After all the jacks are in their boxes
and the clowns have all gone to bed
You can hear happiness staggering on down the street
footsteps dressed in red
And the wind whispers Mary

And with this crutch, its old age, and its wisdom
it whispers no, this will be the last
And the wind cries Mary

The Wind Cries Mary – Jimi Hendrix

---

"Although Victor Creed, the notorious Blinder City Strangler, is still at large; policemen say they have a few leads in the case." The beautiful, toothy-grinned brunette, known as Kathryn “Kitty� Pryde gave the cameraman a firm nod and looked back into the small lens. “Back to you, Robert.�

Not more than ten feet away, a sixteen-year-old orphan by the name of Ororo Munroe crept in the shadows. Her platinum hair was pulled into a messy ponytail and her hands still bore the blood of the destroyed woman she'd found. It would be soon, too soon, before the two detectives found her. When Blinder City officials were determined in their capture of intermediate criminals, they proved to always get their man, or woman, in her case.

It was simply by chance that she just happened to be creeping down the alley that lead to the main street of downtown. Ever the busy area, Ororo took all the side streets to avoid any possible interaction that would cause her trouble. She'd promised to meet Remy and Kurt (her friends since she'd ran away from that incorrigible foster home) after she'd done her daily pickings.

‘Daily pickings’ consisted of robbing the biggest idiot on the street. It was easy, really; she always went for the top rollers - the men that spent their time trying to show off just how much money they had. Her latest victim had been a man proudly flaunting his wallet in one hand and his whore in the other. He stood there sporting his obviously tailored pin-striped suit with his Italian leather hand made shoes or, at least, what she assumed every wealthy man wore. Remy had told her the first day they'd met that she would be the best damn distraction they could think of.

With white hair like untouched snow and eyes the color of a cloudless sky on a beautiful spring morning, men and women alike would stare at her in complete awe. It didn't help that she was being constantly reminded of her killer good looks. She wasn't boasting; it was just an honest fact. Had it been any other black woman, she was sure they'd stare with that same, stupid awestruck expression.

While Mr. Short, Fat, and Balding gawked at Ororo, she not only had the opportunity to take his wallet, but she'd also managed to pull the slinky, strapped purse from the blond whore that was pulling at his arm and demanding his attention. She pretended as if she'd been bumping into the woman, all the while stripping her of whatever little bit of money she'd had on her. If she'd felt particularly tricky, she would have taken the car from them while they stood there gawking at her strange appearance. There wasn't time, though; as she'd promised Remy and Kurt both that she'd buy dinner for them tonight. It was only fair, as they'd been supplying her with food and shelter for no charge the moment she'd started tagging along with them.

Scampering off before Dumber and Dumbest could realize they'd been robbed, Ororo found herself in the alley between Preston's Food Store and J & J's Liquor Depot. She'd looked down at her pickings and smirked. Her ever growing bangs hung in her face and she pushed them back absently and went through the man's wallet as she walked down the alley.

A neatly folded wad of one hundred dollar bills was the first thing to greet her. She pulled them out and slowly counted them to herself, grinning mischievously with each bill she count.

Eight hundred dollars!

When would people understand that it wasn't wise to walk around Blinder City with eight hundred dollars in your pocket? She brought one of the bills up to the darkening sky as though she were testing to see if it were counterfeit. Of course she had no idea what she was doing, but it did make her feel significant. Besides, it greatly amused the thirteen-year-old Kurt when she did it while Remy would just playfully pull at her hair.

Though the weather in Blinder City was taking a nasty turn from the fall into the winter, young Ororo was not dressed appropriately for this. Donning a "Sex Pistols" shirt that Remy had affectionately stolen for her and a pair of Kurt's blue jeans, Ororo looked quite ridiculous. It was the jeans, fitting her growing hips properly but obviously three sizes too short that stuck out like a sore thumb. Sockless, her bare ankles were exposed and she had on an old pair of Remy's black, faded, and torn Converse.

Ororo stuffed the money into her back pocket and inspected the other contents of his wallet.

James Madison ... he was that seedy politician that was trying to rid the street of the riff-raff. She scowled at his photograph. Bastard; she happened to be one of those little street urchins he was trying to throw in prison. Just because she didn't live with her rich mommy and daddy, she was considered riff-raff. He was nothing but an amateur politician, trying to climb the social ladder.

