Laura's Journal

An X-Men Evolution Fanfic by Quill N. Inque

I do not own X-Men.

"We know what we are, but not what we may be."-Albert Einstein

Chapter 1: Homecoming

(A/N: PLEASE read the author's note at the end of this chapter, as it contains important information concerning my updating schedule. ^^)

The Professor told me that I should write down my experiences in this notebook, to "relieve stress" and provide "an outlet for my feelings." Personally, I knew little and cared even less about the all that psychiatric bullshit he kept going on about, but after a moment's thought I concluded that it was in my own best interests not to piss off a telepath as powerful as Cue-ball. So now I'm pushing this pen across the page and getting ink all over my fingers, and let me tell you, I have yet to see how this will help me at all. So far I've written all of this and I don't feel one bit better.

I don't fear Xavier. I fear no one and nothing, because I do not permit myself to do so. The only one who ever came close to scaring me (and I'm writing this down because I'm the only one who will ever see it) is that beer-slugging, foul-mouthed hillbilly who dragged me out of the Canadian wilderness just a few days ago, the man whose genetic material was used to create me as a new and improved version of the ultimate living weapon.

Baldy says that I should call him Father, but I've never had a father, or a mother for that matter, and to be honest, he's such an asshole that he makes me want to slug him just for saying hello. I've never known anyone who can make me lose my temper so easily, and looking back, I have to wonder what the hell I was thinking to come back to the States with him.

I blame that on two things: my curiosity and my stomach. Logan offered me the prospect of three meals a day and a warm bed to sleep in, and after months living in the middle of a cave in the middle of nowhere, that sounds pretty good, let me tell you. I'm always hungry during the winter, no matter how much I eat, so I can only conclude that the opportunity of not having to hunt to eat is what drove my decision.

However (and again, I'm only admitting this because no one but I will ever look upon this page), I won't deny that there have been occasions, especially during the winter when I was confined to my makeshift dwelling, where I tended to let my mind wander and daydream of what it would be like to try living like everybody else. To go to school and things like that. To be…"normal."

That word really makes me uneasy. Obviously, I'd been trained not to draw attention in a public setting like a mall or a parking lot, but that was just for the sake of being covert. I have walked among "normal" people on numerous occasions, seeing what I could have had while knowing I would never have it as long as I remained in HYDRA's coils.

You can't even BEGIN to imagine how awful that feeling is, so when Logan tracked me down and offered to take me to the Xavier Institute, my self-doubt as well as my growling belly overrode my better judgment. For the first time since I could remember, some naggling little feeling in the back of my head kept telling me that there was more to life than what I had seen so far.

So I threw caution to the wind, gave my cold, logical HYDRA training a colossal kick in the ass and decided to give this "normal" business a whirl, for the sake of increasing my own standard of living if nothing else.

I do not call my progenitor Father, at least not yet. It makes me feel…uncomfortable, saying that. The word itself feels rusty, unfamiliar, and unused whenever I try to say it, so I've decided, for the sake of simplicity, to call him Logan like all the other X-Men do. Of course, I'm not at all sure if that's his real name. Logan isn't either, because his memory was wiped before Weapon X used him as their guinea pig.

Logan hates that he can't remember, but I consider it a mercy. Unlike him, I can recall each and every one of the tortures I endured as the HYDRA organization tried to scour my humanity away. I could tell you how they used to douse me in gasoline and set me on fire just to see my healing factor work. I can tell you stories of how their scientists took me apart and sewed me back up just to see what made me tick, and I could rattle off an alphabet of more psychological tortures than you could shake a stick at. Logan doesn't have to remember what HE went through, but I wasn't so lucky.

This pen feels awkward as I try to write. Of course, I'd been force-fed such skills via a subliminal education program while HYDRA grew me in a test tube, but until now I've never actually had cause to use it. I think I killed a guy using a pencil once, but I don't know if that counts.

I want to make it clear that he started it, though, so it was his own stupid fault. People like that think that because I'm small and because I'm a girl, they can just push me around like a discarded toy. And I'm dead serious when I say that I had way more than enough of that with HYDRA. I've never let anyone try to intimidate me since then, and those who tried usually didn't live very long.

Logan says that nothing butters his bread more than someone trying to kill him, and though I hate to say it, that's one point he and I can agree upon. In fact, it's the ONLY point we've agreed upon at this point. I share his fiery temper, since I am his clone, so I'd be making an understatement to say that we haven't gotten along very well in the past. Xavier told me that Logan cares, in his own warped way, but from what I've seen his first priority on returning to the Institute was to make sure there was beer in the refrigeration unit.

