Chapter Text
The next day started much the same as the last one, with Logan up before sunrise and Morph insisting they would make the eggs “properly this time.”
They did not.
After Logan saved breakfast, they sparred outside until both of them were exhausted, Morph laughing every time they managed to outmaneuver Logan by shifting just enough to make him curse under his breath.
The daily check-in with Ruckus was short, useless, and irritating in exactly the way Logan had come to expect. Morph sprawled sideways on the couch while Logan took the call.
By early afternoon, Morph had decided on a new ambition.
They stood at the back door, arms folded across their chest. “I want to learn how to chop wood.”
“Think I chopped enough yesterday, Bub,” Logan said as he continued rinsing off their lunch plates.
Morph lifted their chin. “I’ve decided that I need to master at least one outdoorsy skill.”
Logan snorted. “You just wanna swing an axe.”
Morph smiled, “That too.”
Logan finished the dishes and stepped outside to meet Morph at the woodpile.
“Okay,” he said, setting a log upright on the chopping stump. “Step one, don’t cut your own damn foot off. Step two, commit to the swing.”
He picked up the axe and brought it down clean. The log split in two with a sharp crack.
Morph raised an eyebrow. “That’s it?”
“That’s it,” Logan said, handing them the axe. “You’re up.”
Morph stepped forward, rolling their shoulders once. Then they grinned.
In the space of a breath, their skin flashed silver, their frame expanding into Colossus’s towering build, metal gleaming in the afternoon light.
Logan snorted. “Cheatin’ already?”
“What?” they said in a thick Russian accent, smirking. “It is heavy, comrade.”
They brought the axe down. The log didn’t just split; it exploded into pieces, wood scattering across the grass.
Logan barked a laugh.
From there, it turned into a game. Every few swings, Morph shifted. At one point, they winked, and suddenly, Logan was staring at himself.
Morph grinned and brought the axe down in a perfect, practiced swing, splitting the log clean in half.
Logan crossed his arms. “You mockin’ me?”
“Just showin’ you what peak performance looks like, Bub.”
Logan laughed, shaking his head. “Y’know… I don’t think I’ve ever seen you shift just for fun before.”
Morph paused mid-change. Their body settled back into their more masculine form. For a moment, they just stood there, breathing in the fresh air. Their cheeks were flushed, partly from the work, partly from the laughter.
“…Maybe I haven’t had much to have fun about,” they admitted.
Logan’s chest tightened, but he didn’t push.
“Guess we’re changin’ that,” he said, tossing another log onto the stump.
Morph looked at him and smiled crookedly.
“Yeah,” they said, picking up the axe again. “Guess we are.”
That night, they settled on chicken, rice, and roasted vegetables for dinner. Logan was doing most of the work while Morph hovered nearby with a cutting board, occasionally pretending to help.
“You’re dangerous with that knife,” Logan muttered, watching them attempt to peel a carrot with a chopping knife.
“I may not know cooking, Logan, but I do know how to use a knife.” They sassed as said knife slipped and missed their finger by centimeters.
Logan plucked the knife from their hand and kissed their cheek, “Go boil water for the rice.”
“Fine. But only if you give me one more kiss.”
Logan grabbed their chin and tilted their head so he could peck them on the lips. Morph smiled crookedly and turned to fill a pot with water. As they ran the water, they glanced sideways at him, watching with amusement as Logan began using one of his claws to peel the rest of the carrots.
“So… question.”
Logan didn’t look up. “Yeah?”
“How’d you end up with metal on your whole skeleton?”
Logan paused, his eyes flicked to them. “How do you know it’s my whole skeleton?”
Morph shrugged. “Essex finds it fascinating. Says you’re one of the only living beings who could survive a full skeletal bonding without immediate organ failure leading to death.”
Logan’s jaw tightened. “He talk about me often?”
“Not really. But when he does, it’s in that ‘specimen worth studying’ tone.” They grimaced slightly. “Pretty sure it’s not a compliment.”
Logan huffed and started chopping the carrots.
“X-Men do it to you? The metal thing?”
Logan shook his head. “No. Weapon X. Different nightmare.”
Morph leaned against the counter, watching him more carefully now.
