A Star Wars/Wolverine/Tomb Raider Crossover--go figure and enjoy!

    "You?" she gasps, and he can tell that surprise isn't something she feels too often. "You're the Wolverine?"
     "In the flesh, darlin'," he replies, rubbing his back, which he's been lying on for countless
centuries. He knows they once told him that he was immortal, but he never thought this was
what they meant. Being in that glass coffin of a preservation chamber has dampened his nerves a
bit, but he still smells her--fresh, lovely meat if he's ever known it.
     It's been a long, long time, he thinks.
     The woman with the long, reddish-brown hair that runs down her back in a twining braid
is obviously considering her options. "I was led to believe that you were a precious antique," she
finally says, with a touch of amusement. "I was supposed to deliver you to a man named Thrawn.
He said you were art."
     "Art?" He is amused by this thought. Art is one of the few things he has never been called
in his life. Ever. "Well, I'm as alive as a guy can be, after what they did to me." He looks around.
He expected to see futuristic-like furnishing, but the room they are in is completely stark and
blank, metal from top to bottom, and there is a huge window on one side that shows nothing
outside of it except more stars that he thought existed in the universe. "Where the hell am I?" he
says aloud.
     She grins. It is a lovely, charming grin. Undaunted by this new turn of events, she's
quickly working things to her advantage. It's a trait he loves and dreads at the same time. "Well,"
she says, brown eyes shining like golden coins, "I had the same problem when I arrived here a
few months ago. At least, I think it's been a few months." She turns away a bit, and he admires
her lithe form in the sleek black suit she wears, along with the shimmering guns at her hips--at
least, he thinks they're guns. They look more like ray guns than the kind that shoot bullets. "I was
in a place called Area 51--ever hear of it?"
     He nods. "Vaguely," he grunts, getting his feet under him.
     She pauses, looking him over. "You okay there, handsome?" she asks. "Need a
shoulder?"
     "Nah, darlin'," he replies. "I'll be fine. I been thought worse."
     She smiles. "Ah. I see, you're one of those types." In spite of her tone, he can feel her
eyes on him, admiring what she sees. But then there is an air of disinterest. Obviously, he is not
quite her type--just some sweet eye-candy for a long cold night in space. "Anyway," she
continues, "I was chased into some sort of chamber. I had no idea what it was, and I certainly
hadn't anticipated it suddenly activating. Whatever happened, I ended up here." She motions
with both hands toward the vastness of space. "Turns out I'm in another galaxy entirely. And in
the past at that."
     "A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away," he muses, "Sounds like some stupid science
fiction movie."
     "Like the one about mutants saving a world that hates and fears them?" she shoots back.
"Or an archaeologist who chases down ancient and priceless treasures for fun?"
     "Point taken," he grins. "Go on with your story."
     "Anyway, turns out we're in the middle of some kind of rebellion. One side took over the
other--they're called the Empire. And now the other side has regrouped and wants to get control
back. Problem is, and here is the kicker, the old side maintained their control by a society of
what they called Jedi Knights. They control some kind of mega, invisible power called the
Force. Well, the head guy of the Empire wiped out all the Jedi Knights, leaving only the bad
ones. So the good guys have no one on their side to use the Force. At least, they didn't."
     "Didn't?" His ears prick, knowing that this is the part where this outlandish story gets
really good.
     "I was contacted by a member of the Empire," she explains. "You should meet him, he's
interesting--blue skin, red eyes. I think his species is called Chiss. Anyway, he hired me to hunt
down a few things for him--the first thing being you. The second one is a man named Obi-Wan
Kenobi. He's supposedly a hero of some old wars and the last living Jedi Knight. I agreed to the
art part, which was supposed to be you," she adds with a smile, "but I said no thanks to the other
part. I don't like helping bad guys win."
     "So why me?" he asks. "Who am I that I'm so important to some blue skinned guy with
red eyes?"
     "His name is Grand Admiral Thrawn," she adds, almost like an afterthought. "He claims
that there's some sort of prophecy that says that the Empire will gain complete and total control
of the galaxy if they have the Wolverine at the forefront of their army. A bunch of bunk, I think,
but I didn't have anything else to do while I was here. And Thrawn showed me some wonderful
pieces of art. He's truly a connoisseur. I have a soft spot for them."
     "Well, if we ever get back to where we came from," he says, "We can go to Japan and I'll
show you what I know. Hope you're free for a few weeks."
     She smiles. "I'm Lara Croft," she offers, along with her hand.
     "Logan," he replies, taking it. Her fingers are strong, muscular. The perfect kind for
pulling triggers, he thinks. "But back on my world, I was known as the Wolverine."
     "And both of you," comes a third voice from the newly appearing doors on the far side of
the large metal room, "are both dead."
