Fiction TGoM- Chapter Twenty-eight

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-15 (for language)

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.

The Glory Of Manticore



Chapter Twenty-eight

That's true,” she nodded. “Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you now?”

The question hung in the air between them. It seemed as if time was stretching out, like a long slow pull of taffy. Max wondered how long before it would break. She wet her lower lip nervously, but the tension was immediately relieved as Logan's eyes darted to follow the motion of the tip of her tongue sweeping across the plump flesh. The darkening of his eyes and the slow grin assured her that the question wasn't all that unwelcome. And then finally, he spoke.

“Any time you want darlin',” he assured her in that slow, thickly accented drawl. She was surprised later, that she had been thinking about where that accent came from. Because the thought of thinking of that, disappeared from her mind the moment that she leaned forward and gently touched her lips to his. Acting like a gentleman that had learned some manners some where, Logan simply waited, letting her take the lead. Not that Max minded. As much as she hated the heat cycles that her genetic make up forced her into, she had at least learned to step up and take what she wanted some of the time.

It had also taught her how to catalog the signs of when a guy was into it or not. And Logan, was definitely into her. Or at least wanted to be. Her lips curved upwards as that thought flashed across her mind. She sighed softly with pleasure before pulling away. It was as good as it had been earlier outside the club. But this time, there was no paranoia that Zack might be spying on her. At least she knew that Logan had ways of sensing her bother as well and he was too relaxed in the moment for any threat to be closing in around them.

She drew back, blinking slowly as she studied the man before her. His face was a maze of mixed emotions. He looked, hungry, pleased, touched, almost... desperate and Max, above all, was pleased to see that she had instilled that in him. “What?” she asked softly, when his silence went on. He blinked once and then the shit eating grin was back.

“You don't know...” he began. Max waited as his shoulders tensed and flexed. With a dangerous smirk, Max winked at him.

“I'm not breakable, I can say no when I want to and really mean it, and now that I know how good your senses are,” she added, “I'm sure as hell not gonna lie about how or what I might be... feeling.”

“Fuck,” he breathed out and then it was his hands, those large rough, callused fingered hands that were cradling her face once more, her hands catching his forearms and reveling in the strength that she found there. He drew her close, his lips sliding against hers until the pressure, not tentative but not pounding either had her lips parting enough that his tongue slipped in.

The taste of him was spicy, warm. Beyond the food, the appetizers and the taste of beer still on his breath, Max found that base scent and taste that she had wanted. Who Logan actually was and part of why he appealed so much. True, he didn't know that she had some senses of her own that told her a damn good bit of information, but she could take from these moments too. And what she wanted, was what her brothers and sister's couldn't give. What ordinaries couldn't seem to step up and provide.

She wanted to be cherished, but admired. Loved for who and what she was but supported for what she was, in what she did. Logan, she suspected, needed the same thing. And always, the only man that she had ever found it with, a sense that she could be his everything, that she could be the one that he would lay down his life for. She had never admitted it for real, but she had always wanted to be that girl. A real girl that deserved those things.

Max had no objections at all as Logan's hand slipped down to her shoulder and then around her back, pulling her closer. As adept as she was at taking care of herself, she liked the feeling of a warm, hard, larger male body beside her, over her, even under. It was comforting in a way she didn't bother to explain, even to herself. But still, even though he was directing her closer, she wanted more still and without breaking their kiss, lifted her leg to throw over his thighs. Logan seemed not to object as, with a groan and a heated break to move his mouth, his tongue tracing a line over the column of her throat, cupped the bottoms of her thighs and pulled her closer.

She felt like purring as she felt the long hard ridge of his dick, through their clothes, against her. Friggin' purring! Well damn it to hell, she was part kitty and they were decadent creatures, weren't they?

Figuring that she had stayed idle enough, aside from his hair and lips and tongue, she drew her hands down his chest, feeling the muscles rippling as she pressed lightly with her nails. Logan grunted, the sound full of pleasure and tilted his head back. His eyes were glittering as his fingers kneaded the flesh he was holding. But more than that they were thoughtful. She waited, wiggling slightly to find a comfort zone, honestly more just to align herself totally and properly on his lap. She was unsure if things were going to go all the way. That was something she didn't usually...