“They injected me with liquid adamantium,” Logan explained, “Bonded it to my skeleton. All to see if they could make the perfect weapon.”
Morph’s brow furrowed. “Logan…”
“They wanted somethin’ they could point at a target and pull the trigger without thinkin’ twice.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Didn’t work out the way they planned.”
“…Guess neither of us really got to choose what we’re made of,” they said softly.
Logan glanced at them. “Maybe not, but we get to choose what we do with it.”
Morph’s mouth curved faintly. “Wow. That was almost inspirational.”
Logan snorted. “Stir the rice, smartass.”
Dinner ended the same way most of their meals had since arriving; Logan cleaning and Morph “helping”.
They were perched on the counter again, swinging their legs while Logan rinsed the last of the dishes.
“Can we make a campfire?”
Logan glanced over his shoulder. “What?”
Morph’s eyes were bright in a way that immediately made Logan suspicious.
“A campfire,” they repeated, “Y’know, outside under the stars with actual fire, wood I so painstakingly chopped, the whole experience. And then we make s’mores.”
Logan turned the water off slowly. “Not outside.”
“Why not?”
“Because we’re supposed to be layin’ low, Bub,” he sighed. “Fire draws attention. Light, smoke, someone sees it, gets curious, comes lookin’.”
Morph gave him their best pouty face. “But we’re in the middle of nowhere.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Logan shook his head. “My job’s to keep you hidden. That includes not puttin’ up a beacon sayin’ ‘hey, come check out the cabin in the woods.’”
“…Okay…Do we at least have stuff for s’mores?”
Logan huffed a small breath that almost sounded like a laugh. “No.”
Morph stared at him like he’d just delivered devastating news. “Not even marshmallows?” they asked.
Logan raised an eyebrow. Morph deflated a little more. He watched them for a second, the disappointment written plainly across their face.
“We can use the fireplace,” he sighed.
Morph looked up, grinning. “Indoor campfire?”
Logan shook his head, a smile starting in the corner of his mouth, already moving toward the living room. “Sure, Bub.”
Morph followed immediately, energy back like it had never dipped.
“Can we roast things on your claws?” they asked, shifting one of their hands so they had claws of their own. “I’m pretty sure it would hurt if I used these.”
Logan snorted and crouched in front of the fireplace, stacking the logs. “Not gonna do that.”
Behind him, Morph dropped onto the floor, cross-legged, watching like it was the most interesting thing in the world.
“Do you know how to make it crackle dramatically?” they asked.
Logan struck a match, lighting the kindling. “It’s fire, Morph. It’ll crackle.”
The flame caught, spreading through the wood until the first log gave a soft, satisfying pop.
As the fire settled into a steady burn, Logan stretched out on the floor in front of it, back against the couch, legs extended. Morph moved closer without really thinking about it, then eased down until their head rested in his lap, one arm draped loosely across his thigh.
Logan’s hand came up automatically, fingers threading gently through their hair.
For a while, neither of them spoke. There was just the quiet crackle of the fire and Logan’s fingers moving against Morph’s scalp.
Morph let out a sigh. “…This was always my favorite part of living with the X-Men.”
Logan glanced down at them. “Yeah?”
“My friend and I used to hang out in front of the big fireplace,” Morph continued, eyes fixed on the flames. “Sometimes we’d make s’mores… or just sneak snacks out of the kitchen after a long mission.” A faint smile touched their mouth. “Just sit there and stare at the fire while he told me all sorts of stories.”
“Sounds like a good friend.”
Morph let out a quiet laugh, softer than before.
“Yeah, he was.” Their smile lingered, but it was fragile now. “He always had my back.”
Logan’s thumb brushed lightly along their temple. Their body had gone still beneath his hand. Like something had shifted inward.
His fingers slowed, then stilled completely.
“…What’s wrong?”
Morph hesitated. For a second, it looked like they might brush it off.
“He… wasn’t there,” they said finally, gaze fixed on the fire.
Logan frowned slightly. “What d’you mean?”
“The night I got shot,” they whispered. “When Essex took me. I don’t know if he ever found out what actually happened. Or if he just… If he just thinks I died.”
