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The riverboat chugged steadily up the river. The jungle leaned in close on either side of the waterway. The captain kept one hand on the wheel, the other scratching absently at the monkey perched on his shoulder. He laughed as he talked, like this was just another weird story in a long life of them.
“Now lemme get this straight,” he said. “Yer lookin’ for someone, but you don’t know what he looks like ’cause he can look like anybody. He’s not one of them mutants, is he? People here don’t like—”
The monkey suddenly bolted, scrambling down his arm and launching itself onto Logan’s shoulder.
The captain blinked. “Hey, Montgomery! He nevah done that before.” He looked puzzlingly at Logan before continuing, “Any stranger who comes this far uprivah, I’d remembah, whatever they looked like.”
Logan didn’t answer. He just stood near the rail, eyes scanning the shoreline. He inhaled slowly, letting the jungle air flood his senses.
Wet earth. River mud. Sweat. Smoke. Banana peels. Animal blood. And—
Underneath all that, faint but unmistakable, was something he knew like the back of his hand.
Morph.
The scent hit with an almost physical punch of memories: the sound of Morph’s laughter echoing down the mansion hallways, their stupid jokes in the middle of missions, the smell of their soap in the locker room.
He stepped off the boat onto the worn wooden dock, boots thudding dully.
“Morph was here,” he said quietly, more to himself than to the captain.
The monkey chattered as it hopped off his shoulder. Logan ignored it and kept moving.
He wasn’t losing them again.
The bar looked like it had been stitched together, a sagging structure in the middle of the jungle. The smell of cheap booze, sweat, and stale food clung to everything. Inside, a few locals hunched over their drinks. Behind the bar, a bearded bartender with tired eyes leaned on one elbow as Logan walked in.
“Every night at five o’clock,” the bartender said grandly, spreading his arms, “he turns into a bar. Get it?” He laughed at his own line. The accent was different. The face was different. The laugh was the same.
Logan’s heart stuttered. “I don’t believe it,” he muttered.
The bartender’s grin sharpened. “Everybody’s a critic.”
Logan stepped closer. “Spring break’s over, Morph,” he said. “You’re coming with me.”
The bartender’s expression flickered, just for a second. Then his smile tilted into something crueler. “I don’t think so, old man.”
His face rippled into a familiar shape, but wrong. Morph stood there, but their skin was jaundiced and sallow, hair black and oily, dark circles sunken under their eyes. Something in their smile looked stretched too tight, like it might snap.
“I figured you might follow me,” Morph drawled. “You never were very bright.” Their eyes glittered. “What do you think of your final resting place?”
Logan’s stomach twisted at the sight. This was Morph, but this was not his Morph. This was what Sinister had made of them.
He forced his voice steady. “Whatever you’re going through, Morph, I’ve been there.” He took another step forward. “The Professor saved me. I’m gonna save you.”
Morph’s jaw tightened. “A little late, aren’t you?”
They lunged forward and flipped the bar up with terrifying strength. It crashed into Logan’s chest, slamming him backward. Logan snarled and forced his claws out, slicing through the wrecked bar like it was paper. The wood crashed to either side of him as he clawed his way free, splinters raining down.
“You’re coming with me,” he growled, shoving the remains aside. “One way or another.” He grabbed Morph by the arms, fingers digging in just enough to hold, not enough to hurt.
Morph smiled. “You wanna take me back? Why? So we can go bowling?” they mocked. “Shoot some hoops?” Their body shifted, hair turning red. Suddenly, Logan was holding Jean.
They leaned closer, eyes bright. “Or maybe it’s love you’re missing.”
Logan flinched back, “Jean…” he breathed, before his brain caught up.
They smiled sweetly. “When I’m with you, all I can think about is how much I’m in love…”
Logan’s chest tightened.
“…with Cyclops!”
Morph threw their head back and laughed. The sound was wrong coming out of that mouth.
“Who could ever love a freak like you?” they sneered and spun away, laughter trailing behind them as they bolted out the back door, which was more like a hole in the wall.
By the time Logan snapped out of it, the Morph was out of his sight. “No,” he rasped, anger and panic mixing into something sharp. “Don’t!”
His claws slid out again with a familiar metallic snikt as he sprinted after them into the thick green wall of jungle.