And by the gentle kiss and the tension in his fingers that he tried to flex loose, Logan was under the same dilemma. Max was the one to break away this time, rubbing her lips over the deceptively smooth, soft facial hair until she could whisper in his ear, “if you're not ready for the next big step, don't worry. I'm not sure either.”

“Oh I want it darlin',” he sighed, leaning in to her administrations. “But you're right. It seems like it's too soon, but not soon enough.” He barked a short laugh and then turned to look at her, smiling widely. “You know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I think I do,” she nodded, grinning wildly. There were some uneases lingering, mostly baggage from the past and she was unsure how she or he would handle them. She kind of suspected... “Old ghosts?” she asked.

“A closet full,” he grunted. “You?” he asked with a quirk of an eyebrow.

“Closet's not big enough. A web is more like it,” she pouted. “Just when you think you've got one stand straightened out, another bisects and you wonder, where the hell did that one come from?”

“Or maybe a ball of yarn,” he teased. “Just when you've worked out one knot, ten more show up.”

“Oh that's a god one,” she giggled and then sighed. “So we're agreed then? Nothing too heavy until...”

He pursed his lips and then blew out a breath. “Fuck if I know. This isn't how things have gone down in the past. Not that I-!” he broke off that sentence and eyed her just slightly wary, not of what he'd been about to say, but how she would respond to it.

“Same here,” she admitted, understanding perfectly. She glanced away and then shyly, very much so for her, she told him, “usually meet a guy, he likes, I like, we like for a while and then he bolts.”

“Can't imagine why,” Logan nearly growled, looking for all the world as if he wanted to simultaneously kick their butts for being assholes to her and rip their heads off for 'liking' her.

“It's the baggage thing,” she reminded him, shrugging one shoulder. “Isn't that how it goes down for you?”

He thought about it for just a few seconds, because she pretty much had it pegged. “Damn straight. I guess... maybe it was just because I hadn't found something worth sticking around for.”

“That's what I told myself too,” Max confessed. “I didn't believe it, really, until now.”

“What changed?” he asked curiously. The smile returned to her face as she leaned down to touch her nose to his.

“I met you.”

TgoM~TGoM

Logan stared at himself in the mirror that hung over the dresser in his own room. He couldn't help the smirk that he wore. He was feeling pretty good with himself. With his life, for the first time in a long while. It was true that the past was still holding him back. But at least this time it was at his decision, his behest. And it wasn't so much the past as it was that he didn't want something from it to come up and bite him in the ass. He wanted Max to know the truth before she went into this because the way he was feeling, he had the sense that losing her just might shatter him beyond his ability to pick himself up, brush off the dust and debris of a failed romance and go on. He'd done that, in several ways and forms over the past decade plus.

There was something about Max that was indispensable to his psyche. He didn't understand why or how, but removing her now from her life was like thinking of tearing his heart out. He didn't think that even with his healing mutation he'd just grow a new one of those in the few precious minutes that the rest of his body would need to survive. There, his smirk softened into a smile. He'd admitted it. He needed her like air and instead of being scared of that fact, he was scared of not telling her how important she was to him. Scared that he'd screw up somehow and send her running. Scared for a lot of reasons, but loving her? It was not one of them.

He stared at himself a moment longer before he wearily shook his head. How she could even begin to have feelings for him... curmudgeonly, old, dickwad to others that he was... But she seemed to like it. She was more mature than her cultural counterparts, he could tell. He suspected that something in her past had made her that way and she had given him a few clues to work with.

Swiping a hand over his beard, his fingers stilled as he recalled how she had threaded her fingertips through it, stroking at his cheek, almost unconscious of the fact. It had never hurt, pinched or pulled and several times she had rubbed her cheek against his. He had catalogued it all, every positive response from her, mind, word or body. The negatives were there as well, though much fewer. Like the way she had flinched ever so slightly when he had pressed, probably a little too hard, his thumb against the base of her spine. Her entire spine he knew, he had to treat lightly. It turned out to be too sensitive to be an aggressive erotic zone. The same went for her knees.

Now, her ticklish feet? That was a negative in a positive way. And a good sign that she was ready to cool down. He was too, but couldn't resist tickling at her feet that he had captured, just to hear her giggles and feel her body squirming against his in a less sexual way. It was playful, not all that familiar to him and delicious in it's normalcy.

