Meeting the Wolverine

by Kabeiroi

Old story. I meet Wolverine instead of Rogue, and together we both get yanked into a world of mutants, a place we don't want to be. But there's no escaping the war brewing between mutants and mankind, and Wolverine and I find ourselves on the front line!

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I love the X-Men movies, but I was severely disappointed in the character of Rogue. This originally began as a short story exercise and a speculative fic about what I would have done in Rogue's place, but soon spun wildly out of control! All of the X-Men characters are © Stan Lee and Marvel Comics (you'll noticed that I included the British Pyro, as he was in the original script, as was the Blob).

This one's ooooold. I want to write the sequels, but we'll see.

Meeting the Wolverine

By Chiyome

Slowly, the massive truck lurched to a stop. Though I was dozing against the side of the passenger door, I could hear the brakes grinding to a slow halt through the metal. My eyes opened heavily and I grunted, sitting up as the truck driver, Mac, killed the grumbling engine and hopped out.

I stifled a small yawn. Where was I? For a second, I was too foggy to remember. Stretching a bit, I gazed out the windshield at nothingness. Just an unkempt road and rows of scraggly, dead-looking trees coated with snow.

Snow! I remembered then with a small, panicked jolt; I was somewhere in Canada.

Outside, Mac reached up and grabbed the handle to my door, throwing it open. I gasped a little, catching a hold of the seat belt before I could tumble out. I would have buckled up, but the stupid thing was broken.

"This is it," Mac said, taking the liberty of grabbing my bag and tossing it to the ground.

Biting back my irritation, I slid off the ratty old seat, dropping about a foot and a half into ankle deep slush. "Thanks."

Mac shrugged and began to turn away.

My eyes followed where he had turned, and I gasped, my hand shooting out and grabbing his wrist. "Mac, waitaminute! Where are we? I thought you said you'd bring me as far as Laughlin City!"

Mac glanced over his shoulder, his icy-white mustache ruffling a bit. "This is Laughlin City."

"What?" Hoping senselessly that I was seeing things, I looked past the chunky truck driver. My stomach took a plunge when I realized that I wasn't dreaming; the so-called 'city' was really a seedy looking dive for big-rig drivers and the generally not so nice.

I was going to be sick. Mac said Laughlin City! I hadn't been naïve enough to think that it was really a city; it wasn't mentioned anywhere on the map. What I had been expecting was a cheesy little town where I could stay for the night, work a little, earn some money and food, and move on again with some other doughy truck driver.

THIS was far from what I wanted!!

Mac was already in the parking lot, obviously intent on spending what little money he had with him on beers. I watched him go, suddenly very alone, and very cold. I grimaced, knowing that I honestly didn't have a choice at the moment. Picking up my duffle, I started for the bar.

Well, at least the bar lived up to my expectations. It was dark and smoky, reeking of stale beer and sweat and--ugh, urine. The only heat came from big oil drums, filled with burning paper. Very few lights were scattered throughout the enormous building, and more than once I tripped over somebody's boot.

I had only stood in there a few moments, and the heat suddenly overcame me. Wincing, I hurried to the bar counter and found a seat. Stuffing my coat and gloves and hat into the bag, I waved the bartender over.

Big and sweaty--just like everybody else here--the bartender wiped his callused hands off on a rag, then stomped over to me. "What can ah do fer ya, honey?"

Honey? Anger rankled through me, but I forced myself to stay calm. "Got any soda?" I shouted over the clamor of voices and clinking glasses and cheering … and strange thunking sounds?

The bartender arched an eyebrow at me. "What?"

"Soda! Do you have any Coke?"

"Why dontchya want a beer?"

Oh, Good Lord … "I don't drink beer! Gimme a soda, please!"

The man regarded me for a moment, as if in disgust. Finally, he snatched a small glass off of a rack behind him, shoveled ice in, and then sprayed a soda into it.

I handed him a dollar--hoping it was the right amount--and turned to the sound of cheering.

In a far section of the room, dozens of people were perched on a bleacher, roaring at something in a cage made of chicken wire. My curiosity piqued, I took my soda and hopped off the barstool. I wandered across the bar, my eyes slowly widening as I saw a man fly across the cage and slam brutally into the wire.

Several men on the bleacher started swearing in such a way it'd make rap singers cringe. Not really understanding what was going on, I circled around … and saw him.

There was another man in the cage, snarling down in anger at the first one. He turned away as three men scurried in--two to drag the fallen man out, and another one with microphone to make an announcement.

I couldn't stop staring at the man in the cage. He stood, his chest bare and slicked with perspiration. His knuckles were red from punching, and small flecks of blood were visible against his jeans.

His eyes roamed the furious crowd, and suddenly, came to a rest on me. I gasped, but couldn't hear it in the noise. I almost dropped my soda as my heart stopped in my chest.

He seemed so feral, but I noticed that his blue eyes seemed to soften as we stared at each other. Somehow, I knew then he was hurt, and took a step towards the cage--

The old geezer with the microphone suddenly stepped in front of the man, whispering something to him. The softness in the man's eyes disappeared, and he growled faintly, turning away on his booted heel to the opposite side of the cage, where a heavily made-up lady handed him a glass of scotch.

"In allllll mah years," the old timer taunted into the microphone to the fairly rabid audience, "I've neva seen anythin' like this." He jabbed an accusing finger at the man's back, like a knife. "Are ya gonna let this man walk away with yer money?"

The man didn't seem to notice. He only threw back his scotch, and leaned against the chicken wire in exhaustion.

I winced for him.

"I'll fight him!" someone bellowed, and the room erupted into shrieking cheers.

"Ladies an' gentlemen; ouhr savior!" the old man said as some tall guy leapt down from the bleacher, jerking his denim coat off at the same time. My breath caught in my throat, and, for a second, I seriously thought that this guy was Steve Austin … hell, he looked like him.

Worried, I pushed my way closer to the cage. I wanted to get to the other side and see that man--I wanted to see his eyes again, but I was jostled back, pushed close enough to the rival's side so I could hear the old geezer mutter, "Whateva ya do, don't hit 'im in th' balls."

I looked up in surprise as the Austin look-alike stared at the old guy in confusion. "I thought you said anything goes!"

"Anything goes, but he'll take it personal."

I bit my lip as the rival shrugged and raised his hands in a boxing stance. The old man scurried out, and a gong was rung.

I jerked back in horror as the Austin guy kicked at the man's back, throwing him straight into the wire. Before the man could get his second wind, Austin punched him again, twice, sending him to the floor. As a final insult, he kicked the man in the stomach--and again, for good measure.

I cried out, panicked, though those around me leapt to their feet in riotous cheering. I swallowed hard, but the lump in my throat only became bigger. 'Please … get up.'

Shaking his head hard, the man rose to one knee, snarling. Austin came at him again, his fist swinging down--

Wheeling around, the man threw a right, his fist connecting with the rival's. Austin howled, leaping back as he grabbed at his reddening fist. I stared in disbelief; I didn't just hear a 'ca-chink', did I?

Unfazed, the man stood and threw another punch, striking the rival's jaw and sending him reeling. Stupidly, Austin bellowed something and charged. With a vicious snarl, the unnamed man swung his arm out, striking the guy's temple, and sending him falling limply to the floor.

The noise was deafening, but I barely noticed. I only stared, transfixed at the man as he turned to gaze at me once, then retreated back to his corner.

A gong rang, and suddenly, the announcer's voice filled the air.

"Ladies an' gentlemen, tonight's winnah, and still th' King o' th' Ring … The Wolverine."

****

It must have been about five in the morning when things finally quieted down. I lost the man in the crowd afterwards, but didn't think he left yet. With all of the people gone and the air cleared, I sat back at my stool and ordered another soda.

Nearby, Mac laid snoring on a couch … not that it mattered. He made it clear that he wouldn't be bringing me anywhere else. And I wasn't exactly in a hurry.

The bartender was cleaning glasses while the old guy and the painted woman counted the money made from the boxing match. Tired and bored, I stared at the tip jar, waiting for the news to come on.

"TIPPING is not a city in CHINA," the words on the jar bellowed out at me. I sighed.

The bartender glanced at me--probably worried that I'd snatch the jar. Well, I'm not that low.

"Ya want somethin' else, honey?" he asked, placing a protective hand on the jar. "Or are ya stickin' with soda?"

I didn't answer him, and he made a point of dragging the jar a safe distance away from me.

Finally, the news came on. I raised my head, watching as the anchorman announced the issues at hand.

Behind me, I heard footsteps, and glanced up. My eyes shot open as the man from the cage settled onto a stool just two away from me.

"I'll have a beer," he said to the bartender, dropping a handful of bills with one hand while inserting a cheap cigar between his perfectly white teeth.

I didn't realize I was staring until he glanced up at me. Sheepishly, I smiled, and he kind of smirked back.

I hesitated twice before standing and walking to a stool next to him. "Hey."

"Hi, darlin'."

I hesitated again; damn, I didn't know what to say!

"You uh …" I looked down at my hands. "You fought well."

He nodded. "Thanks."

Nearby, the mounted television spilled out the words "… to the mutant phenomenon, and it's impact on our world stage." Both he and I looked up sharply at the announcement.

He glanced at me with those wonderful blue eyes. "I haven't seen you around here, darlin'."

I shrugged. "I just kinda wound up here."

He nodded again. I winced inwardly; I hope he didn't think I was hitting him--which, in a way, I was. Well, I was flirting with him. I didn't want him to think I was a slut--My mind whirled, and I silently told myself to shut up.

I think he smelled the men behind us before I did. Whatever the matter, the Steve Austin wannabe pushed between us, nearly knocking me off of my stool.

He glared down at the man. "You owe me some money."

A younger man stood behind him, and timidly pulled on Austin's coat. "C'mon man, let's go."

Austin shook him off. "No man could take a beating like that and not show a mark for it."

The man calmly inhaled on his stogie.

Austin lowered his head to hiss in the man's ear. "I know what you are."

I stiffened.

Finally, the man stirred. "You lost your money," he growled, "You keep this up and you'll be losin' somethin' else."

I smiled.

Austin saw my taunting grin, and he narrowed his eyes at me. "What're you laughing at, bitch?"

It threw me for a second, but I caught myself. Bastard! "I think I'm looking at what might become the tallest gelding on this side of Alberta."

My bar mate laughed.

But Austin didn't.

With terrifying speed, he grabbed me by my coat collar, his free hand reaching into his pocket, drawing out a switchblade.

I gasped and moved on pure instinct, throwing myself back, off of the barstool, looking up just in time to see my friend's beautiful eyes widen in terror.

Like dark lightning, he shot out of his seat, grabbing the hand that clutched at my throat and twisting it until the fingers gave.

I slammed to the ground, slapping my hand out to catch myself. I jerked myself away from the scuffling feet, looking up as the man slammed the thug up against a beam and raised his fist.

Two long, sword-like claws screamed out the man's flesh, just between his knuckles. The metallic claws held the suddenly terrified thug to the beam, while a third slowly emerged from between the two claws, just scratching Austin's Adam's apple.

I stared, somewhere between shock and fear. I couldn't even move.

"Lay a hand on her again and I'll mount your dick on my wall," he hissed to Austin, and I didn't doubt him for a second.

'Ch-chunk.'

Recognizing that sound, I finally ripped my gaze away from my hero, up to the bartender, who held a single-gauge shotgun to the man's head.

His voice shook as he snarled, "Get outta my bar, freak."

Slowly, the man turned to look at the bartender--

--And his left hand swept out in a flash, new claws exploding from the back of his hand and slicing the barrel right off the gun.

The bartender gasped, staggering backwards with the barrel in one hand, and the chamber in the other.

The man snarled at the bartender, then back at Austin. In the corners, the old man, his wife, and Mac--who had finally woken up--looked on in fear.

Slowly, the man straightened, and his claws shot back into his hands. Still keeping the growl on his face, he turned to me, and offered his hand.

I don't know what made me do it. When I saw that he was helping me up, all of my fear was gone, and I took his hand confidently.

He yanked me up onto my feet. "Get your bag," he murmured in my ear, and I blinked in surprise. Still, I obeyed, grabbing my duffle, and, letting him take me by the hand--and waiting patiently while he grabbed his cigar--and walked out of the bar with him, out into the cold parking lot, and his truck.

He unlocked the doors and I hopped in without bothering to ask first. He swung into the driver's seat beside me, slamming the door shut. Fitting the cigar between his teeth, he inserted the key into the ignition and gunned the engine …

Slowly, his eyes fell down to his hands on the steering wheel. He lifted them up, and stared at them, almost sadly.

I swallowed hard as he massaged his knuckles. "Are you okay?"

He hesitated, then shook his head. "No," he whispered.

He said nothing more, and I was afraid to pry. I remained silent as he backed the truck/RV out of the parking lot, and drove down the lonely road.

****

My stomach growled, and I sat up quickly. "Huh. Guess those pretzels didn't hold me."

My friend--I still didn't know his name--kind of smiled and reached across me, to his glove compartment. "Here, darlin'. All I got for now."

"Thanks," I said, gratefully accepting the packed jerky. I ripped open the bag and tore off a piece. "Do you want any?"

He shook his head. "Nah, thanks."

I nodded, then bit down into the salty meat. I was starving. I hadn't eaten in three days, and I had all but devoured the pretzels and nuts and popcorn at the bar. None of that filled me up.

My friend glanced at me. "Easy, sweetheart, you'll make yourself sick."

"Oh, no," I said, quickly swallowing. "I haven't eaten in a while."

"Why's that?"

I shrugged. "I've used most of my money paying people for rides. Only one couple gave me a dinner, but that was a week ago. Nobody else offered."

"That's harsh."

"I know."

We fell silent again, me munching on the entire package of beef jerky. I rubbed my hands, trying to stay warm in the cabin.

He glanced at me again, then leaned forward and turned the heater on. "Here," he said, gently taking my hands. "Put your hands on the heater."

"Thanks," I said, smiling at him. I liked the feel of his hands on top of mine. I glanced at him as he drew his hand away. "My name's Vicky."

He looked at me once, briefly. "Wolverine."

"I figured that one out," I said, rubbing my now warm hands together. "But what's your name? Your real name, I mean."

He didn't answer promptly, and I leaned back in my seat, my eyes still fixed on him.

Slowly, he took his cigar out of his mouth, and exhaled. "Logan … My name's Logan."

I smiled. "Hi, Logan."

He looked at me … and smiled in return. "Hi, Vicky."

I laughed, and he chuckled a little. "Where're you from?" he asked.

"Massachusetts," I replied, really starting to like Logan now.

"Really? Why the hell are you all the way up here?"

Oops, feeling gone now. My smile disappeared, and I sighed, turning my eyes to the snowy road before us. "I, um … I did something."

Logan looked at me again, his face serious. "What?"

I held my breath. I could tell him, couldn't I? He'd understand. We both were … alike.

"I got in a fight," I said finally, tears stinging my eyes a little. "A boy, well, attacked me, and I uh … I hurt him."

Logan's head snapped around. "He attacked you? And you got in trouble for it?"

"That's not the end of it," I said, wiping a tear away quickly. "I … I'm not exactly …"

He slowed the truck down suddenly. Putting it in park, Logan turned completely in his seat, his face hard.

"You're not normal?"

I shook my head furiously, the tears threatening to flow.

For a long time, Logan didn't say anything. I began to panic; 'Don't judge me like this! We're the same, can't you see it?'

Slowly, Logan slid across the seat to me, draping his arm around my shoulders. "Don't get upset, darlin'," he murmured, pushing my hair away from my face. "I ain't normal either … and you saw that first hand."

I smiled, though the tears still lingered.

Logan wiped my eyes gently with a finger, and I imagined that he would lean just a little closer and kiss me.

But it didn't happen. He only smiled at me and turned back to the steering wheel.

I mentally pouted for a moment, the brushed it aside. Oh well.

I looked at his hands on the wheel, wanting to touch them again. And yet …

"Logan?"

"Yeah, darlin'?"

I drew in an unsteady breath. "When they come out … does it hurt?"

Logan slowly blinked, and all of the air suddenly rushed out of his lungs. "All the time."

I understood. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, Vicky," Logan replied, trying to force a lopsided smile. But I knew that look; he was hurt. Like me.

Again, we lapsed into silence. I entertained myself with fantasies--yes, I was severely turned on by him. And I was desperately hoping that he found me attractive too. Hell, I'd take him in a second. I was longing to be held by those arms, feel his breath on my cheek, but was that gonna happen?

Nuh-uh.

Finally, I couldn't take the silence any longer. "Do you know where we are?"

Logan shrugged, looking at me. "Dunno. Heading out of Alberta, I'd gue--"

Neither of us saw the tree coming, but I sensed it. I would have screamed if I had the time, but it fell too quickly.

I bellowed as I was slammed violently against the dashboard, restrained only by my seatbelt. I was aware of a horrible shattering sound, and I shouted wordlessly as the truck's front was crushed to nothing under the tree.

I lay there for a moment, unable to get my bearings, unable to breathe. It felt like my lungs were clogged, and I had to choke a few times to suck in air.

Weary, dazed, I slowly sat up, groaning against the pressure of the seatbelt, suddenly tight across my body. With one pale, shaking hand, I gently probed a cut on my forehead. "L-Logan?"

He didn't answer, and I turned to see if he was conscious. It took a moment to realize what happened, but when the fog of confusion lifted, I stared in horror at the seat where he should have sitting.

"Logan!!" I cried, suddenly seeing a huge hole gaping in the windshield. Terrified for my friend, my eyes searched the snowy drifts until I found the dark shape, laying slumped a dozen yards away.

"No!" I reached for the door, but was jerked back by the seatbelt. Swearing, I wrenched on the belt, but it was stuck tight.

"Damn it, damn it!" I clawed for the release, but I couldn't see it. "Damn it!!"

A wisp of smoke suddenly curled out of the window behind the truck, from the RV. Startled, I turned look, and I almost screamed as a fire hissed through Logan's clothes, creeping to a gas tank.

Too frightened to think straight, I looked back towards Logan--

--And saw him rise shakily out of the snow.

"What …?" I stared in confusion as Logan staggered on weak legs, gingerly touching the edges of a hideous cut on his forehead. How in God's name did he survive?!

Still not as clear as I was, Logan trudged forward, turning to spit blood into the snow. Snarling, he craned his neck back and stretched the muscles as the wound on his head sealed up like a drawstring pouch.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing.

He grimaced as he lifted his head to look at me. "You all right?"

I tried to speak, but couldn't.

Logan's eyes narrowed. "Vicky, are you all right?"

"I'M STUCK!!!"

Not hesitating a second, Logan raced forward, his eyes meeting mine, as if to say "Don't worry, darlin', I'm here." And, for a minute, I was happy that he was there for me--

Suddenly, he skidded to a halt. Confused, he turned, looking over his shoulder to the trees.

Huh?? What was he doing?!

"Logan!" I cried as the heat in the truck's cabin intensified. "Help me!!"

I don't know if he heard me. He stared at the trees, his lips parting in a cautious growl. His claws blasted out of his hands as he scanned the area.

Instantly, I knew that someone made that tree fall.

A roar ripped through the woods, and I heard myself yelp. Terrified, I swung around in the direction of the roar, just in time to see something leap out, slamming into Logan.

"Ah!" In a panic, I wrenched my gaze away. I couldn't watch. I had to get out.

Gasping and choking on the smoke, I pushed the chest belt up and over my head, then hefted myself up, pulling my legs up. Falling to the driver's side, I dragged my feet out of the belt, finally freed.

I couldn't open either door, so I rolled down my window, pitched my bag out, and threw myself after it--

'WHAM!!!'

Logan slammed onto the hood of his truck, rattling the damned thing. He hit his head too hard, hard enough to leave a dent in the hood. His claws slid back into his hands, and he lay quiet.

"Logan!" I cried, leaping to my feet. I grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him over the hood, towards me. "Logan, wake up!"

The animal that attacked him snarled, and my head snapped up. My eyes widened as I realized that that thing was definitely no bear!

It was a man, at least twice the size of that Steve Austin guy back at the bar. He had a long, shaggy mane of blond hair that swept around his fur clad shoulders.

He pointed a lethal looking talon at me. "Forget the runt, honey; yer comin' with me!"

I snarled at him. "When hell freezes over, asshole!" Slipping my hands under Logan's shoulders, I dragged him off of the truck. "Logan!"

The beast snarled again, starting toward Logan and me. I was ready to panic; I couldn't carry Logan and run at the same time!

Trying not to drop Logan too hard, I laid him on the ground and planted myself between him and the monster. What was I going to do? Damned if I know.

"That's cute," it growled, "Protectin' the runt. Takes a little girl to protect a full grown man."

I wanted to either attack the bastard or throw up. But, this mutant--no, thing--was going to tear me to shreds. Fight as hard as I could, I wouldn't be able to defend myself--or Logan--from those teeth.

It growled, and swept its arm out. It caught me by my jacket, jerking me forward, and up into the air. My feet left the ground.

