DISCLOSURE:

I do not own, nor do I claim to own, the X-Men series or their characters. This story is not written with the intent of monetary gain, and is in no way related to or supported by Marvel, Twentieth Century Fox, and/or any other individuals with the legal right to claim any trademarked or copyrighted X-Men material. The only material I expressly own is my adaptation of the plot.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Dear Reader,

This is the first time in a long time – and I am talking years – since I have delved into the world of fan fiction. The X-Men series is the first fictional material since my Harry Potter days to inspire me to expand upon its plot. While I hope that you find my work to be entertaining and fairly accurate (I do intend to give myself some amount of creative license), I welcome your reviews to tell me how you feel about my writing, good AND bad. As far as I am concerned, writing such as this is always a work in progress. Just because I have posted a chapter does not mean that I will not go back and edit it. If you feel there are changes that should be made to develop the story, I encourage you to suggest them. While I have the maintain the right to leave my work unchanged, I will read and consider any ideas and comments you send my way – and believe me, I will appreciate it all.

That said, welcome to my continuance of the X-Men story post-"The Last Stand" era! Enjoy it to the fullest!

CHAPTER ONE

HOMECOMING

The one thing Marie felt she still had to be proud of after receiving "the cure" was her curiously strong sense of hearing. In the unlikely event that someone meant her ill harm, this was a useful trait to have; at all other times, she could count on waking up several times per night to the sound of a distant owl hooting, to the wind whispering through the trees, to even the pattering paws of the smallest mouse through the kitchen three rooms down the hall.

However, on this night, she was glad to have been woken.

Glancing at the full moon outside, she judged the time to be about 3 in the morning, and she could hear an approaching motor. She continued to lay in bed, waiting to hear the motor continue down the interstate, which was a good two-and-a-half miles away. Curiously, the sound of the motor continued to grow steadily and rather quickly for the average person to be driving. Marie gathered that the approaching motor belonged to a motorcycle – and while specifications were lost on her, it did sound somehow familiar. Whoever was riding it was in a hurry to reach the school.

She slipped out of bed. To peer out her window would be pointless; her bedroom faced west, and the front of the building pointed north. Tugging on a navy terry-cloth robe, she opened the door without making a sound and walked barefoot down the corridor in the direction of the foyer. As she reached the overlarge front door, she heard the motorcycle come to a halt and the engine cough once before shutting off, returning the night to its nearly perfect silence. A moment later, the sound of gravel shifting and making way for the rolling tires, in addition now to what sounded like large boots, reached Marie's ears. The sound was due east, towards the garage that housed all of the exotic cars. Powers or no, she needed to investigate. She picked up a smallish lamp with a decent weight, ripped out the power cord, and stepped outside.

She caught a glimpse of a large figure walking his cycle into the garage before he rounded the corner. He was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to notice Marie, and that suited her fine. She believed it to be in her best interest to have the element of surprise on her side; after all, she knew better than anyone that there were far worse threats in the world than an ordinary lamp. Tamping down her fears, she followed silent as a fox. Approaching the open door to the garage quietly as she could, she readied her weapon, wishing she had been exercising a little more frequently. She stepped inside and looked right, finding nothing. Before she could even quarter-turn, one large arm wrapped around her waist as another simultaneously clamped her mouth shut with a broad hand. Her scream bottled up in her throat, and she was rendered powerless and terrified, the lamp shattering on the concrete floor.

There was a pause as her captor considered the situation, somewhat bewildered. He focused most on the white streak in her ebony hair. Then –

"Kid?"

Marie's body went rigid momentarily, and then she thrashed like a fish out of water to be free.

"Hey, hey!" the man cried out. "Easy! Would ya cut it out, for God's sake, it's me, Logan !"

She turned to see him and stared, disbelieving.

"Logan? Gosh darn you, Logan, what in Heaven's name…"

Logan chuckled at this and released his grip on her. "Ain't never done nothin' in Heaven's name, darlin'. You must have me confused with someone else." He turned back away to finish tending his motorcycle. As he shoved the keys into his pocket and pulled a cover over the bike, Marie stood in shock. She crossed her arms then, and dipped her eyebrows into a glare.

"And just what in the hell do you mean by showing up here on that thing in the middle of the night?" she demanded. He slid his leather gloves off and tossed them onto the bike. He spoke again, giving her a sidelong glance.

"What? Not glad to see me?"

Marie faltered at this. She was glad to see him; she was not happy to have been snuck up on, be it Logan or anyone else. Grasping for words, she finally said, "Yes, Logan. I'm glad to see you." He responded with a grin. Turning to face her fully, he turned all-business.

"Things have changed."

"Of course things have changed, Logan," sighed Marie. "Everything has changed. Most people think for the better. In the sense that there is less danger, I can't help but agree. But even though the school as gotten bigger, it's still felt… empty, to me. Somehow." Logan's jaw tightened, as did the tension in the pitch-dark garage. Marie switched gears instantly. "There's still plenty of food, though, that much hasn't changed. You always did seem like you were starving, do you want something to eat? I'm not a real good cook but I can try to fix something up, if you're hungry…" Marie fell into silence, sensing that she had said too much already. The losses of the Professor, Scott, Jean… They had taken their toll on everyone at the school, all of the X-Men, most of the mutants in the world. But the loss that everyone else felt paled in comparison to the way Logan must have felt, must still feel. To have watched Jean die, to have been the one faced with the responsibility of doing the unthinkable… It was unimaginable to Marie.

"Sure, kid," Logan growled, heading towards the manor, his eyes downcast. "Sure."

After taking several steps to the manor alone, he turned, almost grudgingly. "Well," he said, "you weren't plannin' on cooking in there, were ya?" As Marie watched him evenly, he jerked his head towards the safehouse before turning and resuming his pace. Pursing her lips and wishing she could have started that whole conversation over, she followed.