Underneath the iron muscle, body hair and steel claws, Logan had a rather impressive amount of empathy. Many people wouldn't have pegged that down to one of his personal attributes, but it was true. He'd learned, over his many many years, to temper that particular emotion. After all, putting yourself in the fatigues of another commando was well and good until you started taking the bullets meant for him. And on the subject of injury, he was rather well versed in what it meant to lose an eye. Only when that had happened, his natural mutation had occluded any sort of emotional response beyond "Aw, shit, just what I needed right now."

But Peter? He couldn't mend his wounds that quickly.

So it was with a rather discomforting lurch in the pit of his stomach that the Wolverine watched Eddie carry a bleeding and sobbing Spider-Man through that rift in the air. Whatever the bastard who'd done it had against the world, Peter hadn't deserved it. Few people whose names didn't rhyme with Shmebastian Shmaw did.

Logan actually felt himself shivering at memory of Peter's scream. But he couldn't linger on the disturbing aftershock. Not when there was some serious work to do.

Felicia stood near the passenger door of Mary Jane's abandoned car. She wasn't crying. At the very least, Logan could chalk that up to a victory. Then again, something could be said for going into shock.

"Kitty-cat…" He put a hand on her shoulder. Every muscle in Felicia's body went tense as steel cable. She shook her hair from her face, and shrugged from Logan's touch. The rejection hurt worse than a two-by-four to the nutsack, but he'd dealt with worse in love.

"We have to go." Felicia ducked into the back of the van. Logan frowned. What in the world could possibly be fascinating her in a stranger's vehicle?

"Felicia, what's eating you?"

She didn't respond. With an easy heave, she pulled a figure from the back of the van. It was the kid—Miles. His skin had an ashen pallor to it that Logan did not like at all. Although he breathed evenly in what appeared to be a deep slumber, his skin shone with a sheen of sweat that soaked through the front of his shirt.

"What happened?" Christ, but the sight put too many memories in Logan's mind. Mangled bodies of teenagers brought down by government robots. Friends and protégés under torture. He growled the images away, but it still did little to alleviate the weight binding his heart and lungs.

Felicia heaved Miles's body over her shoulder. She began to walk as well she could under such duress—away from the car, away from the scene…away from Logan.

"He injected that stupid serum," Felicia snarled. "Gotta get him to help…no time to sit around…of course, if I'd just stayed the hell in Florida, none of this—would have—happened!" She spoke the words in a strangled yell.

Logan crossed the gravel, gripped Felicia by the shoulder not carrying Miles' body weight, and forced her to turn around. Dirt stained her face. Her hair had become a tangled mess of white. Cuts and bruises lined her. Parts of her suit were torn. Logan knew she'd heal—not as fast as he was. Nevertheless she did have enhanced DNA. Give it, what, twenty minutes? She'd be right as rain.

At least physically.

"No," she growled, trying to worm out of his grasp. "No, don't even—

"Felicia, please." He curled his fingers into her shoulder. "You've gotta calm down, baby."

She stared at him, muscles taut. "Calm down?" She repeated the words in a disbelieving whisper. A madcap giggle escaped her lips, and Logan's guts twisted at the sound. "I can't do that right now, stud. In case you hadn't noticed, I just saw one of my best friends get his eye ripped out of his socket. And now this kid..." She made a valiant attempt to redouble her grip on Miles' body. But somehow the effort proved too much. Felicia's knees gave way, and she sank to the ground, screaming and growling in frustration.

Those who didn't know Logan beyond the Wolverine would have said he was something of a colossal dick. But it wasn't true. It was just that he'd been in the process of coming out of a rabid state since the Johnson Administration. Once upon a time—thanks to many telepathic therapy sessions with Jean—he'd known himself to have quite a caring heart. Not exactly a marshmallow of an organ. But he'd had the same fiber of compassion found in any decent man. Since the experimentation days, he'd emerged from his tough exterior at a glacial pace. There were times in the past when he'd have told Felicia to buck up, no matter how much he loved her.

And love her he did. He realized that as he sank down beside her and took her in his arms. Miles lay prone on the ground beside her, but the kid didn't appear to be in any great harm of expiring soon. He could allow Logan and Felicia this moment.