Credit cards and driver's licenses were of no use to her, so she threw the wallet over her shoulder.

"Now for you ..." her rich accent and soft voice sang as she pulled open the gold shimmering purse and rolled her eyes. Its contents consisted of make-up, condoms, costume jewelry, sanitary products (those, Ororo took), and a small, worn leather billfold. Inside, there was a picture of an alarmingly handsome man with bright brown eyes.

Staring at the photo, Ororo barely heard the thud in the background, but she was smart enough to know that it wasn't the best sound to hear in an abandoned alley. She accidentally dropped the woman's purse but she left it there, running to hide behind the large green dumpster nearest her. Crouching low, she perked her ears to listen for any sign of danger. Oh, it was a definite sign of danger.

Ororo knew the sound of thuds and thumps in the darkening evening. She'd even seen the results of thuds and thumps, and none of them had been pretty sights.

"I think you were my favorite," his low and guttural voice, sounding almost like the growl of a panther, made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. She was beginning to feel very uneasy and stupid, considering she probably should have attempted an escape the moment she'd heard him. This was what she got for looking at photographs of men, Ororo thought bitterly, and she bit down on her bottom lip.

A woman's moan made Ororo's eyes widen and she heard a ripping sound, followed by the dreadful and disgusting sound of tearing flesh. She heard it and she was sure the woman had definitely felt it. She covered her mouth to force down the scream rising in her throat. Whatever sounds the woman was emitting, she'd stopped suddenly and there was a choking, gargling sound. Ororo's eyes instinctively filled with tears and she sunk even lower against the grimy brick wall, holding on to the back of the dumpster like it was her only savior. At this moment, it was.

Oh, Goddess in Heaven, she silently pleaded, please let this man not see me.

While the woman choked on her blood, her soon to be killer fiddled around some more and then there was complete silence.

He was grunting now and then came the footsteps. While mentally shouting commands that she should just attempt that neat trick she'd always wanted of disappearing into the wall, his footsteps were getting relatively closer. It wasn't the fact that he was approaching; it was the fact that her long legs would give her away if she so much as inhaled. The man walked lazily down the alley and Ororo hugged her legs tighter to her. She was curled with her knees to her chest in the darkest spot she could find in the dumpster's shadow.

Closer he approached and tighter she held herself. He stopped and she heard him grunt as he bent over to pick up the purse, wallet, and its discarded items.

Regret tugged at her stomach and she thought about how she would change her life if God had decided just this one time to spare her sorry, pathetic, teenage ass. She would go back to one of those shelters if she had to, and she would go back to school. She would even go back to that foster home, anything to survive this encounter.

And by some sort of miracle, he'd walked on.

She waited until he'd turned the corner and sat there for a good ten minutes. Her knees were hurting her and they cracked as she stood. She looked around frantically and took off to the opening of the main street.

"Help..." the woman's weakened voice called out to no one and Ororo knew she couldn't save that woman, nothing could. She stood there for a moment, the money in her back pocket making her entire right leg tingle.

"Please..." the woman coughed and gurgled what could only be her blood.

Stupid legs! Stupid, stupid legs! They had a mind of their own sometimes, and Ororo was sure it was the reason she'd gotten into so many terrible, terrible situations in her lifetime. While her brain argued with her feet not to, she headed back towards the dying woman.

The sight of this poor woman's state made Ororo gasp, and she knelt down next to her.

There was a large hole in the woman's stomach and whatever organs that were supposed to be there, weren’t. Something warm and thick dropped on the top of Ororo's head and dripped onto the the woman’s bruised cheek. Looking up, she let out a horrified yell when she'd seen the woman's intestines dripping blood onto the trash covered ground and themselves. Blood was everywhere, especially between the woman's legs, and Ororo couldn't ignore the dark thoughts running through her head.

And suddenly, the woman's arms shot up in the air and she grabbed Ororo by the face. Trying to pull herself away, Ororo couldn't, victim to the woman's vice grip. The blood from the woman's hands slipped over her skin and she whimpered as she tried to pull away.

Just as quickly as she had grabbed Ororo, the woman's hands fell to her sides and her cold blue eyes stared up towards the sky.

With her chest rising and falling rapidly, Ororo scrambled away, kicking her legs in front of her as she tried to find the right footing. She jumped up and took off towards the alley entrance. If she ran out into the street, covered in blood, people would notice. They may act indifferent at first, but with her face and hands covered in someone else's blood, she would eventually get the attention she did not want.