Frankly, I can't understand how he can drink that swill. Alcohol only dulls the senses, impedes judgment, and makes one more vulnerable than he would be otherwise. You'd think a guy with more enemies than hairs on his body (and Logan has a lot of hair) would be a bit more cautious. And in my opinion, the stuff tastes completely gross. I tried some of it a little while ago when Logan had his back turned and nearly spat it out on the kitchen floor.

I guess that at this point in my recordings it would be appropriate to write down my name and other trivial things people put in their journals (the word "diary" seems too childish to me), but until a few hours ago "X23" was the only designation I recognized. I'm not aware of a specific date upon which I reached consciousness in HYDRA's lab, so I guess I don't have a specific birthday, either. Of course, you have to actually be born to have one of those, so even if I knew the exact date of my creation, I'm not sure if I would qualify. At a rough estimate, I would place my age at somewhere between fifteen and sixteen years, but I'm only making this guess based on how I appear physically. I suppose I could be even older, seeing as how my mutant healing factor drastically slows the rate at which my body ages; that's a trait that Logan and I share. The Professor mentioned that my "father" might be over a century old, so with me there may be no way of determining my exact age.

I don't have a lot of hobbies. I guess exercising and training might be classified as hobbies, but I only do those things because being at peak physical performance was a matter of survival for me. From what I've heard, a hobby is something you do simply because you like to do it, so I guess I can't decide if these activities are actually hobbies or requirements.

And yes, as you've probably guessed by now, I have no idea what the hell I'm doing as far as this "normal" stuff is concerned. I feel confused with almost everything that goes on here at the Institute, and it's really starting to piss me off.

Before I get to that, though, I suppose it would be a good idea to go into more detail as to how exactly Logan swindled me into coming here, the bastard. It was only less than a week ago that he managed to hunt me down, but I can't say I was really surprised to see him. If anyone was able to find me when I didn't want to be found, it was Logan.

It was cold that day. Well, to be fair, Canada's almost always cold, but it's even colder in January. The snow was falling so hard and fast outside my cave that you could hardly see your hand in front of your face, and the sad, small little fire that I had huddled around didn't do a lot to make me feel any warmer.

I was freezing my ass off, but at least I ate well that month. I had anticipated that hunting would be poor in the winter months and had acted accordingly; there probably wasn't a deer or rabbit left within one square mile of me. The stalactites and stalagmites that covered the cave's floor and walls were festooned with the frozen corpses from which I drew my meals, and I was in the middle of devouring the thick meat of a fawn's leg when I heard something beneath the shrieking of the blizzard outside.

Like Logan, my senses of smell, sight, and hearing have all been enhanced. It wasn't possible to come near my cave without me knowing; Logan probably could have done it if he wanted to, but I don't think he was trying to sneak up on me at this point. I dropped the bone, now picked almost clean, and wiped the blood around my mouth on my equally filthy and grungy sleeve. I hadn't bathed in weeks, since immersing myself in such weather would have given me a fatal case of hypothermia, and it was a small mercy that my nose didn't pick up my own scent.

Anyway, I slowly shifted my position to redistribute my weight. Though it looked like mere fidgeting, I was actually preparing to strike like a coiled spring if the need arose. I may have appeared completely relaxed, but every muscle in my body was poised to attack at a second's notice. All it would take was a small flick of my wrists to unsheathe the sharp adamantium claws that lay buried behind my knuckles. Those claws, I admit, have come in handy from time to time, and the fact that my skeleton became unbreakable when HYDRA grafted the substance to it has saved my life on many occasions. I always find the irony of that far too good to resist, but this thought was forgotten as I readied myself to meet whatever threat or potential meal that had turned up on my doorstep.

I could just barely make out the silhouette of whoever had found me, and with it came a pungent, unpleasant odor that reminded me of stale sweat and flat beer. I have learned from experience each person has a distinctive scent, almost like a human fingerprint. Each one is unique in its own way, and I seldom forget the smell of anyone that I had reason to remember.

I recognized this person's rank odor almost as soon as it hit my nostrils. I certainly wouldn't forget the person it belonged to anytime soon, that's for sure.

I tried to hide my astonishment as I fought to find my tongue. "Logan?" I asked warily, almost unwilling to believe it. What is he doing here?

