no

He was surrounded by water. Something was on his face. No matter how hard he tried, he could not break free.

No.

They were all around him. All those dispassionate eyes. All those masks. Their knives gleaming in the lights from above. He struggled. He knew what they were going to do.

No.

The pain was incredible. They kept coming. They kept cutting. His breathing was coming in gasps. He could not move. His bones seared with agony.

No.

He was no longer in the water. There was nothing holding him. He saw a dark figure above him. One of them. He lashed out in fear and anger. But the face on the end of his blades was not wearing a mask. This was a young face. This face was beautiful. This face was full of surprise. This face was dying.

"NO!"

He awoke to the sound of his own voice. The walls of the motel were all that greeted him. His sheets were drenched with sweat. Rising, he padded softly into the bathroom and turned on the harsh light. The mirror revealed his dark, handsome face. The circles under his eyes were fading. No scars, marks, or clues were ever left on his skin to show his past or what he was going through. No one really knew him, not even himself.

Fifteen years ago he woke up with almost no memory to speak of. His name was Logan, he knew that. Although to be honest he did not truly know if this was a first name or a last name. The dog tag he found on the chain around his neck said Wolverine. Wolverine: a carnivorous solitary mammal of the weasel family noted especially for its strength and ferocity. He had looked it up in a dictionary, once he found out he was a human being and could read.

He sighed. The mirror was not offering anything else, so he relieved himself, grabbed his few belongings, threw on his clothes, and headed out the door. The motel disappeared from view as he and the motorcycle sped down the road.

His mind drifted as the stripes in the road ticked by. He had been in a routine. The fights in the bars were a release. His frustration at not finding out anything had been taken out on the poor bastards that entered the cage with him. He did not feel sorry. They had come in for a good fight and left knowing that fighting can leave you hurting. He had no qualms about teaching them a lesson. He was different than they were. They were truly human. He was a mutant, a freak. Chuck liked to think humans would accept mutants and become open to relations with them. He had no such pretty illusions. He carried the results of the scientific experiments that a few of these humans had done to him. He shook his head. Don’t go there.

He spotted a diner up the road. His stomach responded. Should he stop? He didn’t really want to. He needed to get back. He needed to take the bike back to Scott. He wanted to talk to Chuck about the nightmares. He wanted to see how she was doing. His recurring dreams left him wondering if he was having a premonition of some sort of danger. Could she be in danger? He stopped at the diner to collect his thoughts and satisfy his appetite.

Marie.

He had met her in that last bar. She had a child’s face, but a woman’s ability to cause trouble. He grinned. She had made an impression. He did not know it then, since he had been preoccupied with a fight. But he did remember being startled to see such a sweet face in that dismal scene.

One greasy meal and a few hundred miles later he was closer to his destination. Within a couple of hours he would be there. Why was his mouth dry? He stopped on the side of the road in a wooded area. He pulled the bike out of view and quietly took in the smells and sounds around him. Most people were blind. All this beauty. All this life. Even he had not appreciated it until he met her.

At first, he had survived. Then he had learned. Then he knew he was human. Then he found out horribly that he wasn’t. Then he couldn’t live with it. That had been the worst. How many ways are there to kill yourself? How many ways had he tried? How many times had he come to, only to find that he was as he had been. Exactly. No difference. Only in more pain. The dog tag had offered the only clue so he poured his energy into that. Would he find out what he was, who he was? After a while, it really hadn’t mattered. He just wanted some answers. Who cared what questions the answers raised. He had been blind. He had wallowed in his obsession, not seeing what was around him. All he had found out was that he knew how to fight and he knew how to survive. But he did not want to survive. He wanted to find out or die. He didn’t care which at that point.

When he woke that night, fresh from a nightmare, and lashed out with his claws, stabbing through her chest, he had panicked. Had he killed her? The familiar scent of blood was in the air. He had taken the lives of others, why was she different? Because he found he cared. He cared and now he was killing her. He remembered thinking this couldn’t happen, someone had to help, someone had to reverse this mistake he had made. Her sweet face had smiled as if to say it was ok. She had gently placed her hand on his face. That was when it had happened. The changing point in his life. He had finally met death. He was given a glimpse of what kind of permanent peace he could have and it had scared him. Scared him back to life, really. That touch had given him the knowledge that he wanted to live.

Sure, on the statue, with her in his arms, not breathing, her heartbeats slowing to nothing, he had faced death again. This time it was different. He had given her all he had. It was ok to die if he could help her. Give her a gift in return for the one she had given him: life. She had survived. He had, too.

He left when Chuck had given him his first solid lead. His ache to know rearing its ugly head. The building had been abandoned. Nothing tangible was left. There was a faint taste of a memory, though. Grey walls. The whispers of claw marks were in those walls; a ghost of a chance that he had been in the building but, as always, nothing really solid.

He kicked the motorcycle back to life. Onward: that was his goal now. He was not human. His past was not available to teach him what he was so he would start again as he had before. He would not lay down and die; he would survive. He could make a difference to her. He could help find a future for the other kids. His life could have new meaning.

The lights of the mansion came in to view. He had forgotten how big it was. The doors opened under his touch and he smiled fleetingly. In the hallway was an impressive figure waiting in a wheelchair.

"I felt your presence."

He cleared his throat. "It’s been a long day, Chuck. Thanks for the lead, but in the last two weeks I have gotten exactly nowhere. I brought Scott’s bike back so he won’t have a cow."

Charles Xavier smiled. Knowing how much Logan valued privacy, Charles shied away from reading his thoughts. He knew Logan would tell him in his own time what was going through his mind.

"I’m sorry to hear that the journey wasn’t fruitful, but I am happy to see you come back. You are staying for a while, aren’t you?"

Logan’s mind skipped back over all the thoughts he had on the road here. He could not leave without knowing she was ok, could he? He could not leave a place where he might be able to help, could he? He would not turn his back on the future she could have if he protected her and was there for her, would he?

No.

"Yes," he replied.

Maybe someday he would tell her what kind of a difference she had made in his life. Someday.
------

to know

OK. He could do this.

Chuck was wheeling at his side down the hall, escorting him to the room he had stayed in before. As he went down the halls, Logan unconsciously tested the air. He detected four new students, three male, one female, all in the stage of pubescence and one new teacher (he assumed), adult male, with an animal-like scent. Must be part of his mutation. Speaking of mutants, what would the X-Men think about him coming back? He quickly glanced over at Chuck, whose heartbeat seemed normal to his hearing. He did not detect any odor of fear. Maybe they really did accept him. Most other sounds that reached his ears told him that everyone else was asleep. A clock they had passed showed that it was after midnight.

"Here we are. I trust that you will find things as you left them in this room. I made arrangements that it not be disturbed until you returned. As for you being back, I couldn’t be happier. I have been searching for more leads to your past, but none have been as promising as Alkali Lake. Again, I’m sorry that you didn’t find anything."

"I didn’t say I didn’t find anything. I just got nowhere with what I found."

"Ah, I see. Anything I can do?" Charles cocked his head. He again resisted the temptation to read Logan’s thoughts. It was unclear whether the scientific experiments he had been through had altered his mind patterns, but Logan was a hard read in the best of circumstances and a lot of what came out was not pleasant to see.

"No. That trip stirred up some dreams again. A little different this time. Maybe they could give me a clue but I’m going to need to work on it."

Charles thought better of pointing out that Logan could work on that anywhere. He truly was glad to see him back. Logan could be dangerous, of course. He needed some kind of focus for his energies or he could lash out in anger and frustration with deadly results. There was something about him that was special, though. That Logan had been through a lot was putting it mildly. Having him start to think even somewhat positively about the ideals of mutants becoming part of a society instead of becoming the pariah of a society gave him hope for even the worst of the Brotherhood. Logan had every right to hate mankind with a ferocity that Charles could only begin to understand. But instead he had come back, knowing what ideas the school was founded on. It pleased Charles to no end.

