Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You still have time.”

Logan was dreaming; Charles’s voice echoing in his mind like it used to when the most powerful telepath in the world had still been in control of his powers. But Charles was dead. Logan had buried him. Which meant that Charles couldn’t be in his head. It also meant that Logan couldn’t be dreaming because…well, he was dead too. You didn’t dream when you were dead.

Did you?

Slowly, he opened his eyes. His eyelids felt unbearably heavy. He was greeted by the sight of an industrial ceiling and thankfully, soft lighting. Medical facility, his mind helpfully supplied. Logan had woken up in enough of those to recognize the antiseptic scent and the sterility of the environment, even without looking around. Not that he could look around. His entire body felt like it had turned to stone, and he felt as though a great weight were pressing down on his chest. His breathing was disturbingly ragged.

Still, he sensed another presence in the room. Nearby. It took all his strength to move his head a few inches to the left to see his mystery companion. The sight was even more surprising than the sound of Charles’s voice or the idea that he’d been dreaming. If anything, his companion was definitive proof that he was in the afterlife.

“Scott,” he breathed.

The familiar face of Cyclops and his ruby quartz visor came closer to Logan’s bed. This Scott was older than the one Logan remembered. How many years had it been? Ten? No, more. Fifteen. But this Scott was still fit and still strikingly handsome. Not that physical appearance had ever mattered very much to Logan. His attraction to Scott had always run deeper than that.

“Scott,” he repeated. “Yer not real,” he said, hearing the heartbreak in his voice. He tried to reach out to the apparition, but his limbs wouldn’t cooperate.

It didn’t matter. The Scott-hallucination knew what to do, taking Logan’s weather beaten hand in his own and holding it firmly. Logan didn’t even have the strength to return the grip.

“Sleep,” the hallucination said.

Logan inwardly smiled at the undercurrent of command in Scott’s tone. Cyclops hadn’t been the leader of the X-Men in many years, but the tone of command would never leave him. Logan remembered what it had been like to follow his orders, to be Cyclops’s right hand. He would’ve followed Scott to the very end, he thought, as his eyes drifted shut. But the end was never what you expected it to be.

The next time Logan woke it was to the sound of hushed voices. His body still felt like a dead weight and this time he didn’t even bother to open his eyes. He let the sounds wash over him, zeroing in on the only voice that mattered – the one that belonged to Scott.

Summers may have looked older, but he still sounded like himself. Logan listened to the familiar cadence, imagining the accompanying expressions to match Scott’s tone. The other man sounded agitated, but still tightly controlled. Scott had always been so tightly controlled.

“Explain to me what’s happening,” Scott said.

“I’m not a scientist,” was the reply.

Logan didn’t recognize the second voice. Definitely younger than Scott, though.

“I’m not asking for a scientific explanation,” Scott said patiently. “Based on your understanding of your power, what do you think is happening?”

Your power.

Another mutant. Scott was with another mutant. Laura! his mind panicked. What about the other kids? Where were they? Had they made it to safety? Logan struggled to open his eyes.

“He’s waking up,” the unknown voice said.

“Put him under.”

“I’m not a doctor.”

“You’re the closest thing we have,” Scott countered. “Put him under.”

Logan never opened his eyes.

The third time Logan woke up he recognized another familiar scent in the room – sticky and a little sweet like melted candy, mixed with something more earthy and metallic.

Laura.

It was still hard to open his eyes, but he made the effort, turning his head to the right in the direction of his daughter’s scent.

Laura was there, dressed in a pair of yellow and pink pajamas, curled up and sleeping peacefully in a wide armchair. Logan immediately relaxed when he saw her. She looked well. Healthy. Safe. He heard footsteps entering the room and for some reason, his immediate reaction was to fake sleep. Through slitted eyes, he watched as Scott approached the sleeping girl. He felt a pang of fear for his former lover, the urge to warn Scott that Laura could be dangerous if she felt threatened or was surprised nearly overcoming him.

He needn’t have worried. Laura opened her eyes at Scott’s gentle touch on her shoulder. There was something in her expression that told Logan that she’d known it had been Scott all along. When did that happen? he wondered. How long had he been here? Where was here?

The questions were important, but not as important as the scene unfolding in front of him.