Any doubts I may have had promptly disappeared when Logan's brutish, stubble-covered face loomed out of the snowstorm. The flakes of ice and snow gathered in piles on top of his hair, and the sight would have been amusing if laughter came more easily to me. Unfortunately, however, years of physical and emotional abuse tend to whittle away one's sense of humor after a while.

"Hullo, squirt," Logan grunted back, brushing ice from his shoulders as he sauntered closer to me. Logan's short as adult males go, so he didn't have to duck as he let himself in. The reek of beer and body odor was strong as he plopped himself down by the fire, and he ripped his thick gloves off before holding his palms out toward the flames.

"How…How did you find me?" I demanded, trying and failing to hide just how surprised I was to see him. I also noted, briefly, that unlike the last time we had met, the prospect of his company didn't seem entirely unappealing to me anymore.

"I've had years of practice," he replied, tearing a leg off the deer carcass and sinking his teeth into it. I almost jumped him then and there, seeing as how it was my food he was helping himself to. "And I thought you could use a change o' scenery right about now."

Logan nodded over his shoulder at the howling blizzard to make his point.

"It's not as if I can just walk away, idiot," I muttered back. "I'd freeze to death before I got half a mile behind me, and in any case, I like being by myself."

"Liar."

"Am not," I shot back stubbornly.

"The hell you're not. I kin hear yer heartbeat speedin' up just now." Logan smirked, and for the second time I squashed the urge to lunge at his throat and wipe that grin off of his face. "If you were tellin' the truth, it woulda stayed steady, see? Besides, yer a teenager, an' in my experience teenagers are awful fibbers. Lyin's a skill that takes years to practice."

I growled wordlessly. I hate it when he's right, but that doesn't mean I'd give him the satisfaction of admitting it aloud. "I'm not like your other students," I said finally, through clenched teeth. "Don't delude yourself into thinking you know everything about me."

"I may not know everythin', but I do know you better than anyone else kin hope to," Logan snorted, and I bristled because I knew he had a point. "Which is why I'm surprised you didn't attack me from force o' habit just now. Normally I'd have to punt ya 'round a bit before ya let me talk at all."

"So why go to all the trouble of finding me?" I inquired, turning the conversation back to Logan's arrival. I was not at ease with the insinuation that I had missed Logan even a little bit, and I fought to keep my face straight as I took a second to reassure myself that I hadn't wondered where he was or what he might be doing.

Logan looked me straight in the eye, which was something he'd never really done before. His eyes seemed old, almost ancient, and I could tell that they'd seen horrors the likes of which most people could only imagine. I guess he wanted me to see that he meant what he said next.

"I want to help you, kid."

I laughed, but it was hollow and mirthless. "I told you before, Logan. You can't help me. No one can."

"The only reason no one kin help ya is cuz ya never let anyone try in the first place!" Logan snarled, and I flinched at the sudden ferocity in his voice. "I didn't have the opportunity t'try an' live a normal life after Weapon X for more decades than I care t'remember, an' now, when that same chance falls right into yer lap, ya have the sheer brass-headed stupidity t'turn it down? I knew ya were stubborn, small fry, but I never pegged ya for a fool till now!"

"You think I can 'live a normal life'?" I asked, snorting with derision. "And you'd have a way of doing that, huh?"

Logan's voice dropped to a hushed level that was kind of uncharacteristic of him, and, looking back on it now, I'd swear he actually felt somewhat awkward when he opened his mouth again. "Actually, I do. I want ya t'come back with me to the Xavier Institute. I…"

This was followed by another long and uncomfortable pause.

"I wanna try t'HELP you," Logan finished, and for the first time since meeting him, there was no trace of his crusty personality or cantankerous nature in his words. On anyone else, it would have seemed sweet, but with Logan it just felt kind of unnatural.

The old grouch actually seemed sincere, and THAT, more than anything else, took me entirely off-guard.

I felt rooted to the log I was sitting on. Logan tracked me all the way up here…just to say that he was worried about me? That he cared about me? Jeez, I could hardly believe that he was even coming out and admitting it. Logan was just about the most UN-touchy-feely guy on the face of the planet; try to hug him and he'll tear into you like a rabid badger with a testosterone problem. He was just about as cuddly as a cactus and just as prickly, and yet he had just told me, to my face, that he honestly cared about my well-being.

