mhalachai | FIC: Magnolia (4/5) (AB/X-Men) (Reply)

Magnolia (4/5)
An Anita Blake/X-Men crossover story by

Disclaimer: Laurell K. Hamilton owns all things Anita Blake. Marvel and 20th Century Fox own all things X-Men. I am but borrowing the characters for a brief time and shall return them intact at the end.
Summary: Picking up strays wasn't Logan's thing, especially after what happened up in Alberta. So why is he so intent on that strange woman next to him at the bar? (Set just after the first X-men movie, and about a half a year after Incubus Dreams. No Danse Macabre spoilers.)
Rating: R for adult content in chapter 3.
Words: 3,427

Part One ~~ Part Two ~~ Part Three

~~*~~

Logan slept better than he had in years, had a huge breakfast at the greasy spoon diner, then sat drinking coffee for over an hour while he stared out the window. Two more days until he could leave town.

Actually, I could leave now and no one would know the difference.

Logan drained the last of his coffee and headed to the till. The tired-looking waitress took his money with grimace in place of a smile. She smelled faintly of desperation and stale cigarettes. The air rose up around Logan, almost choking, and he left as quickly as he could.

I could leave town now, and no one would know, except me.

But I said I'd do something, and I'll be damned if I don't keep my word.

Sucking in the outside air, humid and sweet with growing things, Logan stood on the sidewalk for a few minutes before turning down the street. The town seemed different in day light; more shabby, less happy. Shaking his head, Logan kept walking.

He'd planned to go back to the motel, maybe watch some TV, but the thought of facing that room where everything still smelled like Anita and sex drove him onwards. Everything he'd done had made sense last night, but now in the warm light of day, things were different.

It had been a long time since he'd thought so much about a one-night stand. It had been hurried and it had been a little rough and it had been good. But it was more than the sex. Logan kept thinking about Anita in the woods, chasing those vampires with nothing more than a gun and a cross. She'd moved through the forest like a cat, totally at home in the darkness.

She was dangerous. It wasn't the gun or her willingness to use it; her threat came from a deeper place. It wasn't the sex-sucking mutant power, or anything Logan could name. A dangerous potential, rather than a direct threat.

Anita wasn't like Marie, Logan decided after a lot of walking and thinking. Marie wasn't dangerous. Not yet. She hadn't lost that innocence yet, no matter what Magneto had done to her on Liberty Island.

After a few minutes, Logan walked past a gas station. He veered across the pavement, empty of cars, and pushed open the screen door to the shop. A bored-looking teenager glanced over at Logan, then went back to his car magazine.

Logan grabbed a newspaper as well as the local rag, and tossed them on the counter in front of the kid. "Pack of smokes," he said shortly.

The boy leaned back in his chair. "Kind?"

Logan pointed at random. The kid grabbed the cigarettes and took Logan's money, rousing himself enough to ask if Logan wanted a bag. The look on Logan's face shut the kid up.

Back outside, Logan tucked the papers under his arm and crumpled the cellophane off the box of smokes. Sucking back the thick, tarry smoke of the first cigarette into his lungs made him feel a hell of a lot better, burning away the confusion in his mind.

~*~

The newspaper coverage of the thing at Liberty Island had almost tapered off. The fact that Magneto was imprisoned for the attack had gone a long way to reassuring the public that the danger was minimized. Logan wasn't so sure. Mystique was still out there. More importantly, there were still people who were convinced that mutants and normals couldn't live side by side. It was even worse than the anti-vampire and anti-lycanthrope factions; at least the vampires had good press agents.

If anyone had asked Logan why things were different, he'd have said it was because him, and people like him, were born with the mutant gene. With vampires and lycanthropes, anyone could choose to be one, or be attacked, but the mutant thing was a total genetic crapshoot.

Logan closed the newspaper on an editorial, calling for prenatal screening for the mutant gene. All he'd ever wanted was to be left the fuck alone.

He lit another cigarette. It was probably lunch time, but he wasn't hungry, not really. He'd gone hungry before. Living in a fleabag motel, eating meals at a cheap diner, wasn't the worst way to live, not by a long shot.