"Bastard!!" I swung, and my fist landed squarely on the thing's nose. Something cracked, and blood splattered everywhere.

"Bitch!!" it screamed, dropping me. Catching myself, I leapt to my feet, and tried to catch him with a roundhouse kick. He might slow down with a bruised kidney, right? Well, I never found out.

He was too quick. Swinging his arm like a lion battering down its prey, the thing clawed my arm open--not to mention sent me flying several hundred feet through the air.

"Argh!" I cried as I slammed into the frozen pavement, bruising muscle and bone, hitting my head. Coughing on blood, I slowly pushed myself up to my knees as it stalked forward.

I raised my eyes to the monster as it came forward. My vision reeled, and I grunted, shaking my head. I tried to stand, but I was so dazed that I wound up tripping over my own feet. Clarity was slow to return, and I bit my lower lip in terror as the mutant bent down to grab a hold of me. I tried to struggle, trying to give myself time to wake up. As it turns out, that wasn't necessary.

A razor sharp, freezing wind whipped through the air, rising with a suddenness that it caused the manimal to hiss and jerk away from me. The wind intensified and monster grunted, sliding a little against the gale. He snarled, and looked up, over my head. Confused, I looked behind me.

Several meters away stood two people clad in black jumpsuits. One was a black woman with startlingly white hair. The other was a white man wearing some sort of visor.

Startled, the monster behind me reeled back. I could almost hear him say "Huh??" in confusion.

Calmly, the man with the visor raised his hand to his head. Touching something on the side of the visor, the man sent a bolt of red laser screamed forward.

Roaring in shock, the thing leapt upwards, dodging the blast, which shattered the tree that flattened Logan's truck. With another roar to let us all know that he was pissed, the beast leapt into a clump of pine trees, and was gone.

This was too much. Clutching my blood-soaked arm, I keeled over, sickened and exhausted. "God …"

Black boots entered my vision, and hands lifted me up. The black woman knelt beside me, blinking her eyes as they faded from white to a crystal blue. "Are you all right?" she asked.

I couldn't understand her accent at first … well, that, and I was dazed from blood loss. Forgetting my own agony, I glanced back at the fiery truck. "Logan …"

The black woman looked up at the man beside her. "Cyclops?"

"Already on it." The man in the visor turned and ran to Logan as a column of fire hissed out a broken window.

The woman helped me stand. "Are you badly hurt?"

I shook my head, too fixated on the one called Cyclops as he hefted Logan up. To my dazed surprise, he had my bag too.

"What happened?" I asked, turning to the white-haired woman. "Logan's hurt …"

The woman nodded. "We know. We'll help."

Accepting my bag back from 'Cyclops', I fell in step beside him and the woman, looking nervously to Logan.

Behind us, the truck exploded.

The three of us yelped, instinctively diving to the ground. The woman lost her balance and stumbled, bringing me down beside her. The Cyclops character dove beside us, shielding Logan with his body.

I half gasped, half grunted, one side of my face buried in snow. Growling, I forced myself up and shook the snow off. "Me and my dumb luck …"

The woman next to me quickly got to her feet. "That was closer than I would have cared for."

I accepted her extended hand and stood up. "Is Logan all right?"

As if in reply, Logan groaned.

"Oh, thank God!" I staggered to his side as Cyclops carefully rolled Logan onto his back. Falling to my knees, I gently took his head, laying it in my lap. "Logan? Are you okay?"

He groaned again, and his eyes slowly fluttered open. "Vicky …"

"Ssh," I whispered, stroking his cheek. "Don't try talking."

"You're all right?"

"Yeah."

His eyelids grew heavy again, but he smiled at me and slowly lifted a hand to touch mine. "Good …"

The smile still on his lips, he passed out.

Cyclops glanced at me, his eyes hidden behind the red glass of his visor. "We'll take him back to our base for treatment. He'll be all right."

I nodded, then smiled a little, looking down at the Wolverine I now held.

As Cyclops and the woman--called Storm--carried Logan back to their plane, I trudged after them, wondering then, if I had known what would happen after meeting the Wolverine, would I have still gone with him?

My smile grew a little wider. Yeah, I would have.

Darkness

"Vicky?"

"NYAGHH!!!" Petrified, I leapt out of my seat, hands clenched into fists. I whacked the desk as I jumped up, giving myself a good bruise on my thigh. Behind me, my chair spun wildly on one leg before toppling to the carpet.

"Whoa!" Cyclops gasped, jerking backwards and ramming right into Storm. Frightened, they both took a cautious step backwards, out of my room.

Catching his breath, Cyclops held up a hand, as if to show me that he held no weapons. Yeah. It's not his hands I'm afraid of.

It's his eyes.

"Easy, Vicky!"

Realizing whom it was, the muscles in my shoulders slowly relaxed, and I exhaled heavily. "God, Cyke, gimme a freaking heart-attack, why dontchya?"

Cyclops frowned and straightened himself. "Didn't you hear us knock?"

"No." Uncomfortable, I reached up and rubbed my left shoulder, feeling where Sabretooth had torn open my arm. I shuddered as I traced the Frankenstein-like stitches underneath the gauze. The scars ached and flamed painfully, and I wanted to find Dr. Grey and beg for some more painkillers. God. I'd be a freaking drug addict by the time I got out of here.

Storm gently pushed Cyclops aside as she stepped into my room. "Are you all right?"

I grimaced, only partially from the pain. "Not really. Is Logan awake yet?"

Storm blinked in surprise, and, in the doorjamb, Cyclops snorted in irritation; an hour wouldn't pass without me demanding to know how Logan was. Dr. Grey was going to treat him after she took care of me, and that was hours ago. I was frustrated that Cyke and Storm didn't tell me how he was, or that Dr. Grey wouldn't let me see him.

But that wasn't the end of it; before Cyclops had barged in and scared the living hell out of me, I thought that I sensed Logan. It's strange; I'm extremely well attuned to the emotions of people and animals. I know when they're scared and when they're hungry, or angry, or just about anything else.

And a few minutes ago, I could have sworn that I felt Logan's presence, felt his panic and anger and confusion. It had taken me aback, swamping me to the point where I was practically in a trance.

Storm smiled at me and reached out to touch my shoulder. Unconsciously, I jerked away, as if frightened that lightning bolts would come singing out of her fingers. The reaction was not lost on either Storm or Cyclops, and I was immediately embarrassed by it.

Storm's smile faded. "I wasn't going to hurt you, Vicky."

"I-I know … I'm sorry. I just get …" Unable to find the right words, I shrugged, then gasped as I felt my stitches strain. "Ouch! No, I meant that I get … uneasy … around people."

Cyclops lifted an eyebrow from behind his ruby quartz glasses. "You didn't seem uneasy around Logan."

For some reason, I took insult to that and snarled at the man.

Storm flinched in shock, and I immediately stopped myself from attacking anybody. "Sorry!"

Storm opened her mouth to speak, but she hesitated, then glanced uneasily at Cyclops. Inwardly, I moaned; I screwed up again.

Calming herself, Storm forced a smile and turned back to me. "It's all right. Come along now; the Professor wishes to speak with you."

I blinked, humiliation replaced now by surprise. Again?? Professor Xavier wanted to talk to me again???

A moment passed before I realized that both Storm and Cyke--whoops, shouldn't call him that … he hates it--were stock-still, watching me with intense nervousness.

I swallowed hard. "Okay … let's go."

Storm nodded and smiled again, but the smile was strained. Seeing that fake grin, a sudden surge of misery swept through me and I sighed quietly.

I wished they weren't scared.

I trailed Cyke--dammit! Why do I keep doing that?--out of my guest room, and Storm took up the rear. Feeling like I was being marched through a penitentiary, I sighed sadly again.

Nice as these people were, I didn't want to be around them. I didn't want to be in this mansion. I didn't want to be in contact with the students here. I was nervous. I was angry.

And me being angry and frightened?

That can be dangerous.

We reached the main corridor, passing through the nicely upholstered parlor. Almost immediately the three of us were swamped by scores of teenagers moving to their next classes. I gasped, my head ringing with the noise and movement. A dozen scents assaulted me, overwhelming me. Confused, I staggered backwards and bumped into a tall, gangly, auburn-haired boy. Our shoulders brushed, but that was enough to make me cry out in agony.

My voice was surprisingly loud and harsh, and a dozen kids around me gasped, stopping in their tracks and looking at me with wide, frightened eyes.

I'm not usually uncomfortable in these situations; normally, if I do something dumb and people turn and look, I just shrug at them and say "Oops, sorry". But now, with these people my age, all mutants, staring at me like I was a freak--a real, honest to God freak, something to be feared and avoided--

I couldn't help it. Unable to hold back my growl, I gripped my burning shoulder and turned away from the boy, humiliated and burning with rage.

Mustering all the courage she had, Storm rushed toward me. "Vicky, what is wrong?"

"NOTHING!!" I snapped, a lot more viciously than needed. "Just …!"

Ready to lose my temper if not my mind, I turned to walk to the professor's office--and dammit, walked straight into that boy again!

God, if my mutation had never occurred, if I had never been hurt by HIM, I wouldn't have met the boy with bared fangs, looking as though I would tear his throat out right then and there.

Startled, the boy's eyes widened, and he backpedaled, stammering something unintelligible--

A wave of his concern hit me like a truck. I gasped, my snarl disappearing instantly. My God!

Not really understanding what was happening, I refocused on his emotions; aside from being scared of me … this boy was concerned. For me.

"Uh-I-uh-I'm-I'm sorry … if I hurt-y-you," he stuttered. Though he was visibly shaking before me, he still lifted up his hand. Inside his palm was a chunk of ice, formed in the shape of a perfect rose.

Astonished, I wordlessly accepted it as he went on. "Um … I didn't know you were hurt … I'm sorry."

'Oh, God … I'm sorry …'

My mouth moved once. I think I was trying to apologize. Why did I scare him like that? Why did I scare any of them?

Tears welled in my eyes as the boy slowly walked past me. Sickened by my actions, I turned, gazing pleadingly to Storm. "Miss Munroe … I'm …"

"I know."

Slowly, the kids around us began to dispel, wandering off to where ever they had to go next. They began to speak again, but their voices were low and wary. More than once I caught whispers about "that girl", and "what's her deal?".

Miserable, I allowed Cyclops to remind me that the professor was waiting. I willed away my unshed tears and, clutching the ice rose to my aching shoulder, trailed Cyclops and Storm to the office of the school's headmaster.

As Cyclops began to reach for the doorknob to the office, a panicked jolt ripped through me; what if the professor heard the commotion in the hall? What would he say?

I braced myself; Mr. Xavier didn't seem like a harsh or stern man. He had greeted me rather warmly early this morning, when I limped down the hatch of the huge jet, the Blackbird. My first impression was that he seemed nice enough … he seemed like someone I could trust, like Logan.

But then, I worried; what would he do if I hurt somebody here?

Cyclops twisted the doorknob and opened it a crack--

One sniff was all it took. I gasped, my eyes flying open in shock. Dropping the now tiny ice chunk on the carpet, I shoved my way past Cyclops and Storm, racing like a woman possessed into Professor Xavier's office.

"LOGAN!!!"

Startled, Logan spun around. His suspicious eyes went wide as I ran to him. "Vicky! Are you all right?"

Without thinking, I ran straight to him and threw my arms around his neck, relief coursing through me. "I was worried!"

Before I was actually able to realize what I did (did I really just hug a guy I had a major crush on? Can you say, "d'oh!!"?), I felt Logan wrap his arms around my body, surprisingly tight. But it felt wonderful, beyond description. For a second, I felt totally safe, comforted by his touch, by the warmth of his skin, by the soft brush of his sideburns against my cheek.

"Me too, darlin'," he murmured, running his broad hand down my back. "I didn't know what happened to you."

"I'm all right," I said quickly, lifting my face to study his. "I'm a little scared, but I'm all right."

"There's nothing to be frightened of here," a mild, educated voice broke in.

"Oh!" Shocked, I spun around, coming face to face with the professor himself. I had completely forgotten that he was there! "I … I, uh--"

"It's quite understandable, Miss Fletcher," Professor Xavier replied, almost cheerily. "You're overwhelmed by the past events of the last few hours."

My shoulders sagged in defeat. "You don't know that half of it."

Professor Xavier chuckled, as if I was joking. I bristled a little, but didn't try to challenge the man. That would be cruel, if not rude.

After all … he is in a wheelchair.

The professor's gray/blue eyes flickered away from me to Storm and Cyclops, who had finally decided to enter the office. "Ah! Here they are; Logan, this is Ororo Munroe, also known as Storm …"

Logan stared with disbelief as Storm smiled kindly and nodded her hello.

"And," Professor Xavier continued, "this is Scott Summers, also known as Cyclops."

Standing at a militarily erect pose, Cyclops nodded a hello and held out his hand in greeting.

Logan glanced at the extended hand, then back at Cyclops, frowning with suspicion. I stiffened a little as Cyclops faltered, then politely drew back his hand.

'You're scared too,' I thought, watching as Logan's angry eyes narrowed on Cyclops. Wanting to comfort Logan--and myself--I slipped my hand into his. It was startling how tightly Logan gripped onto my hand. I was confused; why was he so nervous?

"They rescued you and Vicky," Xavier added, leaning back in his wheelchair.

Logan stifled a growl, then glanced at me to confirm this. I nodded just as the startlingly tall form of Dr. Grey appeared in the doorway, just beside Cyke.

" … And I suppose you've already met Jean Grey," Professor Xavier said dryly.

Dr. Grey met Logan's rather bewildered gaze levelly, then calmly brushed past him to stand protectively by Professor Xavier.

I felt Logan's emotions shift as he watched Dr. Grey walk past. Believe me when I say that I'm glad that no one saw my jaw drop in horror; the shift in Logan's emotions? Well not only was he angry and suspicious, and apparently sorry for something he did … he was attracted to Jean Grey!!

'NO! You can't like her!!' I wanted to scream, 'I like you!! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO LIKE ME TOO!!'

Still, I kept quiet, even though Logan was fixated on Dr. Grey. But that didn't stop me from scowling.

"We took you and Vicky here for treatment," Xavier continued, glancing at my shoulder. "You both took a good beating."

Somehow, that broke through Logan's trance. Surprised, he glanced down at me. "You got hurt?"

I nodded, grimacing. "A few cuts and bruises, but that was enough."

Again, Logan's beautiful eyes narrowed in anger. He growled, baring his own fangs slightly. Pissed--to say the least--he turned to glare at Xavier. "Who did this?"

"An extremely vicious mutant named Sabretooth," Xavier replied.

Logan's eyebrows rose slightly, skeptical. I didn't blame him for not believing it. "Sabretooth?"

Xavier nodded. "Yes. Storm and Cyclops found him advancing on you and Vicky. After dispatching him, we took you both here for treatment … and to protect you from Magneto."

Magneto?? I looked at the professor quizzically. Magneto?? What the hell was that?

Logan summed up my thoughts for me. "What's a Magneto?"

Xavier's face became hard. "A very powerful mutant."

This was too much. I shook my head as Logan grunted. "Magneto … ? Sabretooth? And …" He glanced at Miss Munroe. " … Storm … Yeah …" Logan snorted, then, as he drew me protectively towards him, growled at Xavier. "What do they call you? Wheels?"

Xavier's eyes widened and he sat up straighter in his wheelchair, indignant. I gasped, horrified that Logan had said such a thing.

Logan, on the other hand, didn't seem to care. He actually laughed.

Wrapping an arm around my shoulders, he steered me towards the door. "We're outta here, darlin' …"

Cyclops, understandably insulted by Logan's rude tone, planted his body between the door and us. He set his jaw and stared Logan down, daring him to try something.

Logan saw this challenge and liked it immediately. "Cyclops, right?"

Suddenly, Logan's hand shot over my head, grabbing a fistful of Cyclops's shirt. With one, powerful jerk, Logan yanked Cyke towards us.

"Ya wanna get out of our way?" Logan snarled.

Angry, Cyclops glared at Logan, his free hand twitching, begging to be let to reach up and pull those ruby-quartz glasses off.

I waited between the two men with baited breath. 'Don't do anything stupid, Logan …'

Finally, Cyclops sighed and craned his head to the side, looking pleadingly over Logan's shoulder, towards Professor Xavier.

"Logan," Xavier said, his voice surprisingly sharp.

I was startled to see the material of Cyke's shirt go slack as Logan slowly released his grip, listening with mounting panic as Xavier spoke.

"It's been almost fifteen years, hasn't it?" Xavier asked, cautious, yet taunting. "Traveling from place to place, never knowing who … or what … you are …"

Logan wheeled around, his eyes wide like a frightened wolf. For a moment, he couldn't force his voice out. He was too--

"Shut up," he hoarsely whispered, his hands blindly going for mine.

--Pained. He was pained, and huge tidal waves seemed to roar out from his ache and wash over me, drowning me. His pain was as great as mine.

"Stay here," Xavier said, his calm gaze never breaking from Logan's wild one. "Give me a few days, and I promise, I'll help you piece back together all that you have lost."

Logan's breathing became ragged. "How do you know all this?"

A slow, small smile crept across Xavier's lips.

I don't know what happened next, but Logan began to look about him wildly, as though a hundred disembodied voices were speaking to him.

Worried, I placed a hand against his chest. "Logan …?"

Slowly, Logan's eyes fell to mine. He stared at me for a moment, searchingly.

Drawing in a deep breath, he turned to Xavier. "What is this place?"

******************************************************************************

Xavier proceeded to take us on a tour of the mansion (it was my second, but I went because Xavier promised to explain everything to me more fully). Logan and I listened intently as Xavier spoke of Magneto, a former friend named Erik Leshnerr. Leshnerr, or Magneto, I guess, had survived the Holocaust, outliving his parents in the hellish Auschwitz.

Magneto had the power of magnetism, able to move and manipulate anything made out of metal (Xavier had frowned when I murmured "cool" at this). This made him an even bigger freak to the Nazis, and they were either too frightened to execute him, or Magneto had somehow escaped; Xavier didn't know.

In the years following the Holocaust, Xavier met Magneto in an army hospital, where both were working as doctors. Xavier warned us that he didn't like speaking of those years, but he did say that, in the chaos of post-WW2 Europe and the spread of communism, Magneto's pregnant wife and young daughter died in a riot--apparently, their neighbors discovered that they were mutants, and, not being able to fight the Communists, the villagers turned their rage on Magneto's family.

Magneto went berserk, killing the villagers. Xavier had protested, and the two friends--practically brothers--fought.

Magneto formed the Brotherhood of Mutants, an army of mutants that had been maltreated by normal humans. Like the Nazis that had prosecuted him, Magneto wanted to destroy every non-mutant on the planet, and his Brotherhood was willing to join the fight.

Xavier, however, believed that humanity and mutants could learn to cohabitate peacefully; he formed the X-Men.

Storm, Jean and Cyclops were some of his first students at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. Since then, hundreds of mutants had entered the school: Hank McCoy, a brilliant scientist; Warren Worthington III, the millionaire who's listed way up there with Bill Gates and Bruce Wayne; Alex Summers, Scott's brother, among others. The boy I bumped into? His name is Bobby Drake, nicknamed "The Iceman" for his ability to produce ice from his body. There was a girl named Kitty Pride, whom I read about for being able to "phase" through solid objects, and Jubilation Lee, who produced blasts of kinetic energy from her hands.

I was only slightly amazed that institutions like this existed; there's another one in Massachusetts, my home state, called the Frost Academy for Mutants. The headmistress, Emma Frost, had contacted me shortly after I was returned home, asking me to join the school. I didn't like the vibes I got from her, and said no. She was, without a doubt, pissed.

Xavier was frank with us; he didn't know why Magneto wanted me (or Logan; Xavier said it didn't make any sense that Sabretooth just knocked him out instead of killing him. Logan snorted and said that was comforting to know). But he didn't want either of us to become targets again, and asked us to stay, even going as far as promising to help Logan recover his life--something that puzzled me. What did that mean?

When Xavier asked me if I'd stay, I said no, hell no; I wasn't going to let myself be locked up like a monster again. But, I didn't want to leave Logan.

Xavier pressed again, and I gave in--and regretted it.

******

"I'm not sure I understand your reluctance, Miss Fletcher," Xavier said, watching as Jean inspected my stitches. "What makes you so frightened of this place?"

"Especially the clinic?" Jean added, pausing momentarily to wave Logan away--he was hovering protectively by me. Either that, or he was waiting for a chance to hit on Jean.

I opened my mouth to answer, then hesitated, letting my eyes roam the clinic. I hate laboratories--I always seemed to be trapped in one. And I hate clinics, and hospitals. I hate everything that has to do with science now.

Xavier read my mind. "How's that?"

I jumped, yelping in surprise. "What?!"

"I read your thoughts … you don't like laboratories, why?"

Nearby, Logan growled. "I don't blame her."

I smiled, though weakly. "It has something to do with my mutation … I'd rather not talk about it."

"Are you sure?" Jean asked as she wiped away some dried blood.

"Positive."