She paused there, looking around.

Her only saving grace was that the man had not seen her, but she had seen him.

"Remember that deal you made?" she asked no one in particular, but definitely someone important enough to listen.

***

These were the days he'd dreaded most, Logan thought dismally as he parked his motorcycle into the BCPD employee parking lot. It was an underground garage littered with cars that belonged to members of the graveyard shift.

At seven in the evening, any asshole that considered themselves dedicated enough to work these hours would be found out in Blinder City, picking up the petty thieves, the common prostitutes, and occasional drunks.

Anything worse would be left to the assholes that actually didn’t mind dying for this unforgivable city.

Logan had to admit that he loved his job. He'd come to Blinder City when he was just ten years old, and even then the crime was so terrible he had no idea why his mother had pulled him and his younger brother to this town. They had been running away from Dad, sure, but Jesus - it seemed to get worse.

He'd never been the law abiding citizen type. Not once.

The day his brother was killed right in front of him, in cold blood was the day he decided he wanted to become a police officer. The death had broken his mother's heart, and ultimately she seemed to fade away with each passing day until ... she was no longer there.

He would have loved a cigarette right now, but he couldn't bring himself to smoke after being told about the Blinder City Strangler. Calling the bastard a 'strangler' was saying that sharks were cuddly. Logan, as well as every other Blinder City official, knew why he'd been called that, though, and they'd begged - no - paid the media to not to release the real reason.

He'd been there in the small group of men that were called to look over the victim's home.

A woman was hanging in her living room, strangled to death on her intestines. It was the eeriest sight he'd seen in his entire life.

Pulling out his package of Marlboro's, Logan shook his head and pulled out the matches, too. He struck one, lit his cigarette and walked his slow walk through the garage, giving in to his cigarette temptation.

Bringing himself to a sudden stop, he'd heard it. It was the noise of someone trying to stalk behind him. They were pretty shitty at it, whoever they were, but he played this little game with them. Mariko, his trusty Revolver, was pulled from the spot in between the small of his back and his jeans, and he walked slowly through the garage.

The soft steps sped up and Logan could feel them approaching.

He really didn’t have time for this bullshit. Why the idiot had decided to attack a detective at a police station was beyond him, but if this was how he wanted to spend his last day, so be it. Logan wouldn't argue. The cigarette rested lazily between his lips and he tilted his head to the side and shook it as if saying, not this again.

"Whoever the fuck ya are, I suggest you show yer ass an' fast. I'm givin' you 'til the count of three, and then it's World War III in this sonuvabitch."

Those soft footsteps crept closer and Logan cocked his gun and raised it at shoulder level. His eyes peered over each side of the gun and he narrowed them. The gun was pointed in the direction of his new best friend. He should have fired anyway, but something was telling him not to. This was Blinder City, and if he was going to be attacked, they would have done it by now.

He lowered his gun immediately when his attacker appeared from the shadows.

And there she was … a bloodstained angel.

His first reaction was probably not the smartest most policemen had when encountering a blood-soaked woman with a blank and unreadable expression on their face. He dropped Mariko, he couldn't help himself. He'd never seen anything like her.

She had hair the color of a fucking cloud and her eyes would be the matching sky. She reminded him instantly of a warm, spring afternoon.

What made Logan stand there in complete awe was the unafraid look in her eyes. She wasn't even afraid of him holding the gun to her face, she wasn't afraid of him. His mind was now racking and trying to remember different encounters with varying people in Blinder City; he couldn't put a finger on this one. With an appearance like that, Logan would have known her if he'd seen her.

She was so beautiful.

"Are ya' okay?" he finally asked firmly. He didn't want to frighten her off, but he wanted to make absolutely sure she was of sound mind and body.

The pair locked eyes, sapphire with chocolate for a moment that seemed to last forever. Logan wanted to curse himself because he couldn't stop staring at her and oh, Jesus, that layered snow white hair. She blinked at him and looked away. His gun was pretty useless to him now, and he didn't even bother trying to hide this fact.

His eyes traced over the high cheekbones, almost like the first woman he'd fallen in love with, those delicious full lips formed in a pout. Had he just described her lips as delicious?! Get it together, asshole. He leaned his head to the right, forcing his eyes to stay above her neck and oh, God, how they wanted to travel farther.

