Canadian Rockies, 6 years later

The sunlight streamed through the thin curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. Verena shifted under the sheets, her body relaxed and nestled into the familiar warmth beside her. Logan was lying next to her, one arm draped lazily over her waist as if they had always woken up this way. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, the peacefulness of the moment wrapping around them like a cocoon. She could hear the gentle rustling of leaves outside the window and the distant chirping of birds.

Verena let out a soft sigh, turning her head to look at him. There was a quiet smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, his hair tousled in that rugged, familiar way. She traced her fingers along the line of his jaw, feeling the coarse stubble beneath her touch. He stirred slightly, his hand tightening its grip on her waist as if pulling her closer, keeping her safe.

She felt a deep sense of calm wash over her, the kind she rarely allowed herself to feel—like nothing else mattered but this moment.

"Morning," Logan's voice was rough with sleep, and he opened one eye, giving her a lazy half-smile.

"Morning, Baby," Verena returned the smile, a softness in her expression that she didn't often show. It felt easy here, like this was where they belonged—lying side by side, the rest of the world forgotten for now.

But something shifted.

The sunlight that once filled the room dimmed, growing colder. Logan's warmth faded, and Verena blinked, her surroundings turning hazy, as though a shadow was creeping in from the edges of her vision. When she turned back to Logan, his face was no longer peaceful. His skin had grown pale, almost sickly, and his breaths were shallow, uneven.

"Logan?" she whispered, her voice tight with concern.

But he didn't respond. His eyes were open now, staring blankly past her, unseeing.

Panic surged through her as she reached out to shake him, but her hands came away bloody. She looked down, and crimson coated her fingers, staining the sheets. Her heart raced, dread tightening in her chest as she tried to call out his name again, but her voice was swallowed by the growing darkness.

The bed beneath her felt like it was dissolving, slipping away, as if the ground was giving out from beneath her. She clawed at the air, trying to grasp something solid, but there was nothing to hold on to. She was falling, deeper and deeper into a cold void.

And then—

Verena jolted awake, gasping for air. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her claws had instinctively extended, tearing through the sheets. She sat up, drenched in sweat, struggling to shake off the lingering terror.

The room was still and dark, save for the faint glow of moonlight seeping in through the window. She was alone. Her claws slowly retracted, and Verena dragged a trembling hand through her hair, trying to steady her breath.

A soft knock at the door made her freeze.

"Verena?"

Kayla's voice was soft, hesitant. When the door creaked open, Kayla stepped inside, the hallway light behind her casting a gentle halo around her silhouette. She took a cautious step forward, her eyes scanning Verena's face with concern.

"Hey... I heard some yelling. Are you okay?"

Verena swallowed hard, forcing down the residual fear still pulsing in her veins. She wiped at her brow and nodded, though her voice shook when she answered.

"Yeah... just a nightmare."

Kayla's gaze flickered to the shredded sheets, then back to Verena. She walked closer, her steps slow and deliberate.

"Bad one?" she asked softly, her expression gentle.

Verena nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line as she exhaled shakily. She wanted to say more, to explain, but her words got tangled up in her throat.

Kayla sat down on the edge of the bed, her presence warm and calm. "Logan... he gets them too, you know," she said quietly, almost as if confessing a secret. "Sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night, shaking. We've had to replace too many sheets cause he rips them all." She tries to make a joke but Verena doesn't find it amusing.

The mention of Logan sent a ripple through Verena, tightening her chest. She looked down at her hands, still curled into fists in the remnants of the sheets. Hearing that Logan suffered the same way she did – it was like a punch to the gut. She wasn't sure how to feel about it.

Part of her felt relief, knowing she wasn't alone in the nightmares. Another part ached with something deeper, something she didn't want to name. That he'd been dealing with this all along... and with Kayla there beside him, comforting him the way she never could.

Verena forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "That doesn't surprise me," she murmured, her voice quieter than before. "We've all seen things that... leave scars."

Kayla reached out, lightly resting a hand on Verena's arm. Her touch was warm, reassuring. "You don't have to go through this alone, Verena," she said softly. "If you ever need someone to talk to... I'm here."