"Well …" Her voice trailed off, and Jean glanced questioningly to Xavier.

The professor cocked an eyebrow. "Vicky … I'm rather confused; what is your mutant power, exactly?"

I shrugged; the pain in my shoulder was gone now. "Dunno. I feel people's emotions."

"There's more than that."

My stomach heaved. I felt myself pale, felt myself grow sick; don't make me talk about this, please.

"I'm not sure what it is," Xavier continued, scooting forward in his high-powered wheelchair. "You put up barriers every time I try to get further into your mind. You won't let Jean perform any tests, and you're skittish around just about everyone."

I shook my head. "I-I can't talk about it."

"Vicky …" Jean said, smiling kindly at me. "We won't judge you."

"It's not that!"

"Then what is it?" Xavier pressed.

In his corner, Logan immediately straightened. "The lady doesn't have to talk if she doesn't want to," he warned.

'I don't want to talk about it. I have to talk about it, I have to--but I can't …'

I fought back tears. "I …"

I was cracking, and Xavier knew it. He leaned forward, his eyes intent.

Instead of speaking, I allowed my mind to open to him. I let him see what I remembered.

A little over two years ago, my mutant powers manifested more fully. Instead of just feeling emotions, I was able to heal wounds with a touch. I could will away illness. I could sense evil-true evil-and fight it. Like Warren Worthington III, I started growing feathery wings.

*Angelic…*

One day I was on a field trip with my eleventh grade class … don't remember where we were going … then the explosion came, throwing the bus to its side-

'Oh, God!'

… Something began tearing into the metal, ripping a whole wall of the bus off …

It reached down for me. I panicked. I fought back.

-Blackness-

'What a lovely test subject …'

I woke up. How many days had it been? Where am I? Why is it dark?

WHERE AM I?!

A laugh.

Cold fingers on my throat. Claws trailing along my collarbone-

Who are you?

Red eyes pierced through the black.

'God, help me!!'

-Blackness-

I woke on the operating table … What are you doing to me?!

Pain …!

Slipping in and out of reality. What are these tubes in my arms?

The red eyes came again. Red eyes, white skin.

The Devil?

'Not quite, my dear …'

Screams ripping from my throat-nothing but pain-what are you doing?!

--my wings are gone.

-Blackness-

Eight months … every day, more pain.

'Bloody hell!!'

Fingers in my hair, jerking my head up. I look, see those red eyes.

'What's wrong, Doctor?'

He doesn't answer immediately.

'Doc …?'

He throws me aside.

I'm so weak.

'The bitch!'

I can see the laboratory, rats staring back at me. Where am I?

'Increase the serum treatment …'

hate him …

Who am I?

-Blackness-

Woke up. Cold, but hot outside. Grass feels funny against my skin.

I feel like my bones are shattered glass. I watch numbly as they climb back in the van and close the door.

They drive away.

I'm left behind, trash on the highway.

I want to die. God, let me die.

I'm not human anymore.

I'm a demon.

Because of … HIM.

He was …

*Sinister*

By the time Xavier finally let my mind go, I was sobbing uncontrollably, collapsed against Logan's chest. He shushed me gently, cradling me as Jean hurried to wash my tears away.

I felt so small. Like a child, I clung to Logan, letting him hug me and rock me. He whispered in my ear, promising to take care of me.

He actually carried me to my room.

******************************************************************************

Someone knocked at my door and I grunted, slowly easing out of my stupor. Pushing the used tissues aside, I sat up on my bed. "Come in."

Reluctantly, the door opened, and a pair of red sunglasses peeked through the tight crack. "It's just me, Vicky."

"Hey." Tired though I was, I beckoned for Cyclops to enter. "Come in. I won't hurt you."

A sad smile tugged at Cyclops's lips as he stepped into my room. "I know you won't."

I blinked, surprised by his calmness. "You're not scared?"

He shook his head, the sunlight from my windows glinting off of his glasses. "Nah. I never should have been, actually."

I tried to smile. "I'm sorry. I just got scared when you brought me to the clinic."

(Did I neglect to mention that I had all but ripped Cyke's arm off when he tried to force me into the clinic earlier this morning?)

"I know. You said that like three times already." Shifting his weight to the opposite foot, Cyclops sighed. "It's dinnertime, but I didn't think you wanted to be with the other kids just yet. You can eat here, if you want."

"Okay … are they still scared of me?"

To my shock, Cyclops shook his head again. "No; they adjust quick."

"Oh …" My breath rushed from my lungs in a relieved sigh. "Good."

"All set?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Cyclops."

He nodded. "Call me Scott …"

His voice trailed off, and a chill seemed to descend between us. Curious, I cocked an eyebrow at him. "What's the matter?"

Cyclops sighed and shifted his weight again. "It's … well, the professor gave us an idea of what you've been through …"

My already sore eyes shot open. "What …?"

"Not everything, though." For a moment, Cyclops glanced away from me, gazing through the window behind me. "But I understand." He tapped his temple with one hand. "After this happened to me, I've been in and out of labs for years."

"Oh." Saddened for him, I let my eyes fall to the carpet. "I'm sorry."

"It's nothing big," Cyclops replied, shrugging. "It just makes you and me more alike."

I nodded, unable to find my voice.

Shrugging again, Cyclops gave me another smile and turned for the door. "Dinner'll be here in a little while."

"Okay. Thanks."

"You're welcomed. Oh, and--" Pausing in midstep, Cyclops glanced back at me. "Logan wanted to see you when you're ready."

Elated by the news, I leapt to my feet. "Really?!"

"Yeah … see you later, Vicky."

"Bye Scott."

Waiting until the door was completely closed, I turned and shot back into the little bathroom adjacent to my bedroom, still muggy from the shower I had taken a few minutes earlier. Wiping condensation away from the mirror, I checked my face--good, the color was returning back to normal, and my eyes weren't red from crying anymore (and no, I'm not obsessive about my looks, but I don't like meeting people after I had cried).

Sweeping back my damp hair, I slipped my shoes back on and scooted out the door. I was pretty sure that I knew where Logan was staying, and it wasn't too far away. Calming my racing heart, I wandered through the maze-like corridors to his room.

After a few minutes, it occurred to me that Cyclops' scent was fresh in the air. He had just passed through here.

Funny. I thought he was going to the kitchen or something.

I turned a corner--and immediately gasped, skidding to a halt. Backtracking a few steps, I ducked behind the corner, bewildered; Jean Grey had just walked out of Logan's room (grrrr!!!), and Cyclops was standing right there, obviously not happy.

Wincing, I peered around the corner, watching as an angry Cyclops tried to smirk at Logan.

"It must just kill you that a boy like me saved your life," he said coolly.

Though I couldn't see Logan, I felt his anger rise a few degrees.

"Better be careful," Cyclops continued, reaching for the door. "I might not be there next time."

Ouch! I swallowed hard; Logan was thisclose to making Cyclops-kebabs.

I waited, holding my breath as Cyclops began to draw the door closed. I silently sighed and glanced heavenward. No fights. Phew …

Suddenly, Cyclops paused. "And Logan?"

Oh crap …

"Stay away from my girl."

With that, Cyclops closed the door and was gone.

Glad that was over--but frustrated, nevertheless--I leaned against the wood paneling of the wall. God, I give up. Why did I think that Logan would love me? Just because we were alike, both in pain and lonely, both with dangerous powers …

… just because he defended me in the bar …

… just because he clung to me in Xavier's office …

… just because he held me when I cried …

… and said he'd take care of me …

It didn't mean anything.

Suddenly, my heart leapt into my throat; did he know? Did Logan know I had fallen in love with him? If he did, what did he think of it? That it was cute, that I was only a kid with doey eyes and with my head in the clouds? Was he reveling in it? Laughing at me?

I clenched my fists in anger, feeling my talons growing, biting into my palms.

Well, if he wanted a good laugh …

Willing myself to stay sane a little while longer, I turned the corner and started for his room. I paused before his door, a little surprised by how his anger had lessened. Oh, sure, he was still mad … stupid men with their damned shows of testosterone …

Growling, I raised a hand to hammer on the wood, but fell short, gasping in shock as the door was whipped open.

"Whoops!" Blinking in surprise, Logan shot forward, catching me in his arms before I even had a chance to regain my balance. "Sorry about that, darlin'."

'Don't you "darlin'" me!' I almost snapped. But, you know, having been gallantly rescued by a man whose mere scent gave me the vapors, well, it kinda wiped my brain clean for a moment.

"Uh …" I grimaced, my cheeks flaming in embarrassment as I stumbled over my own feet. "Sorry."

Without a show of effort, Logan set me right up again. "I should be apologizing," he said, "I smelled you out there, and opened the door--"

"Well, I should have been ready--"

"I didn't mean to startle you like that--"

"Well I wasn't thinking too clearly--"

"But I should have been more polite--"

All right, this was getting ridiculous. "Wait a minute!" I interrupted, exasperated. "We sound like a scene from Mad About You."

Logan blinked, then grimaced. "Yer right."

We stood there for a moment in silence, neither one of us knowing what to say next. Slowly, Logan drew his hand away from my arm. "Sorry."

I shrugged, uncomfortable. I wasn't angry with him anymore (dammit), but now I was confused; Logan's emotions seemed to flex and shift, like he wasn't sure he knew what he was feeling.

But he didn't seem to know about my feelings. And he certainly wasn't reveling in them, nor was he treating me like a kid.

Not knowing what to do, I looked away from him, studying his room. "You wanted to talk to me?"

"Uh, yeah." Uneasy, Logan scratched the back of his head. "Mind if I close the door?"

Mph. "S'okay."

Yeah, it was okay, but it was also weird. Not able to look at him, I wandered over to the desk in the corner, where a sketchpad and a few pencils sat. "What did you want to talk about?"

Logan hesitated, his unease rising steadily. He sighed heavily, then closed the door. "Us."

"Huh?!" Startled, I wheeled around, my wide eyes meeting his sad ones. "Wh-what about … us?"

Logan gazed at me, his eyes mournful. Sighing again, he gestured for me to sit beside him--on his bed. Oooohhh boy …

"It's everything," Logan said, looking away as I sank down beside him. "I don't understand it, Vicky; we're alike. I knew the second I smelled you in the bar."

I swallowed hard. Any other day, I would have made a crack about my deodorant, but now was not the time. Not now.

"I had no idea what it was," Logan continued, his head bowed, as if in humiliation. "But … uh … there is an animal side to me …"

I nodded. "Me too."

Logan glanced at me, not in surprise; more like respect. "Vicky … Darlin', I didn't know what happen to you …"

A muscle in my cheek twitched, and my eyes fell away from his own, down to his hands. "I would have told you one day …"

"Then you're braver than I am."

Confused, I glanced at him again. "What do you mean?"

For a moment, Logan didn't move. He hardly breathed.

His emotions went from some unease to severe misery. God, what had happened to him?

Without thinking, I took his hands in mine. "You don't have to say what happened."

"I … don't know what happened."

"What?"

"I don't remember."

I stared at him in confusion, wanting him to explain what he meant by 'not remembering'. But if you could only feel his pain--!

He shook his head slowly. "It's all gone, Vicky; they did something to me, and I don't remember anything about my life."

"But …"

"I don't remember my parents," he said, his voice thick. "I don't know if I had brothers or sisters. I don't know if I was married …"

He drew in a shuddering breath. "Vicky … I don't know my own name."

I felt my heart crack as tears rose in Logan's eyes. Grimacing, he turned away quickly, not wanting me to see. It wasn't because he didn't want me to see him weaken; he didn't want to upset me.

"Oh … Logan …" I whispered, my own eyes stinging. I touched his cheek gently, urging him to cry freely. "I understand."

All of the air went out of him, and he sighed sadly, shaking his head, his tears remaining unshed. "I know you do, darlin'."

I bit my lip. "When did it happen?"

"Don't know, rightly. Years ago. Somewhere in Canada … I think."

"You don't know who did it?"

Logan shook his head. "I barely remember what happened. I know that I finally broke free and lit outta there …" His brow furrowed. "They gave me the claws, but I don't know why."

I hesitated, my stomach turning in knots. "Did they …."

"Alter my mutation?" Logan finished. He glanced at me, and in those deep blue eyes I could see a flame of anger growing. "No … unless you count the adamantium."

"The what?"

"The adamantium."

I still didn't understand, so Logan held out one hand. With a loud 'shinkt,' his long claws blasted from his knuckles. And oddly, I didn't jerk away in fear.

Clenching his fist, Logan turned his wrist so I could see his metallic claws from all angles. "That's adamantium. It's unbreakable … damned stuff's all over my skeleton."

"Whoa." I blinked as the glare of the lights ricocheted off of his claws and into my eyes. As amazing as they were, they seemed evil, and I finally had to place my hand on Logan's and gently push those claws away.

'Shinkt!' The claws shot back into his hand.

Logan blinked, then glanced at me. "I didn't scare you, did I, darlin'?"

I shook my head. "No … I was just sickened by what they did." I looked up again, locking my eyes with his. "To both of us."

Logan nodded slowly. "Vicky … do you know who experimented on you?"

"No. I never heard his name." Frustrated, I bit back a growl. "Even if I did, I don't think I'd remember."

"What did they do to you?"

"Plenty." My voice was sharp, sharper than I had intended. But I wasn't directing it at Logan.

Turning back to him, I held out my own hand, showing him the black talons that tipped my fingers. "This is just one of the things."

Logan didn't flinch when he saw my hand. But he stared at it, confused. "I never noticed that …"

"I know. I can make them go away when I don't need them." To show him, I willed my talons to disappear. They didn't slide back into my hand, like Logan's; instead they warped, molding themselves until they appeared as normal fingernails.

I snorted. "Bastards."

Startled, Logan blinked. "That's …"

"Weird?"

"Cool."

Surprised, I stared at him in disbelief--then started to laugh.

Logan grinned. "I guess we're a lot alike."

I choked on my laughter. "I guess!"

Chuckling, Logan patted my knee. "Well then … we're friends."

"Yes, we are." Calming myself, I stood. "I guess I should go. I haven't eaten yet."

"Me neither." Logan smiled up at me. "See you tomorrow, darlin'."

"'Night, Logan." Grinning broadly, I started for the door.

A thought struck me and I paused, wondering for a moment. Finally, I glanced back at Logan. "Logan … why do they call you 'Wolverine'?"

The question took him by surprise, and his smile faltered a little. Unconsciously, he reached for his neck, feeling for the dog tags that I suddenly realized were gone.

Finally, he shrugged. "I don't know. It was on my tags." Suddenly, his smile returned. "I kinda liked it."

I grinned. "Me too. 'Night, Logan."

I was still smiling by the time I got to bed.

******************************************************************************

Well, I wasn't smiling when I woke up later that night (*grumble*).

I'm usually a deep sleeper, but being in a strange house made it difficult to remain asleep for long. But all hell broke loose when I woke up that final time at about twenty to three.

A voice broke into my dreams, jarring me out of my doze. Groggy and disoriented, I sat up and rubbed my eyes, waiting for the voice again.

When it didn't come, I groaned to myself. I must have been dreaming. Pissed, I began to lie down again when I heard the cry again, agonized and frightened.

Startled, I sat bolt right up and listened hard-the cry resounded for a third time …

… and it sounded like Logan.

Disturbed, I stood up, letting my senses go. Yeah, that was Logan--and he was frightened?

Without thinking, I hurried out of my room and sprinted down the hallway, hearing his pleas grow louder, feeling his terror and fury intensify.

Worried, I quickly skidded to a stop. My own pulse was racing as I opened the door to Logan's room. "Logan?"

In his bed, Logan grunted, then shifted sharply, almost thrashing in the sheets. "N-no …"

Swallowing hard, I ran to his side. "Logan? Logan, wake up!"

His breathing became ragged and he shook his head wildly, desperately. "No …! Don't!"

"Logan!" Wincing, I grabbed his shoulder and shook him. God, he was so scared. "Wake up!"

His teeth clenched and a strangled roar ripped from his throat. "Nooooo!!"

"Logan!!" I cried, frightened for him. I caught his flailing hand. "Logan!"

Suddenly, his eyes shot open and I gasped at the bestiality of them, the sheer rage.

"NO!!!!"

I screamed as Logan lunged, his claws roaring from his hands, singing through the air--

My scream was cut short as his claws slammed into my chest, through my lung and heart.

Horrified, I stared at him, unable to speak. It was almost a minute before the insane rage in him faded.

Looking as though he thought he was still trapped in a nightmare, Logan stared at me. "Wha …"

I couldn't breathe. Blood started surging into my throat. I tried to speak, but the only sound that came out was a wet choke.

Finally realizing that this was no dream, Logan gasped in terror, retracting his claws. I felt my body go rigid for a second--his claws had gone straight out my back--then all the strength seeped out of my legs. Unable to stand, my knees buckled, and I collapsed into Logan's arms.

Logan could only stare at me, shaking his head in denial, in horror.

Oh God, it hurt. I tried to speak, but the wet sound only came.

Logan shook his head. "Help …!"

I tried to lift my hand to grab his, but it felt like a leaden weight hanging from my torso, lifeless. Was I dying?

A tear ran from my eye, and Logan finally lost it. Picking me up, he got out of bed, standing up, screaming desperately. "Somebody …. HELP!!!!"

A spasm ripped through my body and I gasped, then coughed explosively, splattering blood across Logan's bare chest. He gasped, reeling back in fear.

Where were my legs? I couldn't feel them.

My blood was pouring, splashing to the floor. I was only vaguely aware of the sound. I was starting to get tired.

Logan's eyes shone brightly in the darkness. He looked at me again, his lips moving--he was saying he was sorry. Sorry for what? Was he speaking? I couldn't hear him.

Tears welled in his eyes and Logan clutched me to his chest, moving my head so it was pillowed on his shoulder, near his throat.

Near--

With a hellish snarl, I leaned forward with a burst of newfound energy. Startled, Logan tried to turn and look, but it was too late; I had already bitten his jugular, and was drinking his blood.

Logan suddenly staggered, falling against the side of his bed, then collapsing to the floor. I didn't notice that we fell, or that my wounds were sealing up, or that Logan was trying to push me away, and was weakening.

"Dear GOD!!"

Lights flashed on and I roared in pain, tearing away from Logan's throat. Confused and furious, I leapt to my feet, shielding my eyes from the sudden assault of light. By the time my eyes finally adjusted, Cyclops and Jean were there, kneeling in front of me and working furiously to stop the flow of blood from unconscious Logan's throat.

For a second, I was baffled; what had just happened?

To remind me, the three now white scars of the puncture wounds flamed up and I gasped, one bloodied, clawed hand flying to my chest.

Remembering what I had done, I backed away slowly from Logan, who lay still on the floor. I was horribly aware of his blood in my mouth, running down my chin, and of my wings and my tail as it flicked uneasily over my taloned, arched feet.

Terrified, I began to turn, nearly ramming into Storm. I gasped, jerking away from her, though she did not do the same. Behind her in the hall, dozens of students had to gawk at the chaos. Every single one of them cried out in horror when they saw me.

My heart, fully healed, began to pound against my ribs. I swallowed hard, unable to look away from Storm's frightened but questioning eyes.

I opened my mouth, knowing that my fangs were stained horribly. But I had to tell her. I had to let her know.

"It … it was an … accident …"

Whether Storm believed it or not, I didn't stick around long enough to find out. Sickened by my actions, I rushed past her, running blindly past the students and back to my room.

In terror, I rushed into my room and slammed the door closed, actually planting myself there to keep it shut.

I began to hyperventilate, and dry, heaving sobs tore through my aching throat. Humiliated, and hating what I was, I fell against the door and slid to the floor.

Gathering my legs against my chest, I sat there and cried.

*******

They wouldn't let me near Logan the next day. Hurt, I tried to convince them that it really was an accident; Logan had a nightmare and attacked me. I responded to my mutant powers and bit Logan, drawing out long draughts of blood to aide me in healing.

Cyclops could only empathetically shake his head; no visitors.

The X-Men seemed to understand … Storm and Jean made an effort to cheer me up and offer support. But they were put off by my powers, I know it. They were scared because I was a monster.

Having been avoided by everyone in the school, and not seeing the professor all day long, I wearily trudged for the bench on the farthest corner of the school grounds. I sat down, not able to stop tears from stinging my eyes. I sighed miserably, wanting only solitude.

"Vicky?"

Ah, damn.

Too sad to be surprised, I raised my head, blinking as Bobby Drake slowly approached me. "Bobby?"

He nodded. "Yeah … that's me."

I swallowed hard, tasting the last of Logan's coppery blood. "Bobby, look … whatever the kids are saying--"

"They said you attacked a mutant."

My heart almost stopped. "What?! I didn't--"

"Vicky, you never use your powers on other mutants!"

"But I didn't mean--!"

Bobby shook his nervously and--to add insult to injury--took a few steps backwards, away from me. "Listen, I don't know what's going to happen to you."

I blinked, sitting up straighter at the ominous tone. "What do you mean?"

"The students are freaked … and the professor? I've never seen him so angry!"