"Kid, ya' okay?"

He asked it again, the firmness in his voice gone like the minutes passed between them.

The white-haired beauty turned to him and her eyes filled with tears. In the blink of an eye, she ran to him and wrapped her arms around him. Her head rested under his chin and he couldn't help lean his head against her platinum tresses.It was the least he could do, because obviously the woman had been through enough hell.

"Don't let him get me," she whispered.

"I won't," he replied just as quietly. It was of his own volition that he'd uttered these words, and try as he might to figure out why he'd said them, he couldn't.

So there they stood, in the abandoned parking lot, with their arms around each other; the protector and the protected.

...

"You found her like this?" asked his partner, Scott Summers, watching the young woman in the holding room, cradling her arms around herself. It had taken quite a bit of coaxing to get Logan's new companion to release the vice grip she had on him when he'd all but dragged her into the vicinity.

Being put well together was Scott's default, though. There'd never been one thing out of place about him. With his charming, down home good looks, wire-rimmed glasses, and blindingly white smile,; Logan looked like Sasquatch standing next to him. Logan didn't care much about his own looks, let alone Scott's, so the idea of looking like the evil step-brother standing next to him was really no bother. With quintessential good looks and a charming disposition, Logan liked having Scott around when they dealt with really nasty criminals.

It just hadn't worked this time.

After the little hellcat bit Scott on the hand when he'd tried to pull her away, Logan had to literally lift her and sit her down. Under different circumstances, this would have been comical; her legs swung out and hit Scott in the groin. That much wasn't intentional, but she hadn't exactly apologized for it.

Scott, ever the perfect man, didn't swear, or even give her a dirty look, for that matter. His only response to her violent behavior was that she was distraught. It was as simple as that for him.

Her sandwich was untouched, though she looked at it longingly and the bottle of water sat rather pathetically beside it, wanting to be drunk from those luscious lips. At least, those were the thoughts reeling in Logan's mind.

He turned to Scott to distract his thoughts with something else. He nodded. "She found me, actually. I was on my way in, and I hear this scamperin' around in the garage. When I asked who it was, she comes walking out from the shadows covered in someone else's blood."

"Well," Scott pulled out a manila folder with the name Munroe, Ororo labeled neatly in its corner. "I have some news for you, Wolverine."

Logan rolled his eyes at his little nickname he'd earned the first day he joined the Blinder City Police Department.

The name "Wolverine" had not been one of those affectionate pet names a person received as an uncertifiable badge of honor. He'd been given that name the day he'd first issued the Blinder City Police Station. And it wasn't as an officer; he'd been in handcuffs of his own. The three officers he'd taken down for a crime he hadn't committed, called him " that crazy wolverine bastard," and the name just sort of ... stuck.

Not very many people could call the young detective that unless they were brave, or just plain crazy. Scott Summers just happened to be a little bit of both. Just like Logan, he was another one of those assholes that loved what he did and was crazy enough to actually enjoy this piece of shit job. It didn't help that Logan had something of a soft spot for Scott, either.

He looked at the folder and looked at Scott. Knowing immediately that his blood-stained angel wasn't exactly the most innocent person, but he also knew that she hadn't been responsible for that blood on her face and hands, either.

"I'm not saying she committed the murder," Scott began and slapped the folder impatiently against his hand.

Oh, here they go again.

"Name's Ororo Munroe," Scott began without Logan's response. "She has some petty criminal charges. She ran away from a foster home belonging to a Jonathan and Aurora Burke, we pulled both of them in for questioning when Ororo had reported that Jonathan had been sexually assaulting her." He 'hmphed' at that, and Logan felt the urge to find this Burke bastard and rip his heart from his chest.

"Ran away?" he asked; this time he turned to look at Scott and frowned.

"Yeah, she's a runaway. They've been looking for this kid for nearly three years."

Three years? He watched her again for a moment; she turned to look in his direction, and he felt as though those eyes were looking directly into his. Something stirred in him, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from her, not even while Scott went on and on about how she was a thief, how she had been a master at hijacking any sort of vehicle, and how she was even just a bit dangerous...

"She's sixteen."

Logan perked his eyebrow at that, but he hid his surprise well. He knew she'd been a little younger than him, but jail bait wasn't exactly the thought processing in his mind. He suddenly felt guilty for the thoughts he'd had about her. He still couldn't help but stare at her, though.