The humid night slammed into Logan. Crickets screamed, leaves brushed his shoulders, and vines tugged at his boots as he ran. Morph’s scent was easy to follow, mixed with their adrenaline. Logan pushed harder. Branches whipped at his face, but none of it mattered. This wasn’t just a mission. It hadn’t been for a long time. He rounded a cluster of trees at full speed, and then the jungle vanished. For one dizzing heartbeat, he was just falling.
“Whoa!” Logan yelled, falling down a mine shaft before slamming into the bottom. Dust exploded around him, filling his lungs, scraping his throat.“Who took away the jungle?!”
He lay there for a second, eyes squeezed shut, feeling bone grind wetly as his healing factor kicked in. Each breath burned.
A figure emerged from the shadows. “Looks like I hit a nerve,” Morph said.
Logan gritted his teeth and forced himself up. “So you made me mad,” he said. “Happens all the time. You should see me in line at the post office.”
Morph started walking towards him, eyes gleaming. “Just a hint of what I can do to your mind,” they purred. “Your body heals fast, but when I’m through with you,” Their body shifted to Deadpool, then Omega Red, “your mind will never recover.”
They shifted back to their own, corrupted form, grin spreading.
“I’ll risk it,” Logan said flatly.
Morph’s eyes narrowed. “I wouldn’t,” they replied, and their form shifted again, warping into something much too familiar.
Logan found himself staring at himself. They unsheathed claws, his claws.
“If I were you,” Morph finished.
The first clash of claws rang loud, sparks flying. Logan’s arms shook with the force.
They fought in brutal, narrow bursts. Every strike was like punching a mirror. Morph matched his movements, anticipated feints. He could see his own tells thrown back at him, weaponized.
“You might look like me,” Logan snarled as he twisted, slamming his shoulder into Morph’s, using their momentum against them. He hooked a leg behind theirs and knocked them to the ground. “But you don’t fight like me. Come on, give it up.”
Morph growled, eyes flashing. Their body shifted, fur exploding across their skin. In a heartbeat, they were a sleek black panther, muscles coiled and shining in the dim light. The panther roared and lunged, knocking Logan flat.
“The X-Men can help you!” Logan grunted, forcing his knees up, shoving the panther’s weight off his torso.
He rolled, driving one shoulder hard into their side to dislodge them. They slid away, snarling. The panther form shifted again. Suddenly, a massive rhino filled the shaft, snorting, its huge head lowering.
Logan’s eyes widened. The rhino charged.
The impact slammed him back into the wall with bone-cracking force. Air whooshed out of his lungs. Pain flowered across his ribs as he hit the ground in a heap, vision flickering at the edges. His healing factor scrambled to keep up with the damage. By the time he forced himself to look up, the rhino was gone. Sabretooth stood over him instead.
“You don’t get it, do you?” Morph rumbled.
Logan’s muscles trembled as he tried to push himself up. “Don’t do this,” he rasped.
It wasn’t fear for himself that thickened his voice. It was the thought of Morph, buried somewhere under all of this, watching themselves hurt him and thinking they were beyond saving.
Sabretooth-Morph grabbed him like he weighed nothing, hauling him up and slamming him against the rock wall. Logan groaned, broken ribs grinding.
“Without Xavier,” Sabretooth-Morph snarled, inches from his face, “there are no X-Men!”
Spit hit Logan’s cheek. He felt the words like another blow. Not because they were true, but because he knew that’s what Sinister had drilled into Morph.
He clenched his fist, forced his claws out with a snikt, just two of them, sliding out on either side of Morph’s chin, bracketing their face. “You’re wrong.”
For a split second, something flickered in those predatory eyes, almost like a glitch. Then Morph snarled and hurled him aside like trash. Logan smashed into the ground, skidding, rocks biting into his skin.
“Big hero,” they sneered. “You never listen.”
Their form shuddered, then collapsed inward like a wave folding back upon itself. Sabretooth’s bulk melted away, leaving Morph standing there, as themselves.
Just Morph. Their shoulders were hunched, eyes wide and wet. Their breath hitched, body shaking as if they’d just run miles. Tears spilled over, streaking through the dirt on their face.
“I have to get through this by myself!” Morph choked out. The words sounded like they hurt to say.
Logan pressed a hand to his ribs. “Morph—”
But they were already turning, feet slipping on loose rock as they bolted toward the tunnel opening, away from him, away from everything.
Logan watched them go, throat tight, pain roaring through his chest. “Morph!” He called, voice breaking around their name.