"I'm sorry, darlin' " Logan said into her hair. "I'm so sorry." Odd that he should apologize for something he hadn't done. But every one the planet owed each other an apology. Life was filled with pits and lands and no one had asked to be born, no matter how many grand things there were to enjoy. Add the world of superheroes and cosmic beings to the mix...well, it was a small wonder so many folks indulged in self-destructive vices.

Even as her tears bled through his tank top—even as she clutched at his arms to the point of pain—the meddle didn't leave Felicia's spirit.

"I am not sorry," she sobbed. "I'm pissed! When the hell is it going to stop?" She dissolved, half enraged, half grieving. Logan, not possessing answers of the kind to soothe such a savage beast, only held her.

Felicia calmed after several moments. Soon the only sounds were her evening breaths and the distant hum of Philadelphia street life.

"Son of a bitch," Felicia sniffled. "Why do you have to be so good to me, huh?"

" 'Cause you're eighty per cent water."

"So romantic." She took a deep breath. "I don't know what to do, big guy."

"If you're worrying about Peter—

"I've bypassed worry and gone directly to hysteria."

Logan chuckled. "That's an outdated term, kitten. But way I see it he's in the best hands there is. Doc Strange can do more than just stitch a body up. He might be able to hocus pocus everything together again."

Felicia got shakily to her feet, and Logan rose with her. "And who's going to hocus pocus my trauma away?"

"I might be lackin' in the magic wand department, but I'll give it my damndest."

Felicia smiled. Then she looked to Miles, still ostensibly sleeping on the ground. In the gathering gloaming, Logan couldn't tell what the kid's pallor happened to be. But he was breathing, and not at a rate all too alarming.

"He's doing better than when I found him," Felicia sighed.

"Kid still stuck himself with a serum from another dimension. Kinda thing ain't exactly a call for Froot Loops and cold milk, 'Leasie."

Running a hand through her hair in consternation, Felicia looked around. "I take it a hospital isn't exactly going to cut it."

"We could try."

"I'd rather stick to the original plan. Take him to your friends in Westchester." Something haunted and bitter crossed her features. "Besides, if they're so inclined they might be able to help us with Peter."

Logan nodded. He crossed the ground and, in one deft movement, hoisted Miles over his shoulder. The kid certainly had a fever. Logan, having lived during the time of the Spanish Flu, had felt worse.

"Sounds like a plan," he said as he carried Miles towards MJ's abandoned van. The hood was crumpled, but it was a testament to the woman's taste in vehicles that it hadn't been completely compressed. "'We've got enough lowdown on all kinds of things. Might be someone back home ran into that bastard with the eye fetish some time before."

Felicia caught up just as Logan stowed Miles in the back seat. "Don't you think we're going to be a little conscious driving a dented car all the way to Westchester County?"

"Can't be helped."

"Your bike—

"Got about six more."

Felicia put her hand on Logan's wrist just as he made to climb into the driver's seat. The touch was tender, so much that it startled him. The kind of touch shared by two people staring down the abyssal barrel of an uncaring universe. She needed him, and he her.

But all she did was smile—more hundred and fifty miles per hour sheer octane. Trademark Felicia Hardy, black mask and all.

"Don't take the Garden State," she said. Then she sauntered to the passenger's side.

Logan frowned. "What?"

"You'll shave seven minutes off the trip."

Logan gunned the engine, relieved that it hadn't been damaged in the fray.

"Not a lot you can get done in seven minutes."

"Seven you didn't have before."

Shaking his head, Logan reversed the van.

In a matter of moments they were driving down the N95. Full night set in by the time they'd cleared the city. Clouds of ghostly gray drifted across a glowing gibbous moon. Logan kept his eyes firmly on the road, and his mind fixed on the Mansion. Otherwise he knew he'd drift into territories best not ventured. He knew the things that had attacked them lately weren't of this world. His sense of smell had told him plain as day the second he'd picked up on Shathra'a signature.