"I’ll leave you to your own devices then. I do hope any dreams you have under this roof will be more pleasant that your last ones." And with that Charles turned and wheeled away.

"Yeah." He closed the door behind him. That was one thing about Chuck. He didn’t push. Logan appreciated that.

Sleep was not an option. He prowled around inside and outside the mansion, careful not to disturb the alarm systems. After he had accomplished a couple of ‘chores,’ he made his way to the staff breakroom. Caffeine was not the stimulant to him that it was to others, but he was in the habit of drinking coffee as much as anyone. He made a pot and relaxed with a paper, catching up on some of the news of the world he really could care less about, sometimes.
---

Jean thought about the mental message she had just received. It was good to be prepared. Her attraction to Logan was something she could not explain and that irritated her. Scientific fascination? Animal magnetism, perhaps? Not that she would ever do anything about it. She loved Scott. Scott knew this, but reacted to Logan with an unexplained jealousy she knew he found frustrating. Logan could certainly make waves. The professor was right to be prepared.
---

That lousy...He knew that cretin would take his bike. That was why he had left the note to use it. But two weeks and no word had put an edge on his temper. Scott slowed as he approached the garage. He better not have...the sight that greeted him gave him pause. He snatched up the one word note on the gleaming gas tank of his spotless motorcycle and sighed. The professor did know what he was doing after all. Dammit. Just when you thought it was safe to hate a guy. Scott turned and headed for the main house, straight for the break room.
---

"Hello, Logan," Ororo smiled. "I see you are back."

"Yeah." He didn’t look up. He was not a gambling man by nature. Gambling involved chance and it always seemed a certainty that he would survive anything. But if he were a gambling man, he would have bet that the professor had told all the staff to expect him. Nice that they didn’t stay away. Her heartbeat was up, though and he didn’t want to make her too nervous. "You OK?"

"Sure." She poured some of the coffee already made in the pot and took a drink. Coughing and sputtering she felt an unusually large amount of caffeine enter her system as the thick, coffee-like substance scalded its way down her throat. "You make the coffee?" She choked on the words.

"Yeah. S’ok?"

"Sure. Um. Did you read the directions?"

"No."

"OK. Um. Next time don’t use quite so much coffee. I don’t think the professor’s system can handle it." Neither can mine she finished quietly to herself.

"OK. Whatever."

Scott and Jean entered the room from opposite ends. After sharing a glance, they both said hello to Logan and Ororo and noted that she was busy making coffee although Logan already had a cup.
---

"I don’t see what the big deal is," Logan grumbled as Scott led the way to the garage area. "I returned your precious bike."

"I know. After you left, the professor had me order another one and modify it to be similar to the one I have. After a while, when you didn’t come back, I was tempted to take it apart or take it for myself. Now I’m glad I didn’t. I guess this is my way of saying thanks for taking such good care of mine."

"I bet that hurt. Saying thanks."

"You have no idea."

Logan turned the corner and caught sight of the motorcycle Scott had whipped the cover off of. A low whistle escaped him. Black and chrome and bad attitude written all over it, the bike that greeted him was definitely a beauty. Sitting on it was a pleasure.

" I will say you have great taste in motorcycles." And with that he revved it up and took it for a spin.
---

She opened her eyes. Sunshine kissed the edge of her bed. Yow. She was late. It was the next to last day of their break between semesters and she had said she would go with Kitty and Jubilee to the mall. Breakfast and shopping strategy started at 7:00 am in the eating hall. Marie rushed around the room, gathering a change of clothing, gloves, etc. Frantically she crashed into the bathroom, intending to hit the shower with a fast soap-up and rinse. The smell hit her first. She stopped dead in her tracks. A small vase with a few very pretty and very fragrant flowers stood at attention on the counter. Stunned, she backed out of the bathroom and glanced at the door to her room. It was still locked.

"What the..."
---

"Logan, I understand you wanted to see me?" Charles was seated behind his desk, morning coffee in hand.

"Yeah. Thanks for the bike. But I think...," he began.

"You don’t like the color."

Logan bit off a grin. Of course he liked the color. He really liked the bike, but earning everything with blood, sweat, and attitude for so long made having something given to him feel, well... "It’s not that."

"Oh, don’t feel I am giving it to you, if that is what is bothering you. Consider it a bribe to do a job for me."

Ah. This he could understand. "I’ll help out the team without a bribe, Chuck."

Professor Charles Xavier leaned back in his wheelchair. ‘Chuck’ was not a name he would ever encourage others to call him, but he tolerated it from Logan, knowing it was simply the way Logan was.

"Not what I had in mind, Logan. The team does need you, yes, but this is a different kind of task. I have people here that can teach these children everything from history to philosophy, science to self-defense, and machines to math. I do not have someone here who can teach them to survive the way you can. What if they find themselves alone, truly alone, in a large city or in a forest or in a desert? Could you teach them how to live? How to survive? How to elude capture when things aren’t nice and pretty?"

Logan rolled this around in his brain for a split second. "You’re expecting something." It wasn’t a question.

Their eyes met. There wasn’t an answer.

"The older kids?"

"All, to some extent, need basic lessons in precaution and survival. The older ones will need to know more graphic details, I’m afraid."

"Starting..."

"Tuesdays and Thursdays of next week for the older students. Two to five in the afternoon. We’ll work in sessions for the younger group. Will you need some night classes, too?"

"If you want them to really be prepared, yeah. Field trips to locations if possible." His mind was racing. "I can’t teach them everything I know. I don’t even know myself what I know." He rifled his fingers through his hair. This was unexpected, but wasn’t it what he had in mind when he decided to come back? Make sure these kids had a future?

"Every little bit could make the difference, Logan. Every little bit."
---

"So you have no idea who put them there?"

"None. Ah told you, Kitty, the door was locked. Ah thought you were playing a prank on me."

"I didn’t do it, though."

Marie, Kitty, and Jubilee were leaving the eating hall and making their way through the halls toward the front entrance. Professor Xavier’s door opened and out came...

"Logan!"

Marie ran up to him immediately, a smile lighting her face.

His somber face softened.

"Hey, kid. How are you?"

"Great! When did you get in?"

"After midnight. Everyone but Ch..the professor was asleep." He had to remember this was a school, after all.

Kitty and Jubilee shuffled their feet.

"Oh. Logan, you remember Kitty and Jubilee?"

"Hmmph. Hi."

"Well, nice to see you again, Mr. Logan. We’re off to the mall now." And with that the other girls grabbed a hold of Marie and started to drag her off.

"Wait!" She shrugged them off and returned to his side. "You need this." She pulled something from around her neck and, grabbing his hand, placed the dog tag he had given her into his upturned palm. It was warm to his sense of touch. "Ah’m glad you came back. Ah’ll be back soon. We can talk, OK?" she called out as the other two females were finally successful in dragging her out the door.

The tag glinted up at him, her scent impressed upon it.
---

Shopping was not going well for her. She was too preoccupied. Logan was back. She glanced at the others going full tilt into the sales racks. He came back. What did she think about this? Hmm. She sat down on a bench just inside one of the dressing rooms and closed the door.

He had been there for her, picked her up at one of the lowest points of her life, and came after her when she was ready to run. Yet they had not really spoken that much. They really didn’t need to. She felt a kinship with Logan that was missing in her relationship with the other mutants in her life. Maybe it was an understanding they shared about the world and how it treated you and finding out you are frighteningly different than everyone else and are dangerous as hell to anyone around you. Yeah. That must be it. His eyes had wrinkled when he smiled. She liked that.

A sudden darkening of the room occurred. She snatched off the shirt that had been dumped on her head. It was purple and paisley. Her eyebrows rose.

"Try it on, chica. It will look great on you."

