TITLE: Sail
STARRING: Hellion and X-23
UNIVERSE: AU/WatXM
RATING: M to NC17
SUMMARY: Sometimes two wrongs make a right? Or two crazies make a sane? Guess we're gonna find out. AU. Hellion & X-23, heavily inspired by "Silver Linings Playbook".

DISCLAIMER: Title is from "Sail" by AWOLNATION

A/N: Setting is an AU take on Wolverine's school. Julian and Laura are in their late 20's to early 30's. Note that Laura is deliberately out of character, which is explained through the story. Some things HAVE happened in this universe, and some haven't. Exactly what should become evident as the story progresses. Now featuring advanced fiction writing workshop skills on my part. Hooray. Hope you enjoy, reviews appreciated! ^^

-Chapter 1-

Headmaster's Office
Jean Grey Institute for Higher Learning
October 5, 11:15 am

In the elegant upstairs office that used to belong to Professor Charles Xavier, Logan sat in a leather chair before a great mahogany desk, holding his head in his hands. On the desktop were stacks of manila folders and papers. The paper he was currently reading was titled "CONTRACT OF EMPLOYMENT". Slightly below this headline was the school's name, THE JEAN GREY INSTITUTE FOR HIGHER LEARNING, and his name, JAMES LOGAN HOWLETT. And near the bottom was the undersigned, JULIAN WILLIAM KELLER. Underneath a long list of conditions. A long, long list of conditions, which covered everything from CONDUCT to MENTAL HEALTH, because such conditions were definitely necessary given the kinds of situations his staff tended to encounter.

Logan's eyes tilted up to the door. He'd heard been aware of the footsteps ever since the man in question had stepped off the elevator, but only now were they drawing close enough to require interaction. "Come in," Logan called before he could knock, leaning back in his chair and squaring his shoulders. This wasn't going to be pretty.

The enormous oak door opened, and the younger man slipped in. Julian looked terrible. His dark hair was long and matted, and he had grown a scruffy beard to match. His eyes were rimmed with pink and bore heavy bags underneath. His posture was a stiff hunch, his hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his worn jeans. He smelled like a drunk tank to boot. Logan knew he wasn't one to judge because he'd definitely been in the kid's shoes before himself, but he'd always been fortunate enough to have Xavier to give him a metaphorical kick in the ass to clean up his act. Now, he guessed he'd be the one doing the ass-kicking.

"Siddown, Keller," he instructed, gesturing to a chair.

Julian wouldn't meet his eyes, but grudgingly did as told, plopping into the chair and slumping over, his dull eyes on the papers on the table.

"This is your contract," Logan said. "Gimme one reason I shouldn't have Toad shred it."

Julian took a breath through his nose, a sigh. "Do it," he mumbled.

This wasn't the reaction Logan had expected. He wasn't sure what he had expected. Anger. Denial. Violence, perhaps, given the kid's recent record. Not apathy. "And then what, Keller? You can't stay here if you ain't teachin'."

"Do I look like I give a fuck about teaching anymore?" the kid responded, his tone a little bit more energetic. "I mean, why bother? They all just die anyway. The students, I mean. It's a waste of time, you know?" He pulled his metal hands out of his pockets and folded his arms.

Logan shifted and wrinkled his brow, as he always did upon seeing the prosthetics. Not because he was bothered about their appearance, but because he felt responsible. The kid had lost his real hands defending his class against Bastion's attack on the school this January. He'd still lost three-quarters of his students to the Nimrod assault, and then—three months later—his wife had left him, unable to provide the kind of support he needed. She had gotten a restraining order for good measure. Logan didn't blame the girl, who had clearly been overwhelmed, but that had clearly been the last straw for the kid. Not a day had passed without a complaint about Keller arriving on his desk, and the telekinetic explosion in the cafeteria last week—shattering all the windows and destroying ten thousand dollars' worth of kitchen equipment—coupled with a terrified student's account of being dangled off a fourth-story balcony—had made this move absolutely necessary. This could go on no longer.

"It's not a waste of time and you goddamn know that!" Logan leaned over his table and glared at the kid as best he could, approximating the location of his eyes behind his straggly bangs. "These kids are our future…the only future we have. And like it or not, yer gonna be a part of that." He paused to let the words sink in. "I'm givin' you one chance, Keller. One chance."

"Save it," Julian said, his voice louder. And hoarser.

"Dammit, kid." Logan rubbed his face in his hands. "Do as I say. And get a goddamn haircut. You look like a hippy."

No response.