     They turn and see a woman standing there. Her eyes are such a brilliant shade of green
that Logan can see them from where he stands, almost a hundred feet away. Her hair is red--it
reminds him of someone he knew, a long, long time ago. She's dressed in a sleek black jumpsuit,
almost identical to Lara's, only sleeveless, and she carries no weapons except a small blaster in
her wrist-cuff and a strange weapon at her belt.
     It smells like some kind of sword.
     "Hands where I can see them," the woman says, coming closer to them. There is such a
rage on her face--a mask of pure hatred. Her eyes rake over Lara and then Logan, as if
memorizing their every detail. "Security has been alerted, so there's no use in--"
     Logan leaps forward before she can finish the sentence. Beautiful or not, appealing or
not, this woman is obviously not on their side, and not inclined to listen to it, either. She smells
like this room--cold as steel. She doesn't miss a beat as he comes toward her, claws extended.
She takes one simple, elegant step to the side in an evasive mover, but he's too fast for her. His
claws slice through her gun.
     A mistake. It explodes in a brilliant flare of red. The woman screams and throws her
hands over her eyes. Lara dives down, avoiding the burst of lazer fire. He can smell her
astonishment--obviously she didn't know her guns would explode if opened in the wrong place,
either.
     It's all red and fire and smoke for the next few minutes. Logan tries to sniff out his new
companion but there are suddenly a hundred people everywhere--no, not that many, but their
voices echo off the bleak walls and he can sense that he is being surrounded. Lara is gone--he
can't smell her anymore, and the smoke is clearing. The woman with the red hair and green eyes
is gone, too. Only the guards remain, and they have weapons that they fire upon him, slowing
him down, until he feels like he's trying to swim through water as red as blood. Eventually, he
passes out, but not for a lack of trying to escape.

     When he comes to, his hands and feet are encased in a solid metal compartment, and no
matter how hard he tries, he can't pop his claws. They won't go through his bindings. What sort
of metal do they have here that's as strong as Adamantium?
     His head is fuzzy, but he hears someone coming in. Soft footsteps, and then a familiar
scent. The woman is back, not Lara, but the one who...
     Now that he thinks about it, she looks remarkably like Lara. Just different enough,
though. They could have been born twins.
     She appears, now dressed in more comfortable attire--a green tunic that brings out her
eyes, sleek black leggings, high boots that cover her to her knees. The sword without a blade
hangs at her belt, although her wristcuff is gone. Probably from a lack of a good use, he thinks
wryly.
     "Do you know what you did?" she asks, her voice a bit softer. "You nearly killed us
both."
     "Yeah, sorry," he mutters. "Maybe I should have tried harder." But he doesn't mean it. It's
just something he says to keep from feeling helpless. Helpless is a feeling he doesn't even know.
She comes closer, and her scent is intoxicating. Like ozone and flowers mixed together. How
strange.
     "What are you?" she whispers. "Thrawn seemed awfully interested in you. He was very
upset to realize that his agent was going to betray him and run off with you, but I get the feeling
that you weren't what anyone expected to find."
     "Yeah, and who are you, lady, that I should tell you anything?" he growls at her. He
knows it won't intimidate her--he just wants a name to go with that beautiful marble mask of a
face.
     "You can call me Jean," she whispers. His ribcage feels like it wants to stop his heart
from beating.
     "That's not your name," he says, hurt by the memory she unknowingly inflicted on him.
     She smiles. "I know. That's just what you can call me."
     He grunts. "Fair enough, I guess," he concedes. "Mind telling me--"
     "You haven't answered my question," she said, her voice like jade.
     He considers his answer, then realizes he has nothing to lose, not really. "I'm what's
known as a mutant," he explains. "You can't kill me, so don't try. And eventually, I'm going to
escape. Maybe you want to stick around and see what happens to you when I do."
     The remark could have been taken any one of several ways, he realizes. Either he's
flirting, threatening, or just being a pervert. He feels like the later at the moment, the way he
looks at her well-toned body, like he did Lara's.
     This woman just looks so much like her, it's *uncanny.*
     "A mutant," she muses. He can hear her storing the information in the back of her head.
"Any idea why you were imprisoned like you were?"
     He shrugs--as much as he can, anyway. "No idea, darlin'," he says. "None at all. I was in
my time, and I was fighting someone."
     "Your time?" the woman presses. "What time is that?"
     "It ain't this time," he says, looking around him. "All this spacey-stuff ain't like anything
I've been in, so I'm just thinking maybe I'm in a different time."
     "You say a lot of stupid things for someone who has obviously been trained as an
assassin," she finally says, with extreme impatience, folding her arms across her well-formed
chest. "I could see it in the way you moved. They imprisoned you for a reason. And Thrawn
wants you for a reason. Now what is it?"
     "Hell if I know," he says, feeling like a broken record. Or a CD with a scratch, at any
rate. "You tell me. This is your game."