It echoed off the stone, chasing them into the dark. Logan tried to scramble after them, but his body gave out, dropping him back to his knees. He could smell their fear fading, scattering into the jungle outside. Morph was gone.
The silence in the mine shaft settled heavily. Logan pushed himself upright inch by inch, every breath a jagged slice through his ribs. Healing factor or not, snapping bones back into place hurt like hell. He inhaled through his nose carefully. The air was thick with rust, old minerals, and the fading bite of Morph’s fear.
“Damn it,” he muttered, jaw clenched tight.
He planted his boots and forced himself to stand fully upright. Something in his side shifted with a nauseating crunch. A growl tore out of him before he could stop it, half pain, half fury. But he started walking. When he finally exited the mine, the night air rushed over him. He crouched low and inhaled deeply.
There. Morph’s scent. And with it: guilt, shame, and something that twisted in Logan’s chest—Loneliness.
He pushed upright, wincing as something caught under his sternum. “Come on, bub,” he rasped to himself, “ain’t the worst I’ve had…”
He forced his boots to keep going. Morph’s trail wound through the trees in frantic arcs, doubling back, circling, sharp turns and sudden stops, like they kept losing track of who was chasing them, or what part of themselves they were trying to outrun.
He pushed a branch aside and stumbled through a cluster of vines that slapped wetly against his arms. He wiped the sweat off his brow, swallowed against the pain, and kept following. The scent grew stronger, closer. He could almost picture Morph curled up somewhere out in this humid hell, shaking, alone, believing they deserved it. The thought made something deep in Logan’s chest go sharp.
Not again. Not this time. Not while he was still breathing.
The shack was half-swallowed by the jungle, a skeleton of wood and rusted metal tucked behind a curtain of vines. Logan crept toward it. The boards under the window were warped, leaving a small gap where the vines didn’t quite reach. Carefully, he leaned just enough to see inside.
The shack’s single room was dim, lit only by an oil lamp. The air inside seemed heavy, almost suffocating. A small cot sat shoved against the wall. Papers littered the floor, sketches, scraps, torn pages from books, all marked with frantic lines. Morph stood in the middle of the room, shaking. Their body flickered. One moment, their skin was jaundiced, eyes blackened, jaw set in a cruel snarl. The next, their normal face surfaced: pale, exhausted, and hollow with fear. Two halves wrestling inside one person. Logan’s hand clenched on the windowsill.
Morph’s voice broke through the silence, their normal voice. “I can’t do this anymore,” they whispered. “I can’t…I can’t fight him alone.”
Their face twisted. “You owe him,” the darker voice snarled. “Sinister made you better. Stronger. The X-Men didn’t lift a finger. They let you die.”
Morph flinched like they’d been struck, shifting back into their normal form, tears starting to fill their eyes. “That’s not true,” they whispered. “Logan came for me. He—he tried—”
“TRIED?” they hissed. “Where was he when the Sentinels shot you? Where was he when Sinister dragged you out of that rubble? Where was he for the year you screamed yourself to sleep?”
Morph crumpled onto the cot, hands clutching their skull. Their normal voice shook: “Stop. Please, stop. Logan didn’t know—he thought I was dead—he—”
“He never loved you,” the evil voice cut in. “He never cared. If he did, you wouldn’t have been left behind. You were expendable. A joke. They mourned you for a moment and then moved on.”
Logan’s heart twisted like someone had driven claws through it. He wanted to burst in. Wanted to rip the door off its hinges and tell them the truth, tell them everything. But Morph’s voice kept him frozen in place.
“Logan…” They shifted again, eyes clearing for a breath. “Logan came all this way. He—he found me. He’ll help me. He’ll get this chip out, he’ll…he’ll fix this.”
“Logan will FAIL you,” the evil voice spat. They changed again, hair black and slick with sweat. “He’s weak. He hesitated. You SAW it. Look at him—he fell apart the moment you showed him Jean. He always wanted her. Not you.”
Logan’s throat closed. He pressed his forehead to the wooden frame, gripping it to keep from crashing through.
“No,” Morph whispered, shifting back into their real self. “He—Logan cares. He has to. He—he came after me. He said he’d save me.” Their voice cracked. “He wouldn’t say that unless he—unless—”
“Unless what?” evil Morph sneered. “Unless he loved you?” Morph flinched like the word itself hurt. “Logan doesn’t love you. He never did. He couldn’t love someone like you. Sinister was right. You’re broken goods. A toy. A tool. And now Logan knows it too.”
