Don't get caught, don’t get caught, don’t get caught! The mantra repeated itself over and over in her head, keeping time with the harsh slapping sounds her bare feet made against the cold concrete. She dared a quick, furtive, glance over her shoulder, fearful of whomever or whatever was coming after her in the dimly lit corridor.

The dreary hallway seemed to stretch on forever, even at her sprinting pace, but she knew it was in actuality less than a few hundred feet in length. She also knew, with certainty—a certainty she could not, and cared not explain—that the two rooms she had just skittered past were rooms of unspeakable torment and torture.

Her bare feet slipped as she rounded the corner, nearly sending her tumbling to the floor. She caught herself against the wall, her hand smearing a macabre crimson rainbow across the bricks. She rolled to the left, and with her back pressed tight to the paint, she tried to calm the frenzied tattoo of her heart, her breaths ragged; her lungs burning as if filled with butane.

She blinked rapidly and her eyes stung in protest, her vision blurring. The hallway swayed in front of her and her already nauseous stomach rebelled. She doubled over as a slew of green bile spewed from her in a long, agonizing torrent. She gagged against the foul, bitter taste. Oh, god, what was that stuff? Crimson splotches decorated the repellent bile as she was racked with coughs, her body desperate to purge itself of the toxin.

Weak, she slid to the floor, trembling against the cool cement. She needed to go, needed to move, not sit there wheezing on her hands and knees, she told herself, but her body refused to cooperate. She groaned weakly, her face pressed to the cold slabs. Naked and scared—in pain and uncertain of anything—with only one thought slamming through her brain, she wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and wake up from this nightmare...
Maybe, she could rest... just a moment...

Don’t get caught!

The thought slammed through her brain with enough force to snap her eyes open. Her arms shook as she levered herself up and a sharp pain brought her watery gaze down along her forearm. To her horror, she saw a long needle embedded in her skin. It wasn't the first needle that she'd found, but the sight of it was still disturbing.
Upon waking in a small, cramped, hellish torture chamber only minutes ago, she had discovered dozens of needles, some wired others not, jabbed into her skin at various angles. She had been someones life-size pincushion. What nightmare hell was she trapped in?

She grimaced at the thought, and with eyes closed and lips pursed she started to dig the long piece of metal out with a torn fingernail. A broken sound of distress escaped her when she realized that the needle had tubing attached to it, running all the way up her arm. Maneuvering the tip cautiously, she felt the end of the tubing wiggle just below her collarbone.
What the hell had they done to her?

Pinching her thumb and forefinger together she took two quick breaths and prepared herself for what had to be done. One swift wrench and the plastic tubing was torn from its flesh housing.Oh, God! She dropped her head back down to the floor, barely suppressing the scream of agony clawing up her throat. Blood slipped between her fingers in shining rivulets, dripping onto the concrete, creating miniature Rorschachs. She didn't dared look, certain that their bloody appearance would make her stomach turn over once more.

Up. Get up! She rolled onto her back, tears staining her bruised cheeks.Get up!She slammed her elbows into the ground and demanded that her body listen to her brain. Forcing her body to cooperate proved more difficult than she would have liked, but eventually she won out and managed to stagger upright.

She took off down the hall, cradling her wounded arm to her bare chest. Uncertain as to where to go, she made her way towards the flickering red EXIT sign at the opposite end of the hall. She had no idea where the door led, but anywhere had to be better than the macabre little anteroom of Hell she had woken from.
Lingering visions of a reptile looking man, partially dissected on the table beside her, flashed through her mind, making her gag again, but blessedly she didn’t vomit. She didn’t think she could stand another round of the green bile-fluid shit again.

She stumbled when she reached the exit, her feet slipping and the metal door slammed open beneath the clumsy weight of her shoulder, banging loudly into the wall. Shit. She hadn't wanted to make that much noise. She shoved the door closed again and leaned back against it, shaking. She wrapped her arms about herself, trying to hold herself together.

She blinked, finding it even harder to focus in the dim lit stairwell. She had no energy for stairs. She choked back a sob of frustration. Okay, keep it together. Maybe there‘s another way-- Turning, she pressed her face to the small rectangular window of the door, peering back into the hallway. Twin beams of light jumped back and forth at the far end and behind them men in solid black uniforms were running in her direction. The lights skimmed along the bloody trail she had left in her wake.
Perfect.

She flung herself back away from the door. She had no choice, she needed to go. She didn’t have time for delicacy or panic, she needed to get away. With a soft prayer, she vaulted over the railing, dropping the full floor. She ignored the twist of her ankle and repeated the same maneuver again. And again. And again. And again.

She heard the door one floor above her bang open, followed by: “Subject is in the east stairwell, third floor.�

She barely the energy to stand, much less leap. Limping, she pushed the door in front of her open and made her way into an adjacent stairwell. This one read: Emergency Exit Only, and damn if she knew of a greater emergency than getting the hell out of this place.

She pulled open the door and swore when two armed guards met her on the opposite side, their weapons leveled at her, red dots emblazoned on her forehead and chest. “Don’t move!�

No. Damn it, no!

Behind her: more stairs and certain capture; ahead of her: almost certain death.

The choice was simple, really. She ran at the two men. She was on them in a blink, her fist knocking the barrel of one rifle to the left even as she grabbed for the second, yanking the muzzle so that if the guard fired, it would be harmlessly into the wall.

She pushed the gun down, flipping it out of the startled man’s hands, and swinging the butt, she smashed his visor into his eyes. He screamed, loud and terrible, before dropping to his knees. The other guard went into the wall hard with his jaw beneath her foot, and his neck snapping with the force of her kick.

She bent down and quickly removed his jacket, slipping it over her shivering frame. The first man was still screaming, rocking back and forth, blood seeping between the fingers covering his eyes.

She quelled the pang in her chest. No time for remorse.

Wincing at the motion, she bent and scooped up the discarded weapons. She didn’t spare either man a second thought as she turned and burst through the emergency exit, heading for the fire escape.
Another running leap and she was free falling away from wrought iron with the night air kissing her cheeks. She hit the ground hard, somersaulting to compensate for the jarring impact, and then she was up and running again.

Running fast and hard.

Her weary body was shifting into survival mode.

She had her second wind.

She only hoped it would be enough.

Halfway across the dark yard she got the intuitive need to dodge, and not bothering to think about, trusting her instincts to react, she ducked to the left and narrowly avoided the projectile whizzing past her head, but she didn’t falter, she kept running. She had to keep running.

Don't get caught!

Taking haphazard aim with the weapon she had confiscated, she fired back at the guards in the tower as they shot at her. She let out a disgusted grunt when she realized it was a tranquilizer gun in her hand.
Of course they wouldn’t use bullets, she told herself. They needed her alive to torture…

Her thoughts skittered and she grimaced as a dart struck her in her upper thigh. Damn it, stop thinking and just MOVE! She plucked the dart from her skin and tossed it to the ground with an angry sneer.

The piercing blare of sirens broke the night's silence and she could hear shouts and the excited barking of dogs coming from the compound behind her. No more fun and games now; they were coming at her in earnest.

Around her the wind howled and a sudden torrent of rain slapped her face. Thunder boomed overhead, echoing like gunfire. For a moment—a fleeting, silly moment—she had the absurd notion that the storm raged for her. She almost laughed at her own ludicrous thought. The drugs must be making her woozy.

Searchlights snapped on. Jeeps roared to life.

Run!

Her feet slid on wet grass and steel glinted in front of her. She'd made it to a fence... an electrified, barb wire encased fence. Of course.

Refusing to give up now, not when she was so close to freedom, she looked around for another means of getting through. She was in no shape to dig her way under the fence like a mad dog, although the idea was tempting, nor was she feeling particularly enough like Kevlar to endure a barb-wire shaving.

She turned, desperate for any means over, under, or around. Please, please, please... A slim, half dead tree leaned against the metal, its fragile branches hanging over the enclosure, drooping onto the other side.

Thank you.

As fast as her weary body would let her, she climbed the tree, wincing as the bark scratched her in tender places; places not meant to be rubbing against decayed nature. Determination made her resilient, however, and after a minute she was able to drag herself up and over.

Like a lead weight, she dropped down into the thicker, tall grass, almost giddy with relief. That relief was extremely short lived as a screaming pain lanced through her temples.

Her head felt as though it was about to pop! She dropped to her knees, clutching her skull between her hands, open mouthed, silently screaming. She would have sworn her brains were oozing out her ears, but her hands came away gray-matter free. She clawed at her head, trying to make the pain stop. Her fingers scrambled through blood and dirt matted hair, digging for the source of her agony.

There. At the base of her skull, between the tendons in her neck she felt it. A small round circle thing and it was vibrating.