Shopping had just taken a turn for the worse.
---

Stares here were different than stares in other places. At least here they knew he was a mutant and had no problems with it. Most of the talk in undertones centered around guesses as to what his mutation was. He didn’t sit near anyone, though. Personal space was important to him. Smell, body heat, heartbeats, and whispers were usually filtered out with distance and plenty of it or, in this case, simply ignoring what was around him. Unfortunately, his keen senses were not cooperating tonight and he was overloaded with too much information. He was on edge and didn’t know why.

He cocked his head and heard them before they entered the dining hall. Jubilee and Kitty looked flushed from a fabulous day of shopping. His eyes narrowed. Marie looked tired. They picked up their meals and headed for the rest of the oldest kids in the room. That is, until Marie caught sight of him. She veered off and took the seat opposite him, ignoring the lowering of volume in conversation.

"‘Lo," he ventured.

"Whew. Ah’m glad that’s over with. When they said a day at the mall, Ah had no idea they meant from sunup to sundown." She flashed him a glance. " Ah really haven’t had the chance to thank you for talking me out of running from here. It’s been different. Being with others sorta like me, Ah mean. Going back to school and all has made it seem like, you know, kinda like a normal life. Starting Monday Ah get to take my last semester of high school along with some college prep courses and the professor says Ah can start college courses after that."

It suddenly struck him that he did not know if he had finished high school. "Sounds like you’re on the right track."

She took some time out for bites of her dinner. The silence was comfortable.

"Find out anything useful on your trip?"

"Some." He paused. "I won’t be making another trip for a little while, though."

She smiled. "When you do, let me know if you need a place to keep the dog tag."

"I will."

She could have sworn he winked. Her eyes twinkled with mischief.

"You wear your seatbelt now, don’t ya?"

He snorted. "They don’t come with motorcycles, kid."

"Will you take me for a ride?"

"Not after what happened to my truck."

They continued eating.
---

Sunday evening already. Marie sighed. Tomorrow started the last of high school for her. She was excited and sad at the same time. If she went to college, would that mean she had to leave? If the professor would let Logan come and go, surely she could hang around, too, right? She pushed thoughts about leaving to the side and let her mind drift. She began to daydream about staying at the mansion, helping to teach and counsel with other kids and becoming an important part of the school. She shook her head. Maybe someday.

She rose from her bed and went over to the books she had organized for the coming classes. Again she picked up the schedule and read what all the other older kids had puzzled over.

‘Tue-Thurs 2-5 pm Specials’

Specials? What was it? And what was the deal with all the older kids being signed up for it? None of them had elected to take anything like it when they had signed up for the classes at the end of last semester. It didn’t even say who would teach it.

Her mind suddenly gave a jolt. X-Men training? Would they really begin preparing us for use in the team? All the kids were curious about the X-Men. They had all sorts of theories on what the team actually did, and how the teachers really acted when they weren’t teaching. They had occasionally seen the jet take off when they went on missions. She had actually ridden in it twice. Of course the last time she had been a little out of it, with Logan’s personality running around in her head.

She didn’t remember all of that night, but the parts she did remember made her shiver. Looking at Logan’s broken, bleeding body and having him running around in her head had been disorienting. At least his personality had pushed back the awful thoughts and memories Magneto had left in her. As with her first experience with touching and absorbing others abilities and memories, she had to work very hard to reassert her own psyche. With the professor’s help she had removed all of the intruding images that weren’t her own. Well, almost all. There were two images she kept locked in her mind from that experience, one she could not remove and one she didn’t want to.

"Best Ah get a good night’s sleep for tomorrow," Marie told herself sternly and crawled under her covers. For a fleeting moment she entertained the idea of going down to Logan’s room. She had enjoyed dinner with him the other night. He could act gruff and all, but she knew he liked her and the banter they had shared had made her feel good. No one could deadpan like he could. She had the feeling that others did not see him the way she did. Their loss, she decided as she curled up and closed her eyes.
---

Well, now he knew. The dreams were not true. She was not dead or dying. In fact, she looked pretty darn good to him. She certainly was different. Eating with him. That had been nice of her. She was funny, something he was not really used to. In the last fifteen years or so he had made a habit of studying people. Usually for defense purposes, of course. The people he had seen and dealt with had been from the lower, ok, the dregs of society. He had been an outcast even from them. Like some mangy cur. Oh, he could have women if he wanted, that had never been a problem. They didn’t mind trying on an animal for size. One night stand only, of course. He had a crash course in sex education and mastered it well, learning to give them just what they wanted and getting a release of tension for himself in return. Relationships were not something he really wanted to be a part of, not with women like that.

Marie was special, though. She was different, in a good way that he just couldn’t put his finger on. He stared up at the ceiling, his brow furrowed as he lay upon the bed. He didn’t need to protect her; she had the school for that. He didn’t even need to be here. The instincts in him to avoid closed-in spaces stirred. No. He promised Chuck he would try to teach the kids. He had promised her something, too. Hadn’t he?

Logan knew the dreams would come again tonight. They had robbed him of restful sleep and he had begun to feel some of the effects. Carting around an extra hundred pounds or so of adamantium kept you in good shape, but it also was harder to move in the mornings if you didn’t get rest. He would push himself, he knew. Get past it. He had to. Chuck was counting on him.

Teaching, hmmm. He let the tactical side of his brain plot out strategies of exposing the kids to survival techniques. A feral smile flitted across his lips. I’ll bet they’ve never been taught that way before, he thought. He chuckled darkly.
------

The time had come. The clock showed two. The other, older kids sat with Marie in the dining room, which served as study hall between classes. The others had disappeared, off to classes in math, science, or whatever. Here she was sitting with a schedule that only said a day and a time and a word.

"Specials."

They all spun around. No one had seen or heard him approach and that scared the crap out of them.

"That’s what Xavier calls this. You can call it survival. Outside. Now." Logan grinned to himself as he walked away.

Nervously they followed. Even Marie had been startled to see him and the fact that he was the teacher made her wonder even more what this course was going to be like.

He led them to a large, spreading oak and invited them to sit by grunting and seating himself.

"I’m Logan."

"Mr. Logan..."

"Logan."

"Uh, Logan. What is this all about? I mean, we’ve all had training in first aid and pitching a tent and water safety and all that. I don’t get it." Bobby seemed to be speaking for the group. Logan raised his eyebrows. The rest of the class nodded in confusion. Marie kept silent. She had entered this school at the end of last semester and had not had a chance to learn things the others obviously already had.

"I see." Logan noted that Marie had not nodded. "So you know the basics, huh? Then what do you need to survive?"

The class threw out answers of shelter, food, water, etc. Not what he was looking for.

"Yeah. You need shelter and your body will die in four days without water and around thirty days without food. But what do you need to survive?"

His question was met with blank stares.

"Your brain."

"But we’ve been taught all the basics with all the equipment..."

"What makes you think you’re gonna have equipment? Almost anywhere you are, you will find what you need to survive. If you don’t have it on you, you will have to make do. There are times when you don’t want to lug around a bunch of stuff ‘cause it’ll only slow you down. I’m here to teach you what it’s like to use your brains, your instincts, common sense, whatever, to save your ass when you are in real trouble and have no one with you."

There was a deathly silence from the group. Marie couldn’t stop the butterflies that started in her stomach.
---

Now, walking in the forest behind the mansion, Logan’s group had calmed a little. He raised a hand to stop them.

"I’m not going to treat you like kids. You have got to learn this stuff, but I’m not going to make you. Whatever you remember can save your life someday. If you forget, it’s not my problem, but it will be yours. Find me something edible in the 20 yards around us." He calmly sat on the ground.

They scrambled around but all they came up with was a few acorns, a pine cone and some berries. The class laid their offerings at his feet and sat in front of him. He looked into their eyes, his own unfathomable. What was it Chuck had said? Trust, patience, and example were the essentials to teaching. He took a breath.

"Good." They visibly relaxed. "You can eat the nuts from a pine cone and you can eat acorns if you prepare them right. These berries, though, will make you very sick." He popped one in his mouth.