"But …" Confused, I shook my head. "But …"

Bobby raised his eyes to mine. "Vicky, I think you should go."

G--?

For several long seconds, I didn't move, couldn't breathe. I could only stare at him in disbelief.

Bobby's eyes became hard. "Go now."

'Go …'

Rage roared through me, and, blinded by it, I shook my head wildly. Snarling, I leapt to my feet and tore across the school grounds, never looking back at Bobby.

Fine. I'll go. I don't need this damned school anyways. I don't need a bunch of--of mutants staring at me like I'm a beast.

And I don't need Logan!

Evolution

With a grunt, I stood up on my tiptoes and shoved my duffel bag into the overhead compartment. Just when I thought it was safe, the bag lurched forward, threatening to land on my head. Gasping, I leapt forward, catching it; if only I had somebody taller than me to get the stupid thing up there …

Somebody like Logan …

Shaking myself to rid my mind of the thought, I growled and pushed the duffel further back into the compartment. I could do it. I didn't need Logan--

'Whumpf!'

"Agh!" I reeled back, clutching the top of my head in pain. Frustrated, I swore and kicked the duffel furiously. Damned thing!

My already frayed emotions threatened to snap again, and I quickly forced myself to calm; I can't get crazy on the train. I might scare the other passengers.

Miserable, I shoved the bag aside with my toe, then sat down heavily in the seat by the window; why did I feel so guilty?

Wiping my eyes, I glanced about the cabin of the train--the third I've been on in eight months. It seemed that everywhere I looked, Logan's eyes stared back at me.

My stomach lurched and I quickly turned back to the window, pretending to be interested in the chaos on the platform. But I couldn't get my mind to stop whirling; maybe I should have left a note for the X-Men before I took off. Maybe I should call them as soon as I get to the Saskatchewan, just to let Logan know I'm okay.

I exhaled heavily. Logan. That's all I could think of. He was every thought. He stood everywhere I looked.

Was he angry with me for biting him? Somehow, I doubted it; he had, after all, stabbed me first.

But he had been dreaming.

But, he could take care of himself, couldn't he? I mean, Professor Xavier said that Logan's mutation let him heal wounds at extraordinary rates … but what if he couldn't heal from a vampire bite? What if I drank too much?

I should have checked on him.

What would Logan do when he found out I was gone? Would he try to find me? If he did catch the train before it left, what would he say to me? Would he try to drag me back to the Mansion? Let me go? Maybe … maybe he'd come with me?

'Oh, get real,' I snarled silently, chastising myself for letting that little flicker of hope rise again. Logan liked Jean Grey, not me. Period. End of story. Finito!

But that didn't stop me from thinking about him, about his eyes, his hands--lethal, yet gentle--or how he had protected me once, twice, three times. Or how he hugged me when I cried.

I bit my lip, feeling my fangs just beginning to dig into the flesh. I had to face it; I loved Logan, but that feeling was not going to be returned.

And it would be better for both of us if I left.

I bowed my head, wounded by the thought.

But I love him so much!

No …

I can't leave him.

Grabbing the straps of my bag, I leapt to my feet, and began to turn--

'--kerwhumpf!--'

"Oof!" we both grunted, backpedaling from the force. Startled, I glanced up at him.

"Logan?"

"Hey, kid."

Surprised, I smiled in relief. "We gotta stop meeting like this."

Logan chuckled and nodded. "Really …"

For a moment, we both fell silent, oblivious of the people in the seats around us. I think I was smiling like a dope, but can't be sure. There is one thing I am sure of, though; I was happy to see Logan there.

Finally, Logan broke the quiet. "We need to talk."

Here it comes. Knowing that I couldn't avoid the inevitable, I sighed and gestured to the empty seat beside mine. "Step into my office."

Together, we both dropped heavily into the thick foam padding, sighing in defeat. I couldn't tell what Logan was feeling, because I was too focused on my own emotions.

But one thing was for certain; he looked sad.

"I'm sorry about last night," he murmured, glancing at me.

I locked my eyes with his. "Me too."

"It wasn't your fault."

"Yeah it was." I dropped my gaze. "I have a bad habit of screwing everything up."

For a moment, Logan didn't reply, and I almost thought that he was agreeing with me. To my surprise, he only shook his head. "No … you've been goin' through a lot, that's all."

I grunted. "Y'think?"

Logan fell quiet for a moment, and I regretted being so sharp with him. Chalk another one up for Idiocy.

After a moment, he glanced at me again, his eyes hard. "You runnin' again?"

I nodded. "I heard the professor was mad … I didn't think I should have stayed."

Logan blinked, honestly surprised. "Who toldya that the professor was mad?"

I shrugged. "A kid at the school … not that it matters, really."

"Vicky--"

Suddenly, I realized the real reason why Logan had come for me; it struck me like one of Storm's lightning bolts.

Was it for love? HA! Yeah right!

I stared at him with mounting horror. "You want me to go back!"

Logan winced at the accusation. "No … I want you to trust your instincts."

Angry, I pointed a finger at my chest. "Right now my instincts are saying 'get the hell outta here'!"

He frowned at my tone and shook his head. "That's fear talkin'."

"Logan, I almost killed you!" I snapped, forgetting that there were people sitting around us. "If I hung on a second longer--"

Logan quickly lifted his hand and gently laid his fingers across my mouth. "You're talkin' crazy, darlin'."

A white-hot fire roared inside of me, threatening to come rushing out if Logan touched me again.

But, at the same time, my eyes flooded with fresh tears. "Logan … you got hurt … the last time I bit anyone … I bit the boy that attacked me … He was in a coma for three weeks."

Logan hardly blinked when I said this, but I still couldn't read his emotions. My head was swimming with mixed torrents of pain and passion.

The words stuck in my throat as I struggled to continue, to warn him. "Sometimes I can't control what I do when I go for the blood. And when that happens … people get hurt. I don't want to hurt you, Logan. The hell with your healing factor … I'm afraid that if I get driven to the edge, I might attack you, and I won't leave enough blood left over for you to recover."

Suddenly, Logan's face softened, the same way it did when I first told him I was a mutant, and again when he told me about his own laboratory experiences.

He opened his arms, and, gratefully, I fell into them, letting him envelope me. I buried my face into his shirt as he whispered, "You know, Vicky, there aren't a lot of people who would understand what you're going through. But the Professor seems to be one of them. He genuinely wants to help you. And that's a rare thing … for people like us."

Huh? Confused, I sat up, pulling away from him a little.

Logan smiled slightly, then carefully brushed my bangs out of my eyes. "C'mon, I'll take care of you."

"But …"

He lifted an eyebrow, waiting patiently for me to speak.

I swallowed hard. "You promise?"

He smiled. "Yeah … I promise."

Suddenly, the train suddenly jerked forward, flinging us both back against our seats.

Frowning momentarily at the station that slowly rolled outside my window, Logan turned to me again. "Whaddya say? Wanna give these geeks one more shot?"

Hell, what could I say? I was sold.

I grinned. "Let's go."

Looking immensely relieved, Logan stood to grab the emergency brake overhead while I reached for my bag.

Without warning, a thunderous explosion roared outside. I gasped, horrified, looking out of my window and to the roof of the Westchester Train Station.

Hearing it too, Logan spun around as people began to gasp and point. "What the hell …?"

I blinked, then squinted my eyes, not sure I was seeing things correctly; call me crazy, but the red light that shot through the roof looked a lot like Cyclops' lasers!

I never had the chance to tell Logan.

As I turned, the train slammed to a halt, throwing everyone--buckled in their seats or not--to go rocketing into the chairs in front of them.

Logan grunted as he slammed into the seat in front of us. I hit the seat hard and fell to the floor, dazed.

Catching his wind, Logan turned to me, his eyes wide. "You okay?"

I was pale and panting hard, but I nodded, nevertheless. "What happ--?"

Instantly, the lights in the car sputtered and died.

I yelped in spite myself. Freaked, I scrambled to my feet beside Logan, who was sniffing the air heavily.

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. "Smell that?"

"Smell what?" Even as I began transforming (yep; fangs, claws, tail--but no wings. Not yet), I couldn't find the scent Logan could. There were hundreds of people all over this train--

The metallic girders in the train began to whine and warp, snapping and twisting like they had taken on a life of their own.

Gasping, I looked about me wildly, jumping every time a metal briefcase suddenly slammed against a wall, or a light bulb popped. Rings and watches and zippers started to cling to the nearest metal object. The train began to quake.

The back of the train shrieked, the metal splitting straight down the middle. Wires tore, spraying bursts of sparks across the cabin.

In a blind panic, people leapt screaming from their seats, racing to the front of the train and trampling whoever was in the way. Snarling, Logan quickly pushed me back into the seats.

With another protesting wail, the back of the train car was finally ripped away, exposing us to the train yard, and to the threatening storm clouds that circled the station.

A feeling of dread, of cold anger blanketed the car, and, my eyes wide with fright, I stood up and wheeled around, just in time to see the man descend from the air.

I knew who he was, but I was so frightened by his show of power that I couldn't think of his name right away. I almost shrank back as his eyes, dark and hard behind his red helmet, roamed the car.

Sensing the threat, Logan stepped forward, unsheathing his claws, a vicious snarl on his face.

The man smiled coldly. "You must be Wolverine," he said, walking calmly towards us.

Logan snarled and took a menacing step forward--

The man held up a hand--

--And Logan froze.

"That remarkable metal doesn't run through your whole body, does it?" the man asked coolly.

I stared in horror, watching Logan struggle, felt his frustration as he tried but could not move. It was like he was rooted to the ground!

Suddenly, the man spread the fingers of his hand, and Logan gasped, his breath hissing through his clenched teeth as his arms and head were thrown backward.

Smiling mockingly, the man raised his hand, levitating Logan right off the floor.

By now, Logan was at something close to a berserker rage--and the man knew it. Almost gleefully, the man stretched his fingers out, causing Logan's claws to groan and slowly bend, separating.

Logan squeezed his eyes shut and bit back a roar of agony.

I screamed. "Stop it!! Stop it, you're hurting him!!!"

The man didn't pay any attention to me.

His eyes were watering from the pain, but Logan never lost the growl on his face. He glared down at the man, snarling viciously. "What--do you want--with me?"

A rock plunged to the bottom of my stomach as the man regarded him with mild shock. "My dear boy--whoever said I wanted you?"

My heart hammering, I looked up to Logan, at his terrified eyes--

It wasn't him that Magneto wanted.

It was me!

Finally tiring of the torture, Magneto waved his extended hand away, and Logan was violently yanked backwards, sent flying through the air until he slammed into the doors leading into the adjacent car, snapping off pieces of the wall.

Seeing Logan slump to the ground was all that it took for me to lose it. Roaring in an insane, blind rage, I leapt up over our seats, tearing my jacket off to let my now returned, bat like wings to carry me across the open distance.

Magneto's eyes shot open in shock as I lunged for him, my fangs bared and my hands outstretched for his throat--

I felt the humans in the car panic seconds before a heavy, metal suitcase blasted down from the overhead compartment, clubbing me right in the back of the skull.

"Oh!!" I cried, sent staggering with the blow.

Magneto snorted in contempt and, before I could react, used his magnetism to hit me with the briefcase, harder.

I lost all sense of what was up and down, left and right. Confused, I fell to the floor with a thud, just in front of his feet.

Struggling to keep the blackness from coming--God, anything but the black again!--I forced myself to get to my knees, to look up at Magneto and snarl at him, just to show him that I didn't fear him.

But I did.

Slowly, Magneto shook his head and clucked his tongue.

"Young people," he sighed.

A sharp pain blasted through my skull, and I was out cold.

******************************************************************************

With a vicious snarl, Logan splashed cold water onto his face, hoping vainly that it would finally erase the grogginess he felt. He glared furiously into the mirror, at Professor Xavier's reflection. "I thought you said he wanted me!"

Xavier seemed to wince. "I did. I made a terrible mistake … His helmet, it's designed to somehow block my telepathy." Slowly, his gray-blue eyes lost their focus, and Xavier looked away, almost in shame. "I couldn't tell what he wanted until it was too late."

"Me neither," I agreed, grimacing in pain. Lying back on Logan's bed, I readjusted the enormous ice pack Storm had gotten for me. (Speaking of whom, she didn't look so good; Storm and Cyclops had tried to follow me when Xavier found out where I was. But, just like Magneto, Sabretooth and some other creep were there, waiting. Sabretooth had grabbed Storm by the throat and slammed her head back against the window of the ticket booth. The bruises were horribly visible on her neck.)

Snarling again, Logan haphazardly wiped off his face with a towel, then hurtled it across the bathroom. He turned and stalked out, his rage deafening. "Will she be all right?"

Waking up from his trance, Xavier glanced at me, obviously upset that I had gotten hurt. "Yes, she'll be fine."

"Yeah, whatever," I snorted, well aware of the blood that caked my face. I narrowed my eyes at him. "Question: what the hell does Magneto want with my blood?"

Again, the pained look returned to Xavier's face. "I don't know," he admitted.

"Why not?!" Logan fairly exploded.

In the doorway, Storm gasped and both Xavier and I jerked in fright. I stared at Logan with a mix of anger and shock; I hadn't seen him so angry before.

Finally, Logan snorted in disgust. Grabbing his coat, he headed for the door.

I sat bolt right up as Xavier wheeled around. "Logan!"

Storm stared at the snarling Wolverine in disbelief. "Where are you going?"

"To find Magneto," Logan spat, shrugging on the coat.

"How?" Xavier demanded.

Furious at the delay, Logan glared at Xavier. "The traditional way; look!!"

And then he was gone in an eye blink.

I yelped, trying to leap to my now clumsy feet. "Logan--wait!"

Storm and Xavier quickly shot forward, catching me before I could trip.

"Easy, Vicky!" Storm said, forcing me to sit back down on the bed. "I'll stop him."

As much as I hated the idea of not being the one speaking to Logan, I nodded and waved her away quickly. "Okay, go, go!"

Gripping my shoulder once, Storm turned and sprinted out the door, down towards the main hall.

My head throbbed, just painfully enough to remind me that I was just getting over a concussion. I grunted, rubbing my forehead hard. "We can't let him leave, Professor; I saw what Magneto did to him!"

Xavier nodded empathetically. "I know, he told us … I had hoped adamantium wouldn't be magnetic, but …"

I grimaced again, then lashed a hand out to grab the icepack. "I really don't like this," I said, holding the icepack in place with one hand and massaging the swollen red spot on my throat (where Magneto had inserted a hypodermic needle) with the other. "Why my blood? What's in it that he needs?"

Xavier's brow furrowed. "I wondered about that. It could be that there is an enzyme there left over from those experiments preformed on you."

I nodded. "But what? And would it work on anything that's not a quasi-gargoyle/vampire?"

Xavier was about to answer when I sensed it; panic, fear, pain, a faint hope …

My eyes widened. "Professor …?"

Xavier's face went hard. "I felt it too!"

Dropping the icepack, I stood--a little wobbly--and staggered out of the room, the Professor's motorized wheelchair right on my heels.

When the Professor and I reached the first landing, a crowd had begun to gather. Cyclops, looking rather frayed, hurriedly shooed the concerned students out the nearest door while Logan and Jean crouched over a figure on the floor. Storm was balling up her jacket and shoving it under the person's head.

Xavier sat up straighter in his chair. "Jean, who is it?"

Hesitating momentarily to force the man's jaw open, Jean shot us a frightened look. "Professor … it's Senator Kelly!"

My eyes flew open. "Kelly …? You mean the guy who wanted the Mutant Registration Act?"

All but slamming the door on the protesting students, Cyclops glanced up at me. "Yeah, that's him."

Startled, both Xavier and I redirected our attention to the poorly dressed man, lying wheezing on the floor of the mansion's main hall.

"What's wrong with him?" I asked, leaning over the balcony rail for a better look.

Senator Kelly gave a sudden, violent spasm, and Logan had to plant his hands on the senator's shoulders to hold him down. "I think he's sick!"

"Get him to the laboratory," Xavier ordered, already putting his wheelchair in reverse. "He needs to be stabilized. Vicky …?"

"Huh?" I snapped around, surprised he had called my name.

Xavier's eyes suddenly narrowed. "Come with me."

Baffled, I obeyed without question. Trotting a bit to keep up with the powerful wheelchair, I trailed the professor into an elevator.

As the professor punched in for the lower level, I took a whiff of the air around us. "Oh."

"What's that?"

I shrugged. "Bobby. He was in here."

"You can smell him?"

"I guess that's his scent."

Xavier blinked. "Why would he use the elevator to the lower levels?"

I only shrugged again. I really didn't want to talk about Bobby right now. (But it was funny; my senses are heightened when I warp into full monster mode, so I can smell pretty well. Right now, I was trying hard not to recoil in disgust; between you and me, Bobby smelled a lot like a reptile.)

We reached the bottom floor, and Xavier shot out of the elevator before the doors were completely opened.

I bounded after him, following him into cul de sac where the X-Men's uniforms were stored.

Xavier ordered me to stay where I was. He scooted forward a few feet, going along the wall until he found the one pale blue tile that I never would have noticed if I had lived here all my life.

Sighing regretfully, he tapped the tile. Instantly, the entire wall slid away, revealing extra uniforms--include two more, whose designs were different from the others.

Opening a drawer beside one uniform with large holes in the shoulders, Xavier withdrew a black jumpsuit.

"I hate to do this," Xavier said, reluctantly holding the uniform out to me. "But, see if this fits you."

I cocked an eyebrow. "Why?"

"I'm afraid I might have to ask for your assistance, as well as Logan's."

"What?"

"I'll explain more fully once my suspicions are confirmed." Closing the drawer, Xavier tapped the tile again, and the wall began to slowly return to its original place. "The door beside the girls' uniforms is the dressing rooms. Go in, and try the uniform … I'll call you when I come back."

For several seconds, I only stood there, looking at Xavier, looking at the black leather in my hands, looking at Xavier again … I wasn't getting it.

Whoa, wait …… was he asking me to help the X-Men?

Unfortunately, I was too chicken to actually ask him, and by the time I had found my voice, Xavier was already in the clinic.

Not truly understanding what was going on--and briefly wondering if this was all some strange dream--my eyes fell back to the uniform. Frowning, I unfolded it, and held it out at arm's length.

I unconsciously smiled at the golden angel wings embroidered on the uniform's lapels.

"Cool."

Rolling the uniform up, I hurried to the changing room.

*****

"It's a machine," Xavier said, his voice tight and his eyes wide with a worry I never thought I would see from him. I sat perched on the edge of one of his sofas in his private office (back in my normal clothes though, for you nitpickers out there). Across from me, Jean and Cyclops listened with growing horror. Behind the three of us, Logan paced impatiently, reminding me of the caged wolves I've seen in zoos.

"It's designed to trigger a mutation in normal humans," Xavier continued, his hands clenching into nervous fists. Uneasy, he glanced at me.

Feeling put on the spot, I sat up straighter. "What??"
"The mutation's unnatural, though," Jean answered, also giving me a troubled look. "Senator Kelly's body is rejecting it at an alarming rate. His cells began to break down almost immediately after he was exposed to the radiation."

My heart stopped for a second. "Will he die?"

Everyone turned to stare at me, and I felt like melting into the sofa cushions. Leave it to me to bring up something they don't really want to talk about. You were right, Dad; I AM a loose cannon. I never know when to freaking shut--

"I think so."

--up.

Obviously disturbed by this, Cyclops glanced at Jean. "Is there any effect on mutants?"

Jean shook her head. "There doesn't seem to be any."

Logan stopped pacing for what felt like half a second. "What does Magneto need Vicky's blood for?"

All of the air rushed out of Xavier's lungs and he shook his head empathetically. "I don't know."

Disgusted, Logan turned away from us. I growled softly, feeling my heart drop; it seemed so senseless. Create a machine that causes abnormal mutations in humans, then steal a mutant vampire's blood?

Cyclops, who had been silent through most of the discussion, suddenly furrowed his brow. "Waitaminute … Professor, you said the mutant inside the machine--the machine drained him of his power?"

Xavier nodded. "Yes … almost to a point where it nearly killed him."

"He didn't have the strength." I could almost see the storm clouds brewing in Cyclops's skull as he turned and pointed at me. "What if there's something in Vicky's blood that would make him stronger?"

Jean's eyes shot open in horror. "The blood of vampires causes the victims to increase their strength almost tenfold …"

Realization hit us all like a sledgehammer as Logan turned around, the color draining from his face. "Magneto's gonna give the guy Vicky's blood."

I stared at Logan in terror, so strong it made my blood--the very same that got us into this mess--run icy cold through my veins.

For several seconds, I couldn't speak. I tried; I could feel my jaw move, but I couldn't hear my voice. I almost panicked, and I tried to scream that it wasn't my fault, I never intended for any of this to happen ….

