Fiction TGoM- Chapter Twenty-two

Title: The Glory Of Manticore

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Dark Angel or to X-men. They belong respectively to Cameron/ Eglee and to Marvel Comics. No infringement is intended and this fiction is for private enjoyment only.

Rating: up to NC-17

Chapter Rating: PG-13

Genre: Crossover

Type: action/ Romance

Pairing: Max/ Logan

Summary: Max is once again on the run. But this time a safe haven awaits her in the form of Professor Xavier’s School for Gifted Children.

Spoilers/ Time line: Post the first movie, for X-men. First season for DA, starting off from Episode “Blah Blah Woof Woof”

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

A/N: This chapter gets pretty heavy, delving into the not so obvious gifts of Logan's mutation. Some are obvious when portrayed in the various forms of media that the X-men franchise covers. Some are taken from the portrayal of Logan's characters in the comics that was kind of ignored by the movies. Regardless, these senses are part of the character that may or may not come into play further in the fiction and I didn't want them popping up suddenly in the midst of an action scene or whatever that would detract from the story.

The Glory Of Manticore

Chapter Twenty-two

The moment that Logan had turned away, he had began planning and ruminating. He was not ready for his evening to end and he knew that with everything that New York had to offer, to anyone and everyone, there really was only one thing that held his interest. And that was the woman in the hotel room next to his. There was a small smile gracing his lips as he used the damn key card to gain access to his room.

But even as he had been smiling as he entered, he frowned and grimaced when he caught wind of a trace of flowery perfume within his room. Glancing at the open bedroom door, he moved that way, noting that the scent remained at about the same level all over the room. And when he made it to the doorway, he noted that his bed had been made. So housekeeping had been in his room. He cursed himself for not remembering to put the “Do Not Disturb' door hanger on his room door. It was a shortcoming to his mutation, one of the many that always had the power to trip him up.

Scents and smells, sounds, always triggered something with people. Whether it evoked memories, feelings or anything, great. But for Logan, whose nose and hearing were so much more sensitive than others, it was more a melange of sensations that he could do without. The perfume that the girl from housekeeping was wearing was probably light and floral to anyone else's nose, but to Logan, it was all fake. There were flowery scents that weren't quite true enough to nature to fool him, tainted by the chemical smell underlying it that did bring up bad feelings for him. Plus they always smelled much stronger to him, making his nose itch.

And then, when one combined the perfume scents on top of a person's natural body odor, well, too many humans, mutant and ordinary alike, had no sense of how to harmonize. At least in Logan's mind. There were the layers upon layers that people tried to mask themselves with. The soaps and deodorants, perfumes, mists, sprays. He was thankful that his mutation also kept him from getting constant headaches from the overload. At least this girl, whomever she had been, either wasn't working hard enough to bring up a sweat, or she knew what scent worked well with her body type.

Logan pushed off the door frame and yanked the sheets from the bed. The girl's perfume combined with the laundry detergent used wasn't setting well with him and he debated how much trouble Scott and Jean would give him for hanging the sheets out the window. But, knowing that that would just add more detritus smell from the air of New York to the mix, decided against it. He separated the coverlet from the sheets, hoping that the scent wouldn't linger in the bedroom. He rolled the coverlet up and stuffed it into a large dresser drawer that was empty. Pursing his lips, he realized it wouldn't help much.

Because there were still all the scents that had picked up and clung to him, from their excursion at the restaurant and then the bar. And while he was pleased that close contact with Max had allowed her scent to rub off on him, the combination wasn't heady enough. Grinning, he decided that perhaps taking a shower wouldn't be a bad thing and would give him a little time so that it didn't look like he was chasing after her, though he kind of wanted to do just that. Perhaps it would be enough time to allow Jean to take Scott's dirty little mind some place else. He smirked as he thought of that, realizing that he was being a typical licentious male and that the thought of Jean, whom he had had a massive, he realized now, crush on the woman, but it no longer hurt. It wasn't painful.

