AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is an alternate universe, a world in which mutant concentration camps have taken place, and they are fighting to survive. Laura and Julian and everyone is in their late 20's here. Also, Laura is an AU version that I occasionally write, her base traits being intact, but with some noticeable differences. The "baby" referenced here is Hope. The setting is inspired by the Messiah Complex storyline that took place in the X-men comics years ago. Hope some enjoy! :)

CHAPTER 1

This Seat Taken?

Laura gazed blearily at the aged wooden countertop of the bar, visible between her elbows. She was on her fifth absinthe for the evening, and things weren't even getting fuzzy yet. They needed to get fuzzy, soon. Or she wasn't sure what she would do.

Earlier tonight, she and Nori and Ruth had been consulting with Irene Adler, otherwise known as Destiny, about the future baby. The one Irene had called "the messiah." More than once. They were trying to get more details, such as when she had, or would, be born, and where, which was tough given that Irene was partially senile. But then Magneto's groupies showed up. They called themselves the Acolytes. She and Nori had a few other names for them.

Normally, their appearance wouldn't have been a problem. The Acolytes weren't very competent, and usually the X team walked away the victors of whatever squabble they started. Except somehow, they seemed to have recruit a new member. A telekinetic. Laura had no idea where he'd come from, since all the telekinetics were supposed to be dead now. But he had crashed through the roof with the others tonight. He smirked and said "That's her, right?!" and thenproceeded to slam Laura around the room with his mind, pausing only to screw up Nori's fight with Mercury. When Laura had seized the opportunity and tried to eviscerate him, he had made a flicking motion with his metal finger, and she had been sent through the wall. And the next three buildings.

She hadn't stood a chance. They had lost, and now the Acolytes had Adler. Which meant they were now a step ahead.

Laura slumped her face into her folded arms, her eyes squeezed shut as she wallowed in her shame and misery. She was dimly aware of the door in the background. It was a pretty noisy night, with two groups playing pool, a party in a corner booth, and a bunch of randoms crowding around the tables and the bars.

Logan would be so disappointed if he knew how badly she'd failed. He probably had a whole slew of tricks up his sleeve for dealing with telekinetics. And he'd have figured all those tricks outby himself. Why couldn't she just think like him? Even with all her training, she would never be good enough for the mantle. She was just a poor excuse.

Yep, she needed more. She raised her head and held up her fingers to flag down the bartender, but he rushed by her, too busy to notice.

A scent drifted under her nose, and she stiffened. She knew that smell.

"This seat taken?"

She whirled around on her stool, her hand forming a fist, her lip curling. "You."

The telekinetic shrugged. He was wearing jeans and one of those dumb "Magneto Was Right" t-shirts now, but she would recognize him even without her enhanced senses, given that he was stupid enough not to conceal his face when they had fought earlier. He was also wearing the same leather jacket, his metal hands shoved deeply into the pockets.

"…" Laura closed her eyes, took a breath. She should kill him, right here, right now. But she liked this bar a lot. A lot. They were the only ones within a reasonable distance of HQ and that had been willing to serve her more than one absinthe. Which was the only beverage that had any effect on her anymore, since she had officially graduated from tequila school after drinking an entire bottle and getting only a twenty-minute buzz.

And although this was a pretty legitimate shithole, she would probably get banned if she straight up murdered someone in front of forty-six witnesses. Forty-eight, since a couple had just walked in. Wait, no, forty-six—they were really high right now. She could smell two different kinds of drugs.

But she could fight him, at least. Maybe a good bar fight would make her feel better, anyway. Yeah. She slid off her stool and made to swing her fist at his face, hard. Except she followed her fist with her entire body, and was heading straight for the gross looking floor.

The telekinetic caught her by the elbows, raising his eyebrows. "You alright there?"

Laura tried to tell him to fuck off. It came out as a garbled string of letters, and possibly some numbers. She closed her eyes. Her head was spinning. Then—"Hyurrk!"

"What the—" he pushed her away. "Ugh."