He smoked the cigarette down until the heat was burning into his fingers, and he stubbed the butt out in the overflowing ashtray. Screw this reading shit. He still had One-Eye's bike. He was going for a ride.

~*~

Logan rode hard, opening the bike up on the freeways, avoiding the speed traps. It was past dark when he pulled back the bike back into the stall at the motel.

Intent on heading back to the bar and drinking the night away, Logan cut through the woods toward the bar, wrinkling his nose at the acidic smell of old urine on the various trees, from guys too drunk to find the can. He was almost to the road when a familiar scent rode up over the stench.

He slowed but didn't stop, didn't let his prey know it had been spotted. He veered toward one of the tree, his hands dropping to his belt buckle, as if he was about to add to the stench out behind the bar. Once he was sure his hands were safely hidden, his claws shot out of his hands.

Quick as a flash, Logan ducked behind the tree, running silently over the leaves. The prey he was tracking never had a chance. With a shout, Logan flung himself out of the trees, tackling the man to the ground. He righted himself enough to press his claws against the man's whimpering throat.

"What're you doing here?" Logan growled, turning his claws in the air so they caught the light. Even though the metal points were an inch above skin, the man on the ground started blubbering.

This was pathetic. Logan retracted the claws on one hand to grab the man's shirt and haul him to his feet. "Please don't kill me," the man whined pathetically. "You should only threaten to kill a man once."

Logan gave the man a shake, hard enough to set his teeth rattling. "And you should stop following me around," he ground out. The stench in the air was getting to Logan, so he dragged the man away from the bar.

"So why were you after me?" Logan asked, shoving the man away. He felt a bit better after manhandling someone. "Andy--"

"Amos," the man mumbled.

"Whatever, bud." Logan retracted his other handful of claws and leaned against a tree. "What do you want?

Amos rubbed at his throat for a few minutes, very careful not to look up at Logan. "That... uh, that lady?"

He must have meant Anita. "She ain't here."

"I know."

Logan narrowed his eyes. "What does that mean?"

Amos hunched over. "I don't know, man, I don't know, it's only that I heard them talking, last night, about some kinda party for her, that them vamps were gonna have for her tonight."

In two steps, Logan was back in front of the man. "And you didn't tell her last night when she saved your life?"

"I didn't know it was her, man, how could I know that?" Amos babbled, watery grey eyes wide in panic. "Not 'til she got me out of the drunk tank, then she was gone before I could say anything. I'da told her, right? 'Cause she was nice and all that."

Logan looked around. The dark pressed in on the trees, a typical Mississippi night. The vampires had been awake since sunset, almost an hour previous. If he knew anything about vampires, it was that they could never wait for a good time. "When was this party going to start?"

"I don't know, I just don't know."

They continued on that track for some time, Amos protesting he didn't know a thing, except for one small detail, then another, then another. Logan only had to threaten him with a little bit of decapitation until he had all the information.

Once he had an idea of what was going on, Logan left Amos babbling on the forest floor and high-tailed it to his motorcycle. Amos had the vaguest idea where the vampires' hideout was, and Logan would have to hurry if he wanted to check out all the places along that road.

He probably should have been wondering why he was so intent on helping Anita. They'd done their business the previous night. He'd saved her life from the vampires, then fed that sex-power-thingy of hers. He sure as hell didn't owe her a thing. If anything, she owed him.