Blessed distance distracted him from ruminating too greatly. One of the many reasons he'd lived so long as a vagabond was that travel helped clear the cogs and cobwebs in his brain. Still, the memory of Spider-Man's scream...Logan had heard plenty of men scream before, but those had been soldiers. Warriors. Men brought to heel in a battle they knew could end bloody. Peter, while by no means a fluffy, cuddly ball of sunshine, wasn't the type of person—hero or not—who deserved to be on the receiving end of something so baseless and cruel.

But that was most things on the planet. That was the planet itself. For all its beauty and demon, it still didn't deserve the barbs of destruction and waste.

There were things to be done. Not just by super humans. Average folks had the capacity to change things. In Logan's experience, many simply didn't think themselves capable of producing the nerve.

Felicia remained mute during the trip. She turned around several times to check on Miles, but said next to nothing. Logan could smell the change in the kid, and it made him wonder. There was something different, certainly. More like Spider-Man than human being, and yet still with that damnable difference that had made Shathra—and her master—so alarming on his radar.

Darkness ate the lands around. By Logan's estimate, they had a good hour left to make it to Westchester, let alone to the mansion.

They were passing through a dark, bespoke stretch of highway when the van slammed into nothing. It happened with such force that Logan's chest was almost crushed against the steering wheel. Felicia, nodding off, was only saved from flying through the windshield by her seatbelt. In the back seat, Miles' body jerked like a rag doll, but he, likewise, had been harnessed in.

"What the hell, Logan?" Felicia glared through her mask at him.

"Nice." Logan felt his ribs already begin to knit. He pressed on the gas. But though the tires span and the engine hummed, the van didn't move.

Felicia grimaced. "Are we stuck on something?"

Logan gritted his teeth. The odometer dialed upwards of a hundred and twenty, but still the van seemed unable to move. It was as if they'd collided with—

"Shit," Logan whispered. He met Felicia's gaze, and didn't need telepathy to know she'd come to the same conclusion.

A rather large factor in his pursuing a more balanced life had come from his time in Japan. Though he thought about the loss of what could have been a peaceful life as little as he could help, he still found the teachings of his almost in-laws to have benefitted him greatly. Now, he culled as much tranquility as he could, undid his seatbelt and stepped out of the van.

"What are you—" Felicia's voice disappeared the second the door slammed shut. Still breathing evenly to quell the rippling fury in his heart, he walked down the deserted highway.

The very air vibrated. Even though he couldn't see a damn thing, he could smell it. The rush of extreme powered, recirculated air coming from what had to be engines strong enough to keep an aircraft aloft. He could hear it, as well—the hum likely what the engineer believed to be below the perception of the human ear.

It was getting closer. Or rather, they were getting closer. All four of them in their environmentally friendly jet, rendered sightless by the powers of the same person who'd just thrown a barricade in front of Mary Jane's van.

It swooped down just a moment later, shimmering into visibility. Logan thought it looked stupid. He always had. Sleek silver white with a dome for a bridge wherein the Fantastic Four could plainly be seen—likely because they wanted their adoring public to be able to snap a quick pic of them, Pope style.

The rage burst like a bomb in the pit of his stomach. Propelled by the sheer force of it, Logan launched himself off the ground with all his might. He saw Reed Richards' eyes widen in surprise as he landed on the dome of the FantastiCar. Whether intentionally or by surprise, someone fumbled the controls, and the great carrier skidded sideways along the highway. Alloy ground against concrete. Logan smelled sparks, but he didn't register them fully.

He was too busy pummeling the dome. A futile effort, to be sure, but an all too familiar red blinded his judgment. He hated the whole damn situation: these four wunderkinds, being so embraced by a public and playing to their celebrity status while mutants faced prejudice; Peter Parker and his loved ones being made the victim of whatever the hell had attacked them. But mostly he hated that Felicia had been put in this predicament.

His knuckles tore. Blood covered the impenetrable glass. Logan snarled and growled, his senses alerting him a moment later to a portal in the jet open.

Something the size and length of an anaconda slithered from the side of the FantastiCar. With a guttural cry, Logan rounded on it—the arm of one Mister Fantastic. Far from caring that they were heroes with good publicity, he unsheathed his claws. The second the extendable appendage was within range, he sliced and slashed for all he was worth. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed commotion within the bridge.