Morph’s knees buckled. They caught themselves on the edge of the cot. “No… no, no, no…”
The evil form vanished, leaving just Morph. Small, exhausted, breath hitching in uneven sobs. Like the fight had drained every scrap of strength, they sank to the floor, back against the cot, knees drawn up. “It doesn’t matter now,” Morph whispered, voice barely audible. “He’s gone. He left. Just like before.” Morph buried their face in their hands, shoulders shaking. “I’m alone again,” they choked. “I’m always alone.”
Logan exhaled and stepped quietly back from the window. Because he wasn’t going to break in angry, he wasn’t going to shout. He wasn’t going to frighten them more. He was going to walk through that door like someone who loved them. Because for the first time in his damn life, he finally understood that he did.
As Logan slowly opened the door, Morph’s head snapped up.
“No—” they whispered hoarsely, scrambling backward, back hitting the cot with a dull thud. Their body flickered, skin yellowing, then paling, like their mutation didn’t know which way to go. “Go away. I—I said I’d get through it alone.”
Logan just stood there, hands open at his sides. “Morph,” he said quietly.
Morph’s eyes darted over him. Checking for claws, for anger, for judgment. Instead, Logan looked wrecked. Blood dried dark along the collar of his torn shirt. Bruises bloomed purple and black across his ribs where the healing factor hadn’t quite caught up yet. His breathing was calm, and his eyes were steady, soft in a way Morph didn’t trust.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Morph said sharply. “I—I told you to leave me alone.”
“I know,” Logan replied. “Ain’t doin’ it.”
Morph’s jaw trembled. “You don’t get to decide that.”
Logan nodded once. “You’re right. That’s why I’m askin’. Not takin’.
Morph hugged their arms around themselves. “You saw what I did to you,” they said. “You should hate me.”
Logan swallowed, “I don’t.”
Morph let out a broken laugh. “That’s not normal.”
“Neither am I,” Logan said simply.
Their eyes flickered again. Dark circles deepened under their eyes. The evil edge crept into their voice. “You should be afraid,” they said. “I could tear you apart. Break you from the inside.”
Logan met their gaze without flinching. “Yeah. You could.”
Morph stared at him, taken aback by the lack of denial, as their face shifted back to normal.
“I’m still here,” Logan added.
“Why?” they demanded, voice cracking through the anger. “Why won’t you just leave me alone like everyone else?”
Logan took a careful step forward and then stopped again, leaving space. “Because I already did once and I ain’t makin’ that mistake again.”
Morph shook their head violently. “You didn’t come back for me,” they said. “I was dying, and you let them leave me.”
Logan’s jaw clenched. Pain flickered across his face. “I thought you were gone,” he choked. “And that damn near broke me.”
“That didn’t stop Sinister! He found me because of you,” Morph said frantically, words spilling out. “Because you left. Because the team left. Because I was left alone.” Tears burned down their cheeks. “He took me apart. Piece by piece. And he said you’d never come. He said I wasn’t worth it.”
Logan took another step forward before he realized he was doing it. “That was a lie,” he said fiercely.
Morph’s lips twisted. “Was it?”
“Yes,” Logan said, without hesitation.
Morph’s body shuddered. Their form flickered again. “He’s lying to you,” the darker voice snapped. “He always lies when he feels guilty.”
Logan’s gaze locked onto Morph. “I ain’t here to argue with that voice,” he said steadily. “I’m here to talk to you.”
Morph clutched their head, a strangled sound tearing out of their throat. “I don’t know which one that is anymore.”
“That’s okay. Then we’ll figure it out together.”
“You can’t fix this,” they whispered. “There’s a chip in my head. He made sure I’d never be free.”
Logan lowered himself carefully onto one knee. “Then we get it out,” he said. “However long it takes.”
“And if it kills me?” Morph asked.
“Then I’ll be right there.”
Morph broke. Not violently. Not loudly. Just a soft, wrecked sound as their shoulders collapsed inward and tears spilled down their face. Their form finally stilled, no flickering. Just Morph.
“It doesn’t matter,” they sobbed. “You already left. You’ll leave again.”
“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” Logan said. “Not without you.”
Morph looked up at him through tears, eyes desperately searching. “You can’t promise things like that,” they whispered.