"You can keep your job if you go see this shrink..." Logan shoved the business card across the table. Keller made no move to take it. The older man closed his eyes. Where the hell was Xavier when you needed him? Oh, right. Resting in peace, the bastard. "Kid, trust me. You need help."

"And this guy is going to fix my life?" Julian asked, his voice flat.

Logan shifted in his chair. Creak. "Well, I wouldn't say—"

"He's going to make the nightmares stop," he continued, as if the older man hadn't spoken. "So I won't have to smell flesh cooking and watch my hands disintegrate into ashes—"

"Kid—"

Julian leaned forward in his seat. "And then watch all the kids I tried so hard to protect get boiled alive and atomized around me as I lay bleeding, on the courtyard, a place you fucking force me to walk through every day on the way to class? Do you have any concept of sanity? I know what my students tasted like, 'coz I had to breathe in their ashes that whole time I lay waiting for someone to help me."

"That's enough," Logan growled. "You ain't the only one who's had it rough. I've seen a lot of shit in my time too, but I know that we can't just give up."

"It's different for you instant-heal-types," Julian said, his lip curling. "Your body just puts it all back together again, so you can pretend it never happened. How nice it must be."

Logan closed his eyes. "One chance, Keller. Just see the fuckin' shrink and give it a chance."

"Why would I waste my time?" Julian demanded. "He can't help me. No one can help me. Not even Xavier could've helped me. I don't need help to begin with—the fucking world does!" He pushed himself out of his chair and slammed his metal fists down on Logan's desktop. "You're the delusional one, old man. If you had a sliver of sanity left you would shut this school down and get everyone the fuck underground before anyone else can get their crosshairs on us. But I guess I'm the crazy one." He flicked the business card back to Logan, then stomped out of the office. The door slammed behind him in a flash of green, so hard that the wood cracked.

Logan sighed and shook his head, then reached for the phone.

…

Headmaster's Office
Jean Grey Institute for Higher Learning
October 5, 11:25 am

The door opened again, and this time, a woman entered. She had long black hair swept up into the messiest bun that Logan had ever seen, but this didn't seem to be a lack of care, seeing as she wore a leather corset and pants, and her face was made up: thick, dark eyeliner around her bright green eyes, and burgundy lipstick on her pouting lips. She looked like some kind of street walker.

"What's this?" she asked, her nose wrinkled, her eyes flickering back and forth as she studied Logan's vital signs and the papers on the desk as she approached. "The annual mental health review?"

"Something like that," Logan said cautiously. Laura was another big uncertainty of late. He never knew what was going to set her off. She alternated between abrupt violence—breaking dishes, mirrors, sinks—and saccharine sweetness. While she hadn't caused damage on a Keller scale, her latest form of grief had caused some major problems in the working of the school…and really, it was kind of horrifying what she had done. "Have a seat."

"So did I get a gold star?" Laura asked as she plopped down in the chair, her body automatically assuming a kind of seductive pose, draping itself along the back of the seat.

Logan sighed. The recent trauma seemed to have had an unpredictable effect on his clone. Then again, everything about Laura was just damn unpredictable.

"Look, I think you should see someone."

"I am seeing someone," Laura protested, sitting up a little straighter. "Like, six someones. Well, eight if you count Kitty and Rogue, but that was just the one time, and—oh, wow, OOOPS!" She looked alarmed. "I wasn't supposed to say that. Forget it, okay?"

Logan closed his eyes. "Laura…that's exactly the problem. You can't…do that. Not with the entire staff…and some of the students…I should be firing you for this. If it ever got out…"

"What?" Laura asked defensively. "They all enjoyed it. I'm a professional. And I'm clean."

"Just stop!" Logan barked. "I'm ashamed to call you my clone, for god's sakes! Laura, you need to pull yourself together, right the hell now." He slid a business card across the desk, the same one he'd tried to give Keller earlier. "Or else."

"Or else what?" Laura asked, her nose wrinkling again. "You saying I've got problems? Look at the pot calling the kettle black. I mean, come on, Logan. Really? After all the Jean Grey stuff? You even named the entire school after her! And then when she came back as a teenager, you all but threw yourself at her! And she wasn't even that good, I mean I could just tell she had no experience. Total goody two shoes." Laura paused, seeing Logan's infuriated glare. Her eyes widened. "Oh, fuck, did I really say that out loud? I swear to god, I told her to pretend I was you, and—"

"Laura, shut up, right now."

The said Laura fell silent, her eyes still wide.

Logan rubbed his face. "Take the card. If you haven't made an appointment by tomorrow, I'll drag you there myself. Are we clear?"