"Let’s see what’s really here." With that, he proceeded to collect a lot of what they had never given a second glance. As he explained what he found and how it could be used, the class found themselves fascinated. His terse descriptions and hard manner only served to focus them on the essentials.

"I can’t eat bugs." This from Kitty.

"You will if you’re starving," came the reply.

After tramping around in the woods for what seemed like hours, listening, seeing, tasting, and touching, they were worn out. Their minds were trying desperately to grasp all the information when someone asked about homework.

"Homework? There are books, sure. Do homework if you like, if reading and writing helps you remember this stuff. Whatever it takes. Tests won’t be written, they’ll be practical." He shrugged and walked away.

Slowly they started to follow him. It took them a moment to realize that he had disappeared. The class looked in all directions but he wasn’t there. Not only that, they weren’t really sure which way would take them to the mansion.

Thirty minutes later, after arguing, racking their brains, and discussing gender thought-processing differences, they emerged at the edge of the wood, very close to the mansion.

"Congratulations. You passed round one."

The class wheeled as one. Logan stood there, behind them. Evidently he had followed them the whole time. Some were outraged. Some were actually proud of themselves. Marie was glad. She knew he would not just abandon them. She thought she saw that ghost of a wink again.

"See you Thursday. Outside. Don’t bring books." He passed them on his way to the mansion. Most of the kids sat there with their mouths open. Bobby thought to look at his watch. It was five o’clock.
---

That evening after dinner, the older kids met in Jubilee and Kitty’s room.

"Of all the nerve..." began Jubilee.

"Cut it out. You know you’re just mad because he got the better of us," said St. John.

"He could have had the better of us many times, I think," mused Remy.

"Where is he from, anyway?" Kitty looked at Marie. "You seem to know him better than anyone. You both came to the mansion at the same time."

"Well..." began Marie.

They all kept quiet. She was not as vocal about her past as the others. All everyone really knew was that the night Marie and Logan had first spent in the mansion, a commotion had happened in Logan’s room, her nightgown had been torn, he was out cold on the floor, which had something to do with her ability to absorb powers from others, and she had later run away. She came back a couple of days later with a bad attitude and thirst for fighting that kept them all on their toes for a few days. The teachers never explained if she had anything to do with their mission at that time and Logan left a few days later, leaving Marie with a dog tag-like necklace.

Marie wondered just how much she should tell, since both she and Logan were very private about their lives.

" Ah guess Ah’ll tell you the short version. Ah ran away from home when Ah found out Ah could hurt people just by touching them. Ah made it up to Canada and ended up in a bar." Should she tell them what he was doing? She licked her lips. "Logan was in a fight in that bar and Ah ran outside and hid in a trailer that was hooked to a pickup. It turned out to be his and he stopped down the road when he realized Ah was stowed away in his stuff."

"How did he know?"

"He has," she paused. "He has the ability to hear and smell better than any human, more like an animal."

"Maybe that’s why he’s so hairy, " Kitty giggled. Glares were shot her way.

"Go on, Rogue," said Bobby. Samuel and Remy nodded.

"He made me get out of the trailer, he started to drive off, and then changed his mind and let me ride with him in the cab of the truck. He gave me something to eat and we were talking when..."

"What?"

"We hit a tree that fell right in front of the truck and I was held in by my seatbelt, but he flew out the window and was thrown down the road."

"What!"

"Yes. Well, he got up and ..."

"Wait a minute, ‘chere. You don’t just get up after something like that."

"He heals really fast. Ah mean really fast. You can see it happen. This big huge guy attacked us and Ah couldn’t get out of the truck and Logan got hurt and well... we ended up here when Mr. Summers and Ms. Munroe rescued me from the truck before it exploded and flew us back here." There, that was the short version and she didn’t tell anything that she felt he wouldn’t have wanted her to.

They took a minute to digest this.

"Did he ever try to touch you? I mean your nightgown was torn that first night," Samuel had been wondering if Logan might have picked her up for a specific reason.

"We have really touched only twice. That night my gown was torn because he woke up from a nightmare, didn’t realize who Ah was, and stabbed me so Ah borrowed his healing power by touching his face. And then the second time he hugged me and touched my face to save my life when Ah was dying. He almost killed himself doing that."

They were silent for a moment, the indignity in her voice having warned them that she thought better of Logan than they did.

"He can’t be all that bad, then," said Kitty, her romantic mind racing over the possibilities of self-sacrifice.

"I don’t know. He still seems like a lunatic to me," Bobby muttered.

There were several nods of agreement.
---

Wednesday afternoon’s meeting in the staff break room traveled along the same lines.

"I have been sensing your discomfort about Logan teaching. I want to air this matter out and get it under control." Charles looked around the break room, meeting all eyes.

"Some of my students told me what happened on their first day. I don’t know what he’s up to, but he’s going to get them lost, or poisoned, or killed and I think we need to stress responsibility to him. I know this class is something you came up with, but..." began Scott.

"He is under my orders to expose them to this kind of information and these kinds of situations. And we know how good he is at following orders, especially if he sees what the results will be. Believe me, he is taking this very seriously and the children are in good hands. Next."

"I have never really met him, but have heard a great deal about him from you, Professor Xavier," said Hank. "I suppose that makes my opinion biased. I will say that some of my students have shown a greater appreciation of my teaching methods, though."

"He hates humans. Doesn’t that go against what you are trying to promote to these students? What if he infects them with that sort of dogma?" asked Ororo. She couldn’t forget the vehement lecture she had once received from Logan about the dangers of treating humans like ignorant children.

"He has good reason to hate humans, Ororo. But look at the ‘dogma’ he is supporting by being at this school. And you, Jean?"

"My students are confused and wonder about his sanity."

Scott snorted.

"We all wonder about our own at times, don’t we? I ask now that you reserve further judgment until you see his first ‘lesson’ to the younger children, which will be held on the lawn this Saturday and attended by everyone in the school." With that, he wheeled out of the room.
---

If Logan knew he was on trial, he did not show it. Saturday morning proved eye-opening for many. He had geared the lesson toward an intensive acceleration of the younger children’s natural ability to observe their surroundings and read the body language of others. He also took them on a miniature version of the ‘lost in the woods’ lesson he had taken the older kids on, with emphasis on hiding, survival, and simple ways to navigate through the woods. He showed no temper, never growled, and treated the children with patience, but let them know they needed to pay attention and they did. Their eyes and ears were on him at all times and it became a one-on one session, totally ignoring the others around them.

The other teachers were impressed with the focus he achieved from the children. They also noted that he treated them much differently than they did, not as a teacher to a student, but as a master to an apprentice. He expected nothing less than their undivided attention to a very serious subject and they delivered.

The older students also had a revelation. The lesson he had put them through had been much rougher, more like adult to adult. It dawned on them that he thought they could handle a whole lot more than they thought they could and that made them both proud and nervous. They knew Xavier had requested that Logan teach them how to survive. Now they knew that Logan was the perfect person for the job, but they wondered if something horrible was coming in the near future.
---

By the time next Saturday afternoon rolled around, Logan needed to work off some energy. He needed to rip something apart. Hadn’t he been good for two weeks now? Didn’t he deserve a good bloodletting? The problem was he couldn’t scoot off and go cage fighting. He couldn’t get away with punching someone here, either. Turning the corner he almost ran over Scott in his attempt to go outside for a run.

"Whoa!" Exclaimed the startled team leader. "Where’s the fire?"

Logan only growled and started to go around him.

"Hey, wait," said Scott. "You might be just the person I need." The professor had warned him that they needed to come up with some way of venting Logan’s aggressive nature and he had come up with what he thought was the perfect solution.

The expression on Logan’s face darkened. Scott quickly went on.

"The professor has had me install a new training device in the Danger Room. Would you test it out for me?"

"Why can’t you test it yourself?" But the animosity was only half-hearted. New training? He had already put himself against everything in the Danger Room section and was not challenged enough to go back.

Scott, sensing weakness, forged ahead. "It’s virtual reality training. My eyes have a hard time with it." He played his trump card by sighing and saying, "Maybe I can get Ororo to test it."