Thumbing on his wheelchair, Xavier began to back away from his desk. "We have to find where Magneto's going," he said, his voice firm and commanding again. "Scott, get Logan a uniform--"

"Whoa!" Cyclops leapt to his feet. "Wait, Professor, I don't think that's such a good idea! He might endanger the mission, he--"

The moment he yelped, I knew something bad was going to happen. Bracing myself, I stood up and scurried over to Logan, ready to hold him back should Cyclops piss him off.

I guess I got there just in time.

Baring his teeth, Logan shot a vicious look in Cyclops' direction. "Hey, I wasn't the one who gave the train station a new sun roof, pal."

"Logan," I warned.

Insulted, Scott returned the glare. "No; you were the one who stabbed Vicky in the chest!"

"Scott!" Jean hissed.

Logan's muscles tightened, and I immediately threw an arm out to bar him from Cyclops.

Logan wasn't to be deterred that easily though. "Listen, why don't you take your little mission, and stick it up your--!"

Things would have gotten ugly if Storm hadn't rushed in.

I always thought she was a cool, calm kind of woman, but the way she ran in to the office, flinging the doors open, and the look in her eyes?

"Senator Kelly is dead."

Horrified, I froze. Logan grew still under my arm as Jean stiffened, and Cyclops' jaw fell open. For what felt like a long time, we only stared at Storm, her eyes glassy with confused, frightened tears.

Coming to his senses, Xavier gave us a final, warning look. "I'm going to find him. Settle this."

With stone hard resolve, Xavier sped out of the office, straight to the thing called Cerebro, a telepathy-enhancing device.

I'll admit, that as I stood there and watched him leave in his wheelchair, I thought he was one of the strongest men I have ever known.

Jean hurried after him, and Storm reluctantly trailed behind her.

With only me standing between Logan and Cyclops, I was ready for a serious altercation. Uncaping my bat-like wings, I stepped away from Logan, just far enough that if he were to lunge for Cyclops, he would have to shove me out of the way first.

For a second, Logan regarded me in shock, in an almost hurt and confused anger. Though I didn't like facing him like this, I narrowed my eyes.

Behind me, Cyclops drew in a breath. Setting his jaw, he stepped around me, keeping his anger gaze fixed on Logan. "Your time's coming, Logan."

Logan's fists clenched involuntarily. "Wrong, boy; it's a long ways off."

"We'll see about that." With that, Cyclops stalked out of the office, and down the hall that the professor, Jean and Storm had taken.

Cyclops wasn't scared of Logan. I sensed that, and it immediately made me feel sick to my stomach; I didn't want anybody killing each other here.

Logan's fury was raging, and adding to it was the last thing I wanted to do. Holding my breath, I caped my wings and glanced at him. "Sorry, Logan. I didn't want a fight to happen."

A growl rumbled in his throat, but Logan nodded, his body relaxing. "I know."

Phew.

Not really knowing what to say next, I shrugged and let my eyes fall to the carpet. "I'll be in my room."

"I'll walk you there," Logan offered, taking a few brave steps towards me.

Surprised, I looked at him. "You will?"

This took him by surprise, and he shrugged, placing one hand gently on my upper arm. "I don't think you should be alone right now. C'mon."

Pleased, I smiled at him and allowed him to guide me by the hand back to my room. He never flinched from my appearance once.

My grip tightened on his hand a little as we reached the main stairway, where Bobby Drake was trudging up the steps. Seeing him made the resentment in me flare, and, stupidly, I snarled at him. "Glad to have me back, Bobby?"

Surprised, Bobby stopped in midstep, turning to look at me with what was genuine confusion. "What are you talking about?"

I should have focused on his emotions; I know that's what I should have done. But seeing him made me so angry … hadn't he told me to leave the Academy because the professor was angry?

I snarled again and tried to bolt forward, but Logan's grip tightened and he yanked me backwards, away from Bobby. "Easy, Ka!"

I pointed an accusing talon at Bobby. "If it wasn't for you, I never would have left the school! Magneto wouldn't have my blood, and all hell wouldn't be breaking loose!"

Bobby blinked. "You're not mixing medications, are you?"

"ARGH!!" Wrenching my hand free from Logan's, I tore up the steps, my fangs bared in rage.

With a scream, I pounced, tackling the stunned Bobby, ready to beat the hell out of him. "YOU!!!! YOU TOLD ME TO LEAVE!!!!"

Bobby's eyes shot open in terror. "What the hell are you talking about?!" he cried, grabbing my wrist, holding my poised talons away from his face before I had a chance to rip him to shreds. "I never saw you today!"

All I could think was that he was lying. He had spoken to me this morning! He had walked up to me, close enough that I could smell that reptilian scent--!

His scent …?

Startled, I froze (and not because Bobby had encased my hand in ice!). I was so bewildered that I didn't even put up a fight when Logan raced up to us, wrapped his arms around my middle and yanked me right off of Bobby.

His face slicked with icy sweat, Bobby sat up and glared at me. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about, but I haven't seen you since last night!"

Logan narrowed his eyes at Bobby. "Don't lie to us, kid; a buncha kids saw you talkin' to her this morning!"

"I NEVER TALKED TO HER!!" Bobby all but screamed. Frustrated, he leapt to his feet, rubbing at the spot on his chest where my claws had scraped him. "I was with Jubilee and Kitty and Morph …! Ask 'em! They'll all say I was with them!"

Then who had spoken to me this morning? I stared at Bobby; this was the boy who had given me the ice rose yesterday morning. I know it. His smell, what I smelled a second ago, was watery; it had an icy smell, like icicles or snow. It wasn't reptilian.

But, Bobby had walked up to me this morning … and I smelled this scent then. Faintly, 'cuz he was standing downwind … but when the Professor and I had gone into the elevator, it was a lot stronger, a lot more assaulting.

Slowly, Logan put me back down on my feet. "You wouldn't lie to me, wouldjya kid?"

Bobby held up his hands and shook his head. "No sir."

Logan studied him for a moment, then nodded. "All right … go on then. Sorry for the uh …" He shrugged. " … Misunderstanding."

Bobby nodded, his eyes flickering back to me. I swallowed hard. "I'm sorry … but I thought you …"

"S'okay," he answered, looking as though he didn't TOTALLY mean it. With one final look to make sure I wouldn't lunge for him again, Bobby turned and sprinted up the stairs.

I winced. "I'm an idiot, aren't I?"

"Don't say that," Logan said, turning me gently to face him. "You must have mistook somebody else for him."

"I couldn't have! He was wearing those same clothes, and …." My shoulders fell. "I don't know, Logan."

"Me neither, darlin'," he replied, slipping an arm around my shoulders. "But you told me about that smell …"

I looked at him in shock. "Did you smell it too?"

"Been smelling it all day. When I went to look for you this afternoon, I could smell it everywhere."

"But it wasn't Bobby's?"

Logan shook his head. "Could be another kid's … but I haven't smelled it before today."

"Me neither … and you have a better sniffer than I do." Dumbfounded, I scratched the back of my head. "Did anybody stop by today?"

"Nobody I know of." Frowning, Logan arched an eyebrow at me. "What are you thinking?"

Surprised that he asked, I shrugged and smiled sheepishly. "Maybe it's my accursed imagination running away with me, but I thought somebody could have snuck in here, and, y'know, took Bobby's form?"

"To scare you off?"

He was right; the whole idea was stupid. I shrugged again. "Just a thought."

Logan's frown grew deeper, and he glanced away, back down the stairway to the hall that the X-Men had taken. "We should tell 'em."

"What??"

"C'mon." He grabbed my hand and just about dragged me down the stairs. "If somebody did get in

here--"

"But Logan, I wasn't serious!"

"Then who was it that told you to leave this morning?"

Okay, I didn't have an answer for that.

Finding the elevator, we ran in, Logan slamming his fist against the 'Basement' button. The doors shot closed and I squawked, jerking my tail out of the way just in time.

Logan looked at me. "Sorry about that."

"Grrrrrr ….."

The elevators in the Mansion all but rocket to the X-Men's lair (lair? Headquarters? Which sounds less cheesy?), but tonight, they seemed to crawl.

I growled and began to pace; why did I feel so uneasy? Well, okay, I was trapped in an elevator with the man I loved--uhhhhh … Let's not go there right now, shall we?

Logan snarled softly. "Stop that pacin', darlin', yer driving me nuts."

"Sorry." I stopped immediately, but my tail flicked impatiently over the slick floor of the elevator, snapping gently against the walls.

Irritated, Logan lashed a hand out, catching a hold of my tail like it had been a poisonous snake. "Sorry, darlin', but you're makin' me nervous!"

Do I really need to describe how his touch felt like white-hot flames against my skin? (*notes that her audience is leaning forward eagerly*) Ooookay then ….

It was getting really bad--I mean with Logan and me. I finally became so agitated standing there with him that I had to retreat to the furthest wall of the elevator; he didn't smell me sweating, did he?!

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. Thankfully, he was too deep in his own thoughts to notice me studying him--

Logan's head turned sharply, his eyes staring straight and hard at me. I yelped in terror, leaping so high that I think I left a dent in the elevator's ceiling.

I barely had time to recover when Logan turned away, looking back at the floor display. "Are we slowing down?"

"Huh?"

Just as Logan opened his mouth to repeat the question, waves of pain and terror roared up from somewhere underground. I cried out in horror, my hands flying for my head as the strength in my legs dissipated. I staggered wildly, blinded by the emotions. I actually collided with Logan, but I was so confused I couldn't remember who he was right away .

I stood there for a moment, shaking and panting, leaning against Logan for support.

"Vicky, what is it?!" Logan cried.

For a moment, I only shook my head, too winded to reply.

By the time the elevator reached the final floor, I had recovered enough to point towards the end of the corridor and rasp, "Xavier …"

Logan's eyes shot open in fright, but he didn't bother to press me for details.

The doors slid open and Logan threw an arm around my waist, jerking me upward before I could register what the heck was happening. "C'mon, kid!"

I felt like my feet were made of rubber, and I silently swore every time I tripped, thus slowing us down.

It's weird though; Logan never said a thing about it.

We finally reached the end of the hall, blocked by a large, vault-like door. Logan was kind enough to prop me up against a nearby wall before launching himself for the door.

"How do you open it?" I asked, forcing myself to stand straighter.

That stopped him short. "It's some kind of scanner … it scanned the Prof's eye before it let him in."

"Oh, great." Swallowing hard, I turned away, back to the opposite end of the hall. Cupping my hands around my mouth, I threw all rationality to the wind and just screamed.

"JEEEEEAAAAANNNNN!!!!!!"

I was midway through my second shriek when Jean came tearing around a corner, way at the end of the hall. Several seconds passed before Storm and Cyclops appeared, their faces tight with confusion and fear.

As Jean ran to me, her bright eyes met mine. I stiffened in surprise as she exchanged a brief, mental glimpse with me; when she heard me scream, she sent a telepathic plea to the professor. He didn't answer.

Hardly giving herself time to stop, Jean narrowed her eyes at the door, an intense look on her face.

"Get back!" she snapped, and, surprised, both Logan and I took a few obligatory steps away

With us out of the way, Jean took a deep, steadying breath. Placing her feet shoulder width apart, she focused her gaze on Cerebro's entrance, and concentrated.

Several agonizingly long moments passed. I gripped Logan's hand tightly, watching as Jean intensified her power to a point where she broke out in a sweat.

Cyclops started at this--he mustn't have ever seen Jean act this way. Nervously, he reached out for her shoulder. "Honey, don't strain yourself! I can just blast it open--"

Furious, Jean shook him off. "You'll hurt Charles!"

"But Jean--!"

Storm's bewildered gasp silenced Cyclops, and we all watched in amazement as the doors groaned, splitting and grinding open unwillingly at first.

Finally, Jean's power became too strong, and the doors shot open, slamming thunderously back into their tracks.

The challenge gone, Jean gasped, staggering forward a few feet as her strength momentarily dissolved. Cyclops dove to catch her, but Logan, Storm and I didn't move.

We could only stare in sickened horror at Professor Xavier's body, lying crumpled and lifeless on the floor.

****

I really don't know what happened to the professor; Jean said he went into cataleptic shock, and his brain waves were either rocketing dangerously high off of the charts, or violently dropping to a level where Xavier should have been dead.

But what caused this, no one could even hazard a guess.

With the Professor incapacitated, there was nothing we could do. I was of little help, so I stayed out of the X-Men's way … even though it was heartbreaking to leave the Professor alone.

Restless, I wandered from the clinic to my room to the kitchen to finally, the rooftop, where a gazebo-like structure was erected. (What is it called? A cupola?)

Sighing heavily, I hefted myself up on a railing; what do we do now? Professor Xavier was the only person here who could use Cerebro … how were we going to figure out where Magneto was going to create another Ground Zero?

Why did I feel like this all was my fault? I didn't create the damned machine, sure; but it was my blood that was … fueling it.

My shoulders fell, and I gazed out across the expanse of the Mansion's west lawn, toward the bright pinprick of light that was the Statue of Liberty.

Y'know, after Sabretooth had attacked Logan and me in Alberta, I had wondered that, if I had known that a crazed mutant would hijack us, that I would meet a couple of weirdos calling themselves the "X-Men", that I would barely escape certain death--three times--AND managed to get in a bar fight, would I have still approached "the Wolverine?"

I had answered yes then.

Now I changed my mind.

I never should have met Logan.

Miserable, I prayed fleetingly for the professor; it was the least I could do.

Behind me, the old stairway leading into the Mansion's attic creaked wearily, and I sat up abruptly. A quick whiff told me who it was. "Logan?"

"Yeah," he answered, warily trudging up the stairs--they threatened to go at any minute.

Balancing myself precariously on the rail, I turned to face him, caping my wings as I did so. "Is the professor okay?"

Logan didn't even attempt to look at me as he shook his head. "It's not good, darlin'."

Worried though I was, I refused to let Logan know that. "He'll be okay … he told me about the time he lost the use of his legs …"

Logan sighed heavily, raising his head to look out behind me. "He'll pull out of it … I think, at least. Poor Jeannie's all worked up--"

"'Jeannie'?"

The shock and resentment in my voice finally made Logan look straight at me. He stared for a moment, not realizing what he had said. "Oh … uh …"

"Never mind," I said quickly, the tip of my tail flicking uncomfortably.

A brief look of pain crossed Logan's face, but he didn't attempt to explain what he felt. Sighing again, he shoved his hands into his coat pockets. "Storm and me looked at the security cameras … turns out that it wasn't Bobby that scared you off, Vicky."

"Say what?"

Logan's eyes narrowed and he shrugged, growling softly. "Some kind of shape-shiftin' mutant chick waltzed in here this morning … Storm called 'er 'Mystique', or something."

"Mystique?? You've gotta be kidding … I've heard of Sith lords with better names!"

"That ain't it though … she--Mystique, whatever the hell her name is--changed into Xavier, and had Cerebro take that retinal scan. She got in there and screwed around with the machine … Jean's looking at it right now."

I didn't know what to say. So, somebody did get in the Mansion … I guess that explains the reptile smell. "She works for Magneto?"

"Yep …" Logan exhaled heavily. "Bitch," he muttered.

I snorted. "Okay, so we know that I was tricked into leaving the Mansion, and we do know that Xavier was hurt 'cuz Cerebro was sabotaged … but that doesn't exactly help us in finding Magneto."

Logan shook his head sympathetically. "Nope."

Frustrated, I slid off of the railing. "Hell …"

The two of us lapsed into silence, a habit that I was beginning to hate. Unable to cope with the quiet, I sighed and crossed my arms. "I don't think I can sleep knowing that Magneto's going to do something …"

Logan blinked at my tone, then offered a small smile. "Whatever he does … I'll be on his ass for it for the rest of his stinkin' life."

I broke unexpectedly into a grin, then into a laugh. Relieved to have Logan here--maybe this was worth it--I crossed the short distance between us and embraced him, smiling as I felt him wrap his arms around me.

"Thanks for being here, Logan," I said, silently loving the sound of his heartbeat. "I really need a friend now."

"So do I, darlin'."

For a second, I allowed myself a moment of peace, losing myself in his warmth; this was what I wanted. No mutants. No Magneto. No X-Men. I just wanted him. I just wanted to be loved and to be safe--

"Sorry to interrupt the romance here!!"

I all but shrieked. Terrified, and confused that I hadn't felt Kitty's emotions when she approached (figures I'd be too deep in my own), I leapt sky high, and actually landed in Logan's arms. Startled, he and I stared at each other. Needless to say, I turned beet-red.

Quickly scrambling out of his grip, I looked down at the floor, where Kitty's head and shoulders protruded through. Now that I think about it … she looked a lot like Mrs. Potatohead at the time.

Phasing her arm through the ceiling, Kitty jabbed a finger at the roof entrance. "Get down here, you two--Dr. Grey knows where Magneto's going!"

***

"Magneto is here … Liberty Island …"

I watched with amazement as the metallic top of a seemingly featureless table in the X-Men's war room suddenly rippled like water, warping and rising, forming a flawless, scale-sized Statue of Liberty. (Have you ever goofed around with one of those toys that, when you placed your hand on the underside, the pins made a perfect imprint of your hand? Well, the table was like one of those. Anyways …)

Cyclops pointed to the statue in the center of the tabletop. "Now, presumably, his objective is to mutate the leaders at the U.N Summit meeting on Ellis Island."

As he spoke, the table shifted, creating an intricate, three-dimensional map of the New York Harbor. Cool as hell.

Still not totally together after witnessing Senator Kelly's death, Storm frowned at the map, folding her arms across her chest as she spoke. "He doesn't know his machine kills," she said, a glint of anger flashing in her blue eyes. "And judging by what the professor saw, if Magneto used enough of Vicky's blood …"

Midway through her sentence, a waved erupted from the Statue of Liberty, fanning out through the harbor, consuming Ellis Island, the docks, every building and every skyscraper.

"… He could wipe out everyone in New York City," Jean finished.

Beside me, Logan snarled softly. He wasn't liking this. And why should he? If the leaders of--how many countries???--were turned into mutants, then died as a result afterwards, nothing short of World War Three will calm everyone down.

Finally realizing how serious of a problem we had here ("OhGodohGodohGodohGodohGod" was all I could really think at the time), I swallowed hard, then glanced at Jean Grey, who sat in a chair near Cyclops, a big ol' chunk of ice (kindly supplied by Bobby) clamped to her head. And, speaking of whom, was she crazy?! She had used Cerebro to find Magneto, even though both she and Xavier had said it was extremely dangerous for her to use!

Feeling my eyes on her, Jean glanced up, and forced a weak, but mischievous smile. Understanding, I grinned in return; nah, she wasn't crazy.

Besides … I think every one of us here would have done the same thing.

Cyclops drew in a steadying breath. "All right … we can insert here, at the George Washington Bridge …"

Remembering why we were down here in the first place, I returned my attention to the countertop, watching as the tiny pins formed the bridge. Beneath it, a line skimmed across the surface of the pseudo-water.

"We'll come around the bank, just off of Manhattan," Cyclops continued, pointing as the line whipped across the harbor. I guess that's gonna be us.

"--and land on the far side of Liberty Island, here."

The George Washington Bridge collapsed, then warped again, rebuilding itself into the Statue of Liberty. The snake-like line shot around the base of the Statue, then came to a brutal halt just by her feet.

Logan cocked an eyebrow as he scanned the model. "What about radar? Harbor patrol …?"

Narrowing his eyes behind his dark glasses, Cyclops shot Logan a firm glance. "If they have anything that can catch our jet, then they deserve to catch us."

Surprised, Logan and I glanced at each other. I shrugged. "Well, I'm impressed."

"All right then." Thumbing off the table, Cyclops stood up. "Let's suit up. Logan, come with me; we've got a suit for you."

By the slight, blink-and-you-miss-it widening of his eyes, I could tell Logan was surprised to hear Cyclops speak like that. "Yeah? Who's is it?"

Cyclops paused in his tracks and glanced over his shoulder at Logan. He smirked. "One of mine."

Logan's surprise turned to horror, and I had to turn away quickly before he saw me laugh. "Y'sure I can fit into that Boy Scout uniform?"

"Jean and Storm made some altercations."

Logan snorted. "Great."

He sounded so disgusted, it was hard for me, Storm, and Jean to keep from giggling. Okay, laughing. Okay, guffawing!!

Logan was obviously insulted, and he shot me a look that could have peeled the paint off the walls. Quickly, I forced my snickers to stop. "I'm sorry, Logan--" I stopped momentarily to fight a grin. "But look at it this way … we're all kind of in the same boat."

Logan grunted. "Did I tell you how much I hate boats?"

Forgetting whom I was with, I burst out laughing. Ducking Logan's mocking swipe, I bounded after Storm and Jean, who both looked stronger despite their injuries.

Punching the key for the women's changing room, Storm gave me a sidelong glance. "Are you sure you want to come with us?"

I blinked, surprised by the question. I knew what she was asking, but I knew if I debated it with myself again, I'd wuss out and stay at the Mansion. I nodded hastily. "Yeah … it's my blood, remember?"

"I remember," Storm replied, trailing Jean into the locker room. "But I don't want you to get hurt."

I shrugged. "I'll stay out of the way the best I can," I offered.