Locater? Bomb? She had no idea what the hell it was, but it was driving her insane. She gripped it the best she could and twisted, like a bottle cap, and promptly dropped face first into the mud, the excruciating pain making her temporarily limp.

It was hooked into her skull! No, no, no!

Undergrowth snapped nearby and she could hear the frantic yips of the dogs echoing all around her. They were getting closer. She could almost smell them. Too close.Don’t get caught!

She gave up her fight with the hellish torture device on the back of her head and scrambled up again, crawling at first, the pain nearly unendurable, then staggering to her feet with grim determination.

Let her head explode. She wasn't going back.
Twigs and fallen branches sliced delicate lines into her skin as she hobbled through the thick patches and rain plastered her gray hair into her eyes. Gray? How old was she? No...white. White hair...

She slipped, slid and fought her way upright again. Stupid. Pay attention to the ground, not your hair!
Her heart hammered in her temples and her body screamed for rest, but she knew if she stopped too long they'd have her again, and she'd die before she went back. She paused, listening for the dogs and men. She paid for that momentary pause when a set of saliva spewing fangs suddenly burst through the bushes, chomping at her. She threw up her good arm defensively, muffling a scream as the teeth sank deep, piercing bone.

Frantic, she groped around the dog’s sleek head, gripped its collar and jerked. The vicious animal was relentless, snarling and tearing into her, its jaws locking down.

Smothering another cry, she gripped the dog firmly around it’s middle and flipped herself in a backwards arc, slamming the snarling beast into the ground. Her arm was released with a yelp, but she couldn’t risk another attack, so she scrambled over the fidgeting dog, and twisted its head to the side with a quick, hard jerk.

It stilled beneath her and she tried not to cry.

No time for tears. No time for remorse. No time...

"This way! I think I see something!" Flashlights beams scuttled across the ground and briefly illuminated her rain soaked, mud splattered form through the thicket of branches and undergrowth. The brief illumination caused the twigs to look alive, like snakes writhing in the shadows.

Prompted into motion by the flickering beams, and the eerie trees, she pushed herself off of the dead dog and ran. Where she was running she had no idea—the destination was as much a mystery to her as her own name, but she knew to go north. She had to get north. North was safe. North...was home.

*****



"Are you sure you don't want to come with us, Logan?�

"Nah. I think I'll just stay here. Not often that I have the place all to myself." The man being questioned propped his booted feet up on the polished coffee table and locked his hands behind his head.

Jean Grey, one of a handful of people known as the X-Men, wound her thick red hair around in a circle before securing it into place with an ornate gold and pearl clip. She tucked a few loose strands behind her ears before turning away from the mirror and towards him. "Yeah, well, I just thought that since we haven’t done this since Storm die…� She cleared her throat, tried again. “Since we haven’t done this in awhile… that you may want to join us.�

Logan inclined his dark head dismissively. “Not really in the mood for pool.�

Gently, she said, “I know it’ll be awkward at first. But, you know, we have to try and move on at some point, Logan. We’re all going: The Professor, Scott, me, Kitty, Bobby…� Jean's voice trailed off as he stood up in front of her, his expression shadowed.

Obsidian eyes narrowed. "I said I ain't goin' Jeannie. Leave it at that."

“I know these last few months have been hard for you. They‘ve been hard for us all. I loved her too, but we—�

"Is there any particular reason, sweetheart, that you're still here yapping and ruining what could be my perfect night?� A tick began in the base of his jaw. “I don’t need some cheesy 'rah-rah team' night out, Red. All I need is beer, sex, and sleep. Unless your willing to provide any or all of those three, then get the hell outta my hair and let me have some peace."

Jean flinched as Logan slammed his knee against the coffee table, sending it skidding. He was out of the room a moment later and she was left staring at the doorway, a concerned frown on her face. She should have known he wouldn't open up to her. He hadn't after the mission, or the months since. In fact, he hadn’t opened up to anyone at all.

"I take it Logan still isn't going with us?" Jean’s longtime love and best-friend, Scott Summers asked as he walked into den, her jacket in hand. Tall, rugged, and blessed with all-American good looks and an abundance of intelligence Scott was the catch of a lifetime. Leader of the X-Men he had more responsibility at the tender age of 24 than people most had in their whole lives, but leader was a mantle that Scott was born to wear. Responsibility settled across his broad shoulders like a shawl, not a weight.

Jean sighed and shook her head, taking her coat. "No.� She shrugged into the jacket, buttoned the top. “He insists upon being the lone ranger. Or the stoic warrior. Or whatever it is he thinks he should be to deal with his emotions."

The exasperation in her voice made Scott's lips twitch. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her head. "You can't save everybody, babe."

"I know that. Really, I do." Jean stared at the door, knowing instinctively where Logan was headed. “I just don’t think Logan does.�

Outside

Logan took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, trying to alleviate the twinge of guilt he had for biting Jean’s head off. She meant well, he knew that, but he wasn’t exactly in the mood for her perpetual cheer. What he was in the mood for was a violent fight, but seeing as to how the only other occupant in his location was a marble headstone he’d have to settle with a smoke.

He stared at the grave marker with a mixture of disdain and anger. He didn’t speak. He never did. There was no one to speak to. Ororo wasn’t in the ground beneath his feet. Her body had never been recovered. So, instead, he just stood. Waiting.

For what? Fuck if he knew.

Striking a match against the marble, he brought it up to light the cigar in his hand. A few silent minutes later he heard the crunch of gravel beneath tires and turned to see two dark SUV’s roll down the drive. The others, leaving for their night on the town. He blew out a cloud of smoke, watched the red taillights fade into the distance.

Even with the majority of the X-Men out, the Institute was far from empty. The student dorms were full, as was the rec room he was sure. But the main house, the one where only the senior staff and X-Men resided was blessedly free of people.

Even still, Logan found that he had no desire to hover around the school listening to the echoes of regret that haunted him. The place literally sang with memories and he was sick of the chorus.

He snuffed the remainder of his smoke in the palm of his hand, grimacing only for a moment. The pain never lingered long. Well, not the physical pain anyway.

He glanced up at the full moon and decided that a night out wasn’t a bad idea after all. Just not one in which he was surrounded by cheery smiles and can-do attitudes.

Fuck that shit.

Time for a stiff drink and, if he was lucky, a good fight.

Three hours later…

Swirling the last remnants of his whiskey around the bottom of his glass, Logan contemplated the sloshing liquid. It was a pretty shade of amber. Almost gold now that it was nearly gone. Wasn’t that always the way? Only when something was gone did you see the beauty in it?

He took the rest of the drink in one shot, slamming the glass back onto the bar top with enough force to shatter it in his hand. He shook out the shards dismissively, splotching drops of blood onto the fake wood veneer.
At that particular moment he welcomed the distraction the broken glass caused. Physical pain was—by far—a more appealing option than the ache threatening to tear his heart apart. A thousand times he had berated himself for being such a goddamn fool; for not giving into his emotions and going after a chance at happiness.

But instead of treasuring what he had, he'd taken advantage, and in the end, the beautiful woman he’d found himself secretly enamored with had been lost. Even at the last, she had been willing to sacrifice herself for him, even after he’d turned his back on her and betrayed what could have been...

With a bitter twist of his lips, Logan had to admit, that it probably served him right on some sick cosmic level. After all of the women he’d seduced, betrayed and left with their hearts broken over the years it was only karmic justice that he had his turn holding the short end of the stick.

Karma was a bitch.

But, Ororo had been different than the others, he reminded himself. He’d let himself get close, had let his guard down with her and had went so far as to become friends with her. Not something he usually did. Frails were for protecting and fucking. And that's as far as it ever went with him—until her.

There had been no hiding behind his gruff exterior with her. She knew him for what and who he was and she still had tolerated his presence in her life. Not only tolerated, but seemed to actually enjoyit...and that’s when he got scared. Yeah, he could admit it now. She scared the fucking shit out of him.

So, what’d he do? Pushed her away. Pretended indifference. Ignored the ache in his chest every time she said his name; every time those blue eyes clouded with doubt. He was a goddamn fool. Fuck, he was Captain of the Fool’s Marching Brigade. All he needed now was his flaming baton.

He swore out loud, removing the last bits of glass from his palm. He dismissed the broken bits altogether and reached for the bottle. He set it directly in front of him, stared at it.

The bartender, a good looking guy with broad shoulders and bushy eyebrows, strolled forward warily. “You okay, pal?�

Logan barely gave him a glance. “Fine.�

The twisted tubing of the neon lights behind the bar flickered momentarily. Logan cocked his head; listening. Sure enough a few seconds passed and he heard a rumble of thunder.

A storm was coming.

Big one too, if the hint of ozone on the air earlier was any indication. Logan didn’t mind. He liked the rain.