"S’okay. I’ll do it."

A few minutes later, Logan stood in the center of a 20-by-20 room with padding on the floor and walls. He was wearing some sort of body suit with sensors imbedded in it. The gloves on his hands also had sensors and a helmet was on the floor in front of him. Scott was in the control room at the ceiling level with a window that allowed him to look down on Logan.

"OK, the computer’s locked in all the sensors. Put the helmet on."

Logan reached down and picked it up. "What is the keypad on the wrist for?"

"That’s for entering in your opponent. I have downloaded several fighting styles and the known fighting skills of some of the Brotherhood. You can choose an imaginary opponent or a real one."

Logan began playing with the keypad.

"Hey!" Scott noticed that the opponent he picked was ‘Summers.’ "Just what do you think you’re doing?"

"Can it. You programmed the computer. It makes sense that you would go into more detail on your own skills. If you want this tested, we need to use the most information possible." Logan hoped that sounded logical as he put the helmet on.

Scott watched as Logan began to circle the room. "Don’t forget that every hit you receive is a point against your life. And whatever you do, don’t pop your claws, you’ll ruin the gloves."

Logan had a little trouble getting used to not feeling his fists deal out the blows the computer registered. He compensated and, in a few minutes, it was over.

Scott looked at the mangled mess that was left of him on the computer monitor. "Feel better?"

"This is harder than I thought it would be," admitted Logan.

"How so?"

"When I fight, I use all my senses. I can only use sight for this." He pushed up the helmet and looked at the keypad for a better test of his skills. "How come I’m not on here?"

"We don’t know that much about you. Want to try an imaginary opponent? Or a different fighting style? Weapons, maybe?"

Three hours later, Scott had to admit he was impressed. The computer indicated that Logan knew at least seven different fighting styles and had successfully defeated all opponents that had been conjured up. The biggest surprise had been the sword fighting, where Logan’s movements had been devastatingly lethal.

"Had enough for one day?"

Logan nodded. Really, he hadn’t. He had unleashed some energy, but had not had the satisfaction of ripping into a real adversary of flesh and blood. He was challenged by only using one sense instead of many, though, and considered the experiment worthwhile. At least he felt better. As he turned and reached up to take the helmet off, a sudden feeling of deja vu hit him. The room closed in and the feeling of being a lab rat in a horrible experiment flooded his brain. He quickly tore the helmet off and pushed his fighting instincts back down as he left the training area, unaware that the computer registered the whole event.
---

"Not one of us could go against him one-on-one and live." Two days had passed and Scott sat in Xavier’s office giving details. "According to the computer, no matter what we threw at him, he would eventually shake it off and win." Scott had tested the virtual reality trainer on Ororo, Jean, and Hank and pitted them against the information the computer had compiled on Logan, not letting them know who they were fighting. None of them survived.

"Interesting."

"Is that all you can say?"

"You seem to be worried by this information."

"Yes."

"I am, too. Only because it shows me that whoever took him apart and put him back together wanted to create just such a perfect killing machine. An unstoppable assassin, if you will. All that programming, medical experimentation, and testing invested in one person. Don’t you think they would eventually want their investment back?"

This hit Scott from left field. He was going to argue that Logan was a danger to them. Now he was confronted with the possibility that Logan may be in danger.
---

The end of the first of three six-week sessions of school was coming up fast. Major tests were involved and the students were studying like crazy. The older kids began looking forward to Logan’s classes. They were hard, but when they were over, they were over. Logan tested as they went. He had been true to his word about homework and practical exams. At least he would not be giving them a major test. At least, they hoped not. Logan noticed how well his students had been doing and had commented accordingly to Chuck, saying that the survival training should be either pass or fail, just like life. Charles agreed and even talked Logan into giving the kids a break on the last class of the six weeks.

"You mean we get a free lesson?"

Logan led them to the library. "I didn’t say that. I said that we will not be doing survival today, you can use this time to study for another test." He sat in a chair close to the entrance of the media room and picked up a book from the table beside it.

They stood there for a moment too stunned to speak.

"Well," Bobby ventured. "We could watch a few of the videos Ms. Munroe recommended for history class." They all agreed and trouped into the media room. Ms. Munroe’s tests were exceedingly hard and any amount of work they could do to pass them was a good thing.

Logan read until his eyes ached. He was still having sleepless nights, or worse, ones filled with nightmares. He drifted off in the chair.

They popped in the last movie. "She said to only watch the first few minutes. It shows just how horrible a battle in World War II could be."

The opening scenes of "Saving Private Ryan" came on screen. As the movie progressed, they were drawn into the battle on the beach and only became dimly aware that someone else had entered the room.

"Turn it off. This is terrible," exclaimed Jubilee and she reached back to turn the lights on in the room. She screamed.

They all turned around to discover Logan standing in the doorway. Only this wasn’t really Logan. His body stood there, nostrils flared, every muscle straining as if to try to break free of something. Sweat was pouring down his face and a low growl escaped his lips. It was his eyes that spooked them. Tears were running down his cheeks, but his look was vacant, like a dead person. Logan wasn’t there.

Quickly they stopped the movie. The muscles relaxed.

"Logan?" Marie stepped tentatively forward, glancing down quickly to make sure the claws weren’t out.

He blinked. She repeated his name. He blinked again and shuddered, as if tearing himself back into the present. He looked around and realized something had happened. He looked at their faces and smelled their fear. What in God’s name was going on?
------

to learn

Darkness outside and darkness inside, how fitting was that? He stood in one of the hallways, framed by a small patch of moonlight as he looked out over the lawn. Sleep was not something he wanted right now. He wondered just how long he could survive without it. Here he was trying to move on into the future and help these kids to survive; yet he was being dragged back into his nightmare of a past.

Chuck had said that trust, patience, and example were the essentials to teaching. Well, after he realized what must have happened and after he saw the look on their faces, he had sat them all down in the media room and had a talk with his students. It had hurt. He hadn’t shared anything with anyone until Marie had asked him if it hurt when the blades came out. She had been sitting in front of him, trusting that he would answer the unspoken questions in her eyes. How could he refuse those beautiful eyes? So he told them what he could remember and what he couldn’t. They had asked a few questions and he had given them as many answers as he could. He did not share the fragments of memories about the medical labs, the ones from his nightmares, with them. That would have been too much.

His instincts flared. Without moving, he growled, "What do you want?"

The wheelchair silently slid from the shadows and Charles joined him in the moonlight.

"It’s two am, Logan. Are you having trouble sleeping?"

"I could ask the same."

"Touché."

"Don’t beat around the bush."

Charles looked up at the troubled face beside him. No, he could not beat around the bush with Logan. This was one person who could *read* someone almost as easily as he could.

"All right, I won’t. I had an interesting office visit today. It seems a group of students are worried about their teacher. They asked me all sorts of questions and made me promise not to read their minds because they weren’t going to explain to me what had happened to cause such curiosity. Now, I am as good as my word, but I do think I need to know if something is wrong. You are one of my teachers. You are on my team. I consider you a friend and I want to know if there is anything I can do to help you."

Logan finally moved. He turned and sat on the window seat so that he was eye-to-eye with Xavier. They sat in silence for a few moments, Xavier allowing him time to think. When Logan held up a fist and popped his claws, Charles was taken aback. Scott’s words came into his mind and he realized he was alone with Logan, no one else was awake. He would have to protect himself with his mental abilities. As these thoughts raced through his mind, he realized Logan was simply watching him. And it dawned on him that he had failed the test. Sadness washed over him. It must have shown, for the claws were retracted.

"They were made for killing. You had every right to be afraid."

"I called you a friend and then I doubted you."

