It would be unfair to say that Logan had hated Scott Summers on sight.
It had taken at least ten minutes of the man's company for Logan to conclude he was a little too authoritive for his liking. It had taken twenty minutes for Logan to decide he was a little too up-his-own-ass and another ten for him to realise Scott really didn't know a thing about the real world.
It had taken an hour for Logan to think he was a spoilt, smug little kid who'd had everything handed on a plate by a man that wasn't even his father – a man who saw wisdom and goodness in him that Logan could never comprehend. An hour, the precise moment he saw the flash of love in eyes that were too blue to be real directed at that very same little prick. An hour till he saw Jean Grey.
But even then, Logan hadn't hated him.
It had taken exactly one hour and twenty-three minutes for Logan to feel animosity toward him – and that was the moment he realised that the only truly good man he'd ever known trusted and loved Scott Summers with an intensity that really astonished him. Charles Xavier believed Scott would do the right thing, follow the right path – and find it again even if he did take the occasional detour.
Charles Xavier was a magnificent judge of character, and the unwavering, unshakable faith he had in the man who was his protégé truly blew Logan away. He wondered what four-eyes had done to deserve it, why no one had that much faith in him…
And then he remembered who he was.
Exactly four hours and two minutes after his arrival, he met the serene goddess known as Storm. Scott had told the perfect, beautiful woman to show him around the mansion and it's war rooms and gardens – and even though she was in the middle of something, even though she quite clearly wanted nothing at all to do with the half-rabid animal they'd found, she obeyed him with a smile.
In the instant he'd seen a powerful, independent and intelligent woman bow to Scott's will, Logan decided he disliked the way everyone seemed to have decided that Scott was going to be the boss. Everyone had decided he was the best man for the job. Everyone had decided he was right.
Four hours and forty-eight minutes into staying at the mansion, and he had found Marie. His Marie. His ward. His charge. The girl that had trusted him – only him - out of innocence and not asked for a thing back. The girl he'd have laid down his life for. They sat, talking, laughing, giggling at the stupid codenames and comparing people at their new home. And he watched as the mention of the name 'Scott Summers' brought a girlish blush to her cheeks and made her shy. He watched and realised that his little tough-as-nails angel, his sweet, untouchable Rogue had a crush on the guy. Slowly, like an animal inside his chest unfurling its wings, the animosity grew.
Eight hours, nearly nine into his stay found Logan in the den with a beer in his hand – he always had trouble learning to sleep in a new place. With uncomfortable dreams awaiting him and happier thoughts eluding him, Logan's mind had led him to think about the man he'd met that day – the man he quite possibly owed his life – certainly his freedom - to.
And as if those thoughts had summoned him, Scott Summers had appeared. Logan remembered the silence as he'd walked into the room. The silence of two men, each trying to make the other out. He remembered how much noise Summers had made as he helped himself to a beer, and sat beside him.
Logan remembered that he could smell Jean on Scott's skin, the sweet, coconut embrace that had radiated from her. The animosity monster had flexed its muscles in his chest.
"So…" He had begun, glasses flashing in the light, "How was you're first day?"
After everything that had happened that day, after his being so ungrateful for saving his life, after his irritating nicknames and outright defiance, his cruel jokes, his complete disregard for any kind of rules. After knowing that a terrible man wanted him for an evil purpose, after knowing all the horrible things Logan had done and walking in on him hitting on his wife, Scott Summers sat there, cool, collected, and accepted him.
And that was it. Nine hours and seven minutes after being carried in through the mansions doors, Logan decided he hated Scott Summers.
It had been a shock to think Marie was in danger, and it had affected him more then anything in a long while.
It made him feel like he was growing soft, but Rogue's big, green-brown eyes made him want to be better in so many ways. He thought about her life so far, how hard it had been for her, all those people that must have failed her. He thought about the first man who had any real claim to her protection, her upbringing. He wondered where that man was and how long it would take to kill him for deserting her. He wondered if he could be back for dinner.
Marie incited a sympathy, an empathy, that he hadn't felt in a long time. She made him realise that doing something good for someone else wasn't a show of weakness or wouldn't cost. It made him realise that he couldn't change how his life had gone, but he could improve the way hers would go. It made him realise that he could be there for her in a way no one ever was for him.
He hadn't known who 'Magneto' was, but the fear that had flashed in Storm's electric blue eyes at the mention of his name was enough. The lift of worry in the professor's voice was enough. The doubt that was ever present in Jean's reassuring smile was enough. These things made him think Magneto could be troublesome.
But Scott Summers' hesitation in speaking his name – it was minute sure enough, but there – made Logan consider Magneto as a threat long before he came face to face with him on the train.