She nodded slightly, any would-be arguments silenced by the absolute deathly serious tone of the man she still oddly considered to be her mentor.

"Good. Now get the hell out of my office!" he snapped.

…

Balcony of Sofia Mantega's Apartment
1138 Brix Avenue, Manhattan NY
October 5, 8:38 pm

Julian Keller paced back and forth over the cement balcony, rubbing his neck with a metal hand and mumbling under his breath to himself. "Therapy…yeah right…fuckin' help…yeah right…put me on pills…crock of shit…Sofia wouldn't like it…fuck that…stupid little shit made me do it…fuckin' kid wouldn't stop messing with the shutters…fuck…fucking hell…and I swear to god…fuck…the cafeteria thing…if that's what he's mad about he's fucking off his rocker because I sure as fuck saw those fuckers closing in on us…shit, if it wasn't for me we'd all be dead right now…" he stopped and looked at the balcony door. The curtains were firmly drawn, and the lights were off, but he guessed that Sofia was inside. "Do you hear me? You all owe me your lives," he said louder. "And I know you're in there. You should let me in, hon, and we can get wasted on whatever piss-water you have that you call alcohol."

From inside, a muffled voice: "Go away, Julian! Or I will have to call the police!"

Julian rolled his eyes. "Right. The cops. I haven't heard that one before." He shook his head angrily, but resumed pacing, his hands clenched into tight fists. "…should let me in…this is stupid…we're in love…don't fuckin' deny it…" he stopped again and looked at the balcony door. "Sof, why the hell are you trying to keep us apart?"

The curtain moved aside, and Sofia's face appeared, just enough that he could see one big brown eye and the corner of her mouth. They looked odd in the semidarkness. "We are not together anymore. I left you. Please, respect my wishes."

He shook his head. "We're just temporarily separated! I don't get it! What we have is beautiful and perfect and yeah, some people don't really get it, but it's us, okay? Come on, let me in and we can make it all up." He approached the door, but the curtain fell shut again. "Go away, Julian. I do not want to see you. Go away or I will call for help."

Julian stopped, his metal hand on the handle. "It's my hands, isn't it? You can't stand them…you never could…I don't get why you're being so shallow."

"It isn't your hands. You are not well. Go away."

"You always told me that I was too shallow," he said, gritting his teeth and glaring at the closed curtains. "You're so hypocritical! Come on, stop being stupid. We can get past this. Please, come on, give me a chance to show you I'm fine, and it can all be great again—"

"Julian. Go. AWAY."

He let go of the handle and closed his eyes. "FINE!" he snarled suddenly, and the glass sliding door shattered. Sofia yelped, but he ignored this. "I'll be back later and you'll see! You'll see that I'm perfectly fine!" He ran off the edge of the balcony and vaulted over the rail, taking to the air.

…

Recreational Room
Jean Grey Institute for Higher Learning
October 5, 9:10 pm

"That was…" the girl splayed on the green velvet of the pool table panted, as Laura ceased moving. She stared down at her, her eyes glinting in the darkness. She realized—all of a sudden—that she wasn't quite sure what her name was. She was somewhat new at the school, but still, she'd been here for a couple of months. Fascinated, she studied her face. Kind of square, skin speckled with a leopard-like pattern, sharp features. Fangs. Was that why her own mouth tasted like blood?

"Pretty good huh?" she asked, grinning as she got off of her and slid back down to the ground. The thick grey carpet made a coosh coosh sound as her boots touched down.

"…uh…" The leopard-girl took a couple of deep breaths through her nose. "That…uh…do you say hello to everyone like that?"

"For the most part, yeah," Laura said, picking up a pool cue and casually tossed a strand of hair out of her sweat-dampened face. "I was going to play a round…you mind getting out of the way?"

The other girl sat up slowly and gave her a strange look. "Aren't you going to…you know…get dressed?"

Startled, Laura glanced down and saw that her corset top was unlaced and hanging at her sides. "Uh—"

She was interrupted by two other familiar faces entering the rec room: Kitty Pryde and Bobby Drake. They were holding hands, but both stopped and inhaled sharply as they caught sight of what had been going on in the rec room.

Then Kitty bounded forward and slapped Laura in the face, hard.

"Ooof—hey!" she protested.

"You said it was special!" the other woman snapped.

"What—you two?" Bobby gasped.

"Uh—" Laura backed away, alarmed. This had been happening a lot, lately—a lot more as the notches on her bedpost piled up in number. She had been the root cause of a large fight between Rockslide and Onyxx just last night, in this very room, and it had triggered a small warning bell in her head—given that she didn't even like them as people. The warning bell was going off again, and she slipped out of the rec room, her fingers scrambling to find the laces again. She headed for the front door of the school, and reached the hallway two minutes later, just as she was beginning to tie the top knot.