She finished vomiting, then wiped her arm over her mouth, glaring at him. Good. She hoped she had hit him. He deserved nothing less. Well, maybe a gut full of her claws. Yeah. "You. 'N me. 'N…out…out room…out…of door?"

"…" He grimaced. "Someone's lit."

"You know her?" the bartender asked, leaning over the counter.

"Uh." The telekinetic shrugged. "In passing."

"Well, get her the fuck out of my bar."

"I said—"

"And I said, get her out!" The man glared at him. "Anyone drinking straight absinthe causes trouble, they're banned. She just took a swing at you and puked on the floor…which I doubt she's going to clean up anytime soon."

"I'll…I'll clean it." Laura held up her hand. "Gimme…five."

"Honey, five minutes won't make a damn of difference."

Laura paused, then gave him her best attempt at a sober response. "Excuse me, I have an accelrated metabolomism. I'll be sober as…one of them…god guys…at a funeral in a few." Even as she spoke, her slur was starting to disappear, vomiting having helped a great deal.

The bartender paused, probably considering how large her tabs were, and how she always paid in full at the end of the evening. "First time for everything I guess. Mop's in the corner when you're ready." He pointed.

"Cool." Laura waited until he had turned away again, then sagged backward onto her stool. And almost fell over again.

"Jesus." The telekinetic's forehead was wrinkled. "I came to celebrate kicking your ass…but now I'm not sure it means much."

She glared at him. "Fuck off…and…die."

He gave her a shit-eating grin. "I'll think about it. So…this is the famous Wolverine's watering hole, huh?"

"I'm not…tellin you…shit."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. Can we at least agree to a cease fire, so we can both bask in the shitiness of this place?"

"Um." Laura gazed at him unsteadily. "No. That's going to…to…be a problem for me. Since I want to…punch you…inside your face."

He gazed at her, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. "Guess that's why they call you that."

"Call me what?" Laura wrinkled her nose. "Who? Where? I'll kick them…shitless."

Now he was smirking. "You aren't going to clean that mess up, are you?"

"What mess?"

He paused, then reached his metal hand out. It glowed green, then her vomit puddle began to float upward. "I should really dump this on you."

"…" Laura watched him mistrustfully.

"But I won't." He nodded his head to the side, and the mess sailed into the nearest trash can, then he dusted his hands off, still smirking. "You could thank me."

She said nothing.

"Or not." His smirk faded slightly. "Seriously. I don't know you as a person…but that means I don't have anything against you either. Cease fire?"

"God." Laura closed her eyes. "I can't believe I'm going to agree to this…but fine." She opened them again and sneered at him. "But I don't…wanna…talk to you…or be near you…or even be reminded you exist." She paused. "We can split the bar…rotating schedule. I'll get it Monday… through Wednesday…and Friday through…Sunday." Pause. "And I also get it anytime we end up fighting." Pause. "I might…take it…on Thursdays…too."

"That is the shittiest deal anyone's ever tried to cut me." He paused. "And, what the fuck? Are we talking about who gets custody of a dive bar?"

"…possibly." Laura's eyes narrowed. "This is your only…option. Dirt bag."

He raised his eyebrows. "Here's a counteroffer. I get to enjoy the bar equally, with none of your shitty conditions…or I just kick your ass out the door with a thought. How about that?"

Laura gritted her teeth. Then she decided the buzz really wasn't worth the distress. She could only imagine the look Sooraya would give her if she knew she was talking to this asshole right now, anyway. So she shoved him out of her way and stomped toward the door.

The street outside was dark. Deserted. Laura blinked. How long had she been there? It was only six o' clock when she walked in, still nursing the big tear across her abdomen, from the piece of glass that had tried to cut her in half.

Behind her, the door opened. "Bartender's calling you to settle your tab."

Laura closed her eyes, then reached in her pocket for her money. And there was nothing. Her eyes snapped open again. "Mother fucker."

The telekinetic had the nerve to snort. "You can't be serious."

Laura sighed. "I'm done with you." Snkkt!

VRRRMMMM!

She skidded into a brick building across the street, then scrambled up, snarling. "You're dead!"