Still. He hopped on the motorbike and sped off into the black.

~~~~~

Two empty haunts down, an unknown handful to go. Logan was so hyped up for a fight with vampire or whatever, he had a hard time steering the bike straight. Anytime now, he could be walking into a fight, with one mutant against a whole pack of mean, nasty vampires--

A spot of white moving down the road snapped Logan out of his thoughts. It was a person, walking slowly along the edge of the road. Logan hit the brakes and revved the bike down, stopping about ten feet away.

It was Anita, still in one piece. Her feet were bare and scratched, and her sleeveless dark dress was covered with darker spots. The blood spray continued up onto her white skin. It couldn't have been her blood; it didn't smell fresh, and Logan couldn't smell any wounds. He let out a breath, the adrenaline rush in his body starting to seep away.

Anita raised one hand to block the glare from the motorcycle light. "Who's there?" she demanded. Logan killed the bike's engine. In the resulting silence, he could hear Anita's heartbeat racing, a faint whisper in the night.

"It's Logan," he said, turning off the light. He didn't get off the bike. "Are you okay?"

Anita took a step back. "Logan?" she said. "What the fuck are you doing out here?"

"Your little buddy from last night told me there might be a problem," Logan said, wishing he had more to go on. Probably the only thing that would have sounded worse would be I'm here to rescue you.

Anita dropped her hand. "There's no problem, not any more," she said. She didn't walk any closer. "Why did you come?"

"I told you, I--"

"No, why are you here?" she said. For the first time, her voice crackled a little. Logan was struck with how tiny and frail she looked, in her sleek black cocktail dress, with her hair flying loose around. What had she done to get so much blood over herself?

Through the still air, a chill breeze prickled over his skin. It felt a little bit like the creepy magic he associated with vampires, only the smell was more like fresh dirt than snakes. "Are you doing that?" Logan asked.

Anita wrapped her arms around her waist, hugging herself. "Doing what?" she asked shakily.

The chill in the air flattened out, but still there on the edge of his mind. "Are we going back in there?" he asked, pointing his head back in the direction she had come.

"Why would we go back?"

"Are there things that need killing?"

Anita looked at him, her dark eyes too large in her pale face. After a long minute, she said, "Not anymore."

She started walking again down the road. Logan watched her progress, slow and probably painful on her bare feet, until she was nearly abreast to the motorcycle. "Where's your car?" he had to ask.

"They punctured two of the tires," Anita said. Logan noticed that her fist clenched tight in the fabric of her dress as she spoke. "When they thought I'd try to run."

"What were they planning on doing to you?"

Anita didn't answer. She kept putting one foot in front of the other, one step at a time back to town.

Logan sighed. "Look, get on the bike."

"No." Another step.

"Get on the fucking bike, I'll give you a ride back to town."

"I'm fine!" she exclaimed. "I don't need your help!"

"Did you leave any of them alive?" Logan asked. If possible, Anita went even paler. "Is that a yes or a no?"

Anita stopped. "I didn't kill many of them, if that's what you think."

Logan shrugged. "If there's vampires in these woods who are pissed at you, don't you think we should go?"

He hated trying to reason with people, he did it so badly and it would be so much easier to just toss her over the back of the bike and drive off.

Easier yet, he could just leave her here.

Anita looked into the shadowed forest. "They shouldn't be coming after me."

"Since when do vampires do what they're supposed to do?" He started the motorcycle. "Let's go."

Anita hesitated for another moment before she took careful steps across the cracked pavement to the bike. It was awkward for her to climb on the back in the cocktail dress, and Logan could feel the tension in her hands when she had to touch his back to help her balance.

Once she was on, Logan shrugged out of his leather jacket and passed it back to her. "Here."

She took the coat from his hand and pulled it on. As she lifted her arm, Logan saw darkening bruises on the inside of her arm, under the blood. Hell, regardless of what she had said, he wanted to go find those vamps and slice them up, just a little.

He couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. This wasn't his fight. Since when did he want to get involved in a mess with vampires?

"Where's your hotel?" he asked as he kicked the bike into gear. "And hold on, it ain't no fun if you fall off the back."

Anita's hands rested on his waist, cold through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. "Back in Utica," she said.

"You think you should go back there?" Logan called over his shoulder. "If they might be coming for you?"

Anita was silent. As the bike went faster, she slid her arms around his waist and held him tight.

Logan took her silence for agreement. He pushed the bike harder than usual, remembering the curves in the road from the drive out. When he reached the fork in the road, he turned the bike in the direction of his motel.