Grinning like a damn fool as he began unbuttoning his shirt, heading for the bathroom, he wondered how long it had actually been since he felt like this. Not in his actual, relatively recent memories, fifteen plus years worth, had he felt like this. And wondering how long he had been alive prior to that, especially with Jean's assertion that he might be older than Chuck. Even as he continued to turn on the water and allow it to heat, he wondered idly, exactly how long the mutant evolution had been going on. Maybe longer than people supposed. It was something that randomly occupied his mind to think of, while he came up with distractions from racing back to Max's room.

Had they been in the mansion, he wouldn't have worried too much. He would know pretty much what the evening entertainments for the kids and the teachers called for. What was available for doing. But here, in the confines of a hotel, there was a certain constraint. They'd already been out and about and would do so again. He hadn't really paid attention to the bell hop when he had been trying to explain any amenities that the hotel had. These places were pretty much all the same to Logan. Room, bed, tv and phone. Room service at the nice places and get out by eleven.

Of course, given his propensity for bad dreams and his adamantium claws making themselves known at inopportune moments while sleeping, hotels weren't usually the best choice for him. But he had the feeling that Chuck would cover him should the worst happen this weekend. One would have thought, Logan mused to himself, as he was later toweling himself dry, that having a good day, such as this one had been, he wouldn't be subject to the nightmares. But whatever it was that his subconscious was trying to work out or express, it needed no prompting from a days events it seemed.

As he redressed in thick plaid sleep pants, a white wife beater and then a hoodie over top, Logan frowned at his choice of footwear. This would have been the time to have slippers. But he wasn't particularly a slipper kind of guy. And while he had no problem wandering around barefoot, since cold, rough walkways and injury didn't bother him, he was aware that this just wasn't the place for that kind of behavior. So he had the choice of his boots, or some sneakers that Rogue had bought him. With a sigh, he sat down at the edge of the sofa and pulled on the sneakers. Hopefully he wouldn't be wearing them too long.

As he slipped his card key into the front pocket of the hoodie, he took a quick bracing breath. The one thought that he hadn't allowed himself, was to wonder if Max was sick of his company yet. She had seemed to enjoy herself just as much as he had that evening. All of the signals he could read from her all seemed to point to the same thing. That she wanted to see where this thing between them was going as well. And if they had been back at the mansion, Logan was quite sure that they'd have been spending the night together.

Not in quite that sense, as Logan didn't think she was there yet. Totally there anyway. He wasn't sure if he was totally there yet either. While the majority of his body was urging him that way, there were still some things on his mind that held him back. But he certainly saw no problems with spending some of the night watching television or talking, whatever she was up to. He could only hope that she wouldn't turn him away.

As he made his way the short length of the hallway between their doors, he tilted his head as things began to filter in on his consciousness. His eyebrows drew together as he heard another voice from his right hand side. A male voice and given the dimensions of the rooms, this would be coming from Max's room. Wondering who it could be, since it wasn't Scott, as his voice was murmuring lowly to Jean and she was answering, from his left, Logan moved a little more quickly.

It could be part of the hotel staff. Perhaps Max had ordered room service. He wanted to grin, but he couldn't imagine that she was hungry again. But he didn't know her well enough to have her eating habits pegged. And she wasn't on the phone. There wasn't the staticky sound that went along with it. And then it was gone. There was no more male voice, just the hushed whispers of Max moving around her room. Staring at the door and this conundrum, Logan tamped down the sudden irritation, remembering the way those boys had watched Max at the pool table and his urge to back them off of her and out of their vicinity every single time they got too close.

He lifted his hand to knock, politely. He had intended politely, but his closed fist descended heavily and he winced slightly as the noise echoed in the hallway. He heard her moving again and wondered what he might have interrupted. The door swung inwards and her beautifully exotic face had a slightly perplexed grin gracing it as she regarded him.

“Logan?” she asked softly, taking him in. She was still dressed in her clothes from this evening. “What's up?”

He shifted his stance, relaxing as he heard no further noises from her room. She had a remote in her other hand and he relaxed against the door frame and smiled at her. He shrugged his free shoulder. “Just thought I could say good night. Without the audience.”