Verena nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Thanks, Kayla," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Kayla smiled gently, standing from the bed. "If you need anything, don't hesitate," she said as she moved toward the door. "And... just remember, Logan's been through it too. He understands."

Verena watched as Kayla left the room, her words lingering long after the door had clicked shut. Alone once more, Verena laid back down, staring at the ceiling as the weight of everything settled in.

She laid there until her alarm went off for work. And when it did, she reluctantly got up to shower. She took her time, making sure her hair was fully rinsed and even performed a private concert for herself. She had zoned out under the water till there was a knock on the door a gruff voice that follow, "Vee, hurry up we're gonna be late."

She realized what time it was a quickly hopped out of the shower, drying herself off and wrapping her hair in a towel. When she returned to her room she grabbed her undergarments and threw those on. For her outfit, she decided on a white tank top and a red flannel which she rolled the sleeves of. Her work pants were loose fitting, and her boots to protect her feet. When she finished changing she rushed out of the cabin to where Logan and Kayla were waiting and she hopped into the back seat. "Sorry! I couldn't decide what to wear today." She said sarcastically as she closed her door.

Kayla laughed at Verena's joking tone while Logan grunted in annoyance. The last thing he wanted to be was late. "Here's your coffee Verena."

Kayla handed her a styrofoam to-go cup and Verena took a sip. A warm smile spread across her face as she drank the coffee. "Grazie, Bella. Logan can we keep her forever? She makes me coffee in the morning, I think I'm in love." Kayla let out a light hearted laugh at Verena while Logan held up a challenging eyebrow.

"Hands off my girl, Vee." He said and the two girls in the car giggled.

They pulled up to Logan and Verena's work, a lumber yard a couple miles from their house. Verena gets out of the car and grabs her ax, heading to the truck that'll take them into the site. When she hops in she greats all the boys and turns to see Kayla beckoning Logan for a goodbye kiss in front of them. The boys and Verena hoot as Logan walks towards the truck with his ax and chainsaw in tow. Just before the truck drives away, Verena yells towards Kayla, "Have fun a work Ms. Kayla," and blows her a kiss. Logan elbows her in the side and she and the boys laugh.

Verena was moving planks alongside Logan, the smell of sawdust heavy in the air. Logan had a cigar hanging loosely from his mouth, and Verena puffed on a cigarette, the tip glowing faintly in the dim light. Her muscles ached pleasantly from the steady work, a rhythm that allowed her mind to drift. Until the rumble of a vehicle in the distance shattered the calm.

She glanced up, squinting in the sunlight, and saw the military vehicle approaching. A knot twisted in her stomach—a feeling she hadn't had since they left that life behind. Something about the air had shifted, growing heavier. She looked at Logan, whose nostrils flared as he sniffed the air. "Smells like government," he muttered, his face hardening as his cigar dropped to the ground.

Verena's eyes narrowed when she saw who stepped out of the vehicle. "Smells like shit," she said under her breath, bitterness creeping into her voice. She took a long drag from her cigarette before flicking it to the ground, stomping it out with unnecessary force.

"My god, neither of you have aged a day," Stryker greeted, his smile as slimy as ever.

Verena's lips curled in disgust, her body stiffening as if preparing for a fight. She could feel Logan tensing beside her, but he remained outwardly composed. He lifted his cigar, the embers nearly dead. "Clean living," he replied coolly, the undercurrent of tension making his words sharp. Verena scoffed at Stryker's comment, fighting the urge to roll her eyes.

"You both remember Agent Zero," Stryker continued. Zero stood beside him, still and calculating. Verena couldn't help but remember how much she hated him—his cold, mechanical nature, the way he'd treated life as disposable.

Logan, on the other hand, kept his gaze locked on Stryker, his face a mask of calm indifference. "Still shooting first, asking questions later?" Logan's tone was deceptively casual, but Verena felt the ripple of restrained anger beneath it.

Without warning, a bullet zipped past Verena's head, making her jerk instinctively. It sliced through Logan's cigar, knocking it out of his hand. Verena's heartbeat sped up, a surge of adrenaline flooding her veins. Zero's smug face made her want to unsheathe her claws right then and there.