Jean opened a locker and withdrew a slick, black jumpsuit. "You said you knew some self defense?"

"Yeah," I answered, opening my self-claimed locker. "There was a course on self defense at school. I finished learning it like a day or so before I ran away from home." Dropping my altered suit on a bench, I gave them a hard look. "I did a lot of fighting afterwards. I think I can handle myself."

Silenced, Storm looked away uncomfortably, and Jean only nodded.

Sighing, I looked down at my suit. "Besides … you don't spend eighteen years with three brothers and not learn something about fighting."

I had a little trouble getting my suit on; my wings are bony, like a bat's, so they got caught easily on the fabric. It took Jean and Storm a minute or so to help me get my wings through the holes, and to make sure that nothing was tearing around the hastily made hole for my tail. Finally, I strapped on my boots and stood up.

"Whaddya think?" I asked, spreading my arms.

Jean and Storm shared a glance, and both grinned.

"I think you look like an X-Man," Storm said, smiling.

I grinned, not knowing what to say, really.

It didn't take us long to get to the hangar. Cyclops was already in the jet's cockpit, putting in a fifth seat. And at the foot of the ramp was--

"Logan!"

Hearing the shock in my voice, Logan turned and glanced at me, his cheeks turning pink. When he saw me, his eyes shot open. "What the hell are you wearin'?!"

Surprised, I looked down at my suit. It used to be a guy's suit, but, to make it easier to move in, I took in the leather in some places. Maybe I took in too much?

"What are you wearing?" I retorted finally, my eyes shamelessly studying his body. The jumpsuit clung to him like a second skin, and his bu--ah, I'd better just stop there.

Embarrassed, Logan tugged as his collar, like it was choking him. "This's so stupid …"

"You look good," I said, a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.

"Yeah well …" He paused to study me again. "You too … but I wouldn't want you runnin' around New York in somethin' like that!"

"Oh Logan, you do care!" I said sarcastically, succumbing to my smile.

Finally, Logan grinned. "'Course I do. C'mon, darlin'; we got some ass waitin' to be kicked."

Laughing, I followed him up into the cockpit, taking the fifth seat between him and Jean. As we buckled in, Logan growled, jerking at his collar, readjusting the zipper. He jerked his arm out, trying to find room. "You guys actually go out in these things?"

Pausing only to ignite the engine, Cyclops snorted. "Well, what would you prefer? Yellow spandex?"

Logan glared at the back of Cyclops's head, and both Jean and I glanced at each other, biting our lips to keep from laughing.

Calming myself, I caped my wings about my shoulders as Cyclops intensified the engines' power. The jet snarled, jerking as it lifted off the hangar floor.

Logan's hand shot out, grabbing mine with such speed and strength I almost screamed.

"Whoa!" he hissed, his grip tightening.

Surprised, I leaned over to him. "What's wrong?" I whispered.

Logan shook his head quickly.

"Don't like planes either?" I asked.

Logan swallowed hard. "Just the takin' off part."

Amazed though I was by this (hey, c'mon … the man's got three adamantium blades in either hand--what could there be that he's afraid of?), I smiled comfortingly at him. "It's not that bad."

Not even a second passed after I said this when a basketball suddenly plummeted through the ceiling, banging off of the Blackbird's hull. Logan jerked in surprise.

Up in front, Cyclops shook his head. "I told 'em to take that inside," he grumbled.

Confused by the appearance of the basketball, I strained my eyes, looking for where it had come from. I blinked in surprise as one of the Institute's basketball hoops rose into view.

"What the ...?"

Storm glanced back at me. "The hangar's hidden under the basketball court," she explained. "This is the only place that has enough room for us to lift off from."

Well, that explained it. Logan and I gazed out of the Blackbird's windshield, watching as amazed students gathered around the tall windows.

"They'll be okay?" I asked, noticing Bobby, Kitty, and Jubilee jostling each other for a spot by one of the windows.

Jean nodded. "They can take of themselves … and besides, Beast usually pops in to check on them."

Startled, both Logan and I whipped around to face her, our jaws hanging open wide in disbelief. "WHO???"

The engines of the Blackbird roared, cutting Jean off before she could answer. Calmly maneuvering the huge jet around, Cyclops punched it. I could hear the air outside the hull shrieking as we ripped through the sky.

Grimacing, Logan slowly released his bone-snapping grip on my hand. Drawing in a deep breath, he raised a fist.

'Shinkt!' His claws blasted out from the backs of his hands, tearing three neat little holes in his gloves.

Seeing his claws appear reminded me of the danger of our mission again. I swallowed hard. "I'm glad you're here with us, Logan."

He glanced at me, his facing growing tight. "Vicky … be careful in there."

Again, fear surged into my throat. I only nodded, too scared to speak.

It was maybe twelve minutes before we reached the George Washington Bridge. I leaned forward as Cyclops pointed to the bridge with his chin. "There's the Bridge. I'm taking her down."

Well, he didn't take us down too smoothly. For several long seconds, the Blackbird dropped like a rock. Poor Logan; he looked like he was going to be sick.

With a protesting scream, the engines flared back to life. The jet skimmed across the surface of the harbor, causing twenty-plus foot waves to erupt around us.

By now, Logan looked so miserable it would have been cruel if I even smiled. Sympathetic, I reached across and gripped his wrist. "S'okay, Logan. The Statue of Liberty's right there. See?"

Okay, so my intro didn't even come close to describing the majesty of the Statue; I could only stare with reserved amazement. The pattern of the lights as they sparkled across the black water like stars, the pride Lady Liberty seemed to radiate as she cast her gaze protectively over New York ….

Figures we'd be going there to probably bomb the hell out of it.

Having seen sights like this a thousand times over already, Cyclops, unfazed, glanced at Storm. "Storm? Some cover, please."

Storm grew silent and still (I know, I know … "Storm", "silent and still", it's an oxymoron. But that's what she was doing!!), focusing her powers on the air and the water. Within a minute, the small wisps of moisture rising off of the bay turned into a monstrously thick fog.

Logan snorted. "Thicker than peanut butter," he muttered.

Surprised, I glanced at him, letting my amused smile spread across my face. "You mean pea soup."

Grinning--and remarkably, without an effort--Logan glanced at me. "Hey, you eat what you like, and I'll eat what I like!"

Cyclops was the only one that didn't share our nervous laughter. "Knock it off," he snapped, thumbing on an infrared scanner for the windshield.

Irritated, I sat back in my seat, watching with mounting despair as we drew closer to our landing spot at the base of the Statue of Liberty. My mouth went dry and I shifted uneasily; my God, WHAT WAS I THINKING?!!

Oblivious to my growing panic, Cyclops switched off the infrared, then cut the engine. With the grace of an elephant, the Blackbird slammed into the water, jarring all of us in our seats.

Shocked, I shot a glance to Logan. Seriously, he looked so startled that his eyes were ready to pop out of his head.

Up in front, Cyclops shrugged. "Sorry," he said nonchalantly.

Logan blinked. "You call that a landing?"

We were close enough to the island to just leap from the hatch onto the rocks. With Cyclops leading the way, we warily clambered up to the Statue's dais.

I clung to Logan's side like freakin' Spanish moss. Sensing my unease, Logan slid his arm around my shoulders. "Easy darlin', I'll protect you."

I nodded, stupidly believing him.

After a moment Cyke confirmed his suspicions; Magneto had placed the machine in the Statue's torch. He pointed to the cyst-like bulb at the base of the torch. "It's right there."

Logan craned his neck upwards. "Can you shoot it from here?"

Cyke shook his head. "No, it's too far up. We'll have to climb to the head."

I sighed. "Wonderful."

Ignoring my grumbling, Cyclops sprinted on ahead. Storm and Jean followed suit.

I began to follow them when Logan dove forward, grabbing my elbow and yanking me backwards. "Vicky …. Don't do anything stupid."

"Stupid?? Logan, do you know who you're talking to?"

"Seriously, Vicky--" He paused to push me on ahead. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"I'll try not to," I promise, giving him a fleeting glance before racing after the X-Men. "You be careful too!"

Behind me, Logan stifled a laugh/snort. "Darlin', I'm the best at what I do."

"I won't argue that … Wolverine."

I wasn't too surprised to learn that the door to the Statue had been kicked in. What did bothered me though was the huge boot imprint in the metal.

Inside, all of the display lights were on, along with the security cameras and their monitors. Hearing voices, both Wolverine and I jerked around, snarling. Goes to show how tense we were; the security guards had left a tiny, portable television on at the main desk.

Snorting in annoyance, I turned around, falling in step behind Jean, absently passing through a metal detector as the TV droned on. " … entertain them, as others traverse the rigid security--"

'WWWWWHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!'

Crying out in a panic, I spun around, as did the X-Men. We all stared in disbelief at Wolverine standing in the metal detector, a snarl splitting his face.

Damn … I forgot that his whole skeleton was covered in metal!

Fed up, Wolverine growled, unsheathing his claws. Unceremoniously, he crossed his arms in front of his chest, skewering the metal detector and sending a shower of sparks flying across the room.

"There goes our element of surprise," I murmured, watching as Wolverine jerked his claws free.

Behind us, Cyclops frowned at Wolverine.

Noting the sour look, Wolverine narrowed his eyes, and lifted one fist.

'Shinkt!' Two of his claws shot back in his hand, leaving only the middle standing erect.

To our utter shock, Cyclops' frown melted into an amused grin! Shaking his head, he turned away and beckoned for us to follow.

I smiled as Wolverine sheathed all his claws. He glanced at me, somewhat quizzically, and I winked. He smirked, then followed me to the others.

Cyclops, Storm and Jean were standing by a display of the Statue's face, waiting for us. When I reached Jean, I caught a good whiff of that reptilian scent and gasped, halting immediately and causing Wolverine to plow right into me.

Cyclops glanced at me. "What?"

Not answering him, I nudged Wolverine in the ribs. "Smell it?"

"Probably better than you can," Wolverine retorted, inhaling deeply.

Cyclops frowned. "What is it?

Wolverine didn't answer immediately. He gave a low, warning growl as he scanned the museum. "There's somebody here."

Storm, Jean and Cyclops all straightened at the statement. Slowly, Cyclops' hand snaked up to his visor. "Where?"

Wolverine took another sniff. "Dunno … keep your eye open."

"Wha--Logan?"

Not bothering to reply--and holding up a hand to keep me from following--Wolverine warily walked forward, looking behind pillars and the face display before finally disappearing.

"Dammit!" Cyclops hissed, racing up to my side. "What is he doing?"

"There's somebody in here," I whispered, taking another breath. "Smells like …"

Suddenly, Wolverine reappeared silently on the opposite side of the face, his growl still visible and vicious.

Letting his guard down, Cyclops approached him. "Find them?"

Wolverine shook his head. "There's somebody in here, but I just can't see 'em."

Frowning, Cyclops only nodded, then gestured for us to follow him.

As Cyclops turned away, I stifled a snort; the reptilian smell had become suffocating. Nauseated, I started after them--

It was Wolverine's claws that gave it away. As I sprinted to catch up with him, I saw his claws pop out … but I didn't hear that 'shinkt' sound.

I reacted without thinking, only gasping and springing forward as Wolverine raised his claws, aiming them at Cyke's back. With a shriek that I've only heard a few times since the experiments, I raked my talons across Wolverine's cheek, from his ear to his chin.

Swearing, Wolverine staggered, one hand flying to his cheek. "You bitch!!"

Gasping, the X-Men spun around, their eyes flying open as Wolverine reeled around, his eyes narrowing in rage as I crouched before him, baring my fangs and snarling.

It worked.

Hearing the staccato beat of the real Wolverine's boots off to my right, I dove aside, rolling away as he roared and lunged, tackling the impostor.

I barely had time to catch my breath before Jean mentally yanked me to my feet. Gasping, I staggered, spinning around as the two Wolverines careened into a white brick wall.

Swearing, Cyclops rushed forward, reaching for his visor as one of the Wolverines snarled and both kicked each other in the gut, sending each other flying into a wall.

Both snarled and unsheathed their claws--but I couldn't hear the 'shinkt' sound.

Confused, Cyclops looked back and forth at the Wolverines. "Vicky, which one?!"

"I don't know!" I cried, panicked.

Hearing us, both Wolverines looked up at exactly the same time.

"Wait!!" they cried, holding their hands up like some choreographed movement. I swore through my clenched teeth; dammit, which one was Logan?!

Without warning, the one closest to the door suddenly wheeled around, his claws singing as he slashed through the chains that held the door open.

As the door shot closed, I caught a brief glimpse of the Wolverine against the white wall look at me, his eyes both angry at our hesitation and frightened for us.

"Damn!" Cyclops bellowed as the door slammed shut. He spun around. "Jean, open it!"

Her eyes widened in a panic. "It'll take too long!"

Realizing she was right, Cyke snarled something unintelligible under his breath, then flung an arm out. "Okay everybody, back up! Back up!"

All too happy to oblige, I scrambled backwards, wanting to be as far from those eyes as poss--

"Rrrrrrrriiiiiiiibbbbbbbiiiiiiiittttttt!!!!!!"

'Thhwwaaap!'

Startled, I spun around in the direction of the new sound. I opened my mouth to cry out in fright, but managed only a grunt as the mutant's heavy-booted feet slammed into my chest.

The strength in his legs was incredible, and I barely remember feeling my feet leave the ground.

I smashed into something warm and soft, and I heard Cyclops cry out in shock before I slammed into a display case, destroying the plate glass and the foam model of the Statue of Liberty inside.

Gasping, I rolled off of the display case and thudded sickeningly hard onto the floor. For two long, long seconds, I couldn't breathe. What's worse, I tried to force air into my lungs, but I couldn't.

My whole chest felt like it was being squeezed. Choking, I forced myself onto my knees, bending over and coughing explosively.

Wheezing like a fish out of water, I risked a look up at our attacker, through the door I had flown through … I guess. Like I said, I don't even remember leaving the ground.

My God, was that sucker in front of me ugly. Ugh! His skin was slick and green, looking almost slimy. The pupils of his eyes were huge, drowning out the whites totally.

He crouched on the ground, a few feet in front of a collapsed, dazed Jean Grey. Sensing my eyes on him, he snapped his head around--and grinned.

A long, gray, whip-like tongue shot out of his mouth--straight at me! Horrified, I tried to stand, but, stupidly, tripped over my own damned tail!

To my confusion, the mutant's tongue didn't grab my leg like I thought it would. Instead, it wrapped around the handle of another sliding door, like the one Wolverine had disappeared behind. With a quick jerk of his head, the toad-man threw the door closed.

"Uh-oh!" Finally regaining my balance, I raced across the hall to the door. Wrapping my hands around the handle, I pulled with all my strength, but DAMMIT!!! The damned thing would not move!!

My heart racing, I spun around--and yelped, leaping about three feet in the air when I saw the figure laying on the display case.

"Cyclops!" I cried, rushing forward. When he didn't reply, I slid one hand under his head, straightening it, while I checked his pulse (or at least tried to) with the other. "Cyclops! Cyke, oh c'mon Cyke! Wake up!!"

A low, barely audible groan rose in his throat. Hoping unrealistically, I shook him a little, trying to wake him up. "Cyclops! Wake up!!"

His head shook loosely on his neck and I cringed. "Ooooh, Cyke!!! Don't zone out on me now!"

Something off to our right thudded loudly, and, baffled, I turned to look--

"Beware of the Blob!!!"

"Holy--!" I froze, staring in a mix of confusion and just sheer disgust as a massive, flabby man lumbered towards us.

He started running towards me, every heavy footstep causing a tremor to ripple through the floor. He laughed, his beady eyes narrowing in sadistic glee. "C'mere an' give the Blob a kiss, chicky!"

"Agh!" Unfurling my wings, I spun around, feeling my tail lash out, snapping the tip viciously across his shins.

"Whoooaaa--oops!" the Blob squawked, his meaty arms pin wheeling frantically in the air as he tried to hop over my tail, only to hook one foot behind the other and send him toppling to the ground.

Gasping, I darted out of the way, plastering myself up against a wall as the Blob slammed into the floor and was sent rolling like the boulder that chased Indiana Jones in Raiders of the Lost Ark.

"Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa!!!" the Blob yelped, unable to control his own mass as he spun past me. The sight was rather funny, but I was a little too sickened to laugh.

Showing no signs of slowing down, the Blob continued to roll through the corridor like a huge beach ball. Every time his face reappeared from under that flab, he glared at me and shook a fist. "When I--git a hold--of you--!"

"Next time, chubby!" a new voice cut in. Gasping--but smiling in relief--I spun around just in time to see Cyclops hop off the display case, raise a hand to his visor, and send a bolt of energy ripping through the air.

With an ear splitting crack, the laser blasted a crater straight through the wall of the museum. Seeing it, the Blob yelped. "Oh, shhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-----!!!"

Unable to stop, Blob went barreling through the hole. He disappeared over the lip of the floor, and all I heard was a BIG 'kerploosh!'

Not quite understanding what had happened, I spun around to Cyclops. "What the hell was that?!"

"A great big hick," Cyke replied, wincing as he rubbed the back of his head. "You okay?"

"I guess." Remembering our situation, I turned to the door. "That frog-thing locked us in here--"

There was no way to have seen the next attack coming. I smelled the sulfur in the air nanoseconds before a cloud of fire roared down upon us.

Cyclops shouted something, but I couldn't understand it. Catching his outstretched hand, we both leapt blindly through a wall of flame, gasping as cold air hit our faces.

Smelling my suit and my hair burn, I swore in a panic, landing hard on the floor and rolling quickly, smothering the flames on my back and on my arm. "Shit!"

Landing heavily beside me, Cyclops swore and slapped out small flames that crawled up his arm. "Son of a bitch!!"

Hefting myself up, I grabbed Cyke by the collar and dragged him to his feet. "What the hell--?!"

The answer to my unfinished question pierced the air with a cackle. Gasping, both Cyclops and I snapped our heads upward, at the metal catwalk hanging over us.

"Look out!" the man cried, lifting up the barrel of some kind of gun. "'Ere comes Pyro!"

Not concerned in the least for his own safety, the flamed-haired, yellow jump suited man sprang over the catwalk's railing. His bloodshot eyes widened in deadly excitement, and an insane smile cracked across his face.

Cackling, he pulled the trigger of his gun--and a huge column of fire roared out!!

"Vicky, go!!" Cyclops cried, shoving me away.

Everything seemed to blur as I fell backwards, rolling off of my burnt shoulder and springing to my feet. I didn't see Cyclops or that mutant Pyro. What's worse, I didn't hear them shouting.

Panicked, I tore through the hall, bounding up the stairs leading to the catwalk Pyro had appeared on. My mind raced with thoughts of nothing--I was so frightened.

Skidding into a wall, I ducked into another hall, risking looks behind my shoulder for Pyro.

Waitaminute--I didn't just leave Cyclops behind, did I?!

Realizing that I did, I slid to a halt, slipping on pieces of fallen plaster. Digging my toe claws into the carpet, I reeled around, began to race back to the hall I had come through.

With my emotions running rampant, I had no idea that there was another mutant in that hall, leaning calmly against a model of the Statue's original design. Sighing, he flicked away the cigarette he had been puffing on--

And sprang, digging his claws into the back of my neck.

I was jerked backwards violently, so quickly that my claws tore deep grooves into the carpet. Before I could register that something had grabbed me, the mutant hefted me up effortlessly, and threw me across the room, like a spoiled child tossing aside a kitten.

Wood and glass splintered and rained down on my face as I slammed into the display case. I heard myself grunt as the back of my head smashed into the brick wall, and I tasted my own blood as it coursed into my mouth.

Winded, I dropped off the shallow display case, falling to the floor. Dazed, I raised a shaky hand to push away my hair as the mutant approached me.

"Well then," he said, his voice cultured, but oily. "I suppose Magneto exaggerated about your fighting prowess."

Reality slowly began to ooze back into my brain. Snarling, I glanced up at him. "Who the hell are you? Another Lestat wannabe?"

Though his black John Lennon-style glasses hid his eyes, I could tell he was glaring daggers at me. Snarling just enough to show his teeny, tiny fangs, the mutant pretended to be more interested in straightening the cuffs of his leather motorcycle jacket than me. "Actually … I like to boast that I inspired Lestat."

"Whatever, pal," I snorted, easing myself up to my feet.

Growling, the mutant lashed a foot out, striking me in my burnt shoulder and driving me back against the display case.

"My name is Bloodsport," he hissed, driving his face--white as a skull and topped with a beaky nose--into mine. "And you shall learn to respect it."

Respect it? Maybe not, but it certainly made me nervous. But I couldn't let this jerkoff know that!

Snarling, I batted away his long, white ponytail, then reached up and wrapped my hand around his bony ankle. "Piss off, buddy!"

Using all my strength, I forced his foot off of me, throwing him backwards into the statue he had leaned against only moments before.

"Horrid tart!" he hissed, digging his claws into the wall and lifting himself up.

