Down to You: Parts 6-8

by Agora

Part 6: All Washed Up

"I know I have not been acquainted with you very long, but I feel that I must intimate something to you." The furry blue man stepped closer, as though he was going to tell a secret. "You look hilarious!"

Logan fumed, his leg thrashing out through the water to splash the audience gathering in front of him. "Laugh it up. You gonna throw the ball, or write it a sonnet, McCoy?"

He still wasn't sure how he had been talked into this. Never in a million and a half years would he ever have pictured himself in a dunk tank, much less voluntarily.

Okay, he was sure how it had happened. One word - Marie.

"I find it much more enjoyable to observe you, I'm afraid," the other man replied, shaking his head and very obviously amused by the whole situation.

"You're lucky I like you, Furball, or you'd be a dead man when I got out of here. I still might change my mind, however."

Henry McCoy had been at the school for a couple of months so far, and Logan could say he genuinely liked the guy. He tended on the wordy side, but other than that seemed like a straight up fellow. Right now, however, he really just wanted to choke the guy.

"Henry, if you're not going to take your turn, perhaps someone else could have a chance?" Elizabeth Braddock nudged her fellow teacher to the side, taking the softball from his hand in the process.

The next person in line stepped up. Great, it was one of Marie's friends. "Wolfman, you totally look like a wet cat." She laughed, pulling a camera out of her jacket pocket. "Ms. Braddock, will you take a photo for me while for the album while I toss the ball?"

"Of course, Jubilation," the Asian beauty nodded, pushing her lavender hair out of her face. Logan still had not accustomed himself to hearing the clipped upper-class British accent coming from the small Japanese body before him.

"No pictures," he growled as he watched Betsy exchange the softball for the camera.

"Dude, this is totally a Kodak moment. No dice," Jubilee smiled as she threw the ball towards the target beside him.

Before he could argue further, the flash was blinding him and he felt the seat beneath him give way again as he fell into the cold water.

Marie was going to pay.

Fifteen minutes later, his turn in the dunk tank was over. He was soaking wet, and he had a score to settle. He gazed across the lawn, seeking out his target. A predatory smile crept across his face as he located her. She was about 200 feet away in the picnic area that had been erected, sitting at a table with Bobby and some of their other young friends. His eyes narrowed, and he began to move swiftly. He was the hunter. She would pay.

He was almost upon her when a thick German voice called out to him. "Logan! Mein freund! I must have missed you in the dunking booth, ja?"

He stopped short as the group of young people in front of him turned. So much for the element of surprise. Apparently Marie had had the forethought to appoint a lookout. She looked over her shoulder, a barely controlled laugh tugging at the corners of her lips, her eyes dancing. Before he could say anything to her, the premonitory scent of brimstone filled his nostrils.

"I am sorry I wasn't there to see it."

No matter how many times he saw Kurt teleport, the change in the volume of his voice always threw him off. He couldn't help compare the blue, elf- like mutant to Grover from Sesame Street. "Near, far! Near, far!"

Not that he had ever watched Sesame Street, of course. It had been some of the younger kids.

"Logan, I don't know that your hair has ever looked quite so lovely." Marie had stood and was walking over, still barely containing her laughter. "I'll have to send some of Jubilee's pictures out to Scott. I know he'll be sorry that he missed the Spring Picnic." She stopped in front of him, reaching up to maneuver the stray pieces of hair that were standing every which way into a semblance of normality.

"There will be no pictures sent to Scott," Logan growled. That's the last thing that he needed. It was bad enough that he had become so domesticated. No need to add insult to injury.

"But this is the first Annual Spring Picnic he's ever missed! You can't do that to him! He'd be crushed!"

"This is the first Annual Spring Picnic, Marie. He's never had one to miss, so don't try that crap with me. No pictures!" He tried to steel his voice, knowing already that any of his arguments would fail miserably.

And then the pout came out. The secret weapon unleashed.

No point in arguing now. Better to hide, lick his wounds, and plot his revenge. He turned on his heels, walking swiftly up the hill to the mansion.

Part 7: Save the Last Dance

 The school year was drawing towards a close, and Logan couldn't say he really had ever been more grateful of anything in his entire life. He was going stir-crazy.

He couldn't remember ever having stayed in one place as long as he had been at Xavier's this time. Not that his memory was the most stellar on record, but still... He was eager to feel the road under his tires and to leave the hungry stares of expectation behind him, even if only for a little while.

He gazed at the computer monitor before him, his recently booked itinerary still on the screen. Next week, the day after graduation, he had a flight out of Newark. Next week, he'd be far from all of this that had become his life.

He heard a soft knock at his door. "Logan?" A timid, young voice reached out to him.

"Come in, Marie."

The door opened, and she walked in. Feet wrapped in black leather heels, long bare legs, and one of the smallest black dresses he'd ever seen in his life. Damn. Sure, it was Marie, but it was okay to look, wasn't it?

It was long past time to be on the road. Next week he'd be in Madripoor, and he'd be surrounded by women who looked like sin. Just a little longer...

He sighed and cleared his throat. "You look real pretty, darlin'. Ice Cube's gonna be the luckiest boy at that dance."

Her face lit up with a toothy grin, a blush coloring her face and trailing down her chest. "Thank you, sugar. I was hoping you could help me with my zipper?" she said, turning around and motioning with one arm behind her back towards the half-undone metal closure.

"Of course," Logan said, standing and walking over to help. Pulling the material together gently, he eased the zipper up, hiding a few more inches of her back. He stepped back, admiring the view. It wasn't often that he got to see this much of Marie uncovered.

"You sure all that skin is safe, darlin'?" he asked, moving back towards his desk chair.