It was weird though. No mention of rain on the weather report during the news. Nor had he sensed one approaching earlier. He mentally shrugged. Nothing changed faster than the weather.

Bushy-brows stepped up, reaching out to remove the pieces of Logan’s empty glass. “I don't think you need another drink, pal. You’ve had six in the past hour. Maybe you should ease up a bit.�

“Touch that bottle and I’ll break your fuckin’ thumbs.�

Bushy-brows stopped mid reach.

“Smart man.� Logan took a long pull from his now claimed bottle, swallowing with a wince. Warm and temporarily soothing, he basked in the momentary relief.

Another shock of thunder shook the bar, and Logan shifted in his seat. The lights fizzled overhead, growing dim. Outside, hail tinkered against the glass windows with enough velocity to crack the Budweiser logo. The other patrons in the bar began to fidget uneasily.

“Mild and balmy my ass.� Logan heard one of the women say, her voice a bit shaky.

The hair on the back of his neck on end, Logan stood up, and tossed a fifty on the bar as he grabbed his jacket. Something wasn’t right. By the time he reached the parking lot, a thin coat of ice had crystallized across car windows. Carrying his jacket, Logan darted to his truck.

Some inner voice, the one he usually ignored, told him to return to the mansion. Told him to hurry.

He drove like the Hounds of Hell were chasing him. He had no idea why he felt so rushed, but he knew, just knew he had to get to the mansion. And now.

Despite the slick roads and sleet, Logan rolled into the garage adjacent to the Institute in under ten minutes. The large building had the feel of a bunker to it. Concrete above and below on all sides. Florescent lights shed harsh light, dispelling almost every shadow. Whatever else Charles Xavier had done after acquiring the rolling English estate he had fortified the hell out of the place.

Logan stood just outside his truck, head cocked, listening to the wind howl and keen; sounding almost plaintive. The sound sent chills up his spine.

Despite being indoors he pulled on his jacket, holding the collar up as if to ward of the chill the mournful wind caused. He slid his card key into the slot beside the rolling door, disengaging the alarm. Located on three of the four walls in the garage were sophisticated air monitors that would trigger alarms in every corner of the Institute if you did not insert your card key in under the two minutes, the allotted time to get from vehicle to door.

The garage door whirred, lowering in a smooth glide of steel.

A shadow of movement in his peripheral had him whirling, his six adamantium claws extended.

Shaking and bloody, the ghost of Ororo Munroe staggered toward him beneath the closing door, her hands held toward him beseechingly. Her cracked and bloody lips parted on a gasp. “Help…me…�

Jesus fucking Christ. He was going insane.

She stumbled, pitched forward.

He moved instinctively, retracting and scooping her up before she could hit the concrete. Solid in his arms, smelling of rain and blood, this was no ghost.

He blinked. Swallowed. Blinked again. “’Ro…?�

Dirty eyelids fluttered. “…Help…please…�

Warmth sopped into his flannel, saturating it crimson. She may not be a ghost now, he thought with alarm, but without medical attention, she soon would be.

Logan suddenly wished he’d brought the bottle of Jack home with him. He needed another drink.

The next few hours passed in a blur of chaos and questions.

Upon Ororo’s unexpected arrival and collapse into his arms, Logan had immediately rushed her down to the med lab. The sterile, gray downstairs rooms were equipped better than any hospital in the world, complete with a voice activated intercom system for hands free commands.
Laying Storm’s limp form onto the bed, Logan had ordered, “Call fucking Xavier!� to which the goddamn computer had replied, “That name is not listed in this directory. Please enter a valid identification.�

Technology was a bitch.

That wracked up two for the night, he thought, kneading the skin between his eyebrows with a knuckle. Karma and technology. Both bitches.

After another bout of curses, he had managed to get the Professor on the line. Three words were all he spoke, but they got an immediate response. “Storm is alive.�

The team arrived home within minutes.

The situation was critical, that was evident from the hurried way Charles and Jean had taken control, clearing the med-lab. Since Xavier and Jean were far more capable of taking care of Ororo than he was, Logan went willingly when they shooed him out of the lab. He had done the best he could at cleaning Storm up and getting her frighteningly thin form covered with a heated blanket, but basic medical training was the extent of his skills and it was obvious that Ororo needed more capable medical attention.

The bloody jacket she had been wearing when she had arrived lay in a heap on the table in front of him, its torn and spattered appearance a silent signifier of the suffering she’d endured. How much and by who was a mystery. But one he intended to find the answer to.

And whoever had hurt her would be answering to him. Of that he was absolutely certain. His hands contracted reflexively, claws aching to come out. It was sheer force of will that kept them locked away in their flesh cage.

The hushed whispers of his fellow teammates echoed around him, everyone asking the same questions that had been ramming through his skull since he’d first scooped a broken Ororo up into his arms.

Storm? Alive? How? Where had she been all this time? Who had so badly beaten her? Why hadn’t she come home sooner?

No one had the answers, least of all him.

So he sat, along with the rest of the confused X-Men, in the large, spacious, room delegated the “War Room� and waited for Xavier, hoping the Professor had the answers they sought.

“Did she say anything to you when you found her?�

Logan’s introspection was interrupted by Scott’s question. He lowered his hand from his face. “I didn’t find her. She found me.�

Scott was smart enough not to press the issue of who found who, instead he simply waited for a reply to his initial question. He regarded Logan behind ruby red lenses with the patience he was renowned for.

There was an edge to Logan‘s voice when he finally spoke. One that sent chills through the younger man’s body. “Help me. She said, help me.� Logan stood abruptly, that memory jarringly fresh, prompting an uncomfortable need for violence in him. “Where the hell are they?� he demanded.

As if provoked to hurry by Logan’s agitation, the hydraulic doors hissed apart and a weary Xavier, shadowed by a teary eyed Jean, entered the room. “X-Men.� Xavier’s one word greeting set the mood right away; it was his 'get your game faces on' greeting.

Professor X, as he was affectionately called by the students, settled himself at the head of the table, his normally cheery hazel eyes somber. His gaze, always direct and forthright, settled over each member of the team before coming to rest on Logan. Something flickered in those intelligent eyes, but Logan hadn’t a clue what the other man was thinking. Unlike the esteemed mentor, he wasn’t a telepath.

He was something altogether different.

“You are all understandably shaken up by the news of Storm’s return…� The Professor began, his voice very much like his eyes at the moment; intelligent and direct with a hint of grimness. “I am certain you all have many questions, and hopefully we’ll have some answers, but as of right now my primary concern lies with Storm. Since most of you were unable to bear witness to her condition I will simply state that although alive, she is badly injured.�

Seated beside Logan, Kitty Pryde gasped softly, her hand tightening around her boyfriend Peter Rasputin’s much larger one. “How badly?� Having one of your best friends returned to you only to learn they may be yanked from your life again was news no one wanted to hear, yet Katherine Pryde was a young woman that never hid from trouble or heartache, and asked the question directly. Logan admired that about her.

“The extent of her injuries are still not completely known. She has several lacerations, bruises, and other… injuries… that could be the result of many things. We don’t know how she arrived at her current condition, and we won’t know until she is able to provide us with that information. Anything else is speculation at best.� Xavier provided.

Logan didn‘t miss the hesitation from the other man, and it unnerved him to have Xavier be evasive about Storm‘s condition.

The Professor continued, “Having said that, seeing what we’ve just seen, it is a safe assumption that wherever Storm was, she was not there by her own volition.�

Jean took that moment to step forward and hold up a picture. It appeared to be the back of Ororo’s head. Logan and the others collectively leaned forward to study the image. Embedded in the base of her skull was a black ball-looking device. Logan recognized it from earlier. It unsettled him then, and it unsettled him now.

The next picture was an X-Ray of the same area, and to his horror, and that of the others, the image showed three long spiked clamps that went through Ororo’s skull where the ball rested and appeared to spider web out from there in a series of thin wires and smaller clamps. From the base of her skull the device spread out over the expanse of her skull.

“Jesus.� Scott whispered, his lips compressing into his patented look of disapproval. Anger radiated from the normally stoic leader. “What is that thing?�

“This device,� Charles gestured to the photograph, “is completely unknown to me. I’ve contacted both Henry and Forge to ascertain just exactly what this is, and how we go about removing it.�

Kitty grimaced. “Who would do this to her?�

“Our best, most solid lead is that.� The Professor pointed to the black jacket that lay just in front of Logan.

Logan reached out and fingered the worn material, manipulating the torn, bloodied fabric with his thumb. “The insignia on the arm reads FoH; whatever the fuck that means,� he rumbled.

Charles’ hazel eyes sparked with reproach at the language, but he refrained from directly commenting on Logan’s choice of words. “FoH is an acronym for the ‘Friends of Humanity‘.�

“Who are they?� Peter asked.

