When Verena mentioned that the girl from the bar had hidden herself in the tow trailer, Logan hadn't really registered it—at least not until an hour later, when he heard a rattling from the back.

Verena dozed lightly in the bed of the RV, too on edge to surrender to deep sleep. The soothing strum of Johnny Cash drifted from the radio, a quiet comfort until the sudden lurch of the RV jarred her awake. She bolted upright, instinctively alert.

Logan glanced over his shoulder, his voice gruff as usual. "That girl's still in the trailer. You wanna deal with her?"

Verena let out a sleepy chuckle and stretched her arms out over her head. "What, too much for you, Lo? Can't handle a teenage girl?"

He grunted noncommittally, and she rolled her eyes with a smirk. Pulling on her boots, she adjusted her cattleman hat and grabbed one of Logan's jackets from the floor, the smell of leather and smoke still clinging to it.

Stepping into the biting cold, she lit a cigarette and strolled toward the trailer. The snow crunched beneath her boots as she approached, and it was easy to spot the girl—a huddled lump beneath a hood, trying to stay warm.

Verena leaned against the trailer's edge, taking a drag from her cigarette, her breath curling in the frigid air. "You planning on staying in there all night?"

The girl slowly lifted her head, cheeks flushed pink from the cold, her brown hair peeking out beneath her hood. Her voice was soft, with a southern lilt. "I'm sorry... I just needed a ride. Thought maybe you and your husband could help me out."

Verena chuckled softly, the smoke trailing from her lips. "He ain't my husband. C'mon, out of there. The RV's warmer, and we've got some food. You'll freeze out here if you stay much longer."

She extended her gloved hand, and after a moment's hesitation, the girl took it, grabbing her duffel bag as Verena helped her out of the trailer.

Leading her to the RV, Verena knocked lightly on the passenger side door before peeking in. "Hey, Lo', I found a stray. Think we can keep her?"

Logan grumbled around his cigar. "No."

Verena leaned further in, teasing. "Aw, come on, she's gonna freeze out there."

Logan glanced between Verena's pleading face and the girl's wide, nervous eyes. With a heavy sigh, he rolled his eyes. "Fine. Get in."

Verena's face lit up with a smile as she stepped aside to let the girl climb in first, following behind her. Inside, the RV was a cluttered mess—both men's and women's clothes strewn across the back, an unmade bed with faded sheets, and an extra seat for a passenger. The girl's eyes wandered, taking in the lived-in disarray as she tried to make sense of the pair who had just saved her from the cold.

"Buckle up, the road's a little rough," Verena said, patting the girl's head before sliding back into the passenger seat. Logan's expression was sour, his brow furrowed in a deep scowl as he navigated the icy roads.

"You got any food? I'm starving," the girl called from the back. Verena rummaged through the glove box and tossed her a bag of jerky. Logan shot her a glare, annoyed that she'd given away his favorite stash. Verena raised a teasing eyebrow in challenge, to which he only sighed, rolling his eyes.

The girl tore into the jerky like she hadn't eaten in days. Verena chuckled softly. "Slow down, kid. You're gonna choke."

The girl sheepishly slowed her pace, a small smile tugging at her lips. "What's your name?"

"Oh, I go by Rogue," she replied, glancing at the dog tags that hung from Verena's and Logan's necks. "Were you guys in the army?" She pointed to the tags. "I mean... those usually mean you were in the army, right?"

Logan and Verena exchanged a knowing glance, the weight of years of lost memories settling over them like a heavy fog. Logan tucked his tags into his shirt without a word. Those tags were all they had when they first woke up, empty of everything but their instincts.

Rogue's gaze shifted around the RV, taking in the chaos. It was messy—clothes strewn about, an unmade bed in the back, faded sheets, and bits of both Verena's and Logan's things all mixed together. "Wow," Rogue muttered, her lips twitching with faint amusement. "Suddenly my life doesn't look so bad."

Logan, already tired of the conversation, shot back, "You can hit the road anytime."

Verena didn't let him off that easily. "We're not getting rid of her, Lo."

Rogue waved her hands apologetically. "No, no, I didn't mean to offend! It's cozy." She tried to sound cheerful, but her eyes dropped to her pale, almost blue hands, which trembled from the cold.

Logan reached to adjust the heater vent in her direction, his calloused hand hovering near hers, but she pulled back sharply. Both Logan and Verena exchanged a concerned glance.