"Still chewing on cheap cigars," Zero said, his voice dripping with condescension.

Logan dropped the ruined cigar, grinding it into the dirt under his boot. Stryker stepped in before Logan could respond. "Boys, please," he said, as if he were dealing with children.

Verena's jaw clenched as she watched Stryker's gaze flicker between them. She felt the heat of his stare linger on her a moment too long, and her skin crawled with the memory of men like him—arrogant, manipulative, dangerous. She barely suppressed a snarl, her hands flexing as if ready to let her claws extend. Logan shifted his stance, subtly placing himself between her and Stryker. The gesture was small, but it made her feel a fraction safer.

"I have a job for the two of you," Stryker said, the offer hanging in the air like a trap.

Verena folded her arms across her chest, her expression one of bored disdain. "We already have jobs," she shot back, her voice flat and cold.

"As lumberjacks?" Zero sneered, his eyes sliding over Verena's body with a predatory gaze. "Making 18 grand? And probably less for you, Verena, considering..." His voice trailed off, the insinuation thick in the air.

Verena's fists clenched at her sides. Her breath hitched. The old Verena—the one who fought, killed, and didn't care—might have lashed out, might have drawn blood for that remark. But now...now it was different. Now Logan was here, and Kayla, too. There were things to lose. Logan took a half step forward, his broad frame blocking Zero's view of her. He didn't even need to speak; his presence was enough of a threat.

"18-5," Logan finally said, his voice gruff and low. "And we haven't had to kill anyone in a while."

She could see his jaw was tight, and it dawned on her that Logan wasn't just annoyed by Stryker and Zero. He was protecting her. That realization sent a confusing mix of warmth and frustration through her. She didn't need his protection—did she?

Zero smirked, clearly enjoying the discomfort he was causing. "You guys starting to miss it?"

Verena's anger flared, hot and sudden, almost enough to make her claws slip through her skin. Her chest burned with the need to lash out. "Right about now I am," she snarled through gritted teeth.

"Yeah?" Zero taunted, his voice full of dark amusement.

Stryker cut him off before Verena could respond. "Zero, back to the car. Leave the her alone."

Verena wanted to lunge at him, claws out, but Logan gently nudged her back with the briefest of motions, signaling for her to let it go. He stepped forward, silently dismissing Zero with a tilt of his head. "Attaboy," he mocked, clicking his tongue.

Verena felt a flicker of relief, but it was short-lived as Stryker's oily voice interrupted. "You know I'm not proud about the way things ended between us," Stryker started, his voice deceptively casual.

Logan's expression barely shifted, but Verena could feel the tension radiating off him in waves. He'd heard enough. "Conversation's over," Logan said, his tone final as he nudged Verena forward, their backs now to Stryker.

They began to walk away, but Stryker's voice sliced through the air, laced with malice. "Playing Little House on the Prairie with a school teacher? That just isn't like you. I always thought you'd have more fun with someone like Verena, considering... well, everything."

Verena stopped in her tracks, her fists shaking with barely contained fury. She felt her pulse thundering in her ears, but she didn't turn around. She couldn't—not without losing control. She forced herself to keep walking, though every step felt like a fight against her own instincts.

Logan paused, glancing back at Stryker with a cold glare, but Verena kept moving, heading straight for the car. She leaned against the door, lighting another cigarette to calm the storm of emotions raging inside her. When she looked up, she saw Stryker standing by Logan, his voice low but still audible.

"Bradley was killed three days ago. Wade before that."

Verena couldn't stop the smile that crept onto her face. Wade, dead? Finally, someone had done the world a favor. She took a drag from her cigarette, savoring the thought.

Logan finally climbed into the car, shutting the door with finality. Stryker leaned in to the window, his expression growing serious. "This isn't about you, Logan. Your country needs you guys."

Verena laughed bitterly, shaking her head. "Good thing we're Canadian," she said before Logan gunned the engine and sped away, leaving Stryker and Zero in the dust.

When they arrive at the school, Logan is waiting in the car while Verena sits on the hood. When she spots Kayla, she waves over at her, Kayla smiles at her and then at Logan. Once she says goodbye to the kids she loads herself in the car.