“The KKK for mutants,� Jean stated, bitterness lacing her normally sweet tone.

“The FoH are a well funded militant group. Their resources are nearly untraceable, and their methods deplorable,� Charles elaborated.

“If you know so much about ‘em, why the hell is this the first time we’re hearin’ about ‘em?� Logan wanted to know.

It was a valid question, and one Xavier addressed. “Because, up until recently, their attacks have all been political in nature. It was the FoH that initially funded the Mutant Registration Act, as well as developing the bill for a mutant police network. They have their hands in a variety of political cookie jars so to speak.�

“Yet for years they’ve managed to stay off of our scope.� Jean supplied.

“Well, it looks like the sons of bitches just stepped into our cross-hairs,� Logan all but growled.

Charles raised one hand. “Before we jump to any conclusions, or go off half cocked--� a pointed look at Logan. “We need to first take care of Storm.�

Kitty glanced up at Jean. “When can we see her?�

“Not for awhile yet. She’s sedated and resting...� Seeing Kitty’s crushed expression Jean glanced at her mentor and a brief telepathic exchange ensued. A quick nod and Jean rescinded her previous statement. “I need to go check on her anyway. Why don’t you come with me.�

Kitty nodded once, swallowing. It would be the first time she had seen her former roommate in nearly two years. “Thank you.�

Jean laid the pictures on the table and motioned for Kitty to follow her.

Logan watched the two women leave the room, an uneasy feeling forming in his gut.


*****




Blip…Blip…Blip….Blip..Blip..BlipBlipBlip…

Vivid blue eyes snapped open.

Needles in her arms.

Wires. Monitors. Isolation.

Pain. God above, the pain was horrible.

They had her again!

She rolled, dropping to the floor, ripping her IV line straight out of it’s bag, setting off a series of beeping warnings. With angry, hurried motions she tore the oxygen tubing from her nostrils, flinging it across the slate gray room.

Wait,...gray?

She shot furtive looks around the room, taking in the expensive equipment, sterile environment. Nothing like they’d held her in before, but that didn’t matter. A cage was a cage. She looked around frantically for a weapon.

Her legs seemed made of rubber and she nearly stumbled to the ground. She braced herself on her bandaged arm, regaining her balance. Get it together!

A medical tray nearby provided a scalpel, scissors and gauze. She picked up the scalpel and scissors, but left the gauze. She didn’t imagine thin cotton swabs made practical defense weapons.

To her left a set of doors hissed open and a pair of emerald green eyes widened in surprise. “Storm! You're awake!�
“She is?� A petite brunette poked her head through the redhead‘s chest.

What?! She recoiled. Reacting on instinct, she flung the scalpel from her hand directly at her new enemies.
Kitty squeaked, grabbing Jean’s arms and phasing the two of them so that the metal projectile slipped harmlessly through them and embedded itself in the wall behind them.

“Storm! It’s us!� Kitty hollered as her friend darted past, running through their phased forms into the opposite med-lab room.

Jean mentally sent out a call for reinforcements.~She’s awake!~

In the hall, Ororo stumbled. The hallway was lit by a row of bright florescent lights, the harsh brightness momentarily blinding her. She jerked against the glare, covering her eyes with her hand.

“Please, you’re safe. We don’t want to hurt you.� The two ghost girls were right behind her.

One of them touched her arm.

Her reaction was instantaneous and instinctual. She grabbed the slender wrist, wrenching sideways, pulling the other girl around, then yanking so that they stumbled. Her fist connected solidly, and in a matter of seconds she put the redhead onto the ground.

Jean hit the floor hard, her senses reeling. Damn, where the hell had Ororo learned to hit like that?

“Please, Storm, it’s us!� The redhead’s partner came to her aid.

Not wanting to take any chances, she kicked out with enough force to break bone, but only connected with the wall as the girl went ghost again.

Pain jarred through her body with all the subtlety of a freight train. She fell back against the wall, feeling sick.

Ahead of her an elevator door opened and three men emerged. She couldn‘t make out features, her eyes still not acclimated to the harsh light, but one of them was the size of a mobile home. She looked back and forth between the ghost girls and the three approaching figures, helplessness making her feel angry and desperate.

A second elevator opened to her right and a young boy, probably only sixteen at most, gaped at her in shock. He was holding his right hand in his left, a wad on paper towels staunching an apparent cut.

“I just need a band aid,� he told her.

She yanked him from the elevator, tossing him into the corridor. She pressed the buttons rapidly.

“Wait!� Ghost-girl’s hand shot through the elevator, but was gone again a moment later.

“Damn.� Kitty dropped to the ground. “I couldn’t hold on.�

“Jean, are you hurt?� Scott knelt beside his girlfriend.

“Only my pride.� Jean rubbed her jaw, allowing him to help her stand. “She’s terrified, Scott. I can’t even describe the fear I sense in her.�


*****


The walls were closing in on her.

She held herself upright by sheer force of will, her breathing ragged with an unexpected fear. Okay, if the borderline insane panic was any indication, then she didn’t like enclosed spaces. This was definitely going on her :'Good things to know about yourself' list.

The doors slid open.

Finally!

She practically leaped from the shaft.

~Ororo, please stop. We mean you no harm.~

She winced, gripping her head. Someone was talking inside her mind! Ghost girls and voices in her head… maybe she had finally slipped right on over the edge of paranoia and straight into crazy town.

She heard a small ding, and knew the other elevator was on it’s way up.

~You need medical attention.~

The voice in her head was insistent. She could feel what could only be described as a mental nudge for her to stop. She spun in a circle, feeling disoriented and weak. She had no idea where she was. She had no idea why she was in this place. All she knew was that she was afraid and that soon she would be captive again if she didn’t so something, and fast.

She scrambled back into the elevator, her eyes burning, her back pressed into the corner. Tears slid along her cheeks. She panted, waiting. Like a cornered animal. No. She wasn’t cornered. She had a way out.

“Not again…� she whispered, her voice cracking. She wouldn’t get captured again. She pressed the sharp edge of her confiscated scissors against her neck. “Not…again…�

Across the hallway the other set of doors opened.

“No!� Jean’s scream was loud in the close confines.

Blade pierced skin, but suddenly the scissors were viciously knocked away. “Don’t!�

The doors dinged shut, leaving her trapped with one of her captors.

Strong hands grappled with her arms, holding her as she struggled to grab the scissors again. The grip was implacable.

She opened her mouth, a keening sound of rage and anguish breaking free.

The sound broke Logan‘s heart. “Storm, look at me.�

She clawed at him, her short nails raking gouges in his face. “Never…again…�

He flinched but didn‘t release her. “Look at me.� His voice dropped an octave, gruff with emotion. “Please, ‘Ro. Just look at me.�

Cerulean eyes blinked open.

She knew this man.

Dark hair. Dark eyes. Rough features. Tender heart.
She stilled.

“No one here will hurt you,� he promised.

She studied him for another moment. His eyes told her he wasn’t lying. Fear ebbed under his brooding gaze. She slumped forward, her head resting on his shoulder.

Logan closed his eyes, swallowing the fearful lump that had formed in his throat the second he saw her press the scissors to her jugular.

A shudder passed through the slender woman in his arms and she hiccuped. He stroked her back soothingly. “Shhh…easy, darlin’.�

“Please…� she whispered, knees buckling. “I am so lost…�

Logan closed his eyes, pressing his lips to her hair and lowering them to the floor slowly. “No, darlin’. You’ve just been found.�

She let herself go completely limp against the strong arms supporting her. “Don’t let them take me again…�

“No one will take you. Those people can’t hurt you now, ‘Ro.�

She lifted her head. “'Ro?�

Logan blinked down at her. An icy sensation crawled it‘s way along his spine like a spider over skin. “You…don’t know your name?�

“Do you?�

“Know your name?�

“Yes.�

“Yes.�

She waited.

“You’re Ororo Munroe.�

She digested that. “…That’s… quite a name. And you are?�

“Logan.�

She tried ineffectually to sit up on her own. “Logan what?�

He gave her a rueful half-smile, adjusting her against his chest. “Just Logan.�

She was immediately defensive by his reluctance to share. He could smell it on her. Distrust seeping in. He quelled it the best he could. “I don’t know my full name,� he told her.

She wasn’t quite convinced.

And he wasn’t given the chance to elaborate as the elevator doors opened once more.

“Oh, thank God,� Jean said, seeing Ororo still alive in Logan’s arms.

“I don’t think God has a lot to do with me,� Ororo whispered before closing her eyes.

Emerald eyes met steel. Logan held out the scissors he had taken off of her. “Here.�

Jean took them. “Can she walk?�

“Yes.� Ororo answered weakly, but Logan shook his head.

“I’ll carry her.� He was unwilling to relinquish his hold.

