Chapter Text
Signing up to go to Krakoa was one of Logan's biggest regrets. Maybe not in a way that he'd never have helped save the X-Men, but he definitely wished he'd thought about how to handle the aftermath. If he could go back in time, he'd do some things differently.
Okay. So, Krakoa was more like a huge annoyance than a real regret. Logan had let his kidnappers into his life because they had seemed unimportant at the time. It turned out, he ended up kind of hating them all.
Logan had one exception to his growing hatred for the X-Men. Charles. Now, that wasn't to say that he exactly liked him, but at least he could summon a modicum of respect for the guy. The one man who wasn't around on this god awful boat. Go figure.
Watching Madripoor fade away into the distance, nothing more than hazy light pollution on the horizon, Logan took another swig of brandy. He preferred whiskey or bourbon, but at least it wasn't fucking wine. Remy had his perks..
Out of everyone at the moment, Remy was the only one that didn't make him want to pop his claws out. The longer they were around each other, the more likely they were to butt heads, but the Cajun was smart enough to leave him the hell alone. Unlike everyone else.
Remy had some actual measurable skills Logan could respect too. Powers aside. Unlike the rest of the fucking idiots onboard who relied purely on a combination of their mutation, idealism, and sheer dumb luck to get shit done. It was pure stupidity that having street smarts prevented.
Logan knew better. He had worked with others that were better. Hell, he'd killed better in the backstreets of Lowtown.
Obviously Logan had no plans on telling Charles any of that if he ever got off this damn boat. He probably didn't need to anyways. Tell him, that is. The joy of invasive super powers.
First, Logan needed to get off the X-Men’s boat. Yacht. Whatever.
Raising the bottle of brandy to his lips again, Logan sipped it slowly and languidly. The whole time wishing he was back in Madripoor as it finally disappeared completely from sight. All things being equal, he never should have left.
Back in Madripoor, at least he was doing something useful. Something just and more. Logan didn’t care if Charles and his cohort of mutants didn't agree with what that was. Patch was important. It didn’t matter if the X-Men didn’t like the alias. He fucking did.
Disappearing into who Patch was, was easy. Effortless. Logan was hiding in plain sight and could enjoy every minute of it. Hiding on this godforsaken boat though, well, that was a damn sight harder.
It was more avoidance than anything. Logan didn’t consider himself as hiding. The X-Men were just letting him be for now. Out of some stupid hope that a little time, fresh sea air and a lot of brandy would make him happy. Happy about being forced out of a comfortable, meaningful existence on Madripoor and onto their fucking boat.
Logan doubted their understanding would last much longer. He gave it about ten minutes before Scott would come out to nag him about the cold or the alcohol. God forbid him not wanting to be part of the team and their fucking feelings.
Fuck. Logan realized he was out of brandy, when his tongue started to go dry from sucking on air. He weighed the bottle in his hand, contemplating going inside to find more.
Hurling the bottle angrily off the side of the boat, Logan let out a frustrated growl. He wished the splash it made would somehow be satisfying. It most definitely was not.
If they made it back to the mansion for Christmas eve, like the X-Men had originally planned, Logan wasn't sure what he was going to do. Ideally he’d find his way to a bar. Nice and alone. After all, it wasn't like he was going to be engaging in any last minute gift exchanges or some bullshit.
Unfortunately, luckily maybe, the team seemed to be trying a new route for some reason. Celebrating at sea. A vacation that just happened to double as his 'rescue'. Oh, how lucky they all were for that.
Logan was going to be tempted to drown himself before doing any of that holiday crap the X-Men were all looking forward to. Singing Christmas carols and playing cards? It wasn’t going to happen.
Reciting special blessings with Shadowcat specifically for Hanukkah? Logan would rather throw himself over the edge first before pretending to be thankful for anything. Not that he had anything against the Jewish holiday. He hated all joyful celebrations equally like what the kids called a real ‘millennial’.
Logan rested his chin on the lower railing. It felt like a prison with the only relief being his legs that were dangling over the edge of the boat. Sadly the thing wasn't going fast enough for the spray of the ocean to chill him to his metal bones. A serious disappointment because it would have encouraged him to go inside when the rest of the liquor left his system.
Hopefully his buzz would last long enough to endure whoever came to pry him off deck. Unless it was Remy. The Cajun could probably be talked into leaving him the hell alone… for a bit longer anyways.
Perking his ears up, Logan listened. Everyone was below the main deck, chit chatting in the space that served as the living room. He didn't bother trying to eavesdrop, partly because he didn’t have to with his senses. The rest of him just didn't care.