Morph moved closer, turning their face into his stomach, like they were trying to disappear into the warmth.
“Either way, Sinister said none of the X-Men ever tried to find me.”
Logan’s fingers threaded through their hair again.
“I don’t know if that’s true,” he said quietly after a moment. “But I do know one thing.”
His hand settled at the back of their head. “I found you.”
The next morning, Logan woke to Morph on top of him. Their head was tucked under his chin, legs tangled with his.
He eased a hand down, gently trying to shift them so he could get up, and immediately found his ribs pinned under a lot more weight than one slim body should account for.
“…Morph,” he muttered.
They didn’t move.
“You’re doin’ this on purpose.”
A sleepy hum answered him as their body rippled slightly, and Logan was suddenly trapped under what had to be at least 300 pounds of solid, burly muscle.
“You’re impossible,” he grunted.
“Warm,” Morph mumbled in a deep voice. “Stay.”
“I gotta start the coffee—”
“Nope.” They shifted again, somehow even heavier, “You move, I crush you.”
“You think this is a fight you can win?”
“Not a fight,” Morph murmured, sounding half asleep again. “A snuggle.”
Logan tried to sit up anyway. Morph shifted into Colossus this time, 500 pounds of metal, effectively locking Logan flat against the mattress.
“Yer outta your damn mind,” Logan said, but his arm still came around them automatically, settling at their back.
“Mmhm,” Morph mumbled, shifted back to their natural form, already halfway back to sleep.
Logan sighed and tightened his hold “…Five more minutes.”
“Twenty.”
By the time they finally untangled from the bed, the sun had been up for a while, and Logan was grumbling about “half the damn day being gone.”
Morph trailed after him into the kitchen, “I’m making breakfast,” they declared, already rummaging through the fridge.
Logan raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t give me that look! This time will be different.”
“Uh-huh.”
They cracked two eggs into a pan, too hot, too fast, and immediately scrambled to scrape the edges before they turned into rubber.
Logan didn’t say a word. He just leaned against the counter, coffee mug in hand.
The second attempt wasn’t much better. Morph whisked too aggressively, sloshing raw egg onto the counter, the stove, and the floor.
“…Still good,” they insisted, pouring the mess into the pan.
It stuck instantly.
Logan smirked into his coffee. “You gonna go for round three?”
Morph reached for the carton. “Obviously—”
They froze. Slowly, they turned, holding up the empty carton.
“We,” they said gravely, “are out of eggs.”
Logan took a sip of coffee, very deliberately hiding his grin. “Guess it’s pancakes again.”
Morph groaned, dragging a hand down their face.
“Move over, chef,” Logan said, grabbing the leftover pancake batter from the fridge.
Morph leaned against the counter, chin in their hand, watching him heat up the pan and pour the first pancake.
“You realize,” they said, “I’m gonna keep trying until I get it right.”
“Good. Means I get a front-row seat to every disaster.”
Morph grinned.
Logan flipped the pancake, catching it clean in the pan.
“Show-off.”
Logan just smirked, already pouring the next one.
“Do you realize how different you are out here?”
Morph tilted their head. “Out here?”
“Versus in the penthouse,” he added.
Morph leaned back against the counter, folding their arms. “I’m still incredibly charming and devastatingly attractive, if that’s what you mean.”
Logan huffed. “Yeah, that’s not what I mean.”
“Rude.”
“You laugh more.” He gestured vaguely with the spatula. “You’re jokin’ all the time. Teasin’. And you… move… different.”
Morph’s brow furrowed. “Move different?”
“You’re not watchin’ every damn thing you do,” Logan said. “Not lookin’ over your shoulder. Not waitin’ for someone to tell you what you did wrong. You shift more, too. Not just when you gotta. Just… ’cause you feel like it.”
Morph glanced down at their hands, flexing their fingers like they were noticing them for the first time.
Logan shrugged, turning back to the stove. “Back there, it’s like you’re wearin’ a mask all the time. Out here, you just seem like… you.”
“…I didn’t realize,” they admitted quietly.
Logan grunted. “Figured you didn’t.”
“And you’re okay… with…” they gestured vaguely at themselves, “this being me?”