So when they had taken Marie, Logan had assumed he was on his own in finding her. He couldn't blame them; she was one person, and not one of theirs. And when the pieces had fallen together, and they realised why he wanted her, he thought they'd stage an evacuation of the public officials or something.
So when Scott said, in no uncertain terms, that he meant to save her, Logan began to feel something else toward the man, and also to the rest of these people.
Ororo was afraid. But she trusted Scott's plan implicitly.
The professor was worried, but trusted him unflinchingly.
And Jean was doubtful, but she trusted Scott fiercely.
And Logan was scared. He was scared that he'd led the child he loved into the arms of danger; he was scared he would lose her. He was scared that something that had always been an asset before might be the very reason he could do nothing but stand around why she was drained of every inch of her precious life.
Logan was scared, but in that instant, he trusted Scott Summers and his stupid plan more then anyone in the world.
Two and a half years into his on off stay at the mansion, and Logan had returned to find a broken man.
Jean Grey, with her fire hair and her ocean eyes and her wicked, shy smile, had given her life to save the people she loved.
And her selflessness had awakened the selfishness in her husband.
For the first time, Scott cared about no one but himself. For the first time Logan saw him weep openly, drink to excess and curse at students in his way. For the first time he was unkempt, had little to no morals and spoiled for fights. For the first time, Logan saw parts of himself in the man he had hated.
Logan never knew what it was that turned him wild, but if it was the loss of a woman like Jean, and a love like the Summers' had shared then he was glad he didn't remember. His amnesia had made the pain easier, but everywhere Scott looked there were traces of Jean. Her clothes, her pictures, her awards and degrees.
It was killing him, and if anyone could empathise, it was Logan.
That was why Logan would go out and find him when he didn't come home. That was why he'd have a ready stock of beer always in the house. That was why he took over Scott's lessons without a word of complaint, why he ran the Danger Room sessions as efficiently as Scott ever had. That was why he's punish the students for a cross word against him, why he defended him to Storm whilst they were cosied up in bed together.
That was why Logan didn't leave him immediately one night after dragging him out of a bar brawl. Why he sat down beside him, and took a beer.
Scott didn't want him there, he wanted to be alone, and anyone could see it. But Logan ignored it, because Logan knew as soon as he left, Scott would cry and hurt and rip up pictures of Jean – only to cello tape them back together.
And there had been enough of that.
So Logan sat, and sighed, and waited till the early hours of the morning, when the sky had begun to turn pink. He remembered that the scent of coconuts was vanishing from Scott, getting overpowered by the scent of liquor – getting stale in the room. It made him feel sad.
Around about six hours and fifteen minutes later, Logan stood, and made Scott a cup of coffee instead of handing him the usual beer. The message was clear. It was time to sober up. Scott stared at it for a long time, and then took it in one hand.
When Logan was at the doorway, he didn't even contemplate looking back, especially when he heard Scott whisper, barely perceptibly, a thank you.
Exactly four months later found Logan in the grounds of a mansion just outside of New York, beside a memorial stone that bore three names.
He had been there a long while, gazing at the shape each name made in stone, remembering the faces of the people they had once belonged to.
This exact spot, just out of sight of all the mansion windows, was a regular haunt of Logan's. He knew that it made Ororo jealous, because she thought it was for Jean. He knew that it made Rogue smile, because she thought it was for the Professor.
Neither of them were far wrong. Logan came here when there was some new world threat, and wonder what the Professor would do. He came here when he had fought with Ororo, and wonder what Jean would say.
But mostly, he came here for Scott.
He came here when he wanted to rant about how the kids never took the Danger room sessions seriously. He came here to moan when the newest kids' powers were too loud or to foul or too messy. He came here to blow off steam whenever he caught that no-good Cajun feeling up his little girl again.
He came here to think about the status and responsibility he had inherited from Scott. He came her to think about the never ending chores and situations he had to deal with. He came here to wonder what Scott would have done in his shoes.
He came here to wonder if it was his interference that made Scott want to visit that lake one last time. He came to wonder if Scott had known he was about to die. He came to wonder how long he would sit here, thinking about who Scott Summers had been. To all intents and purposes, it appeared he lived forever, so he supposed that's how long he'd sit there.
He wondered if people would remember him the way they did Scott, with the shine of pride in their eyes. He hoped so. Because Scott Summers truly had been the best man he'd ever known. Somehow, in all that time of hating him and trying to take things from him, Logan had grown to have respect for the patient, accepting man Scott had been. Respect and something akin to a grudging affection.
And as Logan sat there in the biting cold of the darkening night, he wondered if Scott had known how his complete acceptance of a stranger would change the animal into a man.
He wondered if Scott had known that he had been the closest thing to a best platonic friend – bar only Marie – that Logan could remember.
He hoped so. He hoped that Scott had known that Logan hadn't hated him on sight.
It had, after all, taken at least nine hours.