Verena takes her place in the back seat and Logan drives off. "How was school Ms. Silverfox?" She smirks at Kayla, using the name the kids called her.

"Very funny Verena. They did some art projects today. I asked them to draw their family. I drew you guys as an example."

Verena genuinely smiles at this information, that Kayla used her and Logan as an example of her family. "Aw, Tesoro, you really know how to brighten a girls day."

They finally get to the bridge they need to cross to get home. When they arrive however, the road is blocked by two men arguing. Logan honks at them and the guy flips him off. Logan throws the car into park and gets out, "Stay in the car." Kayla grabs his wrist but he goes to get out anyway.

"Yeah Logan, I don't think you should do that." Verena hums from the back seat, picking at the dirt from under her nails.

"It's fine, I'm just gonna ask nicely," He slaps a sarcastic smile on his face and walks away. Logan goes to talk to the man, and they exchange words, that Kayla and Verena don't hear, till the man shoves Logan and the girls exit the car.

When Logan grabs the mans fist, Kayla runs over and grabs both of them by the shoulder, "Hey guys take it easy."

"Your boyfriend's got a big mouth."

"And a big temper too, so please let us pass." Kayla removes her hand from his shoulder after the mans face goes stoic, he turns and goes to move his car. Verena cocks her head in confusion, her brow furrowed. A man like that would definitely never listen to a woman. And the way his face fell flat after she told him to move? Verena was starting to grow suspicious, but she brushed it off and got back into the car as Logan and Kayla walked back.

"How'd you do that?" She hears Logan ask.

"Female powers of persuasion, It's a gift."

Now Verena was even more suspicious, but she didn't say anything about it to either of them. She trusted Kayla, she had give her no reason not to. As they made their way home, Verena sat in the back seat, contemplating what she saw earlier. They made it home by dark, and Verena immediately made it to her room on the other side of the cabin. The one that she and Logan had built together, before he met Kayla.

She took her time in the shower, scrubbing the dirt off of her skin and watching as it rinsed into the drain. She hummed the song she heard on the radio earlier, a 38 Special song that she had heard playing. As she washed her hair her thoughts drifted to Stryker's offer. Why would he ever think she would say yes? That wasn't her thing anymore, and it wasn't Logan's either.

She got dressed in her pajamas, a white tank top and flannel bottoms. She was about to go make herself tea when she heard Kayla and Logan talking in the living room. "Qu'e Qu'atsu... it means the Wolverine."

Verena has heard that story before, the moon was lonely because her lover travelled down to earth but couldn't go back to her because once he left the spirit world he couldn't go back, and now he howls her name every night. Verena stepped lightly back to her room, quiet on her feet, as to not attract attention to herself.

She skipped the tea and planted herself in bed with a book; her favorite book, Jane Eyre, was a story of two people, who couldn't be together even if they loved each other. At the end Jane and Mr. Rochester finally end up together because they get over all the obstacles keeping them apart.

She had already read five chapters before glancing over at the clock on her bedside table. It read 1:25 AM. With a sigh, Verena set the book down and quietly slipped out of bed. The house was still, dark, and quiet. She crept down the hall toward the kitchen, keeping her steps light as she scanned for any sign of Logan or Kayla. There was none; they must have finally gone to bed.

The water began to boil as she stood by the stove, keeping a close eye on the kettle, careful not to let it whistle and wake anyone. Her mind was buzzing, memories and thoughts swirling too fast for sleep to claim her. She sighed quietly and turned to grab a mug when she felt a presence behind her. Instinctively, her claws shot out as she spun on her heel, ready for an attack.

In front of her stood Logan, shirtless, his face partially shadowed by the dim light of the stove's fire. The soft glow of the flame flickered over his bare skin, accentuating the ridges of his muscles.

"Merda," Verena breathed out, retracting her claws with a quiet click. The tension in her shoulders eased slightly, though her heart still pounded from the sudden adrenaline surge. She turned back to her tea, steadying her hands.

"You're still up?" Logan asked, his voice low and gruff, thick with sleep.