Logan turned the burner off and pulled them into a kiss.
“More than okay, Bub.”
They were still kissing when the phone rang.
Morph groaned, “I swear to god he plans this.”
Logan chuckled, giving them one more kiss before walking to the phone, “Think it’s just the same time every day.”
His voice changed immediately as he answered the phone with a gruff, “What?”
“Ah, Logan. My favorite babysitter. How’s the honeymoon cabin?”
Logan didn’t take the bait. “We’re running low on food. You sending someone, or should I go into town?”
“Groceries already?” Ruckus drawled. “You two must be burnin’ through calories. Must be all that training you like to do.”
Logan’s grip tightened around the receiver. “You sendin’ someone or not?”
Ruckus chuckled. “Nah. Closest town’s safe enough. There’s directions in the folder you were given. You can go.”
Logan’s brow furrowed. “What about Morph?”
“Oh, Morph stays put,” Ruckus said lightly. “Orders. You can go fetch whatever it is you’re cookin’ up, but you leave the pet inside.”
“They’re not a pet,” Logan growled
Ruckus’s tone turned sharp. “No. But they are Sinister’s property. And if anything happens to them while you’re out playin’ errand boy, it’s your head on a silver tray. We clear?”
“Crystal.”
Morph looked up from the plates of pancakes they had just brought to the table as Logan turned from the phone.
“Everything okay?”
Logan’s expression softened the second he looked at them, even if the anger hadn’t fully left his eyes. “Yeah. I’m gonna go grab groceries after breakfast.”
“You’re leaving?” they asked, taking a seat at the table.
“Yeah. Just me, there’s a town nearby.”
Morph raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Should I give you a dramatic goodbye at the door?”
Logan gave a small chuckle, but it didn’t quite reach his shoulders as he took a seat and started to pick at the food.
Morph noticed. They set their fork aside and moved to sit on his lap, arms sliding around his neck. “I’ll be okay.”
Logan’s hands settled at their waist. “I’ll be quick.”
Morph leaned in for a kiss, “You better be.”
The town was small, quiet, and built to mind its own business. All in all, it contained an old diner, a gas station with a single pump, a general store, and a payphone.
Logan stepped into the booth, scanning the street one more time before pulling the door shut. He dropped in the coins and dialed one of the few numbers he still had memorized.
It rang once.
“McCoy.”
“Hank. It’s me.”
“Ah. Wolverine, I was beginning to wonder when you might finally call in that favor.”
“You remember a mutant named Morph?”
There was a short pause.
“The shapeshifter? Hard to forget a personality like that. Remarkable mutation. Considerable potential,” he exhaled faintly. “A tragic loss. If I recall correctly, they died a good many years after you left the team. Chasing someone else’s ghosts are you?”
“They ain’t dead.”
“…I beg your pardon?”
“They’ve been under Sinister’s thumb for six years.”
The line went quiet long enough that Logan could hear the faint hum of static.
“…Oh my stars,” Hank said finally. “I— Xavier told us they were dead.”
“They might as well’ve been,” Logan muttered. “I’ve been working as their bodyguard. Paying off a debt to Sinister.”
“Mm.” A grim note crept in. “Not a man one enters into agreements with lightly.”
“I need to get Morph out, but I’m gonna need your help with the tech.”
“Logan… if Sinister discovers my involvement—”
“I ain’t askin’ you to square off with him,” Logan cut in. “But he’s got something in their head. Some kind of computer chip. Controls ‘em. Makes ‘em shift, kill, whatever he wants. I need it gone.”
Hank didn’t answer immediately.
“I would need to examine them in person,” he said at last.
“We’re at a safe house north of the city.”
“That won’t suffice,” Hank replied, more firmly now. “I need access to my lab. My equipment. Sinister’s technology is… advanced. Particularly where mutant physiology is concerned.”
“Then tell me what it’ll take.”
“If you can get Morph to my lab in Manhattan, I can help.”
“No matter what?”
“I have never been particularly fond of debt, Logan,” Hank said. “And between you and me… I always did have a soft spot for that shapeshifter. They had an unfortunate habit of interrupting my work with terrible science puns.”
