noticed when the primary shock had faded, was that he was very hungry. His stomach practically screamed for food, and it started to get painful. He needed to eat. Now.
When a rabbit leaped past him, a small distance away, Logan couldn’t control himself, but lunged at the small animal and caught it with reflexes he didn’t think he possessed. He seized the rabbit, and wrung its head, killing it instantly.
Meat. That was all he craved. Meat.
Ferociously, like a feral caveman, he tore away the rabbit’s fur, and sank his teeth into the warm tender flesh, relishing the hot, spicy taste of blood, filling his insides. He ate hungrily, until there was nothing left of the rabbit except bones and some tendons, and then he threw the carcass away. He had had his way with it, and his hunger was sated.
Now he was feeling much better. The meat strengthened him, and he could barely feel the cold anymore. His hands and face were smeared with the rabbit’s blood, and he figured he must look terrible. But since there was no one here to see it, it didn’t really matter. All that mattered was to get away from here, and to get his memories back.
Logan sank back down to his knees, closing his eyes, desperately trying to remember something.
//He was strapped up, unable to move his limbs, and he was being lowered into some kind of strange, black liquid. He was unable to move, but he could still see, and he could *feel*. The thick, black oil-like substance was now surrounding him completely, smothering him, seeping inside him through every poor, and he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t do anything, only…//
Logan wore up from the awful memory, and unsheathed his “claws” again. That’s what they were. Claws. Claws for an animal.
He was hyperventilating, and his pulse was very high. By now Logan was sure he was being chased, even though there was no one around. He was as sure of it as a predator that can smell a prey. Someone – or something – was after him.
He started to run.
He ran until he was forced to stop and catch his breath, and suddenly he felt nauseous. He leaned against a massive pine tree for support, and fought not to throw up the remains of the rabbits in his stomach. What was happening to him, and why? How did he end up here? And who was after him?
Suddenly another memory flashes through his mind. He saw a little boy; maybe twelve years old, with dark hair, white skin and the bluest eyes he had ever seen. The child laughed warmly and reached forward to give him a hug.
Logan jerked and the image of the child faded from his mind. He couldn’t remember the boy’s name, but he was sure he knew him. Or at least he had *known* him in the past. Before this happened.
Suddenly Logan noticed that something was hanging around his neck. He checked to see what it was, and discovered that it was a metallic dog tag with the inscription “Wolverine” followed by a multi-digit number.
Wolverine, he thought. That’s me. I’m Wolverine. I’m the Wolverine.
For a split second the thought about tearing the dog tag away and getting rid of it, but then he changed his mind. It was the only link to his life before he woke up naked in the snow a couple of hours ago, and he wasn’t going to lose it.
Logan the Wolverine started running again.
TBC