If Jean was surprised by his over protectiveness she didn’t show it. “The Professor would like her put in a dorm room.� She glanced at Ororo. “He thinks it will be less traumatic for her to be in a less…uh,sterileenvironment.�

Logan nodded. “Lead the way.�

As they made their way down the hall Ororo nestled tight into Logan’s chest. “I think I may be crazy,� she told him.

He gave her a quick look. “Oh?�

“I thought I saw a ghost. I heard voices in my head.� She tilted her head back, studying the stubble on the curve of his chin. “Thought I could make it rain once too. Crazy thoughts.�

Logan exchanged a glance with Jean.

She shook her head in the negative. Too much new information may overload their distressed friend. Better let Xavier handle this one.

“Yeah. Crazy.� Logan shifted Ororo so that her breath fanned his neck as he walked.

She yawned, the sedative still running in her already weakened system, making her feel like lead, but she struggled to remain awake despite that.

Logan knew her silent fear. He had the same one. Of waking alone, surrounded by people that hurt you, that took joy in your pain. “I won’t leave you,� he swore.

His gruff voice washed over her and despite her initial fear of this unknown place, Ororo closed her eyes and slept.

“This is her room,� Jean informed him a few doors down the hall. They entered, and Logan lay his bundle onto the counterpane. “She probably won‘t wake up again for awhile.� Jean whispered.

Logan pulled a chair beside the bed, eyes only for Ororo. “I said I wouldn’t leave her.�

Jean watched Logan for a moment. She was temporarily stunned by how much his expression revealed about the state of his emotions. The fact that he was that unguarded left told Jean far more than words ever could. Logan wasn’t one for unguarded moments. He kept his walls pretty high and several feet thick, and suddenly Jean understood why. The man’s heart was positively bleeding for the woman on the bed.

Sensing her eyes still on him, Logan looked up. “Yeah?�

“Uh, nothing.� She strode towards the door. “Logan…?�

“Huhn?�

She felt it only fair to warn him. “She may not be ready to remember everything….�

He said nothing.

“Just…be patient.�

Still nothing.

“Okay then.� She left them.

Logan turned back towards Ororo. “Still here, darlin’.� And there he would remain.


*****


“Sir, her position is locked.�

“Where is she?�

“Westchester. At the--�

“Xavier Institute.�

“Yes, sir.�

“Do we initiate extraction protocols?�

“No.�

“Sir?�

“Leave her where she is.�

“Sir, if you don’t mind me asking, for what purpose?�

“To carry out her mission, of course.�

“And that is?�

“To kill Charles Xavier.�

He was still there.

The man with the dark hair and the brooding eyes.

He was seated, not two feet from her bed, reading.

Her fingers twitched on the coverlet, and that small motion was enough to catch his undivided attention.

“Hey.� He stood, setting aside the motorcycle magazine he had been flipping through.

“Hello.� She coughed as she struggled to sit up.

Strong hands helped her right herself. “Easy, there.� They were warm. They made her feel safe. It was disconcerting as hell to not remember the man in front of her, yet feel so secure in his company.

She settled back against the pillows, regarding her conundrum through the veil of her lashes. He wasn’t exactly what a person would call handsome, she thought. His hair, dark as midnight, stuck out haphazardly around his head in tufts and along the strong line of his jaw. His mouth, with a full bottom lip that bordered on sensual, was saved from that soft description by being pressed into a hard line, slanted slightly, giving the impression that he found some acerbic humor in probably everything. Broad nose, prominent chin, heavy brows. All in all he was rather average. Until she looked into his eyes. His eyes pulled her in. The color of the sky just before rain, they reflected an ageless soul. By appearance she wouldn’t have put him over his early thirties, yet the glint of his eyes aged him far more than that.

She let her gaze travel down, across his thick neck, over his broad shoulders, pausing at the wide expanse of his chest. Was that the same shirt she had seen him in earlier? She turned her head, glancing about her unfamiliar surroundings. Light filtered through drawn drapes, small strips of sunlight that spread across the bedspread in odd geometric lines. The angle told her it was well past morning.
She returned her gaze to the man beside her bed…Logan was his name, she recalled and frowned pensively. “Have you been here all this time?�

Logan shrugged indifferently, but she sense he was ruffled—perhaps even embarrassed—byt the question. “More or less.� He motioned to a small bedside tray. “Jeannie brought ya some water and crackers.�

She stared at the plate, a pensive look on her face. The people here hadn’t killed her in her sleep, so chances were the food wasn’t tainted. Deciding she could risk it, she reached for a cracker. “Thank you,� she mumbled, nibbling on the wafer.

She studied the polished mahogany furnishings between bites. Opulent was the word that came to mind. “Are you rich?� she wondered aloud.

His voice was contemplative. “You really don’t remember, do ya?�

She shook her head. “No.�

“Well, I for sure ain’t rich,� he smiled crookedly.
He had a nice smile.

She shook herself. “But you live here?�

“We all do. You did too…before.�

She must have, she thought. Why else would she have run all the way here? Why had this place called to her like a beacon?

She reached for the bottled water and winced. She was so sore. Her entire body felt like she had been plowed over by a semi. She remember running, and running until her lungs burned and she thought for sure her body would disintegrate, but somehow she had made it here—wherever here was.

Logan was beside her instantly, twisting the cap off of the bottle and handing it to her. He watched her drink, a slight frown on his face. His brow furrowed when he frowned, she noted, and it was a look she found unexpectedly charming. “Okay, darlin’?�

“Yes. Thank you.� She handed the bottle back to him. She noticed bruising along her forearms from where she had ripped the needles from her skin. She wondered if her legs had the same markings. The memory of waking up, cold and naked on a metal slab made her cringe. She forced herself to try and remember the place she awoke in, but all she could recall were the needles. The needles and pain. “Gah!� Unexpectedly agony lanced through her skull like a red-hot poker, making her eyes water.

“’Ro!� Logan reached for her.

Oh, that was right, she had a name now…

“I need to be sick,� she warned him weakly, only a second before she bent forward, vomiting onto the floor, splattering his boots along with the hardwood with a mixture water, crackers and left over green bile.

Not bothered by the stomach contents now decorating his Wolverine work boots, Logan gently lowered her back against the pillow. He brushed her hair away from her face, tucking some errant strands behind her ear. His touch was gentle.

She wiped the back of her hand across her swollen, cracked lips. “Sorry.�

He waved off her apology. “I’ll be right back.� In the bathroom he wet a washcloth with cold water, and grabbed another. He placed the dry cloth onto the floor, covering the mess there. “Here.� He sat on the edge of the mattress, wiping her brow.

She snatched the towel from his hand, embarrassed. “Thank you.�

Sensing her discomfiture Logan rose and put some space between them, busying himself by cleaning up the vomit off the floor. He wadded up the washcloth and tossed it into the trash.

Ororo, with the cold cloth pressed to her eyes, asked, “Are you always this nice?�

Logan, who was busy washing his hands, poked his head out from the bathroom. “What?�

She lowered the cloth, studying him. “I asked if you were always this nice.�

He shook his head, a smirk pulling at his lips. If any of the others heard her ask that question he was certain there would be an overflow in the med lab from all the laugh busted ribs. He leaned one shoulder against the door frame, drying his hands. “To tell the truth, darlin’, I’m a bit of an asshole.�

One eyebrow arched quizzically. “Really?� Assholes didn’t have his gentle touch or soothing voice. “I find that hard to believe.� Asshole, no. Arrogant…definitely. She studied his stance carefully. He held himself proudly. No slouched shoulders, no furtive, shifty eyes. He met your gaze directly and head on. He was leaning, rather nonchalantly, yet she got the distinct impression of a coiled animal ready to strike. That thought didn’t frighten her as it probably, logically, should have. Instead, she found herself relaxing in his presence. Comforted by his quiet confidence.

“I wish I could remember you,� she whispered sincerely.

Their eyes met and held. A current of…something…flowed between.

Logan thought back to the last time they spoke, just before the mission she die--disappeared--on. The hurt. The anger. The betrayal. He shifted, uncomfortable beneath her drowsy gaze. He cleared his throat and straightened away from the door frame. “Yeah, well, y’know what they say, be careful what you wish for.�

She wasn’t so doped that she missed the shift in him. What she said had troubled him, and she found herself wondering why. “Were we friends?� she asked, setting the washcloth aside.

Logan turned away from her, closing his eyes. He took a shallow breath. “We were.� His tone held a hint of melancholy.

This made her even more curious. “Just friends?�

The pause was longer this time. “Yes.�

She seemed to be making him uncomfortable. “Am I asking too many questions?�

Logan shook his head, finally returning her gaze. “No.� He, above anyone, knew how important answers were. He just wasn’t sure exactly what he was willing to reveal. Or what she was willing to accept.
It was tricky being on this side of the equation, he thought, suddenly feeling very empathetic towards Xavier. Thinking of the school’s founder prompted him into action. Chuck was definitely better at this sort of shit than he was.