Logan smiled into the phone, “Yeah… they got a knack for stuff like that. I don’t know how long it’ll take, but I’ll get ‘em there.”
“I will prepare what I can in advance,” Hank replied. “And Logan—”
“Yeah?”
“…Be careful.”
Logan glanced out through the scratched glass of the booth, eyes scanning the quiet street again, and he hung up the phone.
Back at the cabin, Morph was curled up on the couch in one of Logan’s flannels, a book open in their lap, legs tucked beneath them.
When the phone rang, they just stared at it, like if they didn’t move, it might stop. With a sigh, they set the book aside and picked up the phone.
“What do you want now, Ruckus?”
“Ah. There you are, darling.”
Everything in Morph’s body went cold. It wasn’t Ruckus, it was Sinister.
“I know it’s only been a few days,” he drawled, “but I found myself… missing the sound of your voice.”
Morph didn’t answer. Their throat felt tight.
“Not going to say hello?”
Morph swallowed. “Sorry,” they managed. “I—I thought it would be Ruckus.”
“Mm.” Amusement curled through the line. “Yes, he’s been quite diligent. Passing along the daily reports. But I wanted to check in personally.”
Morph couldn’t force words out. Their heart was beating too fast. Sinister didn’t seem to mind.
“I simply wanted to hear you,” he continued, “To remind myself that you’re still mine.”
The words landed like a hand closing around their throat.
“This is the longest you’ve been away in…” he paused, as if savoring it, “what—six years?”
Morph’s fingers trembled.
“They say absence makes the heart grow fonder,” Sinister mused. “But I think I’ve discovered something far more inconvenient,” he let out a humorless chuckle. “I hadn’t realized how much I rely on you in times of stress, my dear.”
Morph squeezed their eyes shut. Don’t react. Don’t—
“Now,” Sinister went on, voice sharpening just a fraction, “in case you’ve forgotten who you belong to—”
And Morph’s vision dissolved into black.
Logan pushed through the cabin door, grocery bags hooked in both hands.
“Morph?” he called. “Glad you didn’t burn the place down while I was gone.”
There was no response. He frowned, setting the bags on the counter with a dull thud.
“Morph?”
He stepped around the corner and stopped cold.
Morph was sitting on the couch. But they looked… wrong.
They were in their more feminine form, but that wasn’t what made Logan’s stomach drop. It was the stillness. Their back was straight. Hands resting neatly in their lap. Eyes open, fixed on nothing. No movement. No reaction. Like a puppet waiting for the next command.
“…Morph?” Logan crossed the room fast, dropping to a crouch in front of them.
His hand came up, brushing their cheek. It was cold.
“Hey,” he said, sharper now. “Look at me.”
Nothing. Their eyes didn’t track, didn’t even blink.
Logan’s pulse spiked.
“Sinister,” he breathed, the word turning to gravel in his throat.
His grip tightened, fingers curling slightly against Morph’s jaw before he forced himself to loosen it.
“Morph,” he said again as he shook them gently. “Hey—hey, come on. You’re here, with me, you’re safe.”
Nothing.
God, he couldn’t even— Logan swallowed hard, something sharp and helpless clawing up his chest. He couldn’t fight this. Couldn’t punch it. Couldn’t cut it out. Couldn’t drag them away from it.
It was inside them.
“Morph,” he tried again, softer this time, more desperate. He braced their face between his hands, pressing his forehead to theirs.
“I know you’re in there,” he rasped. “You hear me? I know you’re still in there.”
Still nothing.
“Come on, Bub… come back to me,” he said, voice breaking despite himself.
A tear slipped free, sliding down Morph’s cheek and catching against Logan’s thumb.
“…That’s it,” he whispered, hope hitting him so hard it hurt. “Yeah. That’s it. Come on—”
Morph’s lashes fluttered. Then they blinked.
The first breath Morph dragged in was sharp, ragged, and sounded like it hurt. Their eyes darted around the room like they didn’t recognize any of it.
“Morph,” Logan gasped. He reached for them, but Morph shoved him, hard.
Logan rocked back, catching himself on the edge of the coffee table, stunned. “Hey—hey! It’s me—”
Morph was already scrambling away.