"You should. I can’t trust myself. I’ve been having the dreams so much I can’t get any rest and I fell asleep today when my class went in to watch some movies for Ororo’s test. I dreamed about a war. I thought I heard...someone called me and I woke up standing in the media room, all of them looking at me like I was going to kill them. Thank God I hadn’t popped my claws. I sat them down and told them about my amnesia and a little about what I’ve done since so they would at least know where I’m coming from. I don’t think you really need me to stay here, Chuck. I’m going out of my fuckin’ mind."

Two things hit Charles immediately: Logan had told the kids something he wouldn’t normally have told anyone and he was as much as asking permission to leave. He would have to feel his way carefully on this one.

"Logan, I need you. The kids need you. I am not going to release you from your promise to teach. I will, however, work with you and try to help you through this."

A low growl was the reply.

"I don’t mean rummage around in your head. I think we can solve this the old fashioned way, by talking."

"You’re asking a lot."

"I understand. You said you were dreaming about a war. Have the dreams at night been about war, too?"

"No. The ones at night are mostly about....the lab...and stabbing M..Rogue."

"Rogue? You mean when...?"

"Yeah."

"How do you feel about her?"

"Next subject." The voice left no room for argument.

Charles took a breath. A thought was beginning to occur to him, but he would delve into it later. "What about this ‘daymare’? Do you remember anything specific about the war?"

"Not really. There were dying people all around me. The smell of blood and the screaming is what I remember mostly. There was..." Logan paused. A faint, wry grin twisted his mouth slightly. "There was one other thing but I don’t know what to make of it other than it was a dream. I saw some guy wearing a blue mask and carrying a bull’s-eye. It was hard, kind of like a shield. He was bleeding. That’s all I remember." He looked at Charles and was surprised to see a very serious look on his face. "What?"

"I don’t know. Logan, I’ll get back to you on this. You may have just given me another clue to help track down your past, but I... Just don’t give up on yourself. You aren’t losing your mind. If anything, your mind might be trying to get back to you after being lost for so long. Remember, you are going to teach those children to survive so I need you to survive, too. Stay with me on this." He turned and began to make his way down the hall, the wheels making very little sound as he went. As he turned the corner, he said in a low voice that he knew Logan would hear, "Good night. Get some rest."

Logan stood and looked out over the lawn one last time. He sighed and silently made his way back to bed.
---

"Remember the plan," said Samuel.

"How could we forget? We all came up with it," retorted Remy.

"Guys, shut up!" Jubilee hissed at them as they made their way to the study hall. "Don’t forget his hearing!"

Bobby looked over at Rogue. She had been the deciding factor. After the incident at the media room, they had met in Kitty and Jubilee’s room to discuss Logan. She had told them about the dog tag, Logan’s nightmares, how he talked her out of running away and why, and how he had lived out of a truck, fighting for money in Canada.

It had occurred to them that they had memories of family and friends, knew who they were, and had this school as their haven where teachers looked after them and they had each other. Remy and Samuel had been the most sympathetic, both having to grow up quickly and fend for themselves, Remy in the streets of New Orleans and Samuel in the coal mines of Tennessee, until the professor picked them up. They had all decided to try to find out clues and help Logan get some of his memory back.

Their first stop had been the professor, where they learned that Logan had possibly been in the Canadian military, but he was not sure when or how long he had served. All the other teachers had been helpful but could not add much information. It seemed Logan did not share his private life. This only made the students more determined, knowing that Logan had told them some things that he had never told anyone else.

Now the plan was to use Logan as the source of information, but unknowingly. The professor had told them that clues to a person’s past could be found in how they talked, what they knew, how they did simple tasks, how they felt about things, whether they said phrases unknowingly, etc. They were now going to learn everything that Logan taught them with a new twist: they were going to turn all these wonderful lessons they had been taught in observation and detection on Logan himself.

As Logan entered the study hall to take them out for a lesson, Marie found herself studying him intently. He moved like a great big cat, all the metal in him not slowing him down or interfering with his movements. Her assignment had been to see if he showed any physical signs as to how long he had been in the military, or had any mannerisms that could be clues. She shuddered as the memory she could not get rid of surfaced. She knew how the metal had been put into him. She had not shared this information with her friends. They did not know about it or the claws. For some reason, she felt this was not the right time to tell them. Perhaps Logan should do the telling when it came to those subjects.
---

During the next several lessons, Remy managed to ask about or comment on certain big cities to see if Logan had ever been to them. Bobby received some feedback on literature in the guise of getting advice on an English paper. Kitty’s musical detection found that Logan had a good ear for music and singing but could not play any instruments. She did not know if he could sing, yet. Samuel found that Logan knew a lot about the geographical terrain in western North America, eastern North America, northern and central Europe and eastern Asia. Either he would not comment on southern Europe and the Middle East, or he did not know much about them.

Jubilee had the biggest breakthrough, though, and it happened by accident. As they were ending a survival lesson on the edge of the Mojave Desert, they happened upon an old Native American who said something to Logan as they passed. Logan and the old man had a short conversation and the students later asked Logan what he had said. Logan looked confused and asked why ask him, since they had been standing right there. What Logan didn’t seem to realize was that the old man had not been speaking English and Logan’s replies had not been in English, either.

Jubilee did her homework and found that the language had been Navajo. That led her to test the theory that Logan might know more languages. Once or twice during a class, she would inadvertently slip in a phrase or two of a foreign language to see if Logan would respond. Sometimes he would cock an eyebrow at her and make her focus back on the lesson. Sometimes, though, if she caught him just right, he would actually respond. Foreign movies were sometimes played when Logan was around to see if he would react to them. So far, she had found that he was possibly fluent in French, German, and Japanese, and could understand some Italian and Spanish.

Logan, for his part, thought something was up but decided to pretend it was his imagination. After all, no one really gave a damn about him, did they? But he was going to give a damn about these kids. Their lessons intensified. He took them into big cities and taught them survival on a whole different level. He took them out into the country and had them do down and dirty machine repairs with whatever they had on hand. They learned to pick locks and break into and out of places of high security. His knowledge on this subject impressed even Remy. Marie finally gained an insight into who might have put the flowers in her bathroom and blushed happily, for some reason.
---

"I need your help."

Logan cut his eyes to the right and took Ororo into his peripheral vision. He grunted.

She had drunk one beer in preparation for asking help from Logan. She was at a dance and was not dancing. Not that the teachers were required to, but she wanted to, very much.

The study hall/cafeteria had been transformed into a dance floor decorated by the combined efforts of Kitty and Jubilee. Xavier liked to give the children opportunities to release some tension and take a break from studies every now and then. The lights were kept low, except for the ones highlighting the action in the middle of the room, where the kids were trying out the latest dance steps and enjoying a physical release from the books.

She turned to him. "I need to know if you can dance."

"Ask Scott."

"Taken."

"Ask Hank."

"No."

"No?"

"No."

"Ah."

"Just what do you mean by that? I came over here to see if you could dance and here you are insulting me."

"I didn’t say anything. But you asked for my help, which means you have a plan." He snorted softly.

"I do." She paused. "OK. Here’s the deal. I grew up in Africa and have rhythm in my bones. I need to know if there is one man here who could keep up with me on the dance floor and let me enjoy myself."

"Not good enough."

"What do you mean?"

"You aren’t the type to let not having a man keep you from doing anything."

She blushed. "Would you believe me if I told you that I want to make Hank jealous?"

"Yes."

"So, will you help me?"

He hesitated. Did he really care? Yes, he knew what it was like to want someone. At least she was doing something about it. He could respect that. Maybe he could help her, but did he know how to dance? A thought struck him. "I’ll be right back."

He went over to Scott, who was playing deejay in leu of lack of talent. He made a request that caused Scott’s eyebrows to rise alarmingly, but he nodded and shuffled through the CDs to find the music. At the end of the last song, there was a long pause in the music, which the kids took for a snack break so the dance floor cleared.

Logan grabbed Ororo’s hand and dragged her, somewhat stunned, into the middle of the room.

"There’s only one way to find out if I can dance."

"What!?" she cried. "You mean you don’t know?"