Now that the sun was setting, Logan tried to appreciate the burnt orange of the sky. It highlighted what was left of the Strait of Malacca as it expanded out into the open sea. Soon, the darkness that usually hid him so well, would follow. He couldn’t go anywhere, obviously, but he was going to appreciate the minor comfort.
Logan thought about every lurker in every corner of the city, he was leaving behind. Nearly all of them, just waiting to be stabbed. A therapeutic outlet that was unhealthy as his drinking, but at least that outlet served some good for… no one. People of any decency, innocence, that deserved the nice things in life didn’t venture into Madripoor.
Something caught his eye in the water, glistening in the remaining sunlight. Logan squinted, trying to figure out what it was. Seeing what looked like his bottle of brandy bobbing above the water, towards the boat, he just stared at the oddity.
Now, Logan was definitely not a man of science, but being thick glass he was pretty sure the bottle should have sunk into the ocean as filling it up. Maybe. Still, even if not, there weren’t any choppy sea waves that were capable of carrying it back his way.
Logan didn't straighten up as the bottle neared. The way he should have. He didn't know if he just didn't care or if he was that drunk. Either way, it didn't matter to him. Not even when something weird lifted it up out of the water.
If he was desperate enough to imagine a bottle making its way towards him, maybe he really really wanted another drink. He didn’t have a single shred of telekinesis powers and no one within miles would encourage his possible alcoholism. So, it didn’t make much sense other than it was all in his head.
Lifting his head up, Logan narrowed his eyes, noticing something was actually holding the bottle slightly above the water. It glistened like the glass itself, a shine that made him think of fish scales. A tail, really… or maybe more like a tentacle with the way it seemed capable of wrapping around the item. He opened his eyes wider, trying to understand or just clear his vision.
Logan was taken off guard when the bottle was tossed up in the air not that far from him. A large dark red tail the color of blood, following it. He actually reeled back a little, when a head popped out of the water half a second later. Complete with arms that appeared human, spreading out across the surface of the water.
A splash drew his attention away from the long, strange webbed human fingers that had flecks of black around the edges. The creature’s tail was sinking back beneath the surface, just as it raised its arms… catching the bottle without even looking up. Logan was almost impressed.
"Brandy," the creature said, twisting the bottle around in his almost human hands to look at the label as it swam closer to the boat. "I'm more of a whiskey man myself, but a drink’s a drink. I remember the days."
"It's not mine," Logan said as he studied the creature and questioned his sanity. "What the fuck are you?"
Logan was inclined to think the creature was a mermaid. Correction. Merman. It had depth to his voice that was like that of a male and a distinct lack of breast on its chest when it lifted itself up a little higher out of the water. An action that revealed the way his unusual, damaged looking skin, transitioned smoothly to the same crimson of his sleek tail.
As ugly as the creature was, Logan found himself intrigued. Slightly. He was a mutant and the limits seemed endless to what existed in this world. However there was still a good chance he was hallucinating.
The merman had weird ears. Finned slightly, reminding him of an elf, and there were red scales beneath them on the side of the creature's neck. Strangest of all was the lone thin appendage with a little bulb at the end, dangling in front of his forehead like some kind of fish.
Whatever this creature was, he was disturbing. Ugly. He was an uncanny creation with a mixture of fish-like features and human appearance.
Something was wrong with the human part of his body too, that made him unsettling. He had no hair on his head and every piece of skin looked like it’d been burnt a long time ago. Leaving thick grooves, valleys, for water to gather in.
Logan was tempted to touch him the closer the creature got. He almost reached out a hand… for the empty brandy bottle, not the merman holding it. The thing quickly vanished beneath the surface though, leaving him blinking at the waves rippling over the spot where he’d just been.
The dwindling light from the setting sun made the water appear as black as shadows. Ones that suddenly looked twice as dangerous as they were before. Unease crept over Logan and he drew his legs up onto the boat.
It wasn't that he thought the creature would pull him in. Well, he didn't know what he thought, but you never could tell with people. Let alone never before seen mutant looking creatures of the deep, deep ocean.
Logan could tell whatever the creature was, was still there. He was sure of it. It was something he could just sense.
Sniffing the air like a bloodhound, he chased the merman's scent beneath the layers of the potent ocean water. Full of salt, creatures, pollution and waste. Now that he’d smelled it up close, its uniqueness in the unfiltered air, he could follow it if he wanted.
Logan’s brain screamed like a smoke alarm as he waited for something to happen. He wasn't sure what until the boat rocked alarmingly. Clutching onto the railing, he held it in a white knuckle grip as his claws penetrated between his knuckles with a snikt, making him hiss softly.