"Hey," said a voice—a familiar voice. Laura's head jerked up, and she saw that the speaker was Julian Keller, who was closing the front door behind him, obviously having just returned from town, judging by the flush in his cheeks and the fact that he was wearing a jacket. She felt the usual tingle of warmth flooding her every extremity, something she'd had to train herself to ignore during the last four years.

And then it occurred to her that she didn't have to ignore this reaction anymore. Wasn't that what her sexual binges were all about anyway?

"Hey yourself," she said, her eyes running up and down his form. Julian didn't look the same as when she'd first laid eyes on him. Of course he didn't. He'd grown up. For a while, he had been more attractive than ever. But right now, he looked like hell, as if he had collapsed in on himself. His cheeks were hollow, there were bags under his eyes, and his skin had a sickly pallor. And his hair was kind of gross. He smelled like he'd been soaked in whiskey. Laura considered all this, then shrugged. The hot guy she had known was still somewhere in there, and it wasn't like she was exactly that attractive right now, either. She was wearing her tramp-suit.

He made to move down the hall, past her, as if he hadn't even noticed her assessment. She reached out and caught his metal wrist with her hand-the nails of which were painted a glossy black-then yanked him toward her with surprising strength, given that she was a foot shorter than he was.

"Don't you want a ride?" she asked, moving her face close to his and letting her eyes slide closed in that mesmerizing way that seemed to paralyze her 'prey'.

Julian looked down at her, his eyebrows raised. "What?" he asked loudly. Clearly, he hadn't even really seen her a moment ago.

"You heard me," Laura said. She arched her own eyebrows. "Come on, I'll blow your mind. You won't even know what hit you." She paused. "You look like you could really use it."

His nose wrinkled, and he cleared his throat. "Uh…Laura? Is that you?"

Her eyes opened again. "What? Of course it is. Don't you recognize me?"

"Not really," he replied. He paused, and peered at her more closely. "You're wearing a hell of a lot of makeup, you know. And…" he eyed her outfit. "Not to be mean, but are you going to be a hooker for Halloween or something?"

Laura gritted her teeth. "Yeah, well. Haven't you heard? I'm Josh's whore-widow now." She let go of Julian's wrist and stomped toward the exit, seething. How dare he? She stopped by the door, her hand on the handle. "You're not so hot yourself, you know, Skeletor! Got yourself any new restraining orders? Or are you concentrating on turning the one you have into jail time?"

Julian's nostrils flared. "Are you fucking serious? You've been spying on me?!"

"Don't flatter yourself," she said coolly. "Being told rumors isn't spying. You just have to stand still long enough to hear them…everyone's talking about it, you know."

"Whatever," he said, irritated. "Maybe you should work on being less of a bitch. Not my problem, though." He shoved his hands into his pockets and headed for the staircase, presumably to his room in the upper floor of the middle wing. Laura's eye twitched as she realized he was about to get the last word on her. "Yeah…well…you should work on being less fucked up in the head!" she shouted, her voice cracking. "Maybe then your wife would stop being terrified of you!"

Julian whirled around on the bottom step, his eyes wide. "Are you serious right now? Did you really just say that out loud?"

"I sure did!" Laura snapped back, almost gleefully. This felt great, this wild, unrestrained sensation that anything could happen. She was provoking a borderline insane man who could cause violent chaos by thinking about it. The rush was better than that she'd been obtaining through promiscuous sexual encounters and random violence combined. It pierced through the dead layers of her insides and she actually felt something. Alive. "They should wrap you up in a straight-jacket and lock you in a padded cell before you murder her, psycho!"

"You…" Julian's hands were shaking and his eyes were glowing. Small nearby objects were floating up into the air around him: the vase and the table it was on, paintings off the walls, even the rug. "I'd hardly say I'm the psychotic one here," he said, his voice harsh. "I didn't sleep with the entire school because I can't deal with grief."

"And I didn't blow up the cafeteria because I had a delusion that I was being attacked by robots!" Laura shot back. If she hadn't looked wild before, the escape of more hair from her messy bun ensured it. She grinned at Julian, showing her white, even teeth. "Also, at least I bathe every now and again."

CRACK! WHAM! SPPLRT! THUNK! A section of railing flew off and slammed into Laura's abdomen—through it—and impaled her against the front door behind. She made a choking noise as she looked down at it, and on the stairs, Julian began to panic. "Holy shit!" he yelled, pulling at his hair, then he scrambled down and ran to her, his pale face even paler. "Oh god, god damn, are you alright? Fuck, Laura, I'm so sorry—"

"It's—it's stuck," she grunted. "Can you…." She made a pulling gesture.