“You just rest, darlin’. I’m going to let the Professor know you’re awake.�

“Professor?� She stiffened, and icy ball of dread rolling in her stomach. “What kind of place is this?�

Logan opened her door. “This is a school.�

“Oh.� Well, that explained the Professor thing. She took an uneven breath. “Okay.�

Sensing her apprehension, he walked back to the bed and crouched beside it. He stroked her cheek, mentally murdering whoever left the bruises there. “Get some more sleep. I’ll be back soon.�

She nodded, but when the door closed behind him, she felt bereft. Lost. Alone.

A moment later she tossed the covers back and rose. Still unsteady on her feet, but more solid than she'd been the night before, she shrugged into the gray robe at the foot of the bed and tied the belt in a loose knot.
Outside the door, she found the hallway was empty, save for the shadow at the far end. She followed it.


*****


“She’s awake.�

Charles Xavier, seated in his wheelchair behind his desk, nodded without looking up from the papers in his hand “Yes. I know.�

Of course he did.

Logan took the seat directly in front of Xavier, propping his boots against the edge of the desk, forcing the other man to give him his attention.

Charles steepled his fingers, giving Logan a reproachful look, which was, as he expected, completely ignored. Come on in, sit on down. Logan rarely needed an invitation. The man did as he chose, when he chose, and to hell with anyone that disapproved.

“Something on your mind, Logan?�

“Ya mean aside from the obvious?�

Charles folded his hands, waiting.

“She doesn’t have a clue who we are.� Logan stated, lowering his feet and leaning forward. “Who she is. You’ve gotta help her. Can’t you just…give her the memories? Shit, you’ve known her almost her whole life. You must have memories you could share with her.�

“There is a good chance that her memory will return on its own. In time.�

“In time.� Logan snorted. “We both know how wonderfully that works out.�

“You, of all people, should know how fragile her condition is right now. Forcing her to remember anything could be potentially devastating.�

“Take it from someone who knows, Chuck. Not knowing is far more devastating on a person.�

“Perhaps. But you must also keep in mind that the cause of Ororo’s condition is still a mystery.� Charles slid the papers across his desk toward Logan. “Although I believe, and Henry and Forge concur, that her memory loss could be directly related to the device embedded in the base of her skull.�

Logan picked up the X-Ray images, his jaw tightening. “What the hell is that thing?�

“We still aren’t completely certain, and we won’t be…until we remove the device.�

“Remove it?� Logan’s hands tightened. “How dangerous will that be to her?�

“Significantly.� Charles paused, his eyes flickering between the door and Logan.

Logan swiveled his head, inhaling. “You should be sleeping,� he called out.

Ororo pushed open the office door, her bare feet silent on the hardwood. She moved as gracefully as she always had, but in her movements, Logan noted, there was a hunter’s gait that hadn’t been there before. She didn’t walk--she stalked.
It was disconcerting.

“I think I have a right to hear this,� she said, pulling him from his thoughts.

She had a point, too, he acknowledged.

“You do.� Charles agreed. The man bestowed upon her a gentle smile, and Logan could see genuine affection reflected on his face. “How are you feeling this afternoon, Ororo?�

She still wasn’t used to the name. “I’d feel better if I could remember any of you.�

“Yes, I imagine you would,� Xavier agreed, and not without genuine sympathy.

Her azure eyes caught the X-Ray’s in Logan’s hands. “May I?�

Logan glanced at Charles, who nodded.

Ororo’s hands shook slightly as she took the image away from Logan. Studying the obscene device, she reflexively reached for the back of her head. “How soon?�

“Pardon me?�

She lifted her head, eyes resolute. “How soon can you get this..this thing out of me.�

Charles wheeled back, rounded the desk. “Before we discuss that, I feel I must impress upon you the very dangerous nature of this operation. The intricate design of the mechanism poses--�

“I don’t care. I want it out.�

Logan rose to face her. “’Ro, maybe ya oughta listen to Chuck.�

“Thank you, for your concern,� she interrupted, already shaking her head. She placed the X-Rays back onto the desk. “As soon as possible. Please.�

“Ororo…the odds of surviving an operation of this magnitude when a person is in the best of health is slim. In your current condition--�

“As soon as possible.� she repeated with a stubborn tilt of her jaw.

Charles nodded. The set of her shoulders said she was determined, and the calm resolution in her demeanor spoke volumes. If he didn’t operate, he had the distinct feeling she may well lob the thing out on her own--or at the very least attempt it. “Very well. Within the next few days, if that is what you truly wish.�

“Yes.�

“I will call Henry and Forge right now.�

She shifted, her eyes scanning his office. “Should I leave?�

“No, my dear. Make yourself at home.� He picked up the phone.

Logan watched Ororo stroll the large office. She chewed her bottom lip broodingly as she fingered nick-knacks and the like. She stopped beside the fireplace, lifting a framed picture from the mantle. Logan knew without seeing which picture it was.

Ororo, in uniform, standing proudly beside Xavier, her smile of achievement nearly blinding-- even in two dimensions. It was the day she had earned the right to be called an X-man. She looked so ridiculously pleased with herself that anyone looking upon that photograph couldn’t help but grin back at her in return.

Except Ororo wasn’t smiling. He could see her brow furrow. Her head tipped forward, her eyes closed, and then a single tear flowed down her cheek. His heart kicked in his chest. “Aw, hell,� he said gruffly, striding toward her.

She took a shaky breath. She didn’t look at him, but simply whispered, “I look happy. I want to remember being happy. I am so tired of the pain.�

“Come here.� He placed his hand on her shoulder, turning her into his chest.

Ororo choked. She pressed her face into the cotton of his shirt and fought the urge to scream. Her fingers curled in the material along his back and he felt her shoulders shudder, but she didn’t cry.

“It’ll come,� Logan whispered into her hair.

She doubted it, but didn’t voice that skepticism.

From his desk, Charles Xavier watched the exchange with interest. He hung up the phone. “They will be here the day after tomorrow.�

Ororo nodded, stepping away from Logan. “Thank you.�

Xavier‘s voice was full of tender concern. “No need to thank me, Ororo.� He rolled forward, reaching to take one of her hands. “You're family.�

Swallowing the lump in her throat Ororo simply nodded.
*****


“I can’t believe she’s back,� Scott stated as he piled salami onto his sandwich. He and Jean were standing side by side at the kitchen counter, companionably making lunch.

“I know,� Jean agreed, with a nod. “It seems so surreal.� She shook her head dazedly. “It’s such a miracle.�

“It isher, right?�

Jean tossed him a look. “Of course it is, Scott.�

He held up a hand, placating. “Just asking. Unlike you, babe, I can’t go poking around in other people’s heads to make sure they’re on the up and up.�

Jean sighed, adding a pickle to her plate. “To tell the truth, I didn’t bother with a probe.�

“Oh?�

“No.�

Scott reached for the knife. “Mind if I ask why not?�

She shrugged. “Aside from the Professor not questioning it, neither did Logan.�

Scott paused mid-bite. “And?�

“He would know, Scott.� Jean glanced toward the ceiling and the second floor dorms. “He hasn’t left her side.�

Chewing thoughtfully, Scott asked, “What was the deal with those two anyway?�

Jean lowered herself into a chair, sliding her plate in front of her. Her fire-red hair shimmered in the sunlight, giving her an ethereal beauty. “I honestly don’t know.� She picked up a chip, studying it intently. “But there was…something.�

“Something before or after you and him?� Scott asked, but there was no anger in his tone. He had accepted long ago Logan and Jean’s brief fling. Because that was all it had been. Jean, feeling rebellious and defiant had taken a spin with the resident bad ass. But that affair had been blessedly brief.

Neither Jean nor Logan had developed any real attachment to the other. Jean had suspected, but never confronted, Logan of having feelings for Ororo. Feelings that prevented him from genuinely opening up to anyone.

“Both,� she answered truthfully.

“Hm.� Scott continued to chew. “And now she’s back.�

“Yes.�

“Someone really did a number on her.�

Jean placed her uneaten chip back onto the plate. “Yeah.� Her heart ached for her friend. “I can’t even imagine what she’s been through. The brief glimpse of fear I picked up off her last night is still giving me chills.�

“Hopefully the Professor can help her. If anyone can, it’s him.�

Jean glanced up once more. “I think there is someone else that can help her…�
*****


“There are clothes in the bureau.� Logan pointed to the large dresser across the room. “Towels in the bathroom.�

Ororo smiled slightly as she opened the dresser drawer. “I appreciate the concern, but I think I can remember how to bathe and dress myself.�

Logan ruffled the hair on the back of his head. “Yeah, well. Ya never know.� He shrugged with a sardonic smile.