A wave didn’t just appear out of the calm ocean water. Let alone one strong enough to rock a boat. He knew this, and scanned the water frantically waiting for the unknown creature to reappear.
"Hey, Good-looking," the voice cooed.
Logan jumped about a foot, looking around wildly before he spied the merman. He was half out of the water with his arms folded on the edge of the boat. The creatures rested its chin atop them, carelessly and casually like this wasn’t the weirdest shit he’d dealt with in years.
Containing a flicker of panic, Logan steeled himself. He wasn’t afraid of some mutant fish-man he decided, even if his body didn’t get that message from his brain. The hairs on his arms were standing like brush bristles, unsure what to make of the bright intelligent brown eyes staring right back at him from such a scared pockmarked face.
"Get --" Logan started, hesitating.
Get down? Back? Lost? Away?
"Get!" he just snarled.
The merman didn't. He didn't get. Instead, his warm gaze was sweeping up and down his body from head to toe. Well, head to crotch, really. Logan felt exposed when the things gaze lingered there for way too long.
A tongue flicked out from between cracked, thin lips that curved into what was unmistakably a smirk. Logan regarded the merman warily, not moving any closer, but not moving away either. No, he had a little too much pride for that. On dry land, hell, on the deck of a boat, he undoubtedly had the upper hand.
Logan started forward with no clear plan in mind. Of course the merman had somehow anticipated this and slipped down from the deck, just as he lunged forward. A very un-Wolverine like pitchy snarl that was more than half a shriek escaping him as a wave of cold water drenched his shirt.
Shivering, Logan shook himself like a dog and ignored the half submerged giggles bubbling up from below. He was going to fillet himself a merman. If the door to the upper deck hadn't opened just then.
"Logan!" Scott snapped, his irritation apparent. "Come inside already. Everyone's waiting!"
"For what?" Logan asked.
The merman’s giggles had petered out as soon as Scott had approached the railing. How convenient, he thought. He was tempted to, but didn’t dare, peer over the edge.
"For you. We're a team, in case you forgot," Scott stated, his voice as cold as the thoroughly drenched shirt that clung to Logan's chest.
If he had actually cared, and he didn’t, Logan might have been a hair tempted to argue. The X-Men were a team. He was just a mutant they kept trying to rope into their little merry band of crusades for his durability and power.
"Why are your claws out?" Scott asked curiously, frowning down at them. "It was just a little current."
"Little, my ass," Logan grumbled, thinking of how big the sea creature had seemed with its ability to lift itself up.
"You're still drinking?" Scott suddenly accused, accurately, his eyes fixated past him and out in the water. "Logan!"
Logan glanced behind himself. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but he was not surprised when it was the brandy bottle floating. Light ripples left behind from the creature were causing it to move around enough to gain attention.
Scott wouldn't believe him if he told him about the creature, merman or whatever the hell it was. He wasn't so sure he believed it himself as time ticked without scent or sound. Nostrils flaring, Logan let his gaze with the area once more, out of instinctual habit. All he picked up was the buzzing energy of the other mutant’s powers.
"Inside," Scott said, throwing his thumb over his shoulder to point back towards the cabin door. "Kitty just finished sitting up the menorah. She is ready to light the first candle."
"And?" Logan asked, still not interested in joining in on their holiday bonding bullshit.
The sound Scott let out was pure annoyance. Disappointment. A heavy exhale that made Logan scowl.
"Claws away," Scott told him, no, tried to command him like he was part of some unit again.
Retracting his claws with a snakt, Logan scoffed. He had half a thought to toss Scott overboard and feed him to the sea creature when the man offered a hand down to help get him up to his feet. Knocking it away, he knew it was pointless because he’d still have to deal with the rest of the X-Men.
Buzzed or not, Logan was pretty sure it wasn't the first time he thought that throwing himself overboard wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Aside from the problem of having metal bones. The few times he’d tried swimming in shallow water, had not gone well. Still, holding his breath trying to walk the length of the ocean floor sounded better than lighting candles and singing kumbaya or some shit.
Suddenly, the strange scent from before wafted under his nose. The one from the merman. Logan tried to turn around, but Scott prevented it by steadying him. Swiveling his head, he was able to look behind him enough though.
Looking down near where his feet had once been dangling, Logan saw it. The bald, textured human head with its unnatural fish ears and coloring. Glistening in the setting sun like gold, with dark eyes peering up at him over the surface of the water.
What should have been eyebrows on a human, lifted suggestively at him. Four long fingers, webbed and dark red from a distance, waved goodbye at him. Logan huffed, putting one foot in front of the other. He wasn't all that hungry for seafood anyways.