Their body shifted, and a small white cat hit the floor and bolted.
“Morph—!”
They tore down the hallway, claws skidding against wood, and vanished into the bedroom.
Logan was on his feet instantly, following. He reached the doorway just in time to see the cat dive under the bed. He forced himself to stop.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “Okay. It’s alright.”
There was a faint scrape of movement under the bed.
“It’s me, Logan,” he said again, softer this time. “You’re in the cabin. Remember?”
“…No.”
Logan’s chest tightened.
“I—I was—You left and then—” they inhaled sharply. “He called. And then I—I was back. I was back there.”
The words came faster now, tripping over each other.
“I was in his room—I could feel him—I could smell him—I thought—And then he—he just—”
“Morph.”
They didn’t stop.
“I don’t— I don’t know which one’s real,” they whispered. “I don’t know if I’m still there and this is just—just something he’s—”
“Morph.”
Logan slowly lowered himself all the way to the floor, turning onto his side so he could see into the darkness beneath the bed.
Morph was curled tight in the shadows, back in their natural gray form, limbs drawn in close like they were trying to disappear inside themselves. Their eyes were wide, fixed on him, but not quite trusting what they were seeing.
“You’re here,” he said quietly. “In the cabin. No one here but you and me.”
Morph didn’t answer. Their fingers twitched faintly against the floor.
“I love you, Morph.”
Morph flinched. Their face crumpled, and a broken sound slipped out before they could stop it. Tears welled fast, spilling over as they pressed their hand against their mouth.
“I—” Their voice shook. “I want to believe that.”
“That’s not something he’d put in your head.”
Tears continued to slide down Morph’s cheeks.
Logan held their gaze and carefully reached a hand out toward them. “Just here if you want it.”
Morph stared at his hand like it might disappear. Then, trembling, they reached out and took it. They inched forward, sliding out from under the bed piece by piece, like they were leaving something behind in the shadows.
The moment they were fully out, they folded into him hard. Face buried in his chest, arms wrapping tight around his neck. Logan hugged them immediately.
He pressed a kiss to the top of their head. “…Didn’t know you could shift into such a small animal.”
Morph nodded against him, breath still shaky.
“The cat was cute,” he said. “But you’re cuter.”
A weak laugh slipped out of Morph before they could stop it.
“That was so cheesy,” they mumbled into his shirt. “Where the hell did that come from?”
Logan grumbled. “Was tryin’ to make you laugh. I ain’t as good at it as you.”
Morph’s grip tightened just a little as they pressed closer, squishing their face deeper into his chest. “Well, it worked.”
Logan stayed there a minute longer, letting the quiet settle back in around them.
“…I should put the groceries away.”
Morph shook their head immediately, grip tightening like a reflex.
“They’re gonna spoil.”
“No,” Morph said, voice muffled against his chest as they held on.
Logan glanced toward the kitchen, then back down at them.
“...You’d be more comfortable on the couch,” he tried.
Morph shook their head again. “I’m plenty comfortable right here.”
He gave it another second. Then, he tightened his hold around them.
“Alright,” he grumbled. “We’re doin’ this the hard way.”
Morph barely had time to react before Logan pushed himself up off the floor, lifting them right along with him. Like it was nothing.
Morph let out a startled noise, arms instinctively tightening around his shoulders.
“Ugh—” they complained, head dropping back dramatically. “It’s so unfair that you can just do that.”
Logan smirked, adjusting his grip under their legs.
“Also very hot,” they muttered, settling back against him, “but mostly unfair.”
Logan just huffed a quiet laugh and carried them out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.
He started putting things from the grocery bags away one-handed, moving around the space as if this were completely normal.
Morph stayed wrapped around him, cheek pressed to his shoulder, holding on like they weren’t quite ready to let the world back in yet.
When Logan had finished putting the last of the groceries away, he carried Morph over to the couch.
He lowered himself down and settled them against him. Morph shifted automatically, curling into his side, one arm still hooked around his waist.
Logan exhaled, rubbing a hand along their back. “I made a call while I was in town.”
“…To who?”
“Hank McCoy.”
Morph pulled back just enough to look at him. “…An X-Man?” they asked sharply.