The pulsing throb of a fast-paced big band swing filled the room. Logan closed his eyes and let the music course through him. Ororo’s face was flushed with embarrassment when he opened them. As the music pulsed in a wonderful jitterbug beat, he found himself moving and dancing, pulling Ororo into an intricate and primeval series of steps.

Ororo found herself barely keeping up. The jitterbug was not a dance she was completely familiar with, but the way Logan was dancing it made it seem like the most natural thing on earth. Man, could he dance. She threw herself into the rhythms and blessed fate for making her take a chance on him. This was exactly what she needed.

Hank’s jaw, along with everyone else’s, dropped. Wow. He felt like he was watching poetry in motion. Sensual, sexual poetry that flowed and moved like dancing moonlight. Stunned, he began to see that there was more to Ororo than met the eye and he found himself wondering if Logan could teach him to dance like that.

Marie was fervently wishing she was in his arms, before she took a closer look. She was watching Logan’s face as well as the dance and realized that he was enjoying dancing but still had a somewhat somber expression; as if he knew what he was doing wasn’t for real. She saw Ororo glance away from Logan for a second, over her shoulder, and Marie looked in that direction, too. Then she knew. Logan was dancing with Ms. Munroe so she could get professor McCoy’s attention. There was nothing to this. For all the power and grace, and God was he graceful, displayed between them, he was being used and he knew it. She felt her face burn. She wished again to be in his arms, but now for a different reason.

The music ended and everyone clapped their appreciation for such a wonderful demonstration. Hank went to Ororo’s side to congratulate her. The hook having been snatched up, Ororo and her prey began discussing things, other than teaching, for the first time in weeks.

Logan slowly went over and picked up a plastic cup full of punch, which he drained and threw away. The music started up again and couples rushed to the floor, eager to try out some of the moves they had just seen. He looked around and saw Marie standing near the wall. Come to think of it, he had not seen her dance more than twice. He smelled Jean’s approach and braced himself.

"Smooth," she commented.

"What?"

"Ororo. Look at him eating out of her hand."

He turned to Jean. That feeling hit him again that he knew her from somewhere and he found himself drawn to her involuntarily. Physically, he did not move. "She usually that crafty?"

"No. She’s smitten."

He grunted a response.

She looked at him. Something was up, she could sense it, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. "Want to dance?"

"What about Scott?"

"The best he can manage is a slow dance."

Something clicked in his brain. He walked over to Scott, who had been keeping an eye on him since Jean’s approach.

"I have another request."

"You can’t dance with her."

"I can dance with anyone I damn well please. You want to stop being a dick and listen?"

He laid out his request. Scott stopped frowning and grinned.

A few moments later, Logan came up behind Marie and cleared his throat. "Want to dance?"

Dumbfounded, Marie nodded and held out her hand. She realized he was wearing gloves. At her puzzled expression, he replied, "So you don’t have to." She slipped hers off and tucked them into her belt. The slow, soulful music and song of "Feels Like a Woman," by Zucchero filled the room. She let him lead her on an intertwined tour of the dance floor, listening to the words of the song as tears filled her eyes.

I done swear then, begging her to stay with me.

She smiled up at him and he whispered, "You should dance more often if it makes you this happy." Her throat was too tight to respond so she just nodded. She glanced over and saw Mr. Summers and Dr. Grey slowly circling the room. She sighed and dreamed of being a couple, too, with Logan. What had been a bummer evening was turning into a wonderful night.
---

"This is where you take your final exam."

They looked around, taking in the Pacific coast beach, the rugged rocks and cliffs, and the deserted atmosphere. Sixteen weeks of survival training had them all assessing possible shelters, food sources, and escapes in an offhand way.

"We are on our own this time, no?" asked Remy.

"Yes. I’m only here long enough to make sure the shelters are adequate for a small storm. You have your instructions and you know where the rendezvous point is. That’s a French word, Jubilee."

She blushed and they all grinned. Logan had finally caught on to the subterfuge and had been impressed by all they had learned about him. The kids had discovered, as Marie already knew, that Logan had a wicked sense of humor and a deadpan delivery that, once you knew him, made him kind of fun to be around.

A rumble came to his ears. "All right, the rain is coming faster than expected. Get to it."

A beach could be a dangerous place in a storm, they now knew, and they flew to their tasks. Out of habit and training, each person had developed a certain knack for a particular task and practice had made them incredibly fast. The camp was up in no time.

Logan surveyed it with pride. They had really come through this course with flying colors. It looked shabby, almost blending in with the surrounding cliffs, but he could tell it would protect them well and not call attention to itself. A loud crack sounded close-by and Logan frowned. This was not supposed to be a big storm. Maybe he should stay. Then reason intervened and he remembered he was a danger to be around if the storm took a turn for the worse. Looking up, he realized it had. The afternoon sky darkened and cloud lightning could be seen flitting from one place to another. Dammit, Ororo, your forecast was off by a mile.

"Get under cover, now!" The wind whipped his words away, but they could tell what he meant and dove for shelter. A funny feeling washed over him and the hair on the back of his neck started to prickle. Quickly he shucked his boots and tore off his leather jacket, throwing them in the direction of the camp. Puzzled faces stared at him.

"Stay!" he yelled. "Don’t follow!" With that he ran down the beach, away from the kids, as fast as he could. Would he make it? The air crackled as raindrops began to pelt him. He had to. It hit him just as he cleared a large rock in his way. His world dissolved into a great ball of whiteness as fire coursed down his bones and the smell of burning flesh smacked him in the face. He crashed into pain and oblivion.
---

How long would she sit here? As long as it took, of course. The stars were beautiful overhead, but her attention was on the figure in front of her. She and the others had come in this direction after the storm was over. They had seen lightning hit over here at least three times and she had a good idea what its target was. When they found him, the charred skin on his back was still healing and all of them could see the glint of metal bones beneath the damaged muscles. That had shocked them and Marie could see that they might not face this well. She had told them to find something to eat while she watched over him and they had left, pondering over the sight. His back had healed and now it was dark. Marie sighed.

Logan sat up quickly. Marie let out a yelp and flicked on her flashlight. She found herself looking into those wonderful eyes again. She lost herself in their depths before she blushed and turned the light down and out of his eyes.

He took in the sight of her, watching over him, of all things. He began to dust off the sand on his face and chest, shedding what was left of his shirt. "Marie, how long have I been out?"

"Ah don’t really know, Logan. The others are getting some supper together. You probably could use something, seeing what you’ve just been through. You should know that we all came looking for you and your back wasn’t completely healed. They saw the metal."

They stood and she offered an arm. He thought about shrugging her off, but couldn’t resist the temptation and ended up putting his arm around her shoulders. She felt the heat, even through her sweater and gloves. On such a cold night, he would be a great asset. They approached the camp.

"How did you know about the metal?"

"When Ah touch, Ah absorb more than just someone’s abilities and personality. Ah also take in their memories and thoughts. Not many people know."

"Then you know how they put the metal…" He broke off when she nodded mutely. He flinched. That meant she knew all the worst in his life. If he had known, would he still have touched her to save her life? He looked down at her soft hair, pretty face, and big brown eyes. Of course, dummy.

"I’m sorry to put you through that, Marie. I never meant to hurt you." A thought struck him. "I guess you know why I touched you that last time."

"The professor helped me get rid of most of the memories of people Ah have touched. That’s one of the few memories Ah kept. On purpose." She smiled up at him.

He pulled her in tighter to him. "Thanks."

"You’re welcome."
---

Their final exam turned out to be much worse than they expected. On a lonely beach, lit by the flickering light of a fire, Logan told them everything. He even shot his claws out so they could see the extent of what had been done to him. He was a killing machine, he explained, created to destroy. Only the final programming had hit some sort of glitch and he had escaped. True, he didn’t have his memories, but he also wasn’t being used to kill others, possibly mutants, against his will. Some of them wanted to throw up. Others could not grasp the magnitude of the cruelty and sat there numbly. Logan explained to them that the professor was right about humans, for the most part, but that the whole purpose of the survival training was to keep them out of the hands of humans who thought nothing of using mutants for their own ends and or killing them outright.