Scott chuckled lightly and shook his head.

...

If there was one thing Ororo hated more than the Blinder City police, it was being held against her will when she'd done no wrong. The man she'd seen in the garage, who she later learned was Logan, was the only person she wanted to be near or even talk to.

The way everyone shied away from him when he snarled at them should have made Ororo think differently about her need to hang on to him. She just didn't see him as a threat. She trusted him. Rarely was there a moment in Ororo's young life that she trusted anyone.

Hiding in the garage, her movements were fast, not wanting to waste any time to stand there and think. If she'd thought any harder, she would have run away and drunken bum would have found the woman’s corpse.

She'd been standing there for minutes, tapping her foot repeatedly. It was a nervous habit she'd developed when she was a child.

Ororo had just been wishing mere moments ago for the presence of any living soul. She needed to tell someone! Going into the department and arriving at the front desk covered in blood with a smile was just not going to be the right way. As if hearing her plea, a man came riding in on a motorcycle. Not that she was a motorcycle expert, but the bike looked to be an older model despite the smooth purring the engine emitted.

The man who got off the motorcycle was a detective. She could always tell their types - so different from the officers on their usual pre-beat mode. He was guarded even when he didn't know it, his face set in a permanent scowl.

She kind of liked it.

Her eyes took in the sight of him, and she realized that if she were going to go to someone for any sort of protection, he would be the one. Though he was not conveniently handsome like Remy or her father, he was handsome just the same. The cleft in his chin and rough features was what Ororo would like to think a “tough guy� looked like. When his expression briefly changed, she noted a dimple on each side of his mouth. He couldn't be a day over thirty, though the fine lines around the corner of his eyes and mouth gave a different idea. She eyed him, wondering how the stubble on his chin would tickle her hairless skin if he'd kissed her. It was an odd thought at a moment like this, but she hadn't regretted it.

He was not very tall; at least, not too much taller than she was, but what he lacked in height he obviously made up in bulk. His arms flexed through the black tee and she realized that he would be the man to protect her.

Purposely causing a stir as she danced through the space between abandoned cars, she'd caught his attention. It was perfect timing. The tip of his cigarette had blazed a bright orange when he'd heard her and he pointed his gun at her. He'd been so far off from his target that she actually inched over to stand in front of his pointing gun.

She slowly crept from the shadows, her eyes blazing into his. Ororo had never been afraid of guns. On more than one occasion, she'd kissed the tip of a black barrel and heard its resounding click.

The tough guy act he'd pulled asking her “whoever the fuck she was� didn't frighten her, either.

No, she knew she was safe.

Deeply regretting the decision now, she sat in the holding quarters, wanting to take a bite of that sandwich.

Had it not been for the fact that she needed to get back to Kurt and Remy, she would have. So she tortured herself, knowing that her brothers were starving and depending on her.

"No!" She'd yelled at the man in the glasses when he'd tried to pull her away from the one with the cigarette. Her legs swung when she was restrained and accidentally kicked him in his groin.

"Woah, darlin', woah!" He placed each hand firmly on her arm and shook her. She had stopped her violent fit and looked him in his eyes, her lips parting. She could feel his face getting closer to hers and something stirred inside of her that she knew shouldn't be there. She could smell the nicotine on his breath now, but he didn't seem to have intentions of kissing her. He simply looked her in her eyes and muttered.

"Stay put."

Ororo watched him for a moment and looked over his shoulder. This was her obvious "I'm going to tail it" look, but he never turned to follow her eyes, he simply kept his on her face.

"Stay put," he repeated.

"Okay," she finally said. It was her first time talking with the exception of her one-word protest. He seemed to be so surprised at the gentleness of her voice that he frowned. Just as soon as he'd frowned, his expression changed into the hard, mean expression he'd had in that garage.

Ororo played with the hole in Kurt's jeans, humming a Billie Holliday tune to herself. The moment she could get away from these men, the better. She knew exactly what they would do to her the moment they'd found that woman's body.

Both of the men walked in side by side with grave expressions. They didn't intimidate Ororo. She stood up to her full height, her eye level not too far from theirs.

"Hi, Ororo, I'm Detective Scott Summers and I'm sure you know this fellow next to me is Detective James Howlett."

She eyed them both suspiciously and pursed her lips together.