“He’s not with the X-Men anymore,” he said quickly. “And he didn’t know you were alive.”
Morph’s expression didn’t soften. “I’m sure that’s what they’ll all say,” they said flatly.
“That’s what they were told, Bub.”
Morph looked away.
“He agreed to help,” he said. “Said if we can get you to his lab in Manhattan, he can take a look at the chip. Figure out how to get it out without fryin’ your brain.”
Morph shook their head immediately. “Won’t work.”
Logan frowned. “Why not?”
“The chip has a tracker in it. Sinister will know the second I go somewhere without permission.”
“We can work around that—”
“No,” Morph cut in, sharper now. “You don’t understand. He’ll know. He always knows.” They pulled away and stood. “And even if we could get there, how do we know Beast is trustworthy? Why would he help me? Why would any of them?”
Logan watched them.
“No one wants to help me,” they said, quieter now.
Logan sat forward, catching their wrist before they could pull too far away.
“I do. And Beast does too, whether you believe it or not.”
Morph raised a brow at him, looking unconvinced.
“He also owes me.” Logan sighed. “That’s… part of it. Also said he’s got a soft spot for ya.”
“…Not enough of a soft spot to come look for me,” they said.
Logan’s chest tightened. He pulled them back in, arms wrapping firm around them, anchoring them against his chest.
After a moment, they sighed. “…Fine. Once we’re back in the city. Maybe… if Essex lets me go shopping or something, we can try to make it to Beast’s lab.”
Logan’s hand tightened at their back.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “We’ll make it work.”
That evening, the scent of garlic and roasted vegetables still lingered in the air, even after the dishes had been washed and dried.
Logan leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Morph from across the room. They were curled up on the couch, sleeves pulled over their hands, eyes distant.
They’d barely touched their dinner, hadn’t wanted to help, or make much conversation.
After a long stretch of silence, Logan crossed the room and held out his hand.
“C’mon,” he said softly.
Morph looked up tiredly, “Hmm?”
“Grab a blanket and follow me.”
Morph took his hand.
The lake was glass. Dark water stretched out beneath the stars. The dock creaked softly as they settled side by side.
They didn’t talk at first. Just looked up at the thousands of stars.
After a while, Logan glanced over. Morph’s eyes were fixed on the sky, but their eyes were tired and sad. He reached across, threading their fingers together.
“I used to do this as a kid,” he said quietly. “Before. Before Weapon X. Before all the fightin’. Just lie out and try to count ‘em.”
“Did you ever get past fifty?”
“Hit a hundred once. Then I fell asleep and woke up with a rock in my back.”
That earned an almost laugh from Morph.
“You don’t have to talk ‘bout it,” he said gently. “But if you want to… I’m here.”
Silence stretched between them.
“You make me so happy.” Morph’s eyes were still fixed on the sky. “Like… I didn’t even realize how much I’d forgotten what that felt like...”
Their fingers tightened slightly around his.
“And then he just…” their voice faltered, “flipped a switch. Pulled me right back into it like I never left. For a second, I really thought that this wasn’t real. That you weren’t real.”
They turned their head, finally looking at him.
“He made me question whether any of this is real. Whether I just… made it all up to cope or something. And now… now I’m not scared of him hurting me. I’m scared of him taking this feeling away. Taking you away.”
Morph looked back up at the sky.
“And that’s the only reason I can even think about leaving him,” they admitted. “Because I don’t want to lose this. I don’t want to lose it even… even if it’s not real.”
The wind stirred the blanket, and Morph pulled it tighter around them, leaning closer into Logan.
Logan didn’t say anything. He just stayed there beside them, fingers laced together.
And above them, the stars shimmered. Out of reach and utterly free.
When they finally came in from the dock, the cabin felt almost too warm after the crisp night air. Logan moved through his routine automatically, locking the doors, checking the windows, and making one last round.
When he came back, Morph was standing in the bedroom doorway.
“Will you stay with me again?” they asked.
“’Course.”
Morph climbed into bed first, gray skin catching the low light. Logan sat on the edge of the bed, pulling off his boots before stretching out beside them.