Their eyes were opened to the real world and they realized they had to deal with it. They’d all decided to give humans a chance for the professor’s sake, but cautiously, reserving judgment and anger until really knowing what kind of human they were dealing with at any given time. Seeing what had been done to Logan only made them wonder why he didn’t go out and hunt every human down.

"I think I already killed the ones who did this," he replied when asked. "If any of them are still alive, maybe I made them think twice about doing it to someone else."
------

yes

A low growl sounded behind him. Scott whirled, his hand reaching for the side of his visor. Seeing Logan, he lowered his arm, puzzled. "What?"

"You didn’t tell me my vital signs were being recorded. What else did you record?" Logan’s tone was low and menacing.

Dumbfounded, Scott thought hard. Oh, the Danger Room session. He relaxed. "It was something Jean wanted built into the programming. She said it was for safety, in case someone started to have a heart attack. The computer is programmed to stop the session if someone’s vitals go haywire. All the info goes to Jean so she can keep track of everyone’s fitness. Why? You wouldn’t show anything." He frowned. "Didn’t you get hit by lightning last night?"

"So the medical data goes straight to Jean?" The growl was still there.

"Yes. What’s your problem?"

"Nothing." Logan relaxed slightly. Jean had checked him over at Chuck’s insistence after finding out about the beach incident. She had hit him with the readouts from the virtual reality session, asking him about the spike in his vitals at the end of the session, when the computer showed he wasn’t fighting. He had denied knowing anything and had come to Scott in the hanger, intending to work him over for using him as a lab rat.

The intercom behind Scott beeped.

"Yes?" asked Scott.

"Scott, this is Xavier. Is Logan with you?"

Scott smiled. The Professor was just being polite, as he already knew where Logan was. "He’s here."

"Ask him to come to my office, please. Thank you."

Scott turned and, biting off the grin, asked, "Logan, would you go to Professor Xavier’s office, please?"

"Dick."
---

Logan entered Chuck’s office, not bothering to knock. He stopped when he smelled the other man in the room. The large, muscular man, who sat opposite Chuck, turned as Logan closed the door. His scent was familiar in a far-off way, like a dream.

"You rang?"

"Logan, please sit down. This is Steven Rogers. Steven, this is Logan."

Steven looked at Logan and looked back at Xavier. "I don’t know. To tell you the truth, I would have to say I’ve never met him."

Logan bristled. "Listen, bub..."

"Relax, Logan. I’m trying an experiment. Please put this on." he handed Logan an old army helmet.

"Not today, Chuck. I’ve had it with experiments."

"Please."

He sighed. Grabbing the helmet he rammed it on his head, slightly askew. "Happy, now? Can I go?" He jerked a cigar out of his pocket and clamped it in his teeth, knowing Chuck didn’t like smoking around the kids. "See ya," he growled. He glanced at the man in the other chair and was surprised to see him going pale. So pale that for a moment Logan thought he would faint.

"Oh my God. It’s him." Steven looked over at Xavier. "But how?"

"Would somebody tell me what the f..."

"Logan, Steven is the product of a genetic experiment. He entered a war as a super-soldier under the code name of Captain America. To protect his identity, he wore a blue mask and uniform and carried a shield in the shape of a bull’s eye for protection. He met you during that war. Correct, Steven?"

"Correct," Steven whispered. "He saved my life. I know how I survived this long, but how did you? How did he?" The last question was directed at Xavier.

"What do you mean, ‘survived this long’?" Logan didn’t like the direction this was taking. "Just what war are we talking about, Chuck?"

"World War II."

Now it was Logan’s turn to go pale.
---

An hour later, Logan sat under the big oak at the back edge of the mansion grounds. The cigar clamped in his teeth was still unlit. The news had hit him like a ton of bricks.

Rogers had explained that he was wounded in an accident, and had been unable to get to his shield to take out the sniper fire that had him pinned. Logan, working point for his company had come across the situation and had taken out the snipers. When Logan pointed out that that could have been anyone, Rogers pointed out the reasons why he remembered him. One, Logan had been unaware that Rogers had seen him take several hits and miraculously keep going. Two, Rogers had seen at least two of the bullet holes, but when Logan came back and offered him a canteen, he saw no evidence of the wounds. Three, when his company had joined him and Rogers had told of Logan’s heroics, the company commander had chuckled and said that Logan led a charmed life, never getting sick or hurt and it wasn’t because he didn’t put himself in harm’s way. He had also mentioned that Logan spoke Navajo almost as well as the company’s code talker, which was unusual. Four, Logan’s parting words had been "See ya, bub," as he had put a cigar in his mouth.

Logan absently chewed on his cigar. He had challenged Rogers by stating that World War II was a long time ago and how come they both were so young for veterans of such an old war. Then Rogers had told him how he had been frozen in the arctic for five decades and had only recently been brought back to life. World War II, for him, was like yesterday.

Leaning back on the tree, Logan did the math. Rogers had been born in the depression, so there was every possibility that he had been born at least that far back as well. That meant anyone who knew him was either dead, too old to believe their eyes, or one of those damned scientists. He could be eighty years old for all he knew. His mind raced. What if he was even older than that? Just how much of a past had he lost? Mentally, he slapped himself. There was no way of knowing, so he couldn’t worry about it now.

He looked over at the mansion and closed his eyes. Did that mean he would live another eighty years looking like this? Never getting older? He would watch the kids in his class grow old and die. Damn. What kind of a curse was his mutation anyway? How could he bear to watch Marie die of old age?

He heard footsteps and smelled the very subject of his thoughts.

"Logan?"

He opened his eyes and drank in the sight of her. What was he going to do about his feelings for her? She was so young and had her whole life ahead of her. Come to think of it, he had a whole lifetime ahead of him, too. Would she ever see him the way he saw her, though?

She looked him over, his incredible form sprawled in the dappled shade of the tree. "You about done here? Ah’m supposed to bring you back to the library."

He frowned. "Why?"

"Ah’m not supposed to tell you. You’re not the type to spoil surprises, now are you?"

"I don’t usually like surprises, kid," he growled.

She put her hands on her hips and pinned him with the *look*. He sighed and stood, knowing he could not resist that pout.

The trip to the library was made in silence. He ushered her in first and walked in behind. A group of kids waited in front of a table, effectively blocking it from his sight. The teachers and Chuck were there, too. The smell of the cake and punch hit him as they all yelled, "Happy birthday, Logan!" He was stunned.
---

Ten minutes later, Chuck pulled him aside. "This was the children’s idea, you know. They reasoned that you have not had a birthday party in at least sixteen years and felt that you deserved one." He looked up into Logan’s troubled face and lowered his voice. "How are you?"

"How do you think?"

"I think you are a very courageous person to have been through what you have and still keep going. Don’t tell me you are going to let this latest information defeat you."

Logan’s eyes narrowed. "Don’t play shrink with me, Chuck."

Xavier smiled. "I wouldn’t dream of it. But do me a favor and look around this room."

Logan took a good hard look and realized what Chuck meant. Had he finally found a place where he could stay, where people really did give a crap about him? Those kids did and they knew the worst. He found Marie with his eyes. Maybe he could hang around a little while longer.

"You’d better find a good punching bag I can rip up every now and then or I’ll get awfully touchy. You know how crabby us old men get."

Xavier grinned as Logan walked away.

Marie looked into his eyes as Logan approached. He seemed happier than he had been outside. "Are you ok, sugar?"

He stopped dead. What had she called him? Two could play at that game. "Fine, darlin’."

She blinked, then grinned. "Are you still going to stick around even though the semester’s over?"

"Do you need someone to watch over you or something?"

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes."

Her hands went to her hips and the pout reappeared. "Yes, what?"

"Yes ma’am, darlin’."

End