“Oh, I see,” she chuckled. “Not tired and completely bored?” she asked. Logan grinned down at her.

“Is that supposed to be you or me?” he teased.

“Maybe both,” she retorted, her eyes sparkling. She held up the remote and waved it a little. “As a matter of fact, I was going to get comfy and do some channel cruisin'. You're welcome to join me.”

“All right,” he acquiesced happily and straightened up as she moved back to allow him entry. But as soon as she had moved away and he had pushed the door shut behind himself, he caught it. A different scent. Not Max's, not his, not Scott and definitely not one that he had smelt around the hotel at any point in the day. His mind instantly cataloged the difference of it, nailing it as heavier on the testosterone. Definitely male. His hand on Max's arm kept her from moving too far from his side. “There's someone here,” he warned her quietly, his eyes darting around the room. Something about the scent was bothering him and it wasn't something that his brain could identify. It just felt like... threat. But not a threat that he was used to. And a threat that had been very near to Max as he caught the scent lingering around her. It made no sense.

“Uh, that'd be you and me,” Max spoke, sounding bemused and when she tried to move, the pressure in his grip on her arm increased minutely as he shook his head.

“Someone else,” he warned again, trying hard to control the instincts that were hardwired from his brains to his claws. They were itching to make an appearance and since Max wasn't aware of them yet, he didn't want to freak her out and scare her off.

He realized instantly as a murmur of protest began to rise up in her throat that he was going to have to give her a little more than that to go on. But, with his claws not allowed to make an appearance to her as such, and not ever having properly explained his mutation around her, and now he was wishing that someone, even if it had not been him, had said something, grunted in consternation.

“I can smell 'im,” he allowed and her eyebrows instantly shot up, but there didn't seem to be any loathing immediately in her reaction.

“You can smell him?” she repeated and sounded thoroughly amused, with maybe a hint of resignation and just the tiniest hesitation.

He nodded slowly, returning his eyes to a slow scan of the area, even as his other senses worked overtime as they usually did. Max had relaxed once more, not feeling the threat as he had, which was understandable on her part. Logan found to his amusement that part of him didn't mind it ether. Something primal in his brain, even deeper than his mutated genes provided was telling him that it was just fine for her to let him take care of this. He wanted to take care of this, prove that he could take care of her. Even as quickly as the thought formed in his mind, it was shoved aside to be examined later, before it had fully evolved.

“It was probably someone on the hotel staff,” Max sighed as he inched forward. “Turn down service or somethin'.”

“No perfume,” he grunted, as if that explained it all. He heard her mouth pop open, probably to ask how he knew that, but just as quickly snap shut. She remained quiet as Logan, with a small wait for her and receiving a shrug and a gesture to go ahead, checked both the bedroom and the bathroom. Her bed had not been touched, as far as he could tell, though the scent had been in there briefly. The bathroom not at all. So that finished blowing her theory about housekeeping having been in there. Unless they employed more than one person per floor, which was a possibility. But something told Logan that this wasn't the case. The scent had to have been right behind her to account for it lingering around her.

He continued to scan the room, following the scent to the window. It was heavily concentrated there, telling him that this person had been in the room recently. Very recently, near Max, his senses were informing him. He tried hard, desperately hard not to let the rage that was naturally building at another male encroaching on what his mind and body were considering his. He pushed the window open hard and glanced out. The drop was as nothing to him. A fall would hurt, but he'd recover. But to his utter annoyance, the further he leaned out, the fainter the scent got. It was heavier there. It made very little sense to him There was no balcony, but a fire escape which was still required by law for the hotel to have. It looked fairly rickety, but other than the scent right at the window, Logan had no other indication of this males presence. It hadn't been at the door. The entry point had been the window, he was sure of it. It had come up a while ago, but it hadn't gone back down. The only options he could see was another mutant, which his senses were telling him that it wasn't likely, or the male had gone up. He glanced in that direction, but saw nothing. Had this unknown intruder been watching Max, waiting for her to return? Had he entered her room when they had gotten back, perhaps slipped out when her back had been turned? After all, he was pretty sure that his hearing was a hell of a lot better than hers. And what might have seemed normal to him, hearing that male speaking in her room, might have been an inaudible whisper to her. There had been many occasions where his hearing had picked up audible clues that others hadn't.