Good.

Let them feel stymied by something for a change.

Reed's other arm withdrew. He wasn't much of a fighter, but the real powerhouses made themselves known a second later. To one side, Johnny Storm flew in a streak of flame out of a side hatch. From the other, what looked like a moving piece of mountain.

Two against one? Fine by him. It only served to fuel the rage in his heart.

He flipped backwards from the aircraft, landing with both claws unsheathed, thirsty for carnage. The ground shook as The Thing bounded towards him. On the other side, he felt and smelled the air singe.

Logan pivoted and raced towards the mountainous form of Grimm. The massive man of rock swing his mighty arms downwards. Logan leapt into the air, and landed on The Thing's forearm. Wasting no time, he scampered upwards, rounding Ben's head and slipping halfway down his back. He locked his arms around The Thing's neck and hung on for all he was worth.

"Time to dance, Benny-boy," Logan growled into his ear. Ben snarled like a rockslide and began thrashing and flailing. Logan's teeth knocked together. He's head lolled to and fro, but he did not let go. The important thing was to wear the massive man down. And there wasn't anyway better of doing that than to make him mad.

The longer he could keep them away from Felicia, the better.

Feeling rather like a TidePod on rapid spin cycle, Logan sensed the approach of The Human Torch.

If it hadn't been for Felicia's safety being at stake, Logan would have hated himself for the underhanded tactic he employed now. But he'd learned from the best—and worst—that in desperate times, playing on the weakness of your opponents was the only thing to do. The Fantastic Four were a family. Like any family, they were their best strength and biggest Achilles heel. Go after one, and the others would follow.

He knew Johnny would come to Ben's rescue. What he hadn't counted on was the Torch swooping down at the speed of sound and wresting him from his comfortable lock around Ben's neck. Heat blazed over his body. He felt the front of his clothes burn completely through. His skin singed, stinging his nostrils with the smell of burnt hair and flesh. A moment later he and Johnny collided with a tree. With a snap, the column of its trunk bent backwards.

"Stay out of it," Johnny growled as they continued their flight through the air. "Or I'll burn you to a crisp."

"Funny thing about me," Logan said through his teeth. "I've been burned worse than this before, kid." And with that, he slashed at Johnny's face, clear across the eyes.

Johnny screamed in pain. His flame went out, and he and Logan both plummeted earthwards. His body already burned, Logan felt earth scrape at skin left peeling and cracked by Johnny's attack. He skidded a clear two hundred yards through dirt and rock. Left in a heap, he panted, staring at the starry sky ahead as a cold autumn breeze danced over his tattered body.

But he was already beginning to knit himself back together. And the earth was shaking as The Thing bore down on him.

Logan stood, shrugging off the burned tatters of his muscle shirt. The front of his jeans had been completely burned away from waist to ankles. He supposed it was a blessing I disguise that the same couldn't be said of his briefs.

Ben wasn't alone. Reed, ostensibly recovered from Logan's attack, was walking on elongated legs, beside him. From the rear, Logan heard Johnny's flame flickering back to life. He probably hadn't blinded the guy, which he supposed was a score point in his moral favor.

"Go on," Logan said, feeling the three of them close in like a net. "Three on one. Ain't the first time. Won't be the last."

"Felicia had her chance," Reed said. Logan noticed the hasty bandages around his one arm. "We gave her the allotted time."

"And now you've come to put her down. Heroic."

"Not putting her down, runt," Ben growled. "Taking her in."

"Is that so?" Logan said. "Well, you're all kiddin' yourselves if you think I'm just gonna let you have it all your own way. See, me and Leasie, we got good thing. Love-like. Call me old fashioned but I like to think she's mine. And if you know me, you'll know one thing for certain—I don't like people taking what's mine."

He began to run then, charging towards Ben and Reed, both of whom stopped short. Maybe they hadn't anticipated his doing something so utterly stupid. Or maybe the sight of him nearly naked and charging like a Pictish warrior gone wrong was too alarming to comprehend.