"Yeah, yeah." He grabbed at the section of railing and pulled, hard, but nothing happened. A few moments later he braced his foot against the door and tried again, and with a loud grunt from both, the large wooden bannister yanked free from Laura's midsection. Blood splattered all over Julian's jacket and pants. He began to shake as he surveyed the damage.

"Hey…it's okay," Laura said, holding the gaping hole in her abdomen and clapping a hand on his shoulder. He looked at her with glazed eyes. "Did I really just do that?" he whispered.

"I'm fine," she said, wrinkling her nose. "I find it ironic though…you ended up impaling me after all that."

Julian didn't seem to get the joke. She sighed.

"Look, I'm not mad. But you probably don't want to do that to anyone else, okay?"

"Well, obviously," he said, his voice strained. He was still holding the bannister in his bloody hands. "Fuck…maybe I do need help. This is…this is fucked up." He looked up at Laura again, and she could see that the anger had faded from his expression. His eyes were glassy with shock. "This is fucked up, right?"

"I'm not really the one to ask about that," she said, feeling uncomfortable with the question. The wound had already healed, the skin beneath the bloody tear in her corset unmarred. "My definition of F.U.B.A.R. tends to be different than other people's."

"Do you think….that card Logan tried to give me…" he looked down.

Laura paused. "Oh, wait." She reached into her hair with her free hand and pulled out the now somewhat-crumpled business card Logan had given to her that morning. "This card? Is this what you mean?"

Julian peered at it, and nodded. "That's the one." He paused, mildly surprised. "He told you to go too?"

"Um, yes." Laura hesitated. "He doesn't approve of the…sex." She felt mild embarrassment. "But, you know, I don't think that makes me crazy. I just really like how it makes me feel, you know? It helps."

"Even I know that sleeping with the entire staff is pretty fucked up," Julian said. He raised a hand. "Look, I'm not judging you. It's just not healthy. I know you must miss your husband and all, but sex isn't the answer. Sex is…you know, like me and Sof. We love each other, and that's how we express our feelings. It's not just about the sex itself."

Laura's eyes flashed. "I haven't slept with everyone. I didn't get around to Beast…and Rachel…and Logan, of course not…and well, there's you."

"Not going to happen," he said firmly, holding up his hand and pointing at his left ring finger. "I'm a married man. Happily, I might add."

"Right." Laura cocked an eyebrow. "There's no ring there."

Julian rolled his eyes. "It got blown up along with all my fingers, okay? It's still metaphorically there."

"Didn't your wife take out a restraining order on you?" she challenged next.

"Look, we're not going to sleep together, okay?" Julian put his hands on her shoulders. "I'm sorry I almost killed you. I had no right to do that, and I can see what you guys were saying. I'll go see this guy asap. I hope you get some help too. But the answer is not throwing yourself at me." He slipped the card into his pocket.

Laura wrinkled her nose. "Hey, give that back."

"What?" Julian asked.

She made a grab for his pocket. He held her firmly by the shoulders, clearly thinking she was trying to put moves on him. She rolled her eyes. "The card, you idiot! You already made it quite clear that you don't think I'm remotely attractive!"

"Oh—" Julian hesitated, pulling out the card again. "I didn't say that! You're—you're a really pretty girl, Laura, and it's not that at all. I'm just not available."

"Right." Laura reached for the card. He held it away. "Wait. I need the number too. I didn't take the card. Actually, this is probably the card Logan was gonna give me, but I was strong enough to say no."

Her nose wrinkled. "That's crazy talk. You have no way of proving that."

"You can ask him if you want. But I don't really care…take it. I just need the number."

"Alright, where's your phone?"

Julian hesitated. "I don't have one anymore," he admitted. "It got destroyed in the attack and…well…with the restraining order and all….Logan wouldn't get me another."

Laura rolled her eyes. "How are you planning to call the guy then, huh?"

"Well, from a pay phone," Julian said. "I just need to write the number down and…uh…get some quarters. Or maybe I'll fly over to Sof's and ask if I can borrow her phone. I can tell her I'm getting help. She'll be really happy."

"Don't do that," Laura advised.

"And you should wipe off some makeup," Julian retorted. "Mind your own business, okay? You've got your problems and I've got mine. Just write the number for me. There's gotta be some paper and a pen around here."

"Okay," Laura said. They left the hallway together in search of writing materials.