They had a staring contest for a moment and Ororo finally opened her mouth to speak. Her words were cautious, feral, and she spoke in a tone so low they both leaned in to hear exactly what she was saying.

"I know what he looks like. I know where the body is. I'll take you there and tell you what he looks like on one condition."

Logan took a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever proposition she was setting up in that mind of hers.

"You let me go."

While Logan could not hold back the snort, Scott was ever the professional and he put his hands in his pockets, shaking his head. "Ororo, we'd like more than anything to let you go, but we cannot do that. You are a key witness to a murder involving the most sought after serial killer Blinder City has seen in decades. To top it all off, you're sixteen years old."

"I'll be seventeen soon!" she retorted.

"Sixteen, seventeen - still don't make it eighteen." It was Logan who spoke this time. Ororo shot him eyes that could kill. He was betraying her and he was probably the only person she trusted. "Besides, before we can work out the kinks of you leaving - we gotta' take the clothes for evidence, photographs, and the like."

Clearly, she was not buying it.

"Look, kid, we'll pitch a deal with you if you cooperate. I know foster homes ain't always the cream of the crop, but we can't help you if you can't help us."

"What do I get? Stuck with another pervert and his bulldog bitch of a wife? No, thank you. I'd rather the Blinder City Strangler find me." She hadn't meant that. of course. but the words had already escaped her lips.

"We'll let you go back to the life you had before," Logan stated simply. Scott immediately stared at him as if he'd grown a second head.

Ororo nodded her head and began to pace across the small room. The light bulb was a pale yellow and the room smelled of coffee and cigarettes. She was starving and that pathetic sandwich was tempting her and making her sick all at the same time.

"All right. I'll do it."

Ororo sat in the backseat of the black Town Car, eyeing the back of Detective Logan's head. His hair was an untidy mess and the cowlick at the top of his head was something teetering on the edge of tragic. Compared to Scott, he was something of a mess. It was pretty obvious that Logan lived alone.

Detective Summers, or Detective Scott, as he had told her to call him, was so perfect it was nerve- grating. Logan wore jeans that had that three-day old look to them, a coffee stain on the thigh while Scott’s slacks were creased perfectly down the middle of each leg. His wire-rimmed glasses sat high on his nose, and though he was definitely leaner than Logan, he was just as toned.

And while Detective Scott sat with his back straight and stiff as a board, Logan reclined in his passenger seat and he leaned against the window.

Perhaps it was because she was in the car with them, but neither of them said a word to her, or to one another, for that matter.

As they neared the abandoned alley way and Ororo saw that no one had discovered the hotbed of crime, she didn’t hide her surprise. “I can’t believe they haven’t found it yet.�

Neither said a word to her.

"How long is this going to take? Do you know?"

"Just stay put." Logan climbed out of the car without so much as a backwards glance. Scott followed suit, before poking his head between the front seats of the car and gave her a small smile. "This will all be over before you know it, Ororo."

After they closed the doors, Ororo leaned forward and narrowed her eyes. They'd just located the body. Scott looked away and Logan spat. He squatted down next to the corpse and Ororo leaned back in the car and closed her eyes. She couldn't believe she was here and she couldn't believe that she was doing this but she had made this promise and the poor woman deserved it.

What if they had been lying about letting her go after this was over?

Of course they were lying! Weren't they a part of Blinder City's finest? When were any of those bastards ever honest? She didn't care that Logan was handsome or that Scott had warm blue eyes, she just wanted to go home.

Logan watched Ororo in the backseat of Scott's car and stood back up to his full height. "From the description she gave us, it could be any asshole in Blinder City. Call for back up and tell the captain we've got a witness and a fresh body. I'll talk to 'Ro and we'll find out if this woman has any next of kin or anything like that. Sick motherfucker." he took one more glance at the woman's body and walked towards the car.

“’Ro?� Scott mimicked Logan, the tone in his voice amused despite their surroundings.

“What?� Logan grumbled and turned back to his destination.

Ororo watched as Logan walked towards the car and she opened the door slowly, paying attention to the creak of the door. When Logan's eyes darted to the door, Ororo moved swiftly out of the car and turned her back to Logan.

"Don't!" He yelled at her retreating back. "Come back here, goddamnit! Come back here!"