Logan debated whether or not he should shower now or wait until after his run in the morning. After the preview they'd treated themselves to tonight, he was pretty sure his dreams were going to work him over but good. Possibly in several ways. He turned to glance at the turned down bed. Housekeeping had been in again and he took a deep whiff of the linens. The scent of the laundry, fresh to others but overwhelming for him, got in his nostrils and he fought the urge to sneeze. He buried his nose in the crook of his elbow and his eyebrows went up as the urge went away.

Her scent.

He turned his head slowly, smirking deeply as he tracked it back to it's strongest point, at his shoulder. He could very clearly recall how she had often rubbed her cheek or nose or even her chin against that very point. Did she even realize that she had been putting her scent on him? He doubted it. But it was there none the less. He glanced over at the bed again as an idea hit. Within seconds, he had stripped the bed of all but one sheet, since he really didn't want to be distracted by thoughts of what that mattress had seen in service to the hotel's patrons. The pillows went the same way as the cover and sheets and with a slight sense of satisfaction and anticipation, he stripped most of his evening clothes for his sweats. The t-shirt he had worn under the dress shirt, the one that Max had rubbed herself on... that he kept.

He laid himself out on the bed, on his stomach, pillowing his head on his crossed arms, nose turned to Max's scent that lingered and sighed happily, his eyes already drifting shut.

The sound of pounding, flesh on wood, his mind quickly informed him, was what woke him the next morning. His internal clock told him that it was early. Not too much so, but still enough that not many others would want to be up. And then it registered that it was not his door that was being knocked upon.

Logan blinked away the sleep and turned, cocking his head so that he could better hear what was going on next door. He reached out quickly with his senses, already up and out of the bed, tensed to wait.

“Max?” Scott was saying from the hallway. He was whispering, but Logan heard him clearly, as focused as he was. He heard Max's footsteps hurrying towards the main hallway of the hotel and then her door opening.

“Scott? What's going on?”

“It's Jean,” Scott offered quickly. “She's developed a raging migraine. Her usual medicine isn't working, but I found a place. I hate to ask, but can you sit with her while I'm gone?”

“Of course I can,” Max answered instantly and Logan relaxed slightly. He felt bad that Jean was hurting and worse that he'd never noticed until Scott had said, her elevated scents, displaying her dismay and the pheromones that clearly screamed pain. The scents were there, light in the air close to the door, found only because he'd serached for them. Of course, he had the excuse that he'd been asleep. He barely wondered if he should offer to stay with her as well, but dismissed the thought. Jean didn't need extra people crowding her right now. “Let me grab a robe and I'll be right over.”

“Thank you so much Max,” Scott gasped out in relief and Logan smiled sadly. Poor guy. He really did love Red. “I'll let Jean know.”

“Okay.”

The door closed and he heard the corresponding footsteps of each. Scott's taking him away and Max closer to the wall that they shared. He heard Max's sigh and some movement and then she had turned away, tracing her steps back and out of her hotel room. Logan frowned, feeling almost like a tether was between them, stretching out slightly as she moved steadily off to Scott and Jean's room across from hers. Scott had exited the room and headed off down the hallway as Max quietly greeted the telekine. It was harder to hear now that several doors were in the way, rather than just one wall.

Logan waited until Max seemed to find a place and settled in. He could hear a murmured conversation and decided not to pry. Women liked having their little secrets and private conversations. Plus, it was mostly, probably going to be assessing how bad off Jean was and anything they could do to help alleviate the pain. Since he had no suggestions, his body automatically did it for him, Logan had nothing to contribute. Other than to be vigilant over them until Scott was back and Max was where she belonged. He sank down to the floor, his back against the main door of his hotel room.

Satisfied that his senses would be hyper aware now, since Max wasn't as close as she had been before, Logan settled for a closed eyed, deep breathing relaxation that was neither sleep nor full waking. It didn't occur to him to be surprised that he could manage it at all, with someone he considered his in an even slightly vulnerable position.

TgoM~TGoM

Max slipped past Scott, who had gathered his coat, wallet and sets of keys, both room and car. “I'll be back as soon as I can,” he whispered and she nodded. “She's in the bedroom, but check before you go in.”