"No," she smiled coyly, turning to face him again, "I'm quite sure it's lethal, but Bobby said he'd be wearing a tux, and he'd wear gloves for me, and as long as we're careful everything will be fine. Besides, I have a shawl," she added, as though that explained it all.

"I see." Sometimes a man had to know when not to argue. Besides, how many times did Marie get to go to prom?

She walked over and looked at the computer screen. "Madripoor?" She looked up and met his eyes. A smile was on her lips, but her eyes were wide with anxiety. Logan could smell a twinge of fear mixing with her perfume. "You couldn't find anywhere farther away?" she inquired with a forced laugh.

"I'm only going for a month or so, darlin'. It's just the other side of the world." He patted her hip absently, trying to reassure her. "I'll be back before you leave for college."

"Logan, I'm only going down the street." Due to her mutation, Marie had decided it might be easier if she continued to live at the Institute and attended the local community college.

"Well, I'll still be back. I promise."

"You and your promises." This time, the smile was genuine, and her eyes were shining.

Logan met the smile with one of his own, one of the secret ones that only Marie ever got to witness. "Better get running, darlin', or you'll be late," he warned, standing and turning her towards the door.

"Are you coming down at all?"

"Only if you save a dance for me."

"Always."

He watched her leave and sat back down, his eyes moving back to the screen. One week.

Part 8: Mercenary Heart

 Shadows hugged the narrow, dimly lit streets of Lowtown. Around him the sounds of the night danced, inviting him to join. A feral gleam shone in his eyes as Logan recognized an element that reminded him of him - this place was half human. This place was half beast.

He tugged at the black eyepatch covering his left eye. Even after a week, it still felt alien against his skin. It was more of an identifier than a disguise - his temporary employers had asked that he wear it so that their people could recognize him. So far, 'their people' had chosen not to make contact. So here he was again, standing in the alley of the Madripoor slums outside of a dive called the Princess Bar.

In retrospect, the eyepatch had been a good idea. The locals had begun referring to him as 'Patch' when he had failed to supply them with another name. He found it comforting, almost. Wolverine was a good guy with two good eyes. Patch was an unknown. The duplicity of his identity was a security blanket. At home he worked with the Scouts. Here, he just worked. Somehow it made sense.

Almost.

He glanced at his watch. Ten 'til ten. He wondered if tonight would be the night. Moving abruptly towards the door of the bar, he decided it was time to find out.

He waded through the crowd inside towards the same bar stool that he had been at for the past six days. As per usual, people moved out of his way, sensing an explosive they weren't willing to ignite. Unusually, the person who occupied 'his' stool was not one of these.

She was definitely not a sheep. Perhaps a wolf in sheep's clothing, but not a sheep.

She wore a long, red cheongsam slit high enough that if her legs hadn't been crossed she wouldn't have been covering anything below the waist. From the smooth line of her hip, he was willing to bet she wasn't wearing anything under that dress either. He followed the line of her curves up to a pair of full breasts that peeked out at him from a cutout in the silky material. Then a high neckline and a face that took his breath away. She was a quintessential Asian beauty, her long hair pulled into a complex arrangement on top of her head.

And she was staring directly at him.

Logan shifted, trying to surreptitiously adjust the sudden tightness in his pants. A long, slow smile spread across her face. She ashed a cigarette that he hadn't even noticed her holding until now.

"Mr. ...Patch, I presume?" she asked, her accented English tickling his ears.

"Yes."

"May I buy you a drink?" she asked, already holding up her hand for the bartender, all the while keeping her eyes locked with his.

"Sure. Whiskey. Neat."

She turned for the first time, repeating the order to the man behind the bar. A moment later she stood and turned, a matching pair of drinks in her hands. "I think we should go somewhere more private, don't you?" She began to move towards an empty table in the rear of the club.

Logan sighed and looked at his watch. Five 'til ten. Fuck. Whywhywhywhy? "Sorry, lady. I'm here on business tonight. But if you want to wait a little, I'd be happy to keep you company."

The beauty turned back to him, her eyes laughing. "Oh, come on. Don't you want to have a drink with me?" She paused and then closed the distance between them. Leaning close, she whispered in his ear. "Tyger, tyger burning bright..."

Logan's head snapped in recognition. This is whom he had been waiting for? Fucking Christ, he should do freelance work more often. A smile on his face, he put his hand on the small of her back, pushing her on towards the table. "In that case, how can I refuse?"

A moment later he was seated across from her. She placed his drink in front of him, taking a sip of her own. "My name is Tyger Tiger. You are the Wolverine?"

Logan grunted an assent.

"I've invited you here to serve as my bodyguard for a time. Madripoor is a very volatile place, where might is always right. You, my dear, have might."

Logan frowned, swirling the whiskey in front of him before taking a sip. "I told you in my email that I wasn't interested in anything illegal." He looked at the swirling amber liquid, his thoughts drifting back across the ocean to Westchester.

"In Madripoor, what is legal is dependent upon who you are and who is in power. I intend for that to be me. I will not ask you to do anything that you are uncomfortable with. All that I ask is that when they come for me, which they will, you prevent them from killing me." Tyger said this without qualm or hesitation, still holding his eye. "In return, I will pay you the fee that we agreed upon. You could find this very... rewarding."

Logan grunted again, his eyes closing and his breath coming quicker as a slim foot began massaging his still-hard cock.

He opened his eyes, desire reflecting brightly in the dim surroundings. "My terms, darlin'," he responded, his voice rough with need. "And when I'm gone, I'm gone."

Tyger lifted her drink, finishing it in a single gulp. "You have a deal," she smiled. "Now take me home."