“Come on,” Scott was saying. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“No,” Laura stubbornly replied, but there was no real defiance in her. As if proving Logan’s point, she added, almost pleadingly, “Just a bit longer.”

She trusted Scott, Logan realized, and the thought warmed him. Scott had always been good with kids, had known how to earn that trust.

Scott straightened up and looked down at her. “All right,” he agreed, after a moment.

Logan had expected Scott to leave, but instead the other man moved closer to Laura’s chair. Laura also appeared to have expected Scott’s reaction since she shifted, making room for him as he sat down in the wide armchair and then she was climbing over him to settle in his lap. If Logan had had any control of his body, he might’ve fallen out of his bed in shock. As it was, he watched as Laura rested her head on Scott’s shoulder. She briefly made eye contact with him before shutting her eyes. The little sneak, Logan thought, even as his mind couldn’t fully process what was happening. All he knew was that she had known he was awake and had wanted him to see.

See what?

“Is this a dream?” Logan asked the perfect Scott-hallucination.

“Why would you think that?” Scott replied, as he adjusted the IV that fed Logan the nutrients that he needed.

“It’s the only explanation I can think of,” Logan said, his voice raspy from disuse. “Otherwise, you’re all dead.”

Scott sat down in the chair beside Logan’s bed. It was a smaller, narrower chair, the type often seen in hospital rooms. Where was the comfortable armchair that he’d shared with Laura? Had that been a dream too?

“Many of us are dead,” Scott agreed softly. “Our race is on the verge of extinction.”

“But you’re not,” Logan went on, not even sure if he was making sense. Not dead, he wanted to say. You’re not dead.

Logan had thought that he’d lost Scott years ago, long before Charles had wiped out what was left of the X-Men and the school that he had devoted his entire life to in Westchester. That awful day when Scott had left the X-Men was burned into his memory. It had broken Charles’s heart, but by then the breach between them had been irreparable. Scott had always been like a son to the Professor and his departure (and those that had gone with him) had left a void in the school. Scott’s decision had also torn Logan apart, but he had chosen to stay and, in time, had been able to fill some of the void that Scott had left behind.

“Genosha,” Logan rasped, fighting hard to stay awake. “I thought I lost you…again…in Genosha.”

Scott was fiddling with something that Logan couldn’t see, a dial of some kind near the edge of his bed.

“I was there,” he confirmed. “But I got out.”

“Magneto?”

Scott’s smile was soft and a little rueful. “He got out too,” he answered. “You should sleep,” he added, running his hand down the side of Logan’s bearded cheek. Logan would’ve leaned into the touch if he could.

“Stop that,” he said.

Scott removed his hand and Logan instantly regretted his words. That wasn’t what he’d meant at all.

“Stop,” he tried again. “Putting me to sleep.” He’d felt the rush of fluid enter his IV. It was some kind of sedative.

Scott’s expression grew serious. “The sleep helps your body heal,” he explained. “You aren’t healing the way you should.”

Tell me about it, Logan wanted to say, but he was already drifting off.

The next time Logan came to, Laura was standing beside his bed holding his hand. Her grip was firm.

“Where are we?” he said. It was a question he’d been meaning to ask for some time, but kept forgetting whenever he saw Scott.

“Eden,” she replied simply. Then she smiled.

Logan smiled back. And damn, that took effort.

“Eden,” he repeated with a half sigh.

It turned out that the place was real. Eden, like the Garden of Eden, maybe? It was supposed to be a safe haven for mutants and Scott was here, too. Maybe it was a paradise, after all.

There was a new person in the room. ‘New’ was a relative description. Logan recognized the scent. Vaguely. It was an older, more mature scent now, but he remembered when it was young and naïve, sweet and innocent. It was a cool scent, not quite as crisp as Storm’s scent of biting snow, but gentler and more delicate.

“Snowflake,” he said aloud.

There was the rustle of a magazine being put down.

“Now, that’s a name I haven’t heard in many years,” a woman’s voice said. “And only Pete was allowed to call me that.”

“You look well, Illyana,” Logan said, as the face of Illyana Rasputin came into view. She looked more than well. She’d grown up to be a stunningly, beautiful woman. Seeing her made his heart briefly ache for her dead brother.

“You’ve looked better, Wolverine,” she replied.

“Age catches up with us all,” he deadpanned back.