They turned toward him immediately, tucking their head against his shoulder. Logan’s arm came around them, steady and warm. His other hand lifted to their cheek, thumb brushing lightly beneath their ear.
He kissed them softly. Morph leaned into it, fingers curling into his shirt, heart racing in their chest.
Logan pulled back just enough to look at them, his gaze steady. “I love you.”
“I…” They swallowed, forcing the words out before fear could stop them. “I love you too.”
Logan kissed them again, deeper this time, like he was sealing the words in place.
Everything blurred after that. It all happened so fast that Morph wasn’t even quite sure how they ended up naked underneath Logan, but it felt safe. It felt like love.
Logan held them close and brushed a long strand of brown hair back from their face.
“Oh, darling.”
Something in his voice was different.
“Did you really think it was him?”
Morph froze as Logan’s face melted… Into Sinisters.
Morph tried to shove him away, but there was nothing to push against.
The world collapsed. Darkness consumed everything.
Sinister’s laughter echoed, cold and sharp, curling through the void.
“It’s been me all along,” he purred. “Every touch, every kiss, mine.”
“No—” Morph’s voice shook. “That’s not true—”
“No one can truly love you.”
The words pressed in from every direction.
“You’re a weapon. A toy. A mirror for whatever anyone else wants to see.”
Morph’s chest tightened.
“And when they’re done?” Sinister whispered against their ear.
“They put you back on the shelf.”
Morph shook their head, but the darkness didn’t move.
“Logan doesn’t love you,” Sinister continued softly. “That would be ridiculous.”
Laughter followed, sharp and seemingly endless.
And then the ground vanished beneath them.
Morph fell and jolted awake.
The world slammed back into place all at once, but their body didn’t believe it. Their chest heaved, breath too fast, too sharp, hands scrambling against the sheets like they were trying to find something solid.
“Morph—hey—hey, it’s okay.”
Morph flinched away from him, heart pounding so hard it hurt. “No—no—don’t—” They moved back, falling off the bed and scrambling across the floor “Don’t do that—don’t—”
Logan froze and lifted his hands up. “Okay. Okay, I’m not touchin’ you. You’re in the cabin. You’re safe. It was just a nightmare.”
Morph shook their head violently. “No—it was the chip—he knows—he—” Their eyes darted over Logan’s face like they were trying to find the seams. “You said—you said you loved me—he—he said—”
“It was a nightmare,” Logan cut in gently. “You were sleepin’, I can tell the difference.”
Morph pressed back harder into the wall like they could disappear into it. “He was you,” they whispered, closing their eyes. “You aren’t real.”
Something sharp flashed behind Logan’s eyes, but he kept his voice calm. “Look at me.”
Morph didn’t.
“Morph.” Softer this time. “C’mon. Just—look at me.”
Hesitantly, they did.
“Okay,” Logan said. “I’m gonna prove I’m real, alright?”
Morph’s brow furrowed, still shaking.
Logan shifted slightly, still staying on the bed. “Remember the first time we went shopin’? You took me to Gabriel’s and tried on those gowns. Was only the second day I knew you and you took my breath away.”
Morph’s eyes went wide.
“And that night you stole from Trask?” Logan continued. “You were gone ‘til past one in the mornin’, but I couldn’t stop worryin’ about you. And the way you tucked into me when we finally went to sleep… I never wanted to let you go.”
Morph’s breathing evened out, just a little.
“He doesn’t know that stuff,” he said. “Can’t fake it. That’s mine. That’s real.”
Morph swallowed hard, eyes still locked on his. “Say… say my name.”
“Morph?”
“No,” they whispered. “Say it like you do.”
“…Hey, Morph,” he said softly. “I’m right here, Bub.”
Morph broke. They lurched forward, and Logan caught them instantly, arms wrapping around them, pulling them close.
“I got you,” he murmured, pressing his lips to their head. “I got you.”
Morph buried their face against his shoulder, shaking. “He said—he said you—That you didn’t love me.”
Logan tightened his hold. “He’s wrong.”
Morph clung to him harder.
Logan pressed a steady kiss to the top of their head. “I’m here,” he said quietly. “And I ain’t goin’ nowhere. I love you, Morph.”