Chapter Text
Logan would never admit it, but he was constantly amazed at how realistic Scott and Hank had been able to make the Danger Room. Arguably, it was his favorite room in the mansion. He enjoyed the escape and challenge that running solo missions would provide him. He liked the team-bonding missions less, namely because of Scott. But he liked training missions the least. Currently, he was standing in the latter, over the charred body of an “enemy” in the simulated ruins of a small village.
He was helping “train the future of the X-Men” as Chuck liked to say. Kitty, Piotr, Bobby, and Marie had been working hard to get control of their powers and learn the basics of teamwork, but they had a very long way to go. They had been working on the same scenario for almost a week and hadn’t survived once. Logan could smell their frustration. On their first attempt, they had argued on a game plan so much that they didn't make it the past first 5 minutes before ‘dying’. Now, at least, they were making it a solid 20 minutes in.
Logan watched as two missiles flew into range, heading toward Kitty and Iceman. Iceman put his arms out in front of him to freeze the first one mid-flight, causing it to crash into the ground in front of them without exploding. He quickly realized that he wouldn't be able to get the second one. Kitty ran and grabbed him as he braced to be hit. The missile phased through them, exploding into the simulated ruin behind. Kitty kept them both in ghost mode as fiery sparks of shrapnel rained down on them. Logan grunted in approval; he knew firsthand how much it burned. He shook his head to remove the red-hot rock shards as they peppered down. His skin healed almost instantly, but the singe of pain lingered slightly.
Most people assumed he either didn't feel pain or that it was majorly reduced, but his pain tolerance was learned, not natural. If you take enough bullets, you teach yourself to ignore injuries and keep fighting. That’s how you survive. He sucked a little harder on his cigar, breathing through the soreness that was common for him after healing. This was the only place inside Scott didn't yell at him for smoking, another reason he liked it. So, Logan took advantage of it, and it helped with the pain; even if it was just a placebo.
He walked towards the robot the kids were trying to fight, though it seemed they were mainly on the defensive. At this point, Scott or Ororo would have said something like “Think of a plan together.” He didn't try to spoon-feed them. In a real battle, no one would be there to help them. He figured they would learn better by doing, and if they failed, do it here where it was safe. If Scott and Ororo didn't like how he taught, they could stop watching from the control room and do it themselves. Granted, their ways hadn't worked so far this week. That's why he was in here, teaching.
He continued walking forward about 20 feet to the left of where Rogue and Colossus were squatting behind some rubble. They had a plan, Logan could see it in their eyes. It was a set determination he hadn’t seen as of yet. The problem was only half their team knew the plan. Teamwork was mainly communication, that’s why he preferred solo missions. Today’s runthrough was probably not going to get much farther.
The robot ahead sent a laser at the two crouched figures. Colossus touched Rogue’s head and both turned metal. The beam ricocheted off them, aimed at Logan.
“Fuck” he mumbled. This was going to hurt.
It tore through his abdomen. He was overwhelmed by his senses, not by the pain. It hurt like a motherfucker, but the smell of burning flesh overtook his nose as his ears focused on the screams coming from his right.
“Is that going to put you down, Jimmy?” Victor sneered at him.
James let the pain turn to rage in his veins. He growled in response and leaped at the enemy again, claws out. His feral side pushed forward in his mind, seizing control. James allowed himself to be swallowed by it, focusing on fighting, surviving. He stood over the ruined body that had shot the light beam or whatever. He knew they would have new weapons here; this was one of the fancy science bases. He and Victor didn't really care about the details of missions. They just wanted to be pointed at a fight.
He looked around for his next target, itching for his next fight, but there wasn't one. They were standing in a courtyard surrounded by dead guards. He pushed any feelings that tried to bubble their way to the surface back down. Victor and he had a job, a mission. War was hell and the brothers were good at being hell on earth. He had already healed fully from his wound. He turned to a grinning Victor who said “Ready to get inside, so the nerd boys can come and do their thing, brother?” James cracked his neck and started walking with Victor, silently answering.
“..gan. Logan. You are okay. Logan? You aren't wherever you think you are.”
Logan blinked a couple of times and the previous scene melted away. He was in an empty Danger Room- white, sterile, and a little too bright for his liking. The Professor and Ororo were not far away, concern covered their faces. As he registered his surroundings a headache settled in on his temples. “The fuck happened?” He growled, his feral side too close to the surface to temper his tone.
“We think you had some kind of flashback. A laser hit you and you were gone,” Storm supplied cautiously.
Logan's eyebrows furrowed, what she was saying lined up with how the memory started. But why did it happen?
“Scott assumed you just got annoyed with the exercise and decided to end it. Piotr was the one to notice you weren't there mentally. Your eyes looked like you were focusing miles away. Are you okay?” Ororo said softly, knowing that he would hear her at even a whisper.
Logan took a second to think. It had been so real. He rubbed his hand down his face as exhaustion hit him and realized his claws were still out. They quickly shinked back in. “Shit if I know. I'm older than you though, that's for sure,” he gestured to the Professor. He shook his head, trying to reorient himself in the present, “I was in World War 2. Fightin’.”
