You were always the mysterious one
With dark eyes and careless hair
You were fashionably sensitive
But too cool to care

They say that blood is thicker than water, but they would be talking crap.

Water washes blood away, cleans your dirtied hands of all traces and soon there is no more blood between people, just the river that divides us. And no matter what people say, family isn’t family and friends can always break their promises. Even the people you knew for just a few days, but spoke to your soul in ways you never imagined possible, can betray you. Can leave you alone and never return, abandoned once again. Something containing this force has taught me all too well, the undeniable horror of the solitary.

And I know it is easy to call power a gift, a blessing from God, but mine is no blessing, mine is a power that kills, kills in the worst way by drawing life from others. God is simply telling me that I am destined to be alone, that isolation is all I can look forward to, but then I suppose I should be used to it by now. My power is a curse, a curse that has brought me here, to being trapped in this windowless, cold room, to being a prisoner of a beast, a blue bitch and a frail old man with immense inner strength.

I hear his opposite, the being who took in this poisonous stray, his voice ringing in my ears, commanding me not to give up, reassuring me that they will be at my side soon, that I will be saved. But there is only one person I wish to see now, only one person I long to be rescued by. The man who left me behind, the man with no past that I want to give a future to. But I know in my bones he will not come, even with senses as strong as his, he can not hear me scream, so tell me professor, where is my hope now, that my hero has gone?  Do you think I can survive without his guardianship, or that I even want to live if I cannot have him near me always?

The talking in my head is silent now. He doesn’t know how to console me, even with a window on my mind he doesn’t know what to say to help me. I hear footsteps and thumps and yells, they are fighting over how to dispose of me no doubt. I’ve been listening, their whole plan revolves around the fact that I can kill with a touch, but they didn’t know that I do have control now, have had for some time and even back there, only Scott and Xavier know. More screams and bangs, maybe they’ve arrived, maybe the X-men will save me after all and maybe I’ll go ‘home’ and crawl into my bed to dream of him. Back to a life of being deprived of the one thing I ache for. Maybe I’d rather die here, now.

One last crash and it is deathly quiet, just the sound of my own breathing and the beat of my heart, shrouding the faint and slow patter of feet, coming ever closer to the large door I sit on the floor facing. I’m crying, the cold sting of tears rolling down my skin, but I’m no longer afraid, I’m too tired to do anything but wait for fate to dispose of me. Those footsteps are getting louder and I hear the lock on the steel door undoing, casting shafts of bright light across me, and blinding me.

I cannot focus on anything but the large shadow of the thing in front of me, a huge monster approaching me and unable to see I close my eyes and wriggle hopelessly back to the wall, failing to free my hands from the metal handcuffs. He pulls me up by my bound wrists and I’m so freezing I can’t stop myself shaking, nor can I bear to open my eyes to see what end lays before me. A syringe full of poison? A canister of gas? A knife? A gun? A dull instrument? I crinkle my eyelids, shutting them even tighter than before and furrow my brows in anticipation of what deadly weapon will assault my trembling body. But nothing comes, no wound, no shot, no fatal blow, only the hum of ragged breathing. I am about to open my eyes when something finally touches me. A touch I was never expecting, a touch that compels me to gradually open my heavy lids and face the creature gently
embracing me.

It is a kiss so soft and airy, I scarcely feel it at all. A kiss that comes from a pair of lips that linger over my mouth. The breath that flows over my skin warms me to the core and I recognise the rasp of the course hands that free my wrists from their binds and move to run through my hair, slowly resting long enough to tenderly frame my face. I stare at the man holding me up in his arms, the glare of the outside light and the denial of food for 36 hours making me question the image I’m confronted with.

Logan.

I cast my drowsy eyes over his worried face, directing them up and over his strong jaw, his ruffled hair and to caress the desperate stare of his hazel eyes. He has blood on his right cheek and suddenly I realise that the crashing and the yelling was not only caused, but also ended by, the very same Wolverine. He stares back at me, his dark eyes examining my face as his hands roam across my body searching for any injury. I let my hooded eyes drift shut as he lifts me, cradling my limp body against his strong chest and sensation overwhelms me as he carries me out of the compound to his truck.

Maybe I’m dreaming and maybe when I wake up tomorrow he will still be my absent hero, but until then I simply take comfort in the steady beat of his heart, the burning heat of his body pressed to mine and the soft kisses he plants in my tangled hair. Because he may be a memory, he may be a fantasy and he may never return to my side, but even though we are not together, I know we will never be apart.