“Got it,” Max whispered back and Scott hurried out the door. Max was moving hesitantly, since she wasn't sure how to approach Jean, or even if she could. From what they had talked about before, having people around her when she was having one of her episodes made things tougher and more painful for Jean.

“You can come in,” Jean invited. Working from her power or just observation, Max wasn't sure. The grimace in her voice came through clearly. But Max wasn't going to make her wait and exert herself more. She wasn't a stranger to pain, could manage it, but neither did she like to prolong it. She wouldn't do that to someone else.

Jean was laying on her side, facing away from the door, slightly curled up in a fetal position, the heels of her hand pressing against her eyes. Max walked as quietly as she could, which, as a transgenic was pretty damn quiet. She halted at the foot of the bed, and gracefully sank down to her knees before settling back.

“You smell like Logan,” Jean said without looking at her and now Max could add bemusement to Jean's tone of voice.

“I know,” she said simply, quietly.

“You like it,” Jean observed without observing. Max smiled. “Oh that's nice,” Jean sighed happily. “Stay happy, please!” she begged and then Max realized that the telepathy portion of Jean's powers must have been rearing their head. Smiling, she concentrated on the elation that she had felt in Logan's arms earlier and when Jean chuckled, blushed just slightly.

“You're not getting the visuals here, are you?” she wondered, her voice still soft.

“A little,” Jean admitted tiredly, pulling her hands away, though she didn't open her eyes. “It's kind of intermingling with everything that I'm getting from everyone else on this floor. And the next.”

“Ouch,” Max winced. She tilted her head slightly. “Did it help or would it if I...” she screwed her face up a little as she tried to work out what would help a psychic not be so psychic. “I mean, you probably tried the meditation, right?”

“Right away,” Jean admitted. “It didn't help. Apparently about two hours ago, it was so bad that the bed was shaking, things in the room were floating. Scott was freaking out.”

“I bet,” Max nodded and then chewed at her inner cheek for a moment. “Does it help to touch... I mean like focus...” She winced and tried to hold back her sheepish laugh. “Sorry, I'm out of my depths here.”

“Sometimes touch amplifies things,” Jean explained, wincing again and her hands went back to her eyes. “Oh God,” she whimpered. “Nightmare.”

With nothing else left but to wait for Scott to return with medication hopefully strong enough to quell this, Max was moving up beside the bed and reached for one of Jean's hands. She didn't particularly want to share the things she had with Logan earlier, but thinking on it had prompted something. The moment that her fingers touched the back of Jean's wrist, she filled her mind with the memory Logan had asked for.

Images of Ben, entertaining her and her siblings with shadow puppets on the wall, the relief of Ben lifting his blanket up to allow her to crawl in and snuggle close to his side as they fell asleep warm and complete. The same from Zack, the way he'd stroke her hair. That prompted remembering Eva brushing her hair in the evening's when things weren't as rushed like they were in the morning. She had almost forgotten that and she replayed the sensation of it in her mind several times, committing it to the forefront of her memories. Then there was Tinga hugging her around the middle as she and Jondy had a tickle fight with her and she got trounced. Every good feeling, prompted by the love her family had given her, she replayed as many as she could in her mind. The pleasure of Zack handing her that beautiful red balloon and the feel of the latex under her finger. The slide of the ribbon through her hand as it tried to float up and away.

She had to fight not to let the sadness overwhelm her and when she felt it starting to creep in, she'd switch to a different memory.

After a little while, Jean perked up a little. “You grew up on a military base?” she asked curiously. Max simply smiled, not bothering to answer. Through the memories she was willingly giving Jean this time, it had to have been obvious. This time though, she played a few different things. The bracing scent of the air on a cold morning. The beauty of a tiny icicle formed off the point of a pine tree as winter set in. The yards and yards of unbroken snow drifts after a night's storm. The pleasure of being allowed to jump in and snow flying everywhere, so light and soft, but cold and tickly at the same time too. The pleased surprise of a fast and furious snow fight and then the warmth of a shower afterwards.

“Bobby'd love those ones,” Jean murmured, a small smile on her face.

“Which one?” Scott asked softly and Max glanced up over her shoulder at him. She had heard him return and had been surprised that almost forty five minutes had passed since she had started this. Jean moved and Max loosened her grip and pulled back.