Either way it didn't matter. Logan hoped Felicia would get the memo and take off with Miles. At the very least she could make it to the Mansion and get help.

Logan jumped, claws extended. And then he stopped, frozen in mid air.

Damn.

He'd forgotten about the Four's greatest asset.

Susan strode through the grass, the breeze whipping her blonde hair around her. She looked the very picture of an avenging fury, and Logan hated her as much as the others for the position she'd put he, Felicia and Miles in.

"Top of the evenin' Suzie," Logan said as she drew level.

Susan didn't look at all mollified by his reply. The look on her face could have quailed the Phoenix Force.

"Enough," she said. "We're ending this now."

"Try it. I dare you. I'll follow you. I'll bring the cavalry too."

Johnny—now de-flamed and with three slash marks across his face—snorted. "Right. Like any of the X-Men would take up arms against us over this. We're allies, in case you forgot."

"Don't know the X-Men that well, do you Johnny?" Logan said. "I'm pretty popular with the rebels and the kids."

"You'd be willing to have a war over this?" Reed shook his head in disbelief.

Ben chimed in, "I know you're sweet on the lady, Logan, but it ain't worth it."

"Thought you of all people might appreciate the lengths a man'll go to for a woman he loves, Ben."

Ben's heavy brows contracted. He took a shuddering step forwards, but Reed restrained him.

"This doesn't involve you," Susan said, still holding Logan in the grasp of her invisibility. "Not the way you believe. She. Attacked. Us. She stole—

"Something given to you in confidence."

Logan felt the air around him tighten. Susan was constricting him in her own force field.

Three shots split the night. Logan fell to the earth. The Fantastic Four all unanimously yelped and whirled around. Taking advantage of their distraction, Logan ran for all he was worth—passed Ben, Reed and Susan, out of the field onto towards the edge of the road. Felicia stood, guns aimed at the group who'd waylaid them. Though her aim was steady, her entire body trembled.

"Leasie!" Logan, knowing it was better to be out of the range of a woman on the edge, chose to stand behind Felicia before putting his hands on her shoulders.

Felicia kept her eyes trained on the Four.

Out of all of them, it was Susan who braved the shots. She walked towards Felicia, hands held out in a show of peace—or, perhaps, a way of keeping a wall between herself and Felicia's gun.

"Come on, Felicia," Susan said. "You know we've got you cornered. You try to get away and I'll—

Felicia fired again. Logan could smell the fear and desperation rolling off of her. Her bullet bounced to the road, proving Logan's theory that Susan has created a barrier.

"Felicia," Susan said sharply. "We only gave you this grace period on account of Peter. You should thank—

"Don't you dare!" And when Felicia screamed the words, she may well have turned her guns and shot Logan in the heart. She sounded so utterly broken—on a precipice with nothing left to lose. "Don't you dare talk about Peter right now!"

Susan flinched. Reed and Ben glanced to one another. Johnny stepped forward, worry rife on his handsome, bloodied face. The very rawness in Felicia's voice spoke volumes that something greater was going on.

"What happened to Pete?" Johnny said.

Felicia let out a choked sob, and jammed the heel of one gun-toting hand into her eye. Logan tightened his grasp on her shoulders. Felicia collapsed into his chest, hiding her face from the world.

"Logan," Susan said, "what happened to Peter?"

Taking a breath, Logan said, "We're not sure. But we were attacked by something. The same thing that attacked me in Hudson Valley. But just as we cornered her this...this other thing appeared from a hole in the air. A dimensional portal from the looks. It took us by surprise and it..." He heard Peter's scream in his mind oncemore; saw the blood streaming from his eye.

But as he was the only one with a voice between himself and his girl, he couldn't falter.

"It hurt 'im. Ripped his eye right out of his socket."

Johnny's lips parted in shock.

"Would've taken more too," Logan went out coolly, "if it hadn't been for old Doc Strange showing up and spiriting him, MJ and Eddie off to safety."

Silence descended for a prolonged moment. The Fantastic Four all glanced at each other.

"But you ran," Reed said. "Why not get in touch? Surrender the serum and let us know what happened?"

Felicia whirled around, glaring bloody murder at Mister Fantastic. "Because there is no serum, you moron!"

