Chapter Text
Waking up was a struggle.
His body felt lax, cold touching every inch of skin. Behind his eyelids he could sense light, stabbing through and earning a pained hiss. The heavy scent of a doctor's office pervades his nostrils, burning and bitter.
This, was not where he fell asleep last.
When he tries to raise his arms, they barely budge, something restraining them from lifting much more than an inch. That's when his eyes snap open, taking in where he is.
The walls are pristine, silver metal boxing him in. Tables are set up, vials and tubes and papers scattered over them, the only glimpse of a mess he can see. Bright lights dot the ceiling, searing white and blinding every time he looks up. But even worse are the various charts along the walls and boards, ultrasounds and x-rays... of him. Logan grimaces. It seems whoever had him was planning something. Something big. And they wanted him to accomplish it.
Well, not on his watch.
Wriggling his hands, he tests the straps wrapped over them, tying them down. Tight, but not constricting. Certainly not leather, maybe metal... Hmm... This should be easy.
With a sharp snap, he breaks the bones of his hands and wrists, quickly pulling them through the straps and snapping them back into place. In a flash his claws are out, shredding through the straps tying his body down, sending sparks flying. Pulling himself up and off the slab he was restrained to, a medical table now he can see it properly, the lab comes into full view.
Trays upon trays of needles, bubbling vials and medical tubes laying by them. Scattered papers, photos, charts, anything that detailed something about him, the writing sharp and slanting as it details what parts would be useful, how to best sedate him, what his gender was-
Logan tears his gaze away, feeling sick to his stomach. Whatever whackjob did this to him, they'd been watching him for a long time. They knew things, things they shouldn't, had various notes on his physiology and abilities, even past things he didn't remember, experiments and ideas to implement later on... His stomach heaves for a minute, disgust and fear buzzing inside him.
He sniffs deeply, picking up on a scent. A too familiar scent. A low, threatening snarl leaves him.
Seems his "partner" was in here... And their handwriting, it's on a lot of these sheets, too... It seems that they're behind this, or a part of it. And they- they dared drag him here- after what they did-
He doesn't exactly blush, but he can feel a slight heat to his cheeks as he remembers the last... "activity"... he did with them... He wasn't exactly interested in romance or s*x or most partnerships, let alone standard ones. Yet he thought- he thought they liked him. That they could try to make it work. He should've known... The late nights gone, the peculiar questions, the sharp glint in their eyes each time they saw his mutations. They were just another scientist, another f*cking doctor, who wanted to use him. And this time, they'd crossed a line.
He takes another whiff of the air, noting how the chemicals and sedatives sting his nostrils, how his old "partner's" scent smells of bitter coffee and sickly poison, how the sharp scent of freshly-cleaned metal and plastic fill the room... Yet underneath all that-
There's something sweet.
It's like-
It smells like home.
Like honey, like warm milk, sweet and inviting and pure.
Like pack.
But the thing is- he isn't sure where it's coming from. H*ck, he isn't even sure it's real. It wouldn't be the first time his mind imagined things. The scent could be a trap, or an airborne sedative or poison, set to keep him complicit and weak. And that just won't do.
Letting out a loud snarl, he goes about tearing up the lab, smashing the glass test tubes and vials to the floor, slashing the charts and ultrasounds into fluttering pieces, ripping apart anything that has his "partner's" scent, anything that shows the scientists' sick designs, anything that shows the betrayal done to him, the cruellty that has followed him for years and years...
And once he's done, he sets out of the destroyed lab, turning into the maze of halls. Any person who gets in his way, scientist or guard or nurse, is cut through. Some try to fight back; others try to sedate him; some even try to run. But he doesn't let them lay a finger on him. Sending his claws through them, shedding their blood, tainted by their inhumanity and cruelty, feels cathartic, like shedding an old layer of skin. The halls end up painted in clumpy trails of dark red, splatters of scarlet and ruby staining the once-pristine place in the sights and scents of gore and death...
He finally manages to find an exit, hurrying through it and into the biting chill of morning dew and frost. The hidden labs were in a valley surrounded by snow-capped mountains and trees, tall and unyielding. Clouds sheet the sky, soft, cool snowflakes flitting down in whirls of soft white and fuzzy crystals. Even so, the scent of wet trees and frozen snow and chilled earth doesn't mask the same sweet, sweet scent he'd smelled back in the labs.