“True,� she attempted a smile in return. “I suppose I should be thankful I can remember at least that much.�

Logan felt a now familiar kick in his chest at her smile. He had missed her smile. He had missed her laugh. Hell, he had simply missed her.

“What?� she asked, squirming beneath his heavy stare.

“Nothing.� He didn’t look away.

“You’re staring.�

“Probably.�

She didn’t know what to make of the man.

Logan saved her from trying to figure him out by subtly shaking himself. “I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.�

“Okay.� She nodded once.

He strode to the door. He turned. Walked back.

She tilted her head, regarding him with a curious gleam in her too-blue eyes. He certainly was a curious creature this man.

“I missed you,� he told her.

She blinked, uncertain what to say.

“I just wanted you to know.� He turned back to the door.

“Logan.� She reached for him, grasping his arm.

He looked down at her, waiting.

She gave into the spontaneous urge and hugged him. “Thank you.�

Logan engulfed her against his chest. They stood that way for several minutes before the sound of a throat being cleared broke them apart.

“Sorry.� Jean looked apologetic. “I just wanted to check on Ororo.�

“No problem, Red.� Logan gave Ororo a quick squeeze, then sauntered out into the hall.

Ororo watched him go, then said to the beautiful redhead. “He’s really very sweet.�

Jean laughed, shaking her head. “If you say so.�

Ororo inhaled and exhaled dutifully, allowing Jean to listen to the steady drum of her heart and the clear intake of her lungs. Jean jotted down some notes on a small clipboard, murmuring something along the lines of “good“ and “improvement“ as she did. When the stethoscope was removed from the redhead’s ears Ororo, adjusted her shirt, and asked, “Are you a nursing student?�

Letting the earpieces snap together, Jean folded the stethoscope around her neck. “I suppose…in a manner. Sort of. No, not really.�

“Uh-Huh.� Ororo twisted on the bed, setting her feet on the floor, staring at the hardwood. “This must be a school for politicians.�

“Excuse me?�

“Logan told me this place was a school, and considering all of the bullshit answers and half truths I’ve been given, I would guess this to be a school for politicians. That is, if it‘s a school at all.�

Jean shot her a compassionate look. “No one wants to mislead you, Ororo. Honestly.�

“But you are being evasive.�

Tender area, Jean thought before answering. “We’re being cautious.�

Ororo watched Jean jot down some more notes on her clipboard with her eyes narrowed and speculative. “So, if you’re not a nursing student, why are you playing doctor?�

“I didn’t mean to imply I wasn’t qualified to be handling your care. I’m more qualified than most of the doctors in the world.� There was no smugness to that statement, just simple fact.

Ororo, however, was less than convinced. “How so?�

“I’m your friend.� Jean said gently, avoiding the direct answer. Sure, she could have said I mind jack the top professionals in the field and use what they know to suit my needs,but she sensed that Ororo would find that less than comforting at the moment. So instead, she lowered herself onto the edge of the bed, reaching for her friend’s hand. “There’s just so much I want to say, but I don’t want to overwhelm you. This place is a school. You and I practically grew up here. Hopefully you’ll remember that soon, but it may take time. You’ve been gone a long time--�

“How long?� Ororo interrupted, removing her hand.

Emerald eyes flickered with the brief sting of hurt. “Twenty-one months. Almost two years.�

It took a moment for Ororo to digest that fact. Two years! She grimaced, trying to recall anything of those months, or before, only to be discouraged as she was barely able to pull up hazy recollections of the past 72 hours. “I--I don’t remember any of it,� she whispered angrily. “Nothing.�

“It’ll come,� Jean assured her. “The Professor, he’ll work with you. Just like he works with Logan.�

Ororo turned her head. “Wait…Logan? When he said he couldn’t remember his last name, I thought he was being…cautious.�

Jean‘s lips twitched at that. “No, he really can’t remember.�

In her chest Ororo felt the stirring ache of sympathy. He seemed so strong and sure, it was hard to picture him uncertain, afraid, unable to remember. To know that he may have endured the same or similar fate as she had made her feel all the more connected with him. “Did what happen to me happen to him?�

“No.� Jean shook her head, eyes saddened. “Logan’s life is…well, it’s complicated. But if anyone can understand what it is you’re going through, it’s him.�

Ororo mulled that over. “That must be why he’s hanging around me. He can relate.�

Jean laughed softly, her green eyes now twinkling. “I hardly think that’s why Logan is hovering around you.�

“No?�

“No.� Jean stood. “Logan isn’t someone that is easy to read, but you and he have always had a special bond.�

Had they? Ororo couldn’t recall. She wondered if their previous close connection and her inability to remember it were the reasons behind Logan’s obvious discomfort earlier in answering her inquiries.

Noticing Ororo’s far away look Jean quietly collected her things. “I’ll be around if you need anything.�

“Hm? Oh, okay. Thank you.� Ororo stood. She still needed that shower and some fresh clothes.

“No need to thank me. That’s what friends are for.� Jean closed the door quietly behind her.


*****


Jean found Logan in the downstairs library, reading. It was as often occurrence to find him there as it was to locate him in the garage tinkering on his motorcycle or one of the other vehicles the school used, but it was a place people rarely suspected him of being, and therefore, he was often left alone.

Solitude.

He seemed to crave it. Need it. It regenerated his spirit, she thought as she approached him. She knew he was already aware of her presence, but he didn’t look up from the pages on his lap.

She stopped a few feet from him, allowing him to finish his passage and mark his page. He closed the leather-bound volume and raised a brow. “’Sup, Jeannie?�

Jean didn’t fail to notice the way Logan kept his large hand curved over the backing, preventing her from seeing the title. She assumed it was one of the many poetry books kept in stock. He was partial to poetry. He’d die before admitting it, but it didn’t change the fact.

Ororo had gotten him hooked on reading, Jean remembered. An avid writer, Ororo loved to immerse herself in the classics and as constant companions for a time, Logan had developed a true fondness for literature. There were many nights that Jean had found Ororo curled against Logan’s side beside the library’s grand fireplace, listening to him read aloud from one of her favorite books.

Even after Jean and Logan had begun their brief romance, he still found time for that each night. It was very telling, at least to Jean, that Logan was willing to give up sex in order to fit in one more chapter of The Great Gatsby, or whatever book Ororo and he had started.

The one and only time she had confronted him about the issue Logan had blown it off as her being paranoid; so she had laid down an ultimatum: “You come to bed, you get fucked, if you stay in the library, you won’t. It’s that simple. Your choice.�

He had stayed in the library. And they had ended.

Now, looking at him, Jean realized his connection to literature was actually more about his connection with Ororo. Yes, he most obviously did enjoy the books he was reading, but somehow she knew that on some subconscious level the link was there.

“Jean?� he repeated, dark eyebrows quirked.

“Oh, sorry. Hey,� she smiled. “I just wanted to let you know that I was finished in Ororo’s room. She’s stronger today.�

He nodded once, but Jean saw the flare of relief in his eyes. “She’s a fighter.�

She took the seat across from him. “How are you doing?�

“Fine.�

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know. Fine. But how are you really doing?�

Logan sighed and set his Poe book aside. “I said I’m fine.�

“You always say you’re fine.�

“And, what do ya know, I always am.�

“Physically.�

“Jeannie.� He gave her a warning rumble.

She chose to ignore it. “A person would have to be deaf, dumb, and blind not to see the way you feel about her! You thought she was dead, she’s not. She’s back, and that has to range somewhere off the fine meter!� She slapped her hand on the arm of the chair.

Logan rose, agitating his hair with his fingers. “Enough, Jean.� He turned towards the large windows, exposing his back to her.