The wind whipped through Ororo's hair and she kicked up her feet as high as she could. So what if the bottoms of her soles were nearly being torn with each step, it didn't stop her. Until she stopped hearing Logan and now Detective Scott's cries or the stomping of their running feet, she would not stop running.

"What are you doing? Why are you running? Fuck! We got a runner!" Logan started describing Ororo as she turned a corner. He was on her as best as could be.

Ororo turned into a throng of people with Logan still on her tail. She stopped for just a heartbeat and pushed through the crowd.

"Goddamnit, kid!" Logan stayed on her trail. She was fast, but she wasn't as fast she thought she was. Not that they had acquainted any type of relationship, friendly or otherwise, Ororo didn't know that Logan himself had spent many of his teenage years running from BCPD just like she had.

She ducked in a crowd of businessmen, sticking out like a sore thumb and cut a corner into another alleyway.

Logan liked to think that this kid had had her fill of alleys by now.

Ororo narrowed her eyes, her chest rising and falling and frustration bubbling in the pit of her stomach. She looked down at the frayed sneakers and shook her head. Traitors. They could have at least lasted longer.

"STAY PUT!" Logan's growl made her jump and she took off into a sprint. He was hot on her tail again but she reached a fire escape hanging in midair. She hated fire escapes, not as much as police officers chasing her, of course, and she went for it.

Ororo squatted and jumped in the air as high as her growing legs would allow her. Thankful for once that she had been underfed, her hands connected to the rusty steps of the ladder, easily pulling her frail body up. Her legs kicked as she begin to lift herself up one pull at a time, grunting each time she reached the next step.

Logan's hand slapped against the back of her sneaker, knocking it off. He swore as she cried out, but that didn't stop her from reaching the stairwell. And while Logan was stronger and probably faster if given a better advantage than Ororo, he just couldn't reach that rusty step to the fire escape as easily as she could. She'd gotten quite a distance on him by the time he eventually did, and he was swearing at that platinum hair when he caught sight of her.

The first thing that came to mind was when he used to chase cats as a child, trying to grab their tails. While he was pretty fast, the cats were always faster and always had a trick or two up their sleeves.

Reaching the roof, Ororo began to panic. Buildings were all around her, but how on earth was she supposed to reach them?

"Ororo, 'Ro, come on kid, give me a fuckin' break here. I want to help you." Logan was out of breath and his hands were resting on his knees. He was resisting the urge to shoot her right now.

She looked over her shoulder and back to Logan, she took a deep breath. "You helped me enough." She waved the wrapped sandwich at him and stuffed it into her back pocket. Giving him a big smile, she turned and ran to the edge of the roof and jumped.

Logan yelled and swore when he saw she'd landed on her feet on the next roof.

"Goddamn kid!" He shook his head, watching her get away quite successfully. How the hell was he supposed to explain this to his captain?

***

She ran until she could run no more, circling back around to her first encounter with the Blinder City Strangler. By now, the place was surrounded by nosy bystanders, police, and the media. She crept down an empty fireplace and watched Kitty Pryde, the most annoying television anchor in history, talk into a camera.

It was hard to believe that a little over two hours ago she had been standing down looking over a dying woman. She listened as Kitty told the camera that the police now had a lead in the case. Was that supposed to be her? She should have never gotten involved. She should have run when she had the chance.

Running would have been the smartest thing to do.

Her eyes caught sight of a tall man with unkempt hair talking with an even taller bald man. It was Logan and that had to be his captain. Logan's hands were moving around angrily and he pointed to the rooftops. Ororo bit her top lip and ducked even further into the shadows. It wasn't as if he'd see her. She was pretty high up and this building had been neglected for years now. Just hours ago she was running from him. It all seemed so strange that once upon a time she lived in a house, with a mother and a father.

And they had loved her.

This was all strange, and yes, it was unfair, but that was life and Ororo had learned that she would have to take her heartaches just like everyone else in the world. It could be worse. Right? She could be that murdered woman Kitty Pryde now spoke of in the news. She picked at her one destroyed shoe and shook her head. Her other shoe was now in Logan’s possession, in one of those angry flailing hands.

Dead bodies, serial killers, and running from the police. It was another day in the life of a street urchin. She stood slowly and limped her way back up the steps of the fire escape. It would be give or take two weeks before she’d have to hide from Logan again. For now, she would get food and she would go back to her friends. They would work something out. They always managed to.