Logan’s voice softened, “I can.”
Morph stared at him like they were waiting for the trick. For the moment that Logan’s patience would finally snap and prove the voice in their head right.
“You don’t get it,” they whispered. “I hurt you. I wanted to hurt you.”
Logan stayed where he was, kneeling on the dirt-streaked floor. “I know.”
“I used Jean’s face,” Morph said. “I said things I knew would cut you open. I enjoyed it.”
“I know.”
“Then, why are you still here?”
Logan exhaled slowly. “Because losin’ you already damn near killed me once,” he said. “I ain’t survivin’ it twice.”
Their eyes filled again, spilling over. “No,” they said, voice cracking. “You never cared. I was just the joke. The loud one. The disposable one.”
Logan finally reached out, just enough to rest his knuckles against the floor near Morph’s knee. “I didn’t know,” he said quietly.
Morph shook their head, confused. “Didn’t know what?”
“I didn’t know what it was,” Logan continued. “Back then. I knew I felt better when you were around. Knew the room felt empty when you weren’t in it. Knew I’d catch myself listenin’ for your laugh without realizin’ I was doin’ it. I told myself it was nothin’. Told myself it was easier that way. Safer.” His voice roughened. “And then you were…gone.”
Morph’s hands curled into the fabric of their sleeves.
“I watched you die,” Logan said, eyes burning now, though he didn’t look away. “And somethin’ inside me broke open that I didn’t know how to name. I loved you. I just didn’t realize it until I lost you.”
Morph froze. The room seemed to tilt, like the words had knocked the ground out from under them. “No,” they whispered. “You—you can’t—”
“I do,” Logan stated. “And I ain’t proud of how long it took me to understand it.”
Morph laughed weakly, a sound halfway to a sob. “You’re just saying that because you feel guilty.”
Logan shook his head. “Guilt don’ keep a man walkin’ through the jungle on busted ribs.”
Their eyes searched his face desperately, hunting for the lie.
“What if I never get better?” Morph whispered. “What if this is just…Who I am now?”
Logan leaned forward, close enough now that Morph could feel the warmth of him. “Then this is who I love,” he said.
Morph made a small, broken sound, and their body folded in on itself. Logan caught them, arms wrapping around shaking shoulders. Morph clutched at his shirt like they were afraid he might vanish if they didn’t anchor him there.
“I don’t know how to come back,” they sobbed into his chest. “I don’t know who I am without him in my head.”
Logan held them. One hand settled between their shoulder blades. The other cradled the back of their head, fingers tangling gently in their hair.
“We’ll figure it out,” he murmured.
“What if I hurt you again?” Morph whispered.
“Then I heal.”
Morph’s breathing came in ragged gasps, then slowly, slowly, began to even out. Their body sagged fully against him, exhaustion finally overtaking the panic. Logan didn’t move. Didn’t rush. Didn’t try to fix anything else. He just held them while the worst of it passed.
“You’re not going to drag me back?” they asked.
“No,” Logan replied. “Ain’t gonna do that.”
“What if I’m not ready?”
“Then we wait.”
Morph swallowed. “What if I never am?”
Logan met their gaze. “Then I’ll still be here.”
They swallowed. “But…what about when you have to go be an X-Man?”
“The X-Men can get by without their Wolverine for a while. Right now, you need me more.”
Morph looked up at him, eyes glossy and uncertain. “And… you’re okay with that?”
Logan’s thumb brushed a gentle, grounding circle between their shoulder blades. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I wanna be here. With you.”
Logan shifted carefully, easing Morph up into his arms. They went pliant against him, trusting in a way that made his chest ache. He lifted them to the cot and lowered them down slowly, arranging the thin blanket over them.
Morph’s fingers caught weakly at his sleeve. “You’re not leaving,” they whispered.
Logan bent down, resting his forehead briefly against theirs. “I’m right here.”
Their eyes fluttered, lashes dark against tear-streaked skin. A soft breath left them, and then their body finally stilled as sleep claimed them.
Logan straightened only after he was sure they were out. He pulled a nearby chair closer to the cot and sat, forearms resting on his knees, eyes never leaving Morph’s face.
The jungle murmured outside the shack, alive and restless, but Logan stayed still and watchful. He memorized the slow rise and fall of Morph’s chest, the way their features softened in sleep.
He’d stay as long as it took.