     "And now it's mine," comes that lovely, familiar voice. Logan lifts his head to see Lara
standing there, her weapons drawn, ready to put several holes into whatever decides to be foolish
enough to move.
     The red-head doesn't even flinch. She turns a bit, and with a flick of her wrist she draws
that curious sword at her belt. A blade of dark pink light comes out.
     Lara fires. The woman slings the blade back and forth in front of her. The blade
evaporates the small fireballs that Lara's new guns shoot. Lara continues to fire, the woman
continues to block. She begins to deflect the balls so that they start coming back onto Lara. Lara
finally stops firing and glares at her in frustration.
     "What the hell is that thing?" she asks, her tone more of grudging admiration than of
outrage at being thwarted.
     "A lightsaber," the woman replies.
     "Ah," Lara says, her eyes lighting up with recognition. "So you're Mara Jade."
     The name is a shock to its bearer. "How do you--"
     Lara steps closer. "Thrawn told me to look out for you. I thought I recognized your red
hair, but God knows how many red-heads are in this galaxy."
     Mara's eyes flash. "Why would Thrawn tell you to look out for me?" she asks, her voice
suspicious.
     "You think you and Thrawn are on the same side?" Lara mocks. "Think again. I've never
meet anyone in this game of Empires and Rebellions that wasn't out for himself--or herself."
     Anger seeps from Mara's pores. Her hands grip the blade, but she retracts it back into its
metal sheath. Logan makes a mental note to ask her if he can look at it, if he gets a chance.
     Lara sheaths her guns as well and steps even closer to Mara. The two of them can't stop
looking at each other. It's as if they know each other.
     "Lara Croft," Mara says. "I've never heard of you before your name came to Thrawn's
attention. And it's my job to know things."
     "I image it is, as the Emperor's Hand," Lara says, playing her hand. It's an old game--
taking away an enemy's secrets can be either a brilliant move or an extremely dangerous one.
She's going on hunch now--but Mara is not about to be outmatched.
     "So why are you here?" Lara asks before Mara can counter with either some smart-ass
remark, or an equally cutting statement. "If you and your buddy Grand Admiral are on the same
side, why would you be in my way? Why wouldn't you just let me take him to Thrawn and be
done with it?"
     "Because you weren't going to take him to Thrawn," Mara says, her voice trance-like.
"You were going to let him go."
     Lara scowls. "I don't re-neg on a job," she says. But Lara obviously knows the art of the
bluff.
     Apparently, so does Mara. She almost smiles. "Really?" She raises her lightsaber and
slices through the things that pin Logan to the wall. He falls forward, surprised by the shock.
"Then by all means, take him." This time she does smile.
     Lara doesn't move. She looks to Logan, who is getting to his feet. "I doubt he'll let me,"
she says a bit snidely. Logan glares at one and then the other.
     "You bet right, darlin'," he says, rubbing his hands as the blood comes rushing back to
them. "What the hell were those things, anyway?"
     "They're a new metal," Mara says, "called Adamantium. Stronger than anything we have
yet in our galaxy, but still not enough to resist a lightsaber's blade."
     Logan nods, carefully sequestering his shock. So he hasn't been the only gift his world
has bestowed upon this new one. "So what are we gonna do?" he asks. "I'm not going to let you
take me anywhere, and you're not going to let me leave."
     Mara is looking at Lara again. The two women have connected somehow, on some
unexplainable level that Logan can't begin to comprehend. But if he had tried, he would have
said that it was like they were two long lost sisters.
     "You know," Lara begins, her voice thoughtful, "when I was a baby, my parents told me
that I should have had a twin. A fraternal twin. They said that she died." Her eyes narrowed. "But
I get the feeling that she didn't."
     "I get the same feeling," Mara says, her voice rather dreamy. "But unfortunately, I don't
remember my past at all."
     Lara nods. "Food for thought, then."
     "Maybe if we run into each other in less formal settings," Mara says, raising her hand to
the control panel, "we can discuss it."
     Lara grins. "Maybe."
     Logan looks at the opening doorway in distrust. "I don't get it," he says. "Why are you
letting us go?"
     Mara looks to him. "I don't know," she replies. "So you'd better move before I come back
to my senses."
     Lara obeys, heading out the door to scan for interference. Logan takes a step closer to
Mara, who cringes just a bit at the size of him. He looks at her until she looks back at him, which
doesn't take long--no one challenges Mara, he suspects, and walks away without knowing better
for the next time.
     For reasons he could never explain to her, he bends over and kisses her. She kisses him
back, for reasons she doesn't even have. Then he steps away and leaves her there, following Lara
out into the open corridors of their prison, on their way to an escape, which will be the easy part.
     Getting past Mara Jade was the hardest part of all. Logan and Lara knew that they should
consider themselves two of the luckiest beings in that galaxy.