"I was reading," she replied, reaching for a second mug. "Now I'm making tea to help me fall asleep. You want some?" she asked, already grabbing another teabag.

"Sure," he grunted, settling into the kitchen chair. His eyes followed her as she moved around the kitchen, her motions fluid and practiced, yet there was a heaviness to her steps that he couldn't ignore. He noticed her butterfly tattoos again, those soft lines etched on her skin. They seemed almost out of place on someone like Verena—a gentle image on a person so hardened by life. He had always wondered about them.

"You never told me what's with the butterflies," he said, his gaze lingering on the delicate wings.

Verena paused, glancing over her shoulder at him before her eyes drifted down to her own tattoo. A flicker of sadness crossed her face before she turned back to the steaming water. "My mother used to call me La mia farfalla," she said softly, a wistful tone in her voice. "It means 'my butterfly.'" She swallowed hard, pushing back the wave of emotions that threatened to surface. It had been so long since she had thought of her mother, and longer still since she had allowed herself to feel anything about her past. Her parents, her siblings—they were likely long gone by now, lost to the passage of time. The thought left an empty ache in her chest.

Logan didn't press her on it, but his brow furrowed as he recalled the first time he had found her, working as a nurse during the Civil War. She hadn't aged since. "What happened to them?" he asked quietly, taking the tea she offered him with a soft "thanks."

Verena sat down across from him, cradling her own mug between her hands as if it could ground her. She drew in a slow, measured breath before speaking. "When I was eight, we left Italy. Men broke into our home in the middle of the night—they killed my brother, Marco. My father packed us up, and we fled to Canada, trying to start over. My mother had two more children, Isabella and Dante. They were normal... no claws, no healing."

She took a long sip of her tea, willing herself to continue. "But my father... he couldn't handle the grief. It turned him into a monster. He started beating me—taking out his anger, his guilt, on me because I could heal. He couldn't break me like he wanted to." Her eyes darkened as she remembered the feel of his blows, the way her body would stitch itself back together even as her spirit was chipped away.

Logan's jaw tightened, but he stayed quiet, letting her speak at her own pace.

Verena exhaled sharply, pushing through the pain of the memories. "One night, he beat me so bad, I couldn't take it anymore. Something in me snapped. I went downstairs and I... I killed him. I left his body in the kitchen, got on my horse, and rode away without looking back. 2 years later, I volunteered as a nurse for the North. That's when you found me."

The silence that followed her confession was heavy, filled with the weight of everything she had carried alone for so many years. Verena bit her lip, holding back the tears that threatened to fall. She had never shared this with anyone. Not even Logan.

Logan leaned back in his chair, his brows furrowed in thought. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, more thoughtful. "You did what you had to do," he said, the edge of his gruffness tempered by something more compassionate. His own past wasn't so different, after all.

Verena nodded, letting out a long breath. The weight of his understanding eased some of the tension coiled in her chest. "Thank you... for listening," she said, her voice quieter now, almost vulnerable. She met his eyes, searching for any hint of judgment, but there was none—only a familiar, comforting solidarity.

Logan reached across the table and slid her the pack of Marlboro Reds she had left there earlier. He pulled out his cigar as she lit her cigarette, the smoke curling up around them like an unspoken promise of shared burdens.

"Of course, Vee," he murmured, his tone low but steady. He stood up, putting out his cigar before laying a hand on her shoulder. She rested her hand on top of his, and for a moment, they were simply there—connected in a way words couldn't quite explain.

"Try to get some sleep," Logan said as he turned to leave. "Kid."

Verena smirked, shaking her head. "I told you to stop calling me kid."

Logan gave her a half-smile as he disappeared into the shadows of the hallway, leaving her alone with her thoughts, her cigarette, and the lingering warmth of his presence.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Word Count: 4261

Translations:

Grazie Bella- Thank you Beautiful

Tesoro - Sweetheart

Merda - Shit

La mia Farfalla - My butterfly

A/N: Chapter 3!!!! I'm breaking each chapter into about 10-20 minute chunks of the movie, skipping over unimportant parts. Anyway thank you all for reading!!!

Love you lots,

Allegra 💙