“No! It’s not enough, Logan! That’s the point! You can lie to the others, maybe even lie to me, but you need to stop lying to yourself. When push comes to shove and Ororo finally wants to know how you feel about her resurrection, fiiiiiiiine  just isn’t going to cut it!�

“It’s hard for me,� he snapped with a growl. “Is that what you want to hear? It’s fuckin’ hard for me to be around her, to not be around her. To know what we had once, what I fucked up.� He lowered his hands, his anger simmering just below the surface. “She’s going to remember, Jean. At some point she’s going to remember how much I hurt her.�

Jean stood, crossing to where he stood and placed a gentle hand between his shoulder blades. She could see the pain on his face when he spoke of hurting Ororo and she knew it still ate at him, what had happened. “Maybe she will, maybe she won’t. But in the meantime, why not give her some pleasant memories to focus on, huh?�

He scoffed. “Yeah. Right. Me and pleasant ain‘t exactly synonymous.�

“She’s not dead,� she reminded him with purpose. “She’s right upstairs. You can at least try. Not a lot of people get second chances, and you're wasting yours. She needs you now, Logan. Forget what was before. She needs you now.�

He tossed her a look over his shoulder. “Why are you so invested in this?�

“Because I know.� She tapped her head. “You love her.�

Logan turned back to the window. Did he love Ororo? What kind of stupid ass fuckin’ question is that, Bub? He knew the answer. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he knew the answer. He shook his head resolutely. “She’s got enough shit on her plate.�

Jean sighed, frustrated. “Love is not some sort of burden.�

He laughed without humor. “Says you.�

“Yes, says me.�

“Not everyone can have it as perfect as you and the Boy Scout.�

It was Jean’s turn to laugh. “You think we’re perfect? We fight. We have issues, but the bottom line is we love each other. That’s all that really matters.�

His eyes gleamed, eerily feral in the afternoon sunlight. “Save the Hallmark shit, Red.�

She threw her hands up. “Fine. You wanna be pig headed and mule stubborn go ahead, but I promise you this, oh mighty lone one, there will be a day when you kick yourself in the ass for missing out on what could be a truly beautiful thing.�

Hadn’t he done that that every day since Ororo had gone? “You done?� He demanded.

“Yeah.� Jean shook her head, walking away. “For now.�

Logan watched her leave with brooding eyes. What the hell did she know anyway? Stupid flowery bullshit. He sat back down, picked up his book, but he couldn’t shake her words. Why not give her some pleasant memories to focus on…

Resolutely, Logan left the library and headed for his room. He had some things to collect.
*****


It was a bit unnerving walking down the grand staircase, Ororo thought as several sets of eyes swung her way. She wasn’t sure if she should smile or glare in response, and in truth she felt like tucking tail and running back up the stairs, throwing the covers over her muddled head and hiding for the rest of her natural life.

Man up, weenie, she scolded herself. She continued down, but despite her inner coaching, she froze on the bottom stair, her feet rooted to the wood and her hand was quite possibly leaving indents on the rail.

“Hey, wait up, Ororo.�

She turned slightly to see a tall, good looking man with red sunglasses coming down the stairs behind her. Dressed in Khaki pants and a light blue button shirt he appeared very casual. Another resident? She frowned, trying to recall a name, and came up empty.

“Hello…uhm...?�

“Scott,� he provided with a smile. It was a very nice smile. He was directly beside her on the stair, and if he thought it odd that she was now a stationary figure on a staircase he refrained from comment. “It’s good to see you up and about.�

“Thanks.�

“Where ya headed?�

She shook her head, a rueful smile playing with her full lips. “I have no idea.�

He chuckled. “Well, then, how about a grand tour?�

“I wouldn’t want to trouble you--�

“No trouble,� he assured her. “My pleasure. It’s been way too long since I’ve gotten to spend any time with you.�

He seemed sincere. “Okay then.�

Scott grinned. “Good.� He hopped off the step, tugging her gently along. “Let’s start in the Rec Room…�



Nearly an hour later they returned to the main lobby. “And here we are, back at the beginning,� Scott was saying as Logan entered the foyer through the elevator.

Logan paused just outside the elevator’s sliding doors, his mouth going dry at the sight of Ororo. She had on some faded jeans and a bright blue Xavier’s sweatshirt, with her hair free along her back, but it wasn’t her apparel that caught his attention and held it. It was the sunbeam smile she was bestowing upon Scott that held him captivated. Damn, she was beautiful.

She spotted him and turned that bright smile in his direction and Logan felt his heart kick. Yup, he was in trouble.

“Logan.� Scott nodded at him as he approached.

“Summers. You look like you’re enjoying yourself,� he commented to Ororo.

“I am. Scott was just showing me around the school. There is so much t take in, but it’s been fun.�

Scooter and fun? Logan shot his shaded team leader a dark look. “Exactly how much fun? You should be resting.�

“We kept the pace leisurely,� Scott stated. He turned to Ororo. “Hopefully we can spend some more time together soon.� Impromptu, he bent and kissed her cheek. “I’m glad you’re back.� He straightened and clasped Logan on the shoulder as he passed. An undercurrent bond surged between the two men and for one moment there was no animosity, no rivalry, only the unspoken gratitude of having one of their own back.

“I like him,� Ororo said as Scott left.

“Ya always did. Never could understand it, but you always did like the boy.� He took in her tired expression. “You over did it,� he stated, concerned.

She grimaced slightly, but her smile held. “Yeah, a wee bit.�

“C’mere.� He hooked his arm around her waist, supporting her.

“I can manage.�

“Probably.� He didn’t release her. “Come on, I have something I wanna show ya.�

“Okay.�

He took her to the elevator. “I know you don’t like these things, but I ain’t having you climb the stairs right now.�

“Pushy,� she mumbled, but obliged. When the elevator jostled and the doors closed her fingers curled aggressively into Logan’s arm.

He knew that he shouldn’t take pleasure in her fear, but heaven help him, he couldn’t refrain from the small surge of satisfaction he felt at her clutching. He glanced down at her. “Okay, darlin’?�

“Sure.� She had her eyes closed.

“We’re here.�

Ororo blinked one eye open. “I didn’t even feel us move.�

“We have really nice equipment.�

“So I gathered from my tour.�

Logan assisted her off the elevator. “Anything ring a bell?�

She shook her head, her eyes dimming. “No.�

“Don’t get too frustrated. It’ll come.�

She followed him down a long hall. “Has it been hard for you?�

“Been talking to Jeannie have ya,� it was a statement.

“Does that bother you?�

He thought about it for a second. “Not really.�

“So…?�

Logan shrugged. “Some days are easier than others.�

“That was a very vague reply.� She frowned up at him.

“So it was.� He opened a door. “Here we are.�

“Where are we?� Ororo asked, passing the threshold.

“My bedroom.�

She froze, whirling on him, defensiveness screaming from her posture. “Why?�

He noticed her anxiety, and he ignored it. Keep it casual, unthreatening, he told himself/ “Because,� he flicked on the overhead light, “it’s where I kept your stuff.�

The room was darker than the rest of the mansion, was the first thing she noted. But that was because the dark navy drapes were drawn over the windows. She strode towards the boxes laid out in neat piles on the large bed in the center of the room. “This stuff is mine?�

“Yup.� He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms.

“May I?�

He gestured her forward. “It’s yours, darlin’.�

With only the briefest hesitation Ororo opened one of the packed boxes. Photo albums. Three of them. She pulled out one black and gold book, settling herself against his headboard. There were dozens of pictures of her and the people in the institute. Several of her and Logan. Plenty of her and Jean. Pictures of a slender brown haired girl and a massive male, the Professor… she turned the page and froze.

“What…is that?�

Logan strode forward, his boots clacking on the hardwood. He bent over her shoulder. “That’s Beast.�

Ororo, eyes wide, turned toward him. “He’s blue!�

Logan frowned. “Yeah.�

“What is he?�

“He’s a man.� Logan said firmly. “A mutant, sure, but a man.�

“He’s a mutant,� she repeated, voice shaking.

He nodded. It was something he debated against telling her, but he was a firm believer in truths, and there would be no way to hide her mutantcy from her forever. Nor should they. “We all are.�

Ororo felt her stomach roll. “We?� She pressed her hand to her head. “We all are?� Her head began to pound.Mutants were an abomination unto the Lord, not fit to live amongst the pure…A voice, vacant and devoid of emotion, rattled off in her mind.

Logan grew concerned at her stillness. “’Ro?�

Pain laced her skull like static ribbons.Abomination! The album slipped from numb fingers, photographs spilling onto the floor. Fire…her head was on fire! Mutants were an atrocity, a scourge upon humanity. They must be cleansed from the Earth… Must be cleansed…! Screaming. Who was screaming?

“’Ro!� Logan reached for her only to recoil a moment later as lightning scorched his skin.

White, glowing eyes turned on him. “Cleanse…the abomination…� Wind ravaged his bedroom and he heard the windows break and shatter.

“’Ro!� Logan grabbed her, despite the pain spearing his body. “Look at me!�

“I am looking at you,� she hissed. “Abomination.�

“Stop it! This isn’t you!�

“Cleanse…the Earth…cleanse…� She screamed again, clutching her head. When she looked at him her eyes shimmered from arctic to tear filled blue. She clawed feebily at the device on the back of her head, her motions frantic. “Help me…�

Fuck, what had he done?

Ororo screamed once more, thrashing back with enough force to break his hold on her. She went limp against his pillow, the wind ceasing abruptly. Logan blinked, swallowing hard. “’Ro…?� he touched her cheek.

~I’ve managed to temporarily send her to sleep, Logan. I suggest you bring her to the medlab.~

Chuck.

Logan gathered Ororo up into his arms. “On my way.