Reed flinched. Figures he'd take an attack on his intelligence like a slug to the stomach.

Susan frowned. "What are you saying?"

"Miles took the serum," Felicia said.

Susan dropped her hands, eyes wide. Reed went tense as harp-wire.

"Where is he?" Reed said, all battered ego forgotten.

"No. Dice." Felicia squared her shoulders. "He's our responsibility right now."

Ben jutted his chin. "We were the ones who isolated the signature."

But Reed held a hand for his silence. "She has a point, Ben. And you know it." He took a breath. "We don't have the means to deal with a mountain of what looks like dimensional goings-on. Between this serum being from another reality and this attack on Peter—

"That's why we were going to the Mansion," Logan said quietly. "More likely to get the help we needed than from you."

Susan met Reed's eye, and they both nodded. "Come on, then," Susan said. Ben gave a noise of protest. Scowling, Susan pinched her fingers together, cutting off the projection of his voice. Ben glared, but recognizing himself stifled, moved forward.

"It'll be faster in the FantastiCar," Susan said as she drew near them. "And we've got the means to get all three of you cleaned up."

Logan didn't move. As it stood, he didn't picture himself as being in the glowing graces of these people. Especially after the attack.

Susan rolled her eyes. "Really. I promise. There's bigger things going on right now. Let us help you."

Logan looked down at Felicia, still so horribly broken in his arms.

Never turn down a port in a storm. And this was shaping up to be one cataclysmic storm indeed.

Exhaustion made what happened next a blur of motion and movement. Logan and Johnny took the still sleeping Miles from Mary Jane's van and carried him towards the FantastiCar. Ben moved their vehicle off the road, and Sue swept the debris away with a push of unseen energy. Felicia and Logan were ushered into the aircraft, where Reed hastened to attach Miles to an emergency medical bed.

Somehow in all the commotion, Susan convinced Logan and Felicia to clean up. Logan gave himself a quick wash with using sink water and a white cloth that soon turned gray. He was given a pair of light blue sweatpants and shirt from Johnny, who'd had a liberal amount of antiseptic applied to his wounds.

Then they were off, the FantastiCar taking to the air.

This side of the detente, Logan felt somewhat guilty for the injuries he'd inflicted on Johnny and Reed. So he thought it best to steer clear of the main deck. In any event, Miles was now attached to tubes and IV's on the lower deck so Logan figured it a safer place to stay.

Just seeing the kid in a state of medical attention eased some of Logan's worry. At least in regards to him.

But as with most things, there still existed a layer of dread. He had no idea where Peter and the others were. Or what they faced.

He felt Felicia emerge from the bathroom where she too had been cleaning and changing. Even in a pair of shapeless sweats she looked more beautiful than a nebula. She'd cleaned the grime from her face and body, and that alone gave Logan a feeling of relief. He'd spent enough time alive knowing that the longer a person wallowed in filth the less likely they were to return.

Felicia collapsed into his arms the second she was within reach. And Logan held her fast, neither of them speaking. Around them, the FantastiCar hummed with propulsion and air circulation. After so long on the road, it felt pleasant to know that, just for know, things were peaceful.

Logan felt Felicia's heartbeat slow. She'd fallen asleep against him.

Smiling softly, he scooped her into his arms and carried her towards one of the vacant hospital beds near Miles. He lay her down, then crawled next to her, not even caring for the tight fit. He just wanted to rest.

An instinct born of decades experience told Logan that he and Felicia's end of the battle was at its conclusion. They'd had a relatively easy time of things. But out there, somewhere, Peter Parker had a fight in his hands the likes of which Logan wouldn't have wished on anyone so innately good.

He closed his eyes, and for the first time in a long time, he sent a prayer out to the indifferent Universe.

Please, he thought before falling into the embrace of sleep, please help him.

A/N: This year has steamrolled everyone. A lot of the issues I had before are worse now. I'm sorry for updating so sporadically, but I'm so exhausted on a mental level. Yet still I returned in true form, finding an excuse to get one of the male characters all battered and semi-naked.

Thanks for keeping up after all this time, and I hope you're all staying safe.