It takes him a moment to realize where it's coming from.
Oh, oh cr*p-
When it does hit him, he snaps his eyes down to stare at his stomach, a tentative hand coming up to touch it. His fingers are light, barely pressing down on the chilled skin. (Thank God er Heaven er who er whatever that he got ta have shorts on. Running around in his birthday suit was NOT something he wanted ta add to this cr*ppy experience).
He's... He's pregnant. Or in the early stages of it, anyways.
Why else was the sweet scent there? The warm, cloying smell of pup, of new life?
Logan isn't sure how to feel. H*ck, how should he feel? He was kidnapped by his ex-partner, who turns out to be a psychopathic scientist, who had plans for how to use him and to control him. He had done the deed with them, or thought he did, and whether they did or not, he now has something tiny growing inside him. And he isn't sure how the little thing came to be. Was it from their... "other" parent? Or did that scheming snake do something else to make them?
Either way, he doesn't feel anything but contempt for that conniving viper.. They wanted to hurt him, wanted to use him, and they likely wanted to use his pup for a new soldier, a new weapon they could taint and warp to their twisted desires.
Hrmphh!
Not on his watch.
A small touch prods at his mind, a wave of worry-are-you-okay-we're-here, and he can pick up the sounds of the Blackbird. He smiles. Heh, looks like Chuck and Ro found 'im.
They're his pack, or the closest he has to one, and the fact that they came to his rescue makes his chest feel large and warm, tingling with emotion. They truly were the best, weren't they?
The moment the jet lands, Ororo is flying out, alighting before him with worry and relief evident in her features. "Logan!" she says, clapping a hand to his shoulder. "We came here to get you. Are you alright?" Only then does she seem to notice the bits of red speckling him and his bare, wind-bitten skin. Her face contorts into anger, a righteous fury coursing through her as the winds grow fiercer. "Who did this to you?"
He takes her hand gently, for comfort, for him, for her, giving her a short answer.
"My ex-partner. They were behind this, whatever it was. But I'm okay, Ro." He's glad they didn't try to capture her. She woulda whooped them good, but- He would rather her an' Chuck be safe, back at the Institute, where they had walls upon walls of protection and enough nests and food and warmth to sate any Urge-driven mutant.
She gives a curt nod, gesturing for him to follow her. Getting onto the Blackbird, he's greeted by the soothing scent of chamomile and old books, and a fretful beta in green and brown.
"Logan. We came as soon as we could. Is everything alright?" Xavier asks, wheeling closer to him. Logan can see the worried creases on his forehead, the nervous twitch of a finger, calm hazel eyes staring at him with nothing but patience.
"Yeah..." he answers. He is okay. Nothing happened besides his little "guest". He's alive. He wasn't cut open er too drugged er even forced ta do anything. So in his book, that's okay. "I, erm... Chuck, Ro... I'm- I'm with pup," he says carefully, placing his fingers carefully over his stomach.
"Logan... Do you want to keep them?" Ororo asks, voice gentle. She seems to understand that this situation wasn't planned. Her face is nothing but caring and warm, her gaze of sky blue eyes a cool drop of rain in the heat of this crazy situation he'd found himself in. Charles is the same, nothing but sincerity and openess. Whatever he wants to do, they'll support him, no matter what. They care about him and his health, and are behind whatever choice he makes.
But the choice he makes, it's one he's wanted for a long time-
"I'm keepin' 'em."
Truth be told, he's wanted a pup fer years, decades, even. One o' the only reasons he'd ever try ta have intercourse is so he could finally have a pup. And while this one- his pup- is a surprise, he wants 'em. They are the one good thing ta come outta the clusterf*ck he calls this experience, and for them, he wants ta be their parent. He wants them. He loved them, already, attached to the barest bundle of cells and blood inside him. They were his, not his ex's, not the monsters who'd done unspeakable horrors to him, they were HIS.
His pack watched him, smiling softly.
This pup, his pup, was their's. They weren't born yet, but they'd be loved an' cared fer every day of their life, every day until their birth, and far after they came into this world. They were part of his pack, an' they'd do everytbing ta protect them.
It's what a family does.
"Let's go home. Seems I need ta start prepping fer 'em," he says with a chuckle, and Charles and Ororo join, Charles going back to the front to fly them home and Ororo sitting next to him, offering comfort and ideas for how to take care of their newest member...