“Memory sharing,” she answered before Jean could say anything. “Just was thinking 'bout the snow drifts at home and how fun it was to jump in one.”

“Oh yeah,” Scott nodded. “Bobby would like that. Jean? You seem a little better,” he remarked cautiously.

“It's coming back,” she winced. “But it's so much better than it was before.” She carefully pushed herself upright and both Max and Scott could see the desperate battle that had raged in her mind, etched over her physical features. Scott carefully opened the paper bag he had brought, mindful of the rustling noise.

“This is what Dr. McTaggert recommended,” he offered. “It's about the strongest thing we can get right now. It should knock you out for at least a few hours and she doesn't recommend you driving for a few more hours even after that.” Jean nodded tiredly and accepted the bottle from him. She tried to focus on the bottle, but it was clear that it was too much for her. Scott moved away, presumably to get her some water with which to take the medicine. Jean settled the bottle on the nightstand and turned her face to Max.

“You really don't know how much that helped,” she began and Max smiled gently and rubbed the woman's exposed shin.

“You don't sound like you want to tear your own head off and throw it into a vat of boiling oil,” she offered contemplatively. Jean barked out a short laugh and then gingerly shook her head.

“No, just boiling water now, maybe with some scrubbing bubbles,” she winced. “Some of these people really need therapy.” It was Max's turn to smile, but Jean reached to push a wisp of hair back and behind Max's ear. “I can't thank you enough. Especially given what you showed me. Something so personal...”

“The love I have for my family is never something I would deny or try to hide from you guys,” Max told her honestly. “The circumstance we were in? Whole different ball game. But I'm thinking that maybe one day, if I ever want to share?” she shrugged her shoulders.

“I would listen,” Jean finished for her with a sad smile. “Thanks for staying. I know it made Scott feel better. But for now, I think I'd better take those and try and get some sleep. 'S too bad,” she slurred slightly. “Coney Islands 's fun. You'll have to tell me... when you get home.”

“Definitely,” Max nodded and patted the redhead's knee. “Take care Jean.” She rose and passed Scott on his way back into the bedroom.

“Can you hang on a sec?” he asked quickly and Max nodded. She watched as he delivered the water to Jean and opened up the bottle to shake out the required dose before he helped her drink everything down. He then tenderly tucked her back into bed and then made his way back to Max.

“You're still going to Coney Island?” he asked. Max shrugged.

“That's the plan,” she began, “but if you need us...?”

Scott gave her a brief grin. “No, I was just thinking that if you had your luggage ready, you can stow it here until we check out. We'll take it with us, so you and Logan don't have to worry about that.”

“Oh, thanks Scott,” Max grinned. She hadn't even considered that yet. “Okay, should I just knock before, or we can even run it down to the car. Less for you to do,” she offered.

“Either is fine,” Scott nodded. “Just knock at the door when you're ready and I'll either take it or give you the keys.”

“Excellent,” she nodded. “Now, try and get some rest too and don't worry so much. It'll be easier on both of you.”

“I know, I know,” he sighed. “But I can't help it. She hurts and I hurt with her.”

“So instead, show her the love and it'll hurt less,” Max chuckled.

“Oh, I bet,” Scott grinned along with her. “Thank you again Max. One of these days, you'll have to teach me your little tricks with her. They've been more effective than anything yet.”

Max shrugged one shoulder again. “It's just been instinct, man. But whatever works, right?”

Scott nodded and saw her to the door, waiting in his own doorway until she was safely in her room and he heard the door bolt engage. And then he shut his own door.

Max slipped into her room and immediately shed the robe she had worn that was hotel provided. She paused for a moment, listening intently and then smiled. Logan wasn't the only one present with good hearing. She moved over to the wall that divided their room, placing one hand on the material that separated them.

“Jean's doing better Logan,” she enunciated clearly and in a normal tone of voice. “Scott's back and she took some medicine. And now I'm going to try a get in a few zzz's. Let me know when you're ready to head out.” She paused and then pulled her hand away from the wall. “Good night Logan.”

Then, after just a seconds pause, she was wrinkling her nose to try and repress the pleased quiet squeal she wanted to make, as his voice reverberated softly through the wall, “good night darlin'.”