If vampires were after Anita, they'd likely go to her hotel, Logan told himself. They'd probably taken her shoes so she couldn't run. Had they wanted to hunt her? It didn't make much sense. Logan had only known Anita for a day or two, and he'd already figured out that underestimating Anita like that would be a stupid and potentially lethal idea. If these vamps had known she was coming, they must have figured that out about her, right?

Then again, vampires didn't think like normal humans, and Logan should probably remember that if he was going to get involved in Anita's fights.

No, not 'fights', he told himself. This is a one-time thing. I'm not getting involved in her life.

After a few more minutes of driving, Logan pulled the motorcycle up behind the motel and cut the engine. Anita didn't make any move to loose her hold on Logan's waist.

"We're here," he told her. "You can let go now."

"Oh." Anita jerked back and almost fell off the back of the bike. "Right."

Logan toed down the kickstand and let the bike lean slightly to the side. "You going to be okay to walk?" he asked, nodding down at Anita's feet.

"I guess." Anita looked around. "Wait, why are we at your place?"

Logan stood and lifted his leg over the bike, managing to get off without kicking Anita. "The vampires who are after you probably won't think to look here." Anita fixed him with a sulky glare. "Unless you want to go back to your hotel."

Anita looked off into the darkness behind the motel. A breeze ruffled the leaves, blowing a strand of hair across Anita's face, momentarily hiding the dried spray of blood on her cheek. Anita shook her head. "I... You might be right."

Logan held out his hand. "Come on."

Awkwardly, Anita climbed off the motorcycle. She flashed a lot of leg as she did so, her dress sliding up to show darkening marks on her thigh.

Logan clenched his teeth and looked away. It wasn't any if his business what had happened to her, not unless she wanted to talk about it.

He didn't trust himself to speak as he stomped up the steps to his motel and through the door. He knew Anita was behind him, but he didn't look at her. He grabbed his lighter off the desk as Anita closed and locked the door. A quick rasp of the flint over steel, then the lighter spat out a reassuring steady flame.

The sound of the lighter didn't mask Anita's shaky breathing. She smelled like other people's blood and danger and just the tiniest hint of fear, and it made Logan want to hurt something and he didn't know why. Was it that they'd had sex? He'd never stuck around long enough in the last fifteen years to know how he'd react to a woman the day after.

Logan finally turned around. Anita stood in the centre of the room, small and frail and covered in blood. In the harsh motel lights, she looked tinier than before, wrapped in Logan's leather riding jacket with its too-long sleeves hiding her hands.

When she realized he was looking at her, she blinked, and the haunted expression on her face vanished. "I don't think they'll be coming for me."

"Maybe not," Logan said. He shrugged, flicking his lighter closed. "Maybe they will."

"Maybe." Anita pushed her hair from her face. "We should have a plan of attack, then."

Logan leaned against the desk. "You sure you don't want to have a shower?"

Anita looked down at her ruined dress. "This can wait," she said, strength coming back into her voice. "We need to figure out what to do in case Victor's people come looking for me. My Browning's in my jeep, and they took my knife, and--"

"I can stop anything that comes through that door," Logan interrupted.

Anita stared at him with wide eyes. "Right," she said faintly. Then she shook her head. "I can't shower, I haven't got a change of clothes here."

Logan dropped the lighter onto the desk and went over to his suitcase. "You going to be okay?" he asked when he was safely facing away from Anita. He usually didn't ask that kind of question; wasn't the guy who gave a damn. It had been Marie who'd changed him, had made him give a damn about fragile dark-haired girls.

"Yes," Anita said softly. Some of the tight pressure in Logan's chest eased at that one word. "I... yeah, I will be."

Logan grabbed an old t-shirt and a pair of sweats as he turned around. "Right." He held out the clothes with one hand. "There's towels in the bathroom."

Anita nodded. Her eyes were still too wide, shell-shocked, and Logan wondered again what had happened to her and why she was covered in blood. He didn't know how to ask.

Without another word, Anita took the clothing from Logan, careful not to touch him, and shuffled across the carpet into the bathroom. She closed the door behind her with a click.

Once she was gone from sight, Logan shook his head. He didn't know what he was going to do, and that bothered him more than he wanted to admit. The man he'd used to be would never have followed Anita out of the bar that night, wouldn't have gotten involved in the first place.

Since meeting Marie and Jean and the rest of Xavier's little band of mutant misfits, he'd changed. Some days, he wasn't sure it was for the better.

Behind the closed bathroom door, the shower turned on. The sound pulled Logan out of his thoughts. He went over to the window and drew the cheap brown curtain, shutting out the night.

He'd wait until Anita was out of the shower. Then... hell, he didn't know what he'd do.

to be continued...