Afterlife

Author: The Scribe2

Rating: M for brief language

Summary: Ficlet. Post First Movie – 2 years after Ororo's death the cure has been discovered and Logan has taken it, but is it too late for a normal life? RoLo in a way.

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone. Thanks for letting me borrow them.

A/N: This ficlet is a sequel to a story I haven't finished or posted yet, but I thought it made a really good stand alone as well.

Logan's hand had trembled the day he'd held the gun in his mouth. A cure…a goddamned cure! Coming 62 years too late. He could have lived with his wife and died with her, but instead he'd had the agonizing pleasure of watching her age and die slowly over the span of years. He had taken the cure the day he held the gun. With tears pooling in his eyes he had recalled his daughter pleading with him years ago to reveal a way that she could end her life when the pain of the world had become too much for her. He had thought it weak and stupid at the time. But on that day with the gun, he understood.

Two years without Ororo had been unbearable. But the government had supplied a blessed release in the form of a shot. He could die now, just like every other man. But with the loss of his mutation seemed to come the loss of his courage, because he was too chicken shit to pull the trigger.

On that day… the cure day…the gun day, he had informed everyone he knew that he would live out the rest of his life using his real name. "Logan", he explained, had died with Ororo. But as he immerged from his bedroom, casting the gun aside and making his way downstairs to rejoin the living something amazing happened. Her saw her…

The new girl, as she was a girl to Logan, could only be in her late twenties. She was beautiful, with a brilliant smile and a ready laugh, just like…Her hair was dark, but it was long and she liked to swing it playfully, he would observe later. Her skin was a warm brown, a shade or two darker than…Her eyes were hazel and they lit up her whole face.

Since that day, Logan had watched her, secretly, silently. He appointed himself her protector, whether she needed one or not, even when he remembered he had no power to protect her with. He still had adamantium, but no claws. As he watched over her he saw all the young bucks approach her. All were shot down one by one. Then one day as he was helping her in defense class, which his son Charlie now led, his hands had lingered a little too long on her waist. She had looked up at him, her mouth tilting up and the look in those golden eyes had been pure heaven.

Now weeks later at the annual picnic, father and son sat regarding the pretty African American woman with the power to heal.

"She reminds you of Mom," Charlie stated.

"Yeah…a little." Logan paused. "You realize she's younger than my grandchildren."

"Special rules for special people, Dad. You're not going to find a 300 year old woman to settle down with. Just go for it."

Logan raised a brow at him. "You're not interested?"

Charlie gave a little laugh. "No. I'm like you. You're looking for Mom and I'm looking for Jenny." A look of sadness swept over the younger man's face at the remembrance of his wife which he had lost to breast cancer the year before.

Logan held up his beer bottle. "Here's to 'Ro and Jen." With a small smile his son clinked his own bottle to it. Logan took a long drink then said, "I'm going in," and handed the bottle to Charlie.

"Go get her, Wolverine," Charlie encouraged.

Logan chuckled but then sobered when he approached the lovely girl. She was sitting on the swing that used to belong to his children and seemed lost in thought. "Want a push," he asked.

She jumped. "Oh, I didn't see you walk up." With a smile she continued, "I don't need a push but I'd like some company.

With a casual nod he sat down on the grass next to her. "Simone, right?"

"Yes. I didn't catch yours, though."

"It's James. James Howlette."

A/N – Review and let me know what you think. Feedback is very inspiring.