"I ain't gonna hurt you, kid," Logan said, his tone gruff but softening. He just wanted to help.

"It's nothin' personal," Rogue mumbled, hurriedly pulling on her gloves. "It's just... when people touch my skin, something happens."

Verena frowned. "What happens?"

"I don't know. They just... get hurt." Rogue's voice was small, heavy with guilt.

Silence hung in the air for a beat until Rogue spoke again. "Does it hurt when... y'know, when they come out?" She nodded towards their knuckles, where the claws emerged.

Verena glanced at her hands, absently tracing a thumb over her knuckles where the metal claws sliced through her skin each time. It hurt every single time, no matter how much they healed. "Yeah," Verena admitted quietly, her voice almost a whisper. "Hurts every time."

Logan gave a solemn nod, the weight of their shared burden casting a shadow over his face. He changed the subject. "So, what kinda name is Rogue?"

Rogue was quick to fire back. "I don't know. What kind of name is Wolverine?"

Verena stifled a laugh at Rogue's quip, but Logan wasn't amused. "My name's Logan," he offered with a grunt.

Rogue hesitated before answering. "Marie." She then turned to Verena. "And yours?"

"Verena. Or Lynx, if we're stickin' with nicknames." Verena smiled, and Rogue returned it shyly.

"You guys really should wear your seatbelts, though," Rogue said, eyeing them both skeptically.

Logan was ready to brush her off. "Look, kid, we don't need auto safety advice from—"

Before he could finish, a massive branch crashed onto the road, and the RV slammed into it. Verena and Logan were hurled forward, smashing through the windshield and tumbling into the snow. Rogue was thrown against the seat in front of her, her head snapping forward with a sickening thud.

When Rogue regained consciousness, she found Logan and Verena face down in the snow. Slowly, they began to stir, struggling to their feet. Verena let out a low, pained laugh as she dusted snow off her hat. "Should've listened to the kid."

"Shut up," Logan grunted, rubbing his head as they stumbled back towards the RV.

Inside, Rogue was still wedged in her seat, dazed, the faint smell of smoke filling the air. Logan's forehead was split open, but as he wiped away the blood, the wound quickly began to heal. Verena's gaze snapped towards the fallen tree, her senses prickling. Something wasn't right.

"Marie, sweetie, you okay?" Verena asked, her voice tinged with urgency.

"I'm stuck!" Rogue's panicked voice carried through the smoky air.

Logan wiped the blood from his face while Verena tried to shake off the snow clinging to her damp clothes. That's when she smelled it again—another presence, lurking nearby. Her claws instinctively slid from her knuckles as Logan's did the same. They shared a tense glance, bracing themselves for whatever was coming.

A feral roar shattered the quiet, and suddenly, a massive, animalistic figure charged at them, knocking them back into the snow. He grabbed Logan by the legs and flung him into a tree, the impact sending snow cascading down.

Verena lunged, claws ready, but the attacker caught her by the wrists and slammed her into the log the RV had crashed into. Her vision went dark as she lost consciousness, her claws retracting as her skin healed over.

Logan was still trying to regain his footing when the attacker came at him again, swinging a heavy log like a club. It connected with a sickening crack, and Logan crumpled onto the hood of the RV, unconscious.

Just as the attacker raised the log to finish them off, a fierce gust of wind whipped through the air, and he hesitated. A woman with long white hair and glowing eyes appeared, her black cape billowing in the storm she conjured. A second figure, a man, raised his hand and unleashed a beam of red energy, driving the beastly attacker back into the trees.

The two newcomers quickly moved to rescue Logan, Verena, and Rogue. The man zapped the seatbelt trapping Rogue, freeing her. Meanwhile, the white-haired woman tried to drag Verena to safety, but Verena's weight made it nearly impossible to move her.

With effort, they managed to haul the unconscious mutants to safety, covering them and Rogue just as the RV exploded, the flames consuming everything inside. All that remained were the clothes on their backs as they huddled together, the warmth of their escape just barely shielding them from the bitter cold.

Verena and Logan lay unconscious on separate medical tables, their upper bodies exposed except for the tight sports bra that had been provided for Verena. Both had been changed into soft, dry pants, and someone had taken the time to braid Verena's hair into two neat French braids, which now framed her tan face. A red-haired woman stood over them, her focus sharp and intent as she examined their still forms.