At his words, Logan caught Ororo’s mouth going agape ever so slightly before she caught herself, schooling her expression. The action made part of him want to chuckle at his ability to surprise the others still, despite them seeing crazier things than him being old on a weekly basis.
“What caused the memory? This scenario was nothing like World War 2.” Charles replied.
“Laser. Got shot by one in the same spot then.” He grumbled. “Kids okay?” Fuck, what if I hurt one of the kids?
“They are. Scott is debriefing them now, but you may want to talk to them. Let them know you are okay. Rogue and Piotr especially. They were worried and both I'm sure are feeling responsible.” Ororo supplied.
“That's fuckin’ stupid.”
“Logic doesn't always sway emotions.” Ororo shrugged.
“You're startin’ to sound like Chuck now ‘ro.” They turned and started towards the door. Logan didn’t understand why the kids would be worried. Damage doesn’t really matter with him, he’ll just heal.
“You should get checked up in the lab, Logan,” Charles said.
“You can do your thing here. I don't need to go and get poked and prodded. I'm fine.”
“As you wish,” Charles replied, knowing it was probably the best he would get.
Logan felt Charles at the edges of his brain. He hated the feeling of it. But he needed to know if this was a thing to expect more often. Since Alkali Lake, his nightmares had been fairly consistent being a mixture of memories of him in the tub, his escape, and the more recent loss of Jean. But until now they had stayed in his head. He woke up every now and then yelling with his claws out and slept less than what most could handle, but nothing like this. Nothing that took him over during the day, in battle.
“It seems like what you remembered at Alkali Lake jump-started the healing process in your brain.” Charles said after a bit, “I wouldn't be surprised if you start remembering more.”
“Can't have that happen in a real fight,” Logan groused. His place on the team was up front and taking hits. He wasn’t useful on the backlines, scared that memories might get him.
“True, but after you neutralized the threat, you didn't go after anyone else. Even when we approached you.” Ororo said, in low comforting tones.
“In the memory, I got shot by the last guy. There was no more left to fight.” Logan supplied. “If I can't control myself, I will kill somebody.” He looked at Charles and Ororo, willing them to understand. If his beast is in control, only death follows. He had been lost to it for enough years that he did remember. He had spent a good few just living in the woods in Canada. No memories necessary, just survival.
“You may try doing some solo scenarios. We could even try to replicate certain wartime conditions. See if we can bring some memories forward, if that is what you want,” Charles hesitated with his words. “I can't say trying to trigger flashbacks is recommended in any psychological study, but you are a unique case. If you had your memories, I wouldn't suggest it.”
Logan silently nodded. He had been searching for his past for so long. He realized now that this was going to suck. He could still feel the memory tugging on the outskirts of his mind, despite his breathing and heart rate returning to a more normal pace.
Charles turned to Ororo and said, “I’d like a class added to the schedule on PTSD trauma-informed psychology, so the team can help guide others out of a flashback if it comes to it.”
Logan started to object; they didn't need to add anything just for his sake.
“I think it would be good knowledge for all of us. More than enough of the team carry something with them for which such training could prove useful.” Charles continued before Logan had said a word.
Ororo nodded, accepting her task, and left them, presumably to see how soon they could fit the new class in.
“If you would like to speak with me specifically to work through what you remember and techniques to help you better handle an active flashback, I am more than willing to help.” Charles spoke softer, almost timidly, every word chosen purposefully.
Logan immediately opened his mouth to reject the idea of needing a shrink, but stopped himself. He knew Charles wasn't trying to raise his hackles by forcing it on him or suggesting Logan was weak. Charles was right to offer. What if he had hurt one of the kids? Just the idea made Logan sick to his stomach.
Charles and Ororo seemed sure that he wouldn't hurt the kids, but they were wrong; his nightmares had already almost killed Rogue. The only reason she was alive was because she used his mutation. What if next time it was an instant kill or not Rogue? Very few in the mansion would be able to survive a real attack from him and his claws. He was a man with lifetimes of blood on his hands, a man who had to consistently work at controlling his more feral side, a man who was sometimes closer to a monster than a man.
Logan swallowed whatever pride he had left and nodded, agreeing to meet with Charles.
At that moment, Scott walked out of the debriefing room and into the hallway. “Logan, tell them you're fine,” he ordered.
Logan bristled. His beast wanted, needed, to show that it had no master. Not anymore.
Logan stamped down the feeling, not able to deal with a pissy, argumentative Scott right now. His head was still pounding and he just wanted a beer and to think. He hadn't really processed anything yet. Logan stepped up to the room’s threshold and saw the worried faces of the kids, the fear in their eyes. He was hit by the sharp, sour smell of fear that had filled the room. They were scared. Of him.
“I'm fine. Wasn't your fault.” He said blankly, all the while his beast was howling at the loss. They were his to protect and he failed. They thought he would hurt them.
He couldn't stay any longer. He wasn't proud of it but he turned and walked away as fast as he could, ignoring any calls they made. If they made any. He was too lost in another memory to know.