I leapt to my feet, baring my fangs in a mounting rage. "You're the one Magneto was going to stuff in that machine?"

Bloodsport growled, dusting his jacket off before turning to face me. "Of course. It's ingenious, isn't it? Use one mutant vampire's blood to strengthen another mutant vampire." He smiled. "I should thank you for your donation."

"Bull!" I spat, my tail whipping furiously around my legs. "If you think I'll let you take even a whiff--!"

"I truly don't see how you intend to stop me," Bloodsport replied mildly. "Truth be told, you are no match for me. It would be ridiculous for you to even attempt--"

With a scream, I spun around, lashing my tail out. Bloodsport gasped, his eyes widening behind his sunglasses in shock. But he was slow to move, and my tail slapped across the papery thin skin of his cheek with a satisfying 'craaak!'

"Uff!" His head snapped back as his body began to teeter back on one booted heel.

Ignoring the sting in my tail, I roared and launched myself for him, ready to break that puny neck--

"Huh!" Snarling, Bloodsport lashed his hand out, catching me by the collar. As he fell backwards, he dragged me with him, planting a foot against my stomach and kicking me up and over his head.

I cried out in pain as I crashed through the locked door to the utility hall. The dark innards of the Statue spun crazily above me as I rolled across the rough concrete.

With a grunt, I flung my hand out, driving my talons as hard as I could into the cement. My talons screamed as they were raked across the cold floor, but I soon came to an immediate halt.

Panting heavily, I pushed myself up onto one knee--

I could feel the blood vessels bursting under my skin as the shovel slammed into my face. I cried out as I lost my balance, thudding heavily to the floor. Spitting blood onto the concrete, I shot to my feet--

My head rang horribly as the shovel caught me in the temple, sending me flipping long side to the ground. A strangled, inhuman howl escaped my throat as I looked up, seeing Bloodsport standing over me, the shovel drawn back over his shoulder like a bat.

Bellowing, I threw myself aside, unfurling my wings against the concrete to lift me to my feet. Behind me, the shovel came down with a huge 'clang', and Bloodsport swore furiously.

Staggering as I tried to run, I frantically searched the dark recesses of the corridor, looking for any more tools, a pipe … Something!!!

With a roar, Bloodsport lunged, thrusting one foot out and catching me in the small of back.

"Oof!" I grunted, feeling my body buckle. With a thud, I collided with a set of bare pipes snaking up along one wall, slicing open the sleeves of my jumpsuit, splattering blood everywhere.

"This is pathetic!" Bloodsport spat, flinging aside the shovel. "Why, I could tear you to bits with my bare hands! How Magneto could ever think that a miserable bitch like you could ever defeat me …"

As he spoke, my eyes narrowed at the pipes before me, reddening in anger.

Okay …

Now I'm mad!!

Snarling, I jerked away, ducking my head aside as Bloodsport shot forward, his fist raised.

He howled piteously as his fist came in contact with the thick pipes. Before he was able to reel back in pain, I lashed my hand out, grabbing him by the scalp.

With a roar, I slammed his face into the pipes, breaking his glasses. Crazed with anger and pain, I drove my elbow down into his spine with all of my strength.

Bloodsport grunted, his body sagging against the pipes. Not ready to let him go, I grabbed him by the coat and lifted him up, slamming my spiked knee into his gut as hard as I could.

"Argggh!" he screamed, his hands flailing about wildly.

"Bastard!!!" I roared, flinging him aside, sending him skidding across the floor on his skinny ass.

"Bloody hell, bitch!!" he screamed at me, ripping off his shattered glasses as he leapt to his feet. "I'll kill you, you sodding witch!"

My rage roared so loudly, so insanely inside of me that I didn't hear a word he said. I only snarled and rushed forward, hell bent on …

… Killing him?

Was I going to … kill him?

I hadn't thought about it before, but I was so enraged by this bastard, all I wanted to do was destroy him.

But that meant killing him. And mutant or not--bad guy or not--he was still human, wasn't he?

Seeing me falter, Bloodsport sprang forward. With a cobra-like hiss, he flung a hand out, catching my bare arm through the tear in my sleeve.

His skin literally burned against mine, and I gasped, more in shock than in pain. Frightened, I jerked away from him, kicking him hard in the knee as I tore my wrist free.

Bounding away from him as he collapsed, I risked a look at my arm. All the skin that he touched was raw, as though he had used a sandblaster on it.

"Lovely, wouldn't you agree?" Bloodsport asked, smiling at my frightened, sickened look. "That's right, my dear; I drink my victim's blood through touch."

My eyes shot open in disbelief. "Through touch?"

"Exactly. So …" Grinning maliciously, Bloodsport stood up. "Now I have your blood. Just enough to power the machine."

WHAT?!!

Not knowing what else to do, I screamed.

And lunged.

Blinded by that same rage, by that rage that nearly killed the boy who attacked me, that sent me running to Canada to escape the authorities, I tore across the corridor to Bloodsport, catching him in a flying tackle as he turned to run, throwing him to the ground and beating him, tearing him to shreds.

It must have been three minutes before I finally stopped, my energy spent. Exhausted, gasping for breath so badly that my lungs burned, I slowly stood up …

… And looked at the body on the floor.

All I could do was stare at it. I don't know whether I was waiting for Bloodsport to get up and attack me, or if I was waiting for it to twitch, or if I was just horrified at what I had done.

After a moment, I slowly turned away from the body, and limped to the nearest corner …

… Where I quietly became sick.

******

Forcing myself to recover ASAP, I retraced my steps through the utility hall, through the wing I had crashed through, and back to the catwalk. There I paused, looking uneasily about the wing as small fires smoldered along the carpet and ash rained down from the ceiling.

Not seeing either Pyro or Cyclops, I warily made my way down the steps, sidestepping the gigantic, fiery hole in one wall.

Beneath a pile of brick rubble, I caught sight of one of Pyro's bright orange boots. Shuddering, I turned away quickly, increasing my pace.

The door the frog-guy locked us behind now laid on the floor of the museum proper, obviously blasted through.

Grimacing, I hopped over the twisted wreckage.

Hearing my snort, Cyclops shot out from behind a pillar, his hand on his visor. "Hold it!!"

"Ah!" Panicked, I leapt back, running into the doorjamb. "E-easy, Cyclops!"

"Vicky!" Cyclops gasped, his jaw dropping in horror.

Hearing him exclaim, Jean Grey stood up from her hiding place behind the Statue's face display. "Oh my God!"

I limped forward. "Are you okay?"

"We should be asking you!" Cyclops cried, rushing towards me with Jean hot on his heels. "What happened?!"

"I … I don't know …" I winced as Jean took my face in her hands. "Easy, Jean!"

Not heeding my yelps of agony, Jean probed the scrapes and bruises on my face. "God, Vicky; you look like you were hit by a truck!"

Hissing in pain, I quickly pushed her hands away. "Actually, it was a shovel."

"Who did it?" Cyclops demanded. "Mystique?"

"No … some guy called Bloodsport." Keeping one hand on Jean's elbow for support, I limped forward. "He was the one Magneto was going to put in the machine."

"Where is he?"

Bile burned in my throat, and, unable to speak, I gave Cyke a pleading look.

Jean, not understanding completely, read my mind. Seeing what I had done, her face paled, and she looked at Cyclops, sickened. "He's dead."

Ashamed, I let go of Jean's arm. "What happened to Pyro?"

Not knowing that I was talking to him, Cyke stared at me blankly. "Huh? Oh! I uh--uh, Jean distracted him and I, uh, shot his flamethrower …"

That explained the hole in the wall. "What about the frog-guy?"

Jean went from looking sick to … well, looking sicker. "I don't know … he went after Storm."

"Is she okay?"

"I don't know," Jean repeated, turning away and craning her neck up to the catwalks over us. "They went up there--"

A sharp, grating sound cut Jean short, and, gasping, we all spun around, Cyclops' hand going for his visor.

Seeing Cyclops ready his visor, Wolverine gasped and jerked back, colliding with the wall, much like I had done.

"Whoa, whoa!" he cried, holding his clawless hands up. "Hey … it's just me."

I was too far to get a decent sniff, so I could only shrug when Cyclops turned to me for confirmation.

Frowning, Cyclops turned back to Wolverine. "Prove it."

If the irritation in Wolverine's eyes didn't convince us, then his reply certainly did.

"You're a dick."

Cyclops paused, mulling the answer over. "O-kay."

Satisfied, Wolverine started forward just as Storm appeared on one of the catwalks, letting us know she was all right.

Hearing Wolverine sigh, I turned to face him as he approached.

"Y'know, that friggin' Mystique chick turned into Storm, and I …" The words died on his lips as his eyes finally focused in the light, seeing my wounds for the first time. "Dammit!"

"I'm okay," I said quickly, grimacing as Wolverine touched my cheek.

Horrified, Wolverine then looked at the blisters on my shoulder, then my bleeding forearm. I made him stop when he touched the boot print at the base of my spine. "Easy! It hurts."

His eyes murderous, Wolverine turned me around quickly. "Who did it?! Who hurt you?!"

Surprised, I pulled free of his grasp. "It's all right! He's …"

I couldn't say it. Just thinking about it made my stomach churn and my eyes flood with tears.

Somehow, Wolverine was able to understand. He stared at me, his beautiful eyes widening in realization, in horror. When I quickly wiped away a tear, his face softened, and he empathetically wrapped his arms around me.

"Ssh," he said gently, drawing me to him. "I know, darlin'."

I choked on a sob. "I didn't mean to …"

"I know, I know."

As much as I wanted to stand there and let Wolverine comfort me, I knew I didn't have time to afford that luxury. Sniffing and hastily wiping tears from my eyes, I looked up to him. "We have to--"

"I know," Wolverine interrupted softly. He tried to smile at me, but his eyes looked so sad. "But no more fightin' fer you, okay?"

I nodded. "No more."

*******

It figures that we had to take the stairs to the Statue's head. Out of all of us, I was the most winded by the time we reached the top.

Irritated, I bent over and planted my hands on my knees, wheezing. "Damned thing--can't use a friggin' elevator--"

It wasn't Wolverine's voice that made me stop complaining.

It was the fear in it.

"Everybody; get out!"

Startled, I stood up immediately, following his gaze through a hole that gaped like a wound in the Statue's head. Directly before us, at the top of Lady Liberty's hand was the torch--and the machine.

I gasped; there it was! Right there! We could destroy it now--

Storm's voice broke into my thoughts. "What is it?"

Surprised, I looked back at Wolverine--

"I can't move."

My eyes widened in terror as Wolverine slowly turned to face us, moving like he was on a turntable.

Suddenly, he was jerked back, thrown through the air and back against the copper wall like metal to a magnet.

I barely had time to blink before the framework of the Statue's head groaned, snapping off and charging towards us like furious snakes.

Crying out in horror, I dodged the girders, yelping in pain as they slammed against my body.

Cyclops swore creatively as he fired several shots from his visor, slicing the girders in half. But the girders kept charging us, wrapping themselves around our legs and waists, flinging us with bone rattling strength against the walls of the Statue.

The railing of the stairwell we had charged up suddenly wailed in protest as it tore away from its posts. Like a whip, it snapped through the air, wrapping around my body and pinning my arms and wings to my side.

"Oh!!" I cried, yelping in pain as I was thrown back against a wall. Panicking, I tried to wrench my arms free, tried to rip the newly formed manacles from the wall, but I didn't have the strength.

Across from me, Wolverine snarled, the muscles in his arms twitching as he struggled to pull them free.

'Damn you, Magneto!' I thought furiously, writhing in my bounds. 'If I ever get a hold of you--!'

Storm's hoarse gasp made me freeze. Hardly daring to breathe, I looked up--

With a grace I would never had thought him for, Magneto floated down into the Statue's head, the air around him rippling with magnetic energy. Landing softly, he smiled at us, cold and victorious.

"Welcome, my brothers," he said, giving us each a brief glance. Turning to Wolverine, Magneto's smile faded. "And you …"

Wolverine growled, baring his fangs at Magneto defiantly.

Amused, Magneto allowed a slight grin. "Let's point those claws of yours in a safer direction."

Raising his hand, Magneto folded his fingers inward.

Wolverine's growl disappeared in a second, only to be replaced in horrified disbelief as his arms, acting completely under Magneto's power, bent inward, crossing his chest and slamming into his shoulders.

Whining horribly, two of the metal girders on either side of Wolverine tore away from the wall, snapping over his folded arms and holding him in place.

Before I had a chance to blink, something big and dark shot through the hole in the head, thudding loudly to the grating behind Magneto.

My skin erupted into goosebumps as Sabretooth straightened, hissing and giving me his evilest look--around his slightly swollen nose.

Magneto glanced at us as we glowered at each other. Annoyed, he snorted in Sabretooth's direction.

Remembering why he was needed, Sabretooth turned away, crossing the expanse of the Statue's head in two long strides.

"You'd better close your eyes," Magneto said smugly.

I followed Sabretooth's path to Cyclops, who was fairly riveted to the wall, staring directly at Jean. He grimaced as Sabretooth reached out and grabbed his visor, yanking it off of his head.

"Storm," Cyke snarled, keeping his eyes squeezed shut. "Fry 'em."

"Oh yes," Magneto interjected, approaching Cyke as Sabretooth pocketed the visor. "Send a bolt of lightning into a huge copper conductor." Sneering, Magneto drove his face into Cyclops'. "I thought you lived at the school?"

Maddened, I twisted in the metal rail, snarling. I had to do something! Slow him down, distract him, do something that would divert Magneto's attention and give the others a chance to free themselves.

Well, with that being said …

"Oooh," I spat, struggling to jerk my wings free. "Layeth the smackdown!"

Either he heard the sarcasm in my words, or my voice was just plain annoying. Looking disgusted, Magneto straightened and turned to me. "What?"

"Oh, nothin' … 'cept that, y'know, it's funny--" Here, I forced a short, cruel laugh. "--'cuz I thought that the Professor said that you were a Holocaust survivor …"
Magneto's hard eyes widened.

Got his attention, yes! I began to prattle on, drawing him away from Cyke and Jean. "… Yeah, you went to Auschwitz, right? That must've been a hell of an experience, huh? You must've seen everything that the Nazis did. Did you see your parents die? Nah, probably not …"

If his reddening face was any indication of how enraged Magneto had gotten, I should have shut up right there.

Of course, you know me … I NEVER know went to shut up.

"They gassed your mother, right?" I taunted, though the thoughts made my stomach twist into knots. "Told her that she was going to take a shower--the bastards even gave her soap to wash with, didn't they? But then--" Feigning sympathy, I shrugged. "--they turned the showers on, and only gas came out.

"What about your dad? Did they work 'im to death, or just line 'im up along a wall and shot him like a dog? No, wait, he died of typhoid, didn't he? Could you count his ribs? Could you count every vertebrae in his back?"

"Be quiet …"

"Still got your tattoo? Are you gonna give every non-mutant serial numbers? Gonna line them up along a wall, and blow their heads off?! Are you going to use the babies as target practice, you sick bastard?!!"

"SHUT UP!!!"

Two seconds before I was torn from the wall and thrown across the room, I remember thinking, 'Oopsy'.

I came to a second later, although it felt like several hours. Still wrapped in the railing, I rolled over to my side, shaking my head groggily and spitting blood on the ground.

"Enough of this," a voice hissed, and, wearily, I raised my head to look into Magneto's face. I remembered what happened and gasped, wide-awake now.

Pausing only to kick me in the stomach (I hopped aside and caught his boot in my hip--ow!), Magneto reeled around, reaching for the transmitter in his ear.

"Mystique," he snapped, spittle flying from his leathery lips. "Get Bloodsport and get up here! Mystique? Mystique!"

I think Jean got the same idea I had a minute ago--or was it a day? God, Magneto threw me hard.

"I've seen Senator Kelly!" she cried, her bright eyes flickering nervously towards Magneto.

Surprised, Magneto looked up, forgetting about the transmitter. "So! The good senator survived his fall--and the swim to shore. He's becoming more powerful than I could have imagined--"

"He's dead!" Jean snapped bitterly.

"It's true!" Storm said, quickly diverting Magneto's fury from Jean. "I saw him die. Just as those people down there will die!"

Seething, Magneto stalked up to her, and I could see that Storm was fighting the urge to shrink away.

"Are you sure you saw what you saw?" he hissed.

Storm, horrified that he didn't believe her, narrowed her eyes in rage. "Seeing a man turn into a puddle of primordial fluid is not something one forgets easily!"

"And I don't think killing the people at the Summit was your aim, Magneto!" Cyclops snarled. "How are you going to deal with the fallout from that?"

"You pathetic--!" Unable to speak, Magneto backed away from them. "Why do none of you understand? Those people down there control our fate, and the fate of every other mutant!"

We were running out of time. I shot a desperate look to Wolverine, but he could only snarl, still held by Magneto's power.

Certain that we saw his point now, Magneto smiled. "Well … soon our fate will be theirs."

My heart was ready to leap out of my chest, and I shook my head wildly, opening my mouth to scream--

"Help!!"

Storm gasped, and, startled by the new voice, we all twisted our necks up towards the torch, trying to see who was in the flame.

"Who--who is that?" Jean stammered, her voice thick with fear and confusion.

Slowly, Magneto's smile grew wider. "You certainly are pathetic … that is Rogue, Mystique's

daughter--"

The girl shrieked again, sending chills up and down my spine. "Somebody help me, pleeeeaaassseee!!!!"

Triumphant, Magneto jabbed a finger in my direction. "This one was a decoy. I had intended originally for Vicky to join my Brotherhood … but when you four stopped Sabretooth from capturing her, I altered my plans; I'd let you think that I'd use her blood to power my machine, when I was really going to give my power to Rogue.

"I knew Charles wouldn't let me go through with it, so I let you track me down … so I could capture you all.

"You'll never interfere with my plans again."

Oh, no …

Satisfied with our expressions of horror, Magneto turned to Sabretooth. "You may kill them all after I leave."

Sabretooth smiled.

Finally, Wolverine snarled. "You're so full of shit!"

Angry at the interruption, Magneto turned to glare at Wolverine.

Unfazed, Wolverine bared his fangs. "If you were really so righteous, it'd be you up in that thing!"

The color faded from Magneto's face as he realized that Wolverine was right.

And he was disgusted by it.

Giving us one, final glare, Magneto rose into the air, slipping through the hole in the Statue's head, gliding up to the torch, and finally disappearing out of sight.

As I strained to see where he went, I became horribly aware of heavy breathing behind me. Gulping, I spun around just in time to see Sabretooth's yellow-clawed hand descend upon me.

"Agh!" I yelped in terror as Sabretooth tore the railing away from my body.

Taking my throat in a bone-crushing grip, Sabretooth raised me into the air, grinning. "Miss me, honey?"

I gagged, clawing at his hand and trying to kick him in the gut. But he held me too far away from his body, and I swung helplessly from his hand.

His grip tightened so much that I couldn't scream, that it hurt to breathe. Choking, feeling ready to vomit, I drove my claws into his wrist as deep as I could, drawing blood.

Sabretooth only chuckled.

Dark spots flashed before his face, and I started to feel cold and weary--

"Aaaaarrrrrrggggghhhhhh!"

Startled, Sabretooth wheeled around, snarling. The pressure on my throat was gone, and I plummeted to the ground, rasping horribly.

Dazed, I looked up in the direction of where the sound had come from, and I almost screamed when I saw Wolverine hanging against the wall, the metal bands around his body gone, but his own claws protruding through his shoulders.

"LOGAN!!!" both Jean and I shrieked as his claws retracted.

His eyes rolling into the back of his head, Wolverine plummeted to the floor, collapsing like a rag doll.

Terrified, I shook my head wordlessly as Sabretooth warily stepped forward, baring his fangs.

'NO!! Logan, NO!!' I tried to scream. Massaging my throat as fast as I could, I summoned what little strength I had and forced myself to my knees, and then to my feet.

I swayed a little on my feet, but I didn't notice. Waves of terror and rage were surging through me, and a snarl rose despite how weak I was.

Clenching my fists, I staggered forward as Sabretooth bent down and grabbed Wolverine by the collar of his suit, lifting him up.

I swear to God Almighty, if Logan is dead--

With a roar that I've never heard from him, Wolverine reeled around in Sabretooth's grip, unsheathing his claws and driving them straight through the monster's chest.

Sabretooth shrieked, so loudly that my pointed ears rang and ached. I cried out in a mix of amazement and joy, all of my pain suddenly gone. A stupid grin on my face, I rushed forward, ready to help Wolverine beat the shit out of this--

"Whoa!!!" I ducked, hitting the deck as Sabretooth spun around, throwing Wolverine straight out of the hole that yawned above us.

"Wolverine!" I cried, leaping to my feet as Sabretooth sprang to the hole, clawing his way out.

"He'll be all right!" Jean cried, jerking in her bonds. "Help us get out of here!"

I hesitated for barely a second. Scrambling to my feet, I rushed to Jean, grabbing one of the metal bands around her body. "Hang on!"