Worried now for various reasons and even though it all seemed clear, he was having trouble as he slowly pulled the window back down. Because a new scent was permeating the air behind him and he realized his mistake. He had told her as much as he could, but even though Max had given her reluctant approval for him to prove himself not an ass, she wasn't happy about him not taking her at her word. And so, he either looked like a jerk, which he was used to, or he tried to make it better with giving her a half assed explanation of things he didn't totally understand about himself. He was a doer, not a thinker, even if his brain could process senses much faster than others could believe.

He turned slowly and held back the wince that wanted to escape as she stood, still at the front door, her arms crossed over her stomach, the remote loosely clutched in the same hand it had been in. He wondered how far away she was from tapping her toes in impatience. Her lips were slightly pursed and her eyes hard and assessing. Yep, it all added up to annoyed.

Before an apology could even begin to make an appearance, she spoke. “You're pretty paranoid, aren't you?”

And even as with all other threats, he reacted defensively. “And you're not, huh? You think you would be with these so called major bad asses gunning for ya. Or maybe we didn't get the whole story on that. Someone was in here, even if you didn't see him.” If he'd thought that the slight or the warning would hit the mark, he was way off on that thought. She barely seemed to register the thought as a blip on her sarcasm radar. Or her self preservation radar.

“They haven't caught me yet,” she pointed out mildly. “I've been taking care of myself for a long time. That ain't gonna change. And even if someone was in here, I roll pretty fast. One second of surprise is nothing. I don't need coddling and protecting like your little friend.”

Logan was bristling, listening to her so casually dismiss whatever threat she had already on her and the threat that he was feeling now. He just didn't know how to change her opinion over that without acting like a blunt instrument and to his regret, he felt more like that than ever. He didn't know how to do suave and in control. Something happened and it took a lot from him to stay in the kind of control that the civilized world demanded. Even Charles and the rest of his little gang of do-gooders hadn't seen him in a full berserker rage that he was capable of. He had come close when Rogue had been threatened, but the threat had been dealt with before he got to that breaking point. For himself, he figured that the last ten minutes, he had done a damn fine job of not going overboard. But until she knew the full truth about him, she just wasn't going to see that. But then, to his utter amazement, something in her softened and her arms dropped.

“I gotta say though,” she mused, a smile playing about her lips,” that's it's nice to have an extra set of eyes lookin' out.”

Relief that he hadn't completely cocked everything up coursed through him. “Yeah,” he grinned, swallowing once to moisten his throat, gone dry at the reappearance of her smile, “the professor likes taking people under his proverbial wings. We've been through some things and we... know some of what each other are all capable of. I guess we've all just learned to band together.”

“Whether you like it or not?” she asked teasingly. Logan shrugged once.

“Pretty much,” he agreed and then glanced up at her from under hooded eyes. “I guess that's including you now too.” He held his breath as she ruminated a moment over that. And then she laughed as she moved away from the door, heading for the couch.

“There are worse people I could be hangin' with,” she smirked and stood behind the sofa as she lifted the remote and clicked the television on. She glanced back at him. “You joinin' me or plannin' on standing bodyguard all night?” Even further relieved and pleased, Logan moved forward, catching the remote as she tossed it to him. “Get comfy and find us something to watch while I get changed,” she commanded easily as she veered off to disappear into the bedroom.

Logan settled himself into the corner of the sofa, figuring that she could choose her seat when she got back. Even as he absentmindedly flipped through the channels available, not caring really what was on, he listened to the soft sounds of fabric rustling, drawers sliding on their rollers and the soft humming of his girl. The thing that relieved him most was that she was allowing him to stay, even if she didn't believe in the threat he felt.

Could have been a disaster, but at the moment, life was still pretty damn good.

Chapter Twenty-three