“Not if Scott has his way.” Illyana grinned. There was something in her expression that implied that Scott was used to getting his way. Logan could confirm that assessment from his own experience with the man.

“I better go get him,” Illyana went on. “He wanted to know as soon as you woke up.”

Logan surprised himself by reaching out and grasping Illyana’s arm before she could move away. She also seemed surprised – whether by the gesture or because he had the strength to do it, Logan wasn’t sure – and raised a questioning eyebrow at him.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“Eden,” she replied.

“I know that,” he said, not meaning to sound as impatient as he did. “But where exactly is Eden?”

lllyana’s smile was disturbingly enigmatic. “I should let Scott explain that,” she told him. She gently tugged at her arm and Logan released her. “It’s good to see you getting your strength back,” she added.

Logan watched her disappear into the hallway. She was right. He was feeling better. Stronger. More clear-headed. He was still nowhere near one hundred percent, but it was definitely a marked improvement from being at death’s door. (From being dead? He had died, hadn’t he?) He reached for the control at the side of his bed that adjusted the bed’s angle. He’d just maneuvered himself to a sitting position when Illyana re-entered, this time accompanied by Scott and a man that Logan didn’t recognize. He knew the scent though. The stranger was the mutant that he’d heard Scott speaking to before, Eden’s resident ‘doctor.’

“How’re you feeling?” Scott said, immediately walking to his bedside.

“Better,” Logan answered, truthfully.

“You’re looking a lot better,” Scott agreed. Logan could hear the approval (and the relief) in his tone. “Logan, I want you to meet Christopher Muse,” Scott went on, gesturing to the dreadlocked, dark-skinned man on his right. “You have him to thank for…reviving…you.”

Logan reached out and shook Christopher’s hand.

“You can call me, Triage,” Christopher said.

“That’s quite a gift you have there, Triage,” Logan told him.

“You were quite the challenge, Wolverine,” Christopher replied. “I’ve never had to heal anybody before that had their own healing factor.”

“I meant bringing me back from the dead,” Logan clarified, because he distinctly remembered dying.

“Ah, well…yes,” Christopher agreed, glancing at Scott briefly. He actually seemed embarrassed. “It’s not something I do often,” he admitted. “Reanimation is difficult and it only works when there’s still some life force left in the body, usually a significant amount of life energy. You only had a sliver of a life force left when we got to you, but Scott insisted that I try.”

“We’re very glad you did, Christopher,” Scott interrupted.

Logan wondered at Scott’s use of the word ‘we.’ Was he speaking for both of them? As if they were a couple? Or did he mean ‘we’ in a more general, collective sense? And why was he over-thinking this? Over-thinking was not Logan’s territory. That belonged to Scott.

“You’re not out of the woods yet,” Christopher went on. “Reanimation doesn’t mean I have the ability to restore necrotic tissue. But in your case, my power combined with your healing factor – diminished as it is – helped restore most of those cells. You’re still not at optimum health, though.”

“Well, I’m feeling better than I have in a long while,” Logan admitted. Not since Westchester, was what he didn’t say. “If this is the best ya can do, I’m grateful.”

Christopher nodded, but once more he glanced at Scott. Logan could sense that there was more he hadn’t been told yet and Christopher was deferring to Scott in that area.

“We’re working on a way of flushing the poison out of your system,” Scott said. “The adamantium skeleton is permanent, but your healing factor can’t cope with the adamantium poison that’s somehow been injected into your body. Forge says the poison’s been slowing killing you for over a year now.”

“Forge is still around, huh?”

“He’s the one that designed the cloaking system that protects this facility,” Scott explained. “If he can’t get the adamantium out of your bloodstream, or if your healing factor doesn’t revert to what it was before once the poison is out, Forge has come up with an implant to keep track of the levels so that they’re manageable.”

“Did it ever occur to you, Summers, that maybe I don’t wanna live forever?”

Scott’s smile was wry and all too knowing. “You’ve long sought death, Logan,” he said, as if they were the only two people in the room. “But maybe now you have something to live for again.”

Everyone present must’ve known that Scott was referring to Laura, Logan’s cloned daughter, but Logan couldn’t help but wonder if Scott may have been referring to other things as well. There’s still time were the Professor’s words. Was there, Logan wondered? Was there still time for he and Scott to try again? Would Scott even be interested in that?