But there was no one there. She paused, confused. She hadn't heard him fly off. What was happening? Was this some sort of trick? She stood in place for a while, eventually retracting her claws with a snakt!

The bar door opened again, and he reemerged, his forehead wrinkled. "Jesus! You drank two hundred dollars of absinthe?!"

Laura paused. "I only had five shots. Maybe six."

He shook his head. "Try eighteen."

She hesitated. "That can't be right. I was counting. Hard."

The telekinetic smirked again. "You're something else, you know that?"

"Okay." She wrinkled her nose at him. "Well, we going to do this fight or what?"

He rolled his eyes. "I just paid your tab."

Laura's mouth dropped open. "Why would you do that?!"

He shrugged. "I don't have a clue. I was going to use it for hooking up, too, so congrats on ruining my evening."

"Suck a bag of dicks." She stomped away, to her bike, parked down the street.

He followed. "Whoa. You are not driving."

"I am so—" Laura's keys shot into his palm with a clank. "That is really fucking unfair!"

"Isn't it." He shoved them into his pocket. "I'll get you a cab, if you want."

"No thanks." Laura paused. "I don't want to be in your debt, at all. The next time I'm stabbing you in the face…whoever you are."

He grinned. "Doesn't it have to happen at least once for there to be a next time?"

"…" Laura glared at him. Snkkt! Then she unexpectedly burst into tears. Loud, hot, wet, messy tears. She kicked the pavement, shoved her bike over, then started to stomp away. How could she have failed so completely? She didn't deserve to use Logan's mantle anymore.

"Hey! Come back!" He was jogging after her.

Laura whirled around. "Leave. Me. Alone!" She gritted her teeth.

"I didn't mean to make you cry."

"Shut up."

"No, I'm serious…I shouldn't have said that. I just…you know, you're kind of a legend and…I was pretty pumped up that I beat you." He paused. "Was."

She glared at him. "Would you like to rub some actual dirt in my wounds, too?"

"I didn't…grr." He folded his arms. "Hey. I came out here to get drunk and laid. Not to play word games with a sore loser who just cost me two hundred dollars…and who's crying coz she didn't get to stab me in the face."

"I never asked you to pay my tab." Laura wiped her nose on her sleeve, then wrinkled it. "I've been telling you to get lost for quite a while now."

"Can't help myself." He grinned. "You're like a trainwreck. I can't look away."

"…" Laura turned and started walking away, shoving her hands into her pockets. Her gait was still unsteady, and she swayed several times, but she wasn't about to fall down anymore. She closed her eyes and breathed in the fresh night air, trying to relax. It was just one fight. Yeah, an important one, but that didn't mean the Acolytes had won the war. It was just a learning experience for her. Just a reminder not to get too cocky, or little pricks like that would gain the upper hand.

There was a humming noise, to her left. She looked over her shoulder, to see that he was following her, floating in the air.

"Go away." She made a whisking motion with her hand. "Shoo."

"Can't." He paused. "I feel responsible."

"Responsible for what?"

He shrugged. "Seeing you home? Making sure you don't get attacked?"

"By who? You?"

He paused, then grinned. "Yeah, I see your point. But that was…different. We had to fight. For the goal. The team. But like I said earlier…nothing personal."

Laura curled her lip. "Then there's nothing personal about this, either."

"This is only personal."

"Whatever." She kept walking.

"So, how'd you come to be on the wrong side? All jokes aside, you don't strike me as a loser."

"I don't have to justify myself to you."

"I'm curious."

"…" Laura stopped. Her head was beginning to clear. "Okay. Enough. Please. Seriously. Stop following me. We fought, you won—the one fight—and that's it. There's no need for us to keep interacting."

He shrugged. "Okay." He pointed back the way they had come. "Uh, your keys are going to be with your friend back there."

"I don't have any…oh." Laura wrinkled her nose. "Just give them to me."

"No. I'm not letting you drive."

"I'll come back for it in the morning."

He eyed her skeptically. "Honest?"

She rolled her eyes. "Cross my heart and hope to die, if that makes your twisted conscience feel any better."

He fished in his pocket and tossed her the keys. "See ya around."

Laura caught them, then started walking again.