Her attention shifted to Logan. Gently, she ran her hand along his arm, her touch light as she summoned a needle, letting it hover in the air before grasping it. As she prepared to inject him, the needle pierced his skin, and Logan awoke with a violent start. Before she could react, he had her in a headlock, his grip like iron around her throat.

The woman didn't cry out—too shocked to speak. It took Logan a few seconds to register that she wasn't an enemy, just a startled woman in a white lab coat. His gaze flickered from her to Verena, who lay motionless on the table next to his, her arm dangling off the edge. A small crease of discomfort formed between her brows, a sign of her stirring consciousness.

Logan loosened his grip, releasing the woman without a word. He rushed over to Verena, his concern overpowering the confusion flooding his mind. Gently, he scooped her up into his arms, holding her close as he searched for an exit. Verena's eyes fluttered open, disoriented, as she realized she was being carried.

"Logan... Where are we?" Her voice was groggy, but laced with worry.

"I don't know, Bub," Logan replied, setting her down carefully. Her bare feet met the cold floor, sending shivers up her spine. She glanced down at herself—her arms bare except for some medical patches stuck haphazardly to her skin. Grimacing, she ripped them off and tossed them aside.

Logan reached out and took her hand, his voice steady but low. "Follow me."

They moved through the dim, unfamiliar hallways. The atmosphere felt sterile and unsettling, a stark contrast to the wilderness and chaos they were used to. As they walked, a strange voice whispered through their minds: "Where are they going?"

Both froze, their heads snapping around to search for the source of the voice. But there was no one else in sight. The tension between them thickened as they passed a glass display case, filled with suits that looked more like superhero costumes than military gear. Verena slowed, her gaze lingering on the suits.

"Logan..." she began, but he had already found a cabinet and was rummaging through it. He tossed her a zip-up hoodie, slipping into one himself.

"Better than nothing," Verena muttered, zipping the hoodie up quickly.

They continued down a long corridor lined with metal doors, each one marked with a gleaming silver "X." Bright fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting sharp shadows against the walls. At the end of the hall, a larger door, similarly marked, caught their attention. Before they could reach it, a voice—a different one this time, British and calm—spoke in their heads.

"Where are you going?"

Logan immediately pulled Verena into a hiding spot behind the wall. He peeked out cautiously, but saw no one.

Suddenly, an elevator door slid open beside them. Logan hesitated for a moment, uncertainty flashing across his face, but he nudged Verena inside. The doors closed behind them, and the atmosphere shifted.

The harsh, cold metal walls were replaced by warm, polished wood panels. Portraits hung on the walls, and small tables with elegant lamps filled the space. It looked more like a manor than a laboratory. The sudden change in environment made Logan relax, just slightly, his shoulders losing some of their tension. Verena stepped closer to him, her hand still entwined with his as she whispered, awestruck, "Cos'è questo posto?"

They ventured further down the hall, their footsteps soft against the polished floor. But the tranquility was short-lived. The British voice returned, startling them both.

"Where are you going? This way."

This time, the urgency in the voice made them bolt. They ran down the hallway, breath quickening until they heard the sound of children's laughter. They ducked behind two pillars, watching as a group of kids ran by.

Before they could catch their breath, a door opened nearby. Logan grabbed Verena's hand again, pulling her toward the opening in the wall. They slipped through and closed it behind them, pressing their backs against it, their hearts pounding in their chests.

When they turned around, they were met by the sight of a bald man seated at a large desk, a group of children gathered before him. The kids, looking like teens, looked at the pair with wide eyes, curiosity taking over their faces. The man offered them a polite nod.

"Good morning, Logan. Verena," he said with a serene British accent. He then turned back to the children seated before him. "I'd like your definitions of weak and strong anthropic principles on my desk by Wednesday, alright? That'll be all."

The children nodded obediently, gathered their things, and exited the room, leaving Logan and Verena alone with the mysterious man.

The bald man maneuvered his wheelchair closer, a calm smile on his face. "I'm Charles Xavier," he introduced himself warmly. "Would you both like some breakfast?"

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©️Fanofadifishman

word count: 2400

translations:

Cos'è questo posto - What is this place?

A/N: Yippeeeee, chapter 11 as promised, just not edited. Don't forget to Vote and Comment, don't be a ghost reader.

(Update from some late at night thinking: y'all are gonna hate me when we get to Logan cause I just had a head full of ideas. Oopsies no spoilers)

Love y'all lots,

Allegra 💙