Magik discreetly coughed. She gave Triage a look that indicated they were no longer needed (or possibly wanted) and motioned to the door. Triage nodded in return and said to Logan, “Good to see you finally awake, man.”

“It’s good to finally be awake,” Logan agreed. “Thanks again.”

“No problem. We’ll talk more later.” Triage turned to Scott and gave the other man a quick nod.

Logan wondered if Triage was part of the team that Scott led now. It was inconceivable to Logan that Scott didn’t have a team. Some part of Logan would always consider Scott to be an X-Man – the first X-Man – no matter how things had ended.

Magik gently touched Scott’s elbow. “Meeting at three,” she said quietly, as if Scott would need reminding.

Scott leaned a little towards her and said, “Of course.”

Logan began to wonder at the nature of Scott and Illyana’s relationship, too. There seemed to be something almost intimate about their exchange. Or maybe that was his overactive imagination and innate territoriality when it came to his former leader.

“Let’s go, Triage,” Illyana said, grasping the other man by the arm and walking to the door.

“So, those two,” Logan heard Triage say, even though the other man had lowered his voice to a whisper, as they left the room.

“What about them?” Magik asked.

“I mean, they were…you know.” Christopher trailed off. “They have history,” he said at last. “Did you feel that back there? I thought the room was going to explode from the intensity.”

“They have a lot of history,” Magik confirmed, and Logan could hear the smile in her voice.

“So…” Christopher needled.

“You realize that he can hear us?”

“Who?”

“Logan.”

“We’re out in the hallway,” Triage said, incredulously.

“Hyper-senses,” Magik answered.

“Aw, fuck.”

That marked the end of the conversation, or at least until Christopher deemed that they were out of earshot of Logan’s hyper-senses. Logan returned his attention to Scott, who must’ve known what he’d been doing.

“Eavesdropping?” Scott asked, a little teasingly.

“Triage is curious about us,” he said in return.

“He’s always been like that,” Scott said. “He’s a good kid.”

“Not really a kid anymore, is he?”

“No,” Scott agreed. “None of them are kids anymore.”

They fell into a comfortable silence until Logan broke it by asking, “So, what happens now?”

“I thought you might be feeling a little cooped up in here,” Scott replied. “If you’re feeling up to it, I could give you the grand tour.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Seven days.”

“Triage has been working on me all that time?”

“You were in bad shape by the time we got to you.”

“You mean, I was dead.”

Scott’s expression softened. “What was that like?” he asked, somewhat curiously.

“A relief,” Logan admitted, before he could stop himself.

Scott nodded, his expression contemplative. “Are you sorry that I brought you back?” he said, leaving no doubt that everything that had happened to Logan since his “death” had been Scott’s doing.

Logan didn’t answer right away. It had taken him days, drifting in and out of consciousness, before he realized that what was happening to him was real and not a dream, a hallucination or some twisted vision of the afterlife. Eden was real. Scott was real. Laura was safe.

“Too soon to tell,” he said at last. “You’ll have to help me make up my mind.”

The slow curve of Scott’s lips meant that he’d accepted Logan’s challenge. “Relying on my powers of persuasion?” he questioned. “That practically gives me an unfair advantage.”

Logan couldn’t help but grin at the familiar banter. Already, it was easy to fall into old habits. After the early days of their antagonism and their ridiculous (Logan could admit it now) rivalry over Jean, their relationship had developed an easy give and take. It had taken Logan years to break through Scott’s professional veneer, but once he had done so, he understood why Jean had fallen in love with the Boy Scout. (Not that the term ‘Boy Scout’ applied to Summers anymore. ‘Mutant revolutionary’ was the phrase most associated with him now.) Getting through Scott’s defenses only meant that Logan had fallen deeper into Summers’ gravitational field and by then he knew there was no going back, no pretending that Scott hadn’t become the most important person in the world to him.

Scott Summers had been a turning point in Logan’s life; a relationship that had defined him, right up until the day that Scott had walked out of his life and Logan had chosen not to follow. Logan had closed that door, believing it to be the end, had been certain of it when news had broken of the annihilation of Genosha.

But now Summers was back in his life – had brought him back to life – and it seemed like their story wasn’t over yet, that maybe more chapters could be written.

“It’s good to see you, Scott,” he said.

“You too, Logan.”