Clenching my fangs, I planted one foot against the wall, then threw my weight back, pulling on the band as hard as I could. My fingers prickled as Jean's telekinesis settled around my hand, helping me pry the ancient copper away.

The metal creaked weakly, bending very slowly. I hissed in frustration, jerking on the metal. "Dammit!"

Beside us, Cyclops tried to shake his head, despite the fact that it was clamped tight under a belt of copper. "Forget it, you're not strong enough!"

Giving up, I threw my hands into the air. "So what do we do?"

"We need Wolverine!"

Above us, something slammed brutally onto the Statue's head. I grimaced. "I think he's a little busy!"

"Then we'll wait!" Cyclops snapped, his closed eyes narrowing as he struggled to say what he was planning. "Vicky … go to the torch … stop Magneto!"

My eyes shot open. "Say WHAT?!"

"Scott, no!" Jean cried as Storm exclaimed, "He'll kill her!"

"I don't think he'll have much strength left," Cyke protested, "Vicky's the only other one who's free. She can slow him down--"

"You're insane!" I cried, grabbing my head with both hands. "I can't--!"

"Would you rather fight Sabretooth?!"

I froze at the suggestion.

Realizing that there was no other alternative, I sighed in disgust. "Fine."

Turning away, I sprinted over the hole, looking up to the torch. "How do I get up there?"

"Can you fly?" Storm asked.

I shrugged. "Not well. I can glide with the right wind."

"Well, I'll get the right wind for you."

I stared in disbelief at Storm, but her eyes were already turning white. Swallowing hard, I turned away, opened my wings to their full length, crossed my fingers--

--And prayed like I've never prayed before.

A warm gust of wind surged into the Statue's head, roaring around the inner cavity and blasting up beneath me, filling out my wings and lifting me unceremoniously into the sky.

"Whoa-ah-stop!-no!-hey!-agh!"

Flying into the air like a kite, I fought the urge to flap; I could hear Jean's voice in my head, frantically telling me that if I flapped my wings, I could go careening into the Statue's hand.

I heard myself swear as the wind intensified, flinging me straight at the torch's flame. Panicking, I tried to swing away before I crashed--

--And just like that, the wind died.

"Ooof!" I grunted, landing on my stomach hard. Groaning, I pushed myself to my knees. Remind me to kill Storm later.

Rubbing my ribs with one hand, I glanced over my shoulder, then back in front of me. I didn't see Magneto.

I snarled as I stood, turning around to circle around the torch. Was Maggie gonna get a surprise when he saw me!

Increasing my pace, I ran around the flame, spotting a lump of purple fabric lying on the torch's base. I felt my eyes reddened as I roared, "Magneto! I'm gonna rip you to shred--"

With a head splitting roar, the torch exploded, throwing both me and Magneto back against the railing of the torch, showering us with shards of razor-sharp fiberglass and blinding us with a burning white light.

It was so bright that both Magneto and I cried out in pain, shielding our eyes in agony. I actually wrapped my wings over my head for added protection, but the light seeped straight through the wings' membranes.

"Oh, God!" I whispered, my eyes widening in terror as I heard the girl in the machine scream in agony.

Sickened, I forced myself to look into the orb, at Rogue, who was barely my age. Tears flew from her eyes as she shrieked and sobbed, her body convulsing in death spasms.

Struggling to stand, she tried to turn her head to me. She didn't have the strength.

"Help me!!" she screamed, her knees beginning to buckle. "Help me! Please!!"

For a moment, I couldn't move. I only stared at her, watching as she sank to the floor of the machine, her weeping growing fainter.

A stray flicker of memory entered my consciousness, back from when HE had preformed the experiments on me. I remember screaming and sobbing.

Energy surged through my limbs as I turned to Magneto, saw him smile weakly at his experiment and test subject. At a young girl whom he was willing to destroy in order to further the advancement of a race.

With a primeval scream, I tore towards Magneto, forgetting everything about pain and hate and destruction. I forgot about the X-Men and the people at the UN Summit.

I just wanted him to stop hurting her.

"STOP IT!!!" I shrieked, lunging and grabbing him by the shoulders as he tried to scramble backwards. "Turn this goddamned thing off!! TURN IT OFF!!!"

The barest glimmer of fear seeped into his eyes, but Magneto refused to give in to it. "Never!"

Rage and adrenaline took control, and, unable to stop myself, I stood up, lifting him right off of his feet.

"DAMN YOU!!! TURN IT OFF!!!"

"NO!!!"

I roared, throwing him aside like he was nothing more than a sack of flour. Too infuriated to hear him cry out in pain, I turned my attention to the machine, to the blinking line of bulbs on a panel.

Control panel or not, I was ripping that SOB out. Driving my talons into the metal, I tore the panel off like it was a piece of cheese, exposing thousands of wires.

"NO!!!" Magneto screamed, flinging a hand out.

A strip of metal tore away from the torch, shooting across the floor and wrapping itself around my feet. It squeezed, locking my feet together. I gasped, but couldn't react in time to catch myself as the metallic whip jerked back, yanking my legs right out from under me.

"Do you truly think," Magneto snarled as the metallic whip dragged me away from the machine and towards him. "that I'd allow you to throw a wrench into my plans?!"

I hooked my talons into the grating beneath me, stopping the whip from flinging me off the torch. "Go to hell, Magneto!"

His lips curled into a snarl, and the metal rope around my feet jerked me back just a little further.

Swearing, I sat up and grabbed the railing, prying it away from my legs slowly. Frustrated, I snarled, looking from Magneto as he staggered away, looking to the Statue of Liberty's head beneath us.

I couldn't see Wolverine on the head and I grimaced, hoping that he had skewered Sabretooth and was freeing the others.

Behind me, the light began to intensify, spreading slowly out from the machine.

Remembering that all of New York was straight in the path of the machine's radiation, I turned back to my legs, snapping off another length of metal.

Between the machine's ear-piercing wail and Rogue's tortured screams, I didn't hear the explosion beneath me. I didn't even know that anything had happened until I saw the red laser.

Baffled, I looked down, watching as the hairy form of Sabretooth rocketed through the face of the Statue of Liberty, then fell like a flaming, shaggy comet into a trawler docked at the Statue.

My gasp was lost in the noise and wind. I looked up again, behind me.

Magneto sagged against the remainder of the torch's railing, staring down in horror at the trawler as Sabretooth smashed through the boat.

His back turned to me, Magneto had no idea that I was able to wriggle out of the metallic rope.

Praying that I wouldn't eff this one up, I kicked the broken railing aside and shot to my feet, snarling.

"Who'll protect you now, Magneto?!" I bellowed over the drone of the machine, just managing to get his attention. "They're all gone!! Nobody's here to keep me from kicking your ass!"

Magneto stared at me with such loathing it made my stomach sink. But he didn't move, and didn't attempt to send any broken metal flying my way.

"Turn this thing off, Magneto!!" I shouted, pointing a talon towards Rogue. "You've lost everything now! There's no sense in making it worse! Turn it off!"

To my utter shock, all the strength in Magneto seemed to pour out of him. The hate in his face was gone now.

All that was left of him was a tired old man.

My tail twitched expectantly as I waited, watching as Magneto wrestled with the urge to admit defeat.

Sadly, he began to rise to his feet--

"VICKY!!!"

"What the--?!!" I wheeled around, my head snapping up to the top of the machine--where Wolverine clung on for dear life!!

"How the hell did you get up here?!!" I cried as Wolverine maneuvered himself into a crouching position atop the machine.

Snarling, he leapt through the spinning girders, landing beside Rogue, who, despite her agony, was able to shrink away in fear.

"Hang on, darlin'!" Wolverine shouted … but not to me. Unsheathing his claws, Wolverine raised a fist--

"NO!!!"

I nearly leapt out of my skin. Not knowing where that voice came from, I spun around just in time to see Magneto raise his hand, freezing Wolverine in one spot.

Not bothering to think, I lunged, catching Magneto in his midriff and sending us both toppling to the ground.

A flurry of metal shards and purple robe flew into my face as Magneto pelted me with everything he had, slicing open my suit and exposing skin.

With a grunt, Magneto swung his foot, catching me in the gut. I yelped in pain and amazement that some guy (that looked like he was pushing eighty) had the strength to wind me.

Reeling backwards, I heard Wolverine shout. Panting, I looked up at him, kneeling on the floor of the machine with a wheezing Rogue in his arms.

"Get ready to duck!" he roared, drawing out a clawed fist.

Regaining his wind, Magneto hauled himself to his feet, screaming something hoarsely. Too weak to control his magnetism any more, Magneto staggered towards me, his fingers hooked into claws.

"I'll--kill--you!!!" he screamed, rushing towards me.

Snarling, I held my ground, catching him head on. I grabbed one of his thin wrists as he swung for me. "Don't be ridiculous, Magne--"

'Whamf!' His right fist slammed into my jaw, sending my head snapping backwards.

I staggered backwards, gasping in shock. I heard Wolverine cry for me as Magneto, too crazed with rage to think rationally, screamed and lunged for me--

Red light blasted into my vision, and, blinded, I cried out in agony as I fell backwards, hearing Magneto wail and collapse to the torch floor.

Seized with pain, I curled into a fetal ball, folding my wings over my head as Wolverine roared, as his adamantium claws screamed against the spinning metal girders of the machine.

With an earth-shaking roar, the machine exploded, sending white rays of light in every direction.

As suddenly as it happened, it stopped. The night instantly became silent and dark again, still and cool.

It felt like hours before I heard anything. I drew in a wheezing breath as Wolverine stepped down from the machine.

"You okay, darlin'?"

Was he speaking to Rogue or me? I didn't know.

When I didn't speak, I heard Wolverine's boots clatter against the grating as he rushed to me, dropping to his knees and gingerly sliding his hands under my body.

"Vicky!" he cried, lifting me up and slowly turning me around to face him.

Weary, I stared at him blankly. "Is she … all right?"

His face tight, Wolverine nodded hastily. "Yeah …"

Relieved, I nodded. A spasm tore through my chest and, wincing, I looked down at the smoldering laser burn just below my left ribs. "Logan … I …"

"He hit you," Wolverine whispered, his eyes widening in a fear he tried to fight.

"Cyke didn't mean it," I muttered, gently--weakly--pushing him away. Grimacing, I pushed myself back against the base of the obliterated machine. "We stopped it?"

"Yeah … Vicky … Vicky, here--" Not stopping to think, Wolverine tore his gloves off and rolled up his sleeves, exposing his wrists. "Bite ..."

"Wha …?"

"Vicky, darlin', please, bite. Drink my blood."

Were my ears filled with cotton? For one, I wasn't sure I was hearing him correctly; he didn't just tell me to drink his blood, did he?

And two … he sounded very far away.

Tired, I shook my head. "I can't …"

"Vicky, don't be an idiot! Take it!"

"I'm tired, Logan," I said, feeling my body sag. "I'm just …"

Wolverine all but dove to catch me. Gasping, he lifted me up, holding me against his chest.

"Vicky, don't …!"

"I'm just … need to sleep," I murmured, resting my head against his shoulder.

Something wet fell on my cheek. Too tired to be surprised, I raised my eyes to Logan's, seeing tears brim threateningly in his beautiful eyes.

"Vicky …" he said, pleading. He lifted his wrist to my mouth. "Please!"

I tried to protest but, oddly, my voice didn't come out of my throat. Seeing my lips part, Logan pressed his wrist against my open mouth. "Bite, god dammit!"

Feeling flesh against my fangs, I reacted, despite how weak I was. I bit him, drawing out a few drops of salty blood.

"C'mon, darlin' …" Logan begged, "Please …"

I felt too exhausted to protest. I bit harder, swallowing and choking on the blood.

"C'mon …"

Tired, I pulled away. "No."

"Damn it!" Unsheathing his claws, Logan violently raked them across his wrist. Bright blooms of blood opened like roses on his skin.

Snarling, he slammed his wrist against my mouth. "DRINK IT!!!"

Blood forced its way past my lips, flooding my mouth. I swallowed without realizing it.

Strengthened slightly, I took another draught. Then a second, then a third.

I could feel Logan's skin healing under my lips, and I growled faintly, biting him, drinking more.

Finally, Logan tore his wrist away from my mouth, hissing in pain. Looking a little faint, he locked his eyes with mine. "Are you …?"

" … All right," I finished.

I don't remember what happened next.

******************************************************************************

"Mph …?"

I narrowed my eyes in confusion at the white and chrome ceiling above me. What the hell …?

My whole body felt stiff and prickly. Foggy, I glanced about me, at the monitors that beeped and hummed about me, at the IV and blood sacks dangling over my bed.

'The clinic,' I thought, slowly coming to. Struggling to remember what had happened, I ran my tongue over my teeth--no fangs. I must've turned back into a human while I slept.

As my eyes roamed across the room, I heard something snort, and hot, soft air brushed the fingertips of my left hand.

Surprised, I looked down, seeing a mound of dark, wild hair. Realizing whom it was, I smiled, then lifted my hand to stroke the soft curls.

Feeling my touch, Logan snorted, then sleepily raised his head. Seeing that I was awake, his eyes shot open. "Vicky!"

"Hey," I replied, surprised to feel how dry my throat was. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Smiling, he took my hand in both of his own. "You scared us all for a while, there. Are you hurtin'?"

"A little. In my ribs and my face."

Logan's smile widened. "Don't worry; you don't look half as bad as you did three nights ago."

"Three nights ago?!"

"Ssh! Don't strain yourself."

"No, wait; I've been out for three days?"

Logan chuckled. "So have I, darlin'. I woke up 'bout four hours ago … I guess you took a lot more outta me than we both thought."

"Are you all right?"

"Well, yeah, I am now. Hurt like a sonofabitch when I came to, but I'm okay now."

"Oh, God, Logan, I'm sorry …"

"Hey, I made you bite me, remember?" Chuckling, Logan reached up and pushed my bangs out of my face. "It wasn't anything I couldn't get over, anyways."

I smiled, though one side of my face ached to do so. "How's the girl?"

"Marie? She's okay, pulled through great … 'cept some of her hair turned white."

"Whoa. What about Professor Xavier?"

"He woke up the morning after the fight … I reckon he'll be down in a bit."

"Everyone else okay? What happened to Magneto?"

"Well, Cyke, Jean and Storm are hurtin', but they don't have anything compared to what we got. And Magneto got caught by the cops afterward … they're holding him some place far--and made of plastic."

I laughed--then choked on a cough. "So … we won?"

Logan nodded. "We won."

"Good … Now I can sleep."

Logan laughed, then stood up. He kissed my forehead. "You do realize that you're insane, right?"

I shrugged. "I'd have to be if I wound up in a joint like this."

******************************************************************************

I was out of bed a day later. The bruising and swelling on my face was virtually gone, as were the blisters on my shoulder and the wounds on my forearm where Bloodsport grabbed me.

I couldn't exactly run around just yet; I had taken the brunt of Cyclops' laser when he shot Magneto that night, so there were a lot of stitches and bandages around my middle. Cyclops hasn't stopped apologizing for it yet.

I met the girl we saved a little while later. Her name's Marie, and she has this thick, Southern-belle, Scarlet O'Hara type accent--and Logan was right about her hair; there was a huge patch of white on her bangs, and a line of white snaked through her brown hair.

I developed a kind of fan club in the mansion; pretty much the day I was able to stand and limp around, hoards of kids surrounded me, begging me to tell them what happened at the Statue of Liberty. I really didn't tell them anything; Xavier warned me that these kids were looking for an adventure, and he didn't want them running up to him, whining, "But you let Vicky go!"

When I wasn't swamped with kids or having Jean look at my injuries or discussing with the Professor what I should do next (should I enroll at the Institute?), I spent my time with Logan; walking with him through the gardens, looking at his drawings, having him read my stories … just doing stuff.

I had no idea that Xavier had provided Logan with information on a military base in Canada with a questionable history … and I had no idea that Logan was going to go there.

One morning, as we waited for the dew on the grass outside to dry, I sat with the Professor, Jean, Storm and Cyclops, watching the news as Marie (well, Rogue, as we called her), played a tabletop soccer game with Bobby, Kitty, and Jubilee.

As we watched a CNN news reporter survey the wreckage of the Statue of Liberty for the nine thousandth time in two weeks, then comment on "Senator Kelly's dramatic reversal" on his views for the mutant registration acts, I heard a door close in the hall.

Curious, I looked up, catching sight of a black gym bag as it disappeared through a door. My eyes widening, I stood up and vaulted the couch (despite Xavier and Cyclops' scoldings) and sprinted to the door.

I was right; it was Logan. He was halfway to the back door, his battered denim jacket on, and the full gym back slung over one shoulder.

"Hey!" I cried, skidding through the hall.

Surprised, Logan turned at the sound of my voice. "Vicky …?"

I had to catch a wall to keep myself from plowing into him. Surprised, I stared at him; what was he doing? Was he leaving?

I swallowed hard. "You runnin' again?" I asked, taking a few brave steps toward him.

Hearing me echo his same words brought a brief, but sad smile to Logan's lips. Uncomfortable, he let his eyes fall to the ground. "Uh, yeah … I got some things to take care of up North."

My heart plummeted to the bottom of my stomach. "So, you're … leaving me?"

Startled, Logan's head snapped up. He stared at me like he couldn't believe I was suggesting such a thing. "What? No! No, I mean …."

Trailing off, Logan heaved a weary sigh. Not knowing what else to do, he held a hand out to me. "Come outside with me … so we can talk."

I didn't want to talk. I wanted him to tell me right there and then why he was taking off on me.

But then that wouldn't be fair to him, would it?

Wordlessly, I accepted his hand and allowed him to lead me out into the gravel driveway of the Institute.

Closing the door firmly behind us, Logan dropped his bag on the ground and put his hands on both of my shoulders. "I'm not leaving you, darlin'. I'm just going to a place in Canada. There's a military base there … it's been abandoned, but Xavier's heard reports of testing on mutants being done there--"

"Logan--"

"Wait a minute. Just listen to me."

I drew in a steadying breath and held it, nodding for him to continue.

Setting his jaw, Logan nodded, more to himself than to me. Tightening his grip on my shoulders, he went on, "I need to know, Vicky; I don't know anything about my life before they experimented on me. I need to know who I was, and I need to know who used me as a lab rat, and why they did it."

'I could answer that for you,' I thought bitterly, 'You were a good man named Logan who was taken by a bunch of monsters to be used in a bizarre experiment because you could survive and heal yourself.'

"You don't need to go there," I said. My voice shook.

"Yes, I do."

"But …" Helplessly, I looked away from him, biting my lip, feeling hot tears sting my eyes. "But what about me?"

"Vicky …"

"No, Logan, I can't be left here alone!"

"You won't be left here alone! Xavier and the others--"

"They don't mean anything to me the way you do," I cut him off, raising my eyes to his again. "You … Logan, you …"

My breathing became ragged and fast, and I struggled to control myself. "But I need you, Logan! I'm not strong without you! You're the only man--the only person I've met who doesn't care that I'm a mutant or that I ran away from home and--oh, I just--!"

Logan gazed down at me, his expression unreadable. He stroked my cheek as I struggled, "And what about what happened to me? I was experimented on too! I need to know who did it! And I … I need you!"

Logan swooped down and hugged me as I cried, running his hand over my back comfortingly.

I buried my face in his neck, unable to stop weeping. "Don't go! Don't leave me!"

"Vicky …" Slowly, Logan pulled away, just enough so I could see his face. He wiped my tears away gingerly, like I was something delicate. "I don't want to leave you. But I have to go …"

Trailing off, Logan reached for the dog tags around his neck. Unhooking the tags, he gently slipped them around my neck. "Hang on to these, darlin'. As long as you have 'em, I promise, I'll come back for you."

That was it. I lost.

I drew in a shaky breath. "Will you write?"

"Every day."

"Will you call?"

"Every time I see a phone."

"All right." I unconsciously reached up and clasped a hand around the tags. "Just … take care of yourself, Logan."

"I will, darlin'. You be careful, too."

I nodded, too numbed to speak.

Logan smiled sadly. Leaning forward, he kissed my cheek, just beside my mouth. "I'll see you later, okay?" he whispered.

I nodded. "Okay," I choked.

With that being said, Logan picked up his bag, gave me another sad smile, then turned away.

I stood there silently, watching him until he turned a corner, fading out of sight. Sickened, I didn't move, even after I heard the roar of a motorcycle--obviously Cyclops'--blast out of the Institute's gates and down the road.

A slight breeze tugged at my clothes. Miserable, I turned away and trudged up the path, back to the door.

Rogue was right there when I stepped in, her brown eyes wide with concern. "Is somethang wrong, sugah?" she asked.

I feigned confusion at her question. "Huh? No, I'm okay."

I barely went two steps before running into Jean. She looked at me, her expression worried. "Are you all right?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"We can talk later, if you want?"

Surprised, I looked at her. "Later …? Yeah, okay. But I wanted to talk to the Professor about me enrolling here first."

Gazing at the sea of faces around me, I smiled. "Where do you guys hide the Cokes, anyways?"

The End