That was more than I could say for anyone else I'd ever met in my life so far. HYDRA certainly hadn't cared if I lived or died; I was merely a tool to them. And the guys at SHIELD looked at me as if I were a dangerous fugitive, so they didn't give a damn about me either.

But apparently Logan did.

And the thing is…for once, I actually found myself BELIEVING him. I hadn't really trusted him the first time we met, or the second time, for that matter, and I'd regarded him with extreme caution even on the best of days. That was partly due to the trauma I'd experienced with HYDRA, and since then I'd never permitted myself to lower my guard around anyone, including Logan and the rest of the X-men. I usually make a habit of regarding everyone and everything with a healthy amount of suspicion and skepticism, so it takes a lot to convince me of anything.

But despite that, some part of me WANTED to trust what he was saying, and despite all the alarm bells going off in my head, I found myself suddenly imagining what life at the Insitute might be like. I wouldn't have to hunt for my own food, that's for sure, and since my foodstock would eventually run out, I knew I'd have to go out into the snow to hunt eventually if I stayed here much longer. It'd be much simpler, a little, rebellious voice whispered, to simply go into the kitchen and retrieve a snack from the refrigerator. It was certainly easier than having to run down your food before you can eat it.

And then there was the prospect of school. If I went with Logan, perhaps I could go to school. I'd observed some schools in a small town a few miles away on the rare occasions that I ventured out of the woods, and it didn't seem like an entirely bad experience. I had no idea why the students I spied upon complained so constantly; when the weather trapped me indoors like it did now, there were times when I would have gladly traded all my food for a diversion from my boredom. A book would certainly have done wonders to ease the hours of tediousness, I admitted, and the bald-headed guy that Wolverine called "the Professor" would certainly have lots of books and maybe even an entire library at his disposal.

And a bed, the nagging little voice went on. Xavier would have a real bed with real sheets and real pillows. No more sleeping on rocks or snow or twigs in below-zero temperatures. There'd be air conditioning for the summer and a heating system to keep me warm in the winter. And that's not counting the benefits of running water and a working toilet.

And don't even get me started on the hot baths. After so many months of bathing in freezing water that made my toes turn numb, a soak in steaming hot liquid looked enormously appealing.

All things considered, life at the Institute certainly couldn't be any worse than it was out here. And Xavier was sure to have an extremely advanced security system to keep unwanted intruders out. This, along with t the combined forces of his students (which were considerable) would serve to severely impede any interlopers that might come looking for me.

Finally, I reasoned that if the risk wasn't worth it, I could simply run away again. It's not like the Professor's so-called X-Men could stop me, no matter how formidable they might be to anyone else. After all, I'd taken them all down with ease when I'd broken into the mansion some time ago, save for Logan, and I could probably outrun him if it came to that.

My inbred, coldly logical HYDRA training swiftly decided that the benefits of life at the Institute far outweighed the risks that it might have presented.

I took a deep, shuddering breath, and slowly met Logan's gaze. I didn't say as much, but I made it clear that I was giving this one chance only, ONE, and if Logan blew it I'd be gone before he knew what had happened.

"So, are we walking all the way back, or did you bring along one of those fancy jets that Cue-ball seems to have lying around everywhere?"

Logan grinned snarkily back at me. "Hope ya don't get airsick, half-pint…"

A/N: Well, after a thoroughly enjoyable and restful vacation, I am pleased to say that I have returned to take up my quill and begin writing once more. For those of you who have been to my profile, you may have guessed (correctly) that this story is a totally revamped and revised version of one of my very first stories. Unlike its predecessor, however, this version will be longer and much more detailed, and I even have plans to include an OC who will play an important role in later chapters. I am also writing this because X23 was my favorite character on the show and, let's be honest, this site needs to see MORE of her. XD So I present this first chapter with pride, and I hope you enjoyed it!

On a more personal note, please keep in mind that classes will resume for me on August 24th. I will have to return to school a week prior to this, and since it will take time for me to get fully settled I may not be able to update this story quite as rapidly as I would like. Please give me your patience and understanding in this, and I promise you it will NOT go unrewarded.

But thankfully that's over a week from now, so I've still got some time to get a few more chapters up! Don't go anywhere, because I'll be back with chapter two very, very soon! ^^ And, as always, PLEASE REVIEW! If YOU have any ideas or suggestions, LET ME KNOW!

Your humble servant,

-Quill N. Inque

P.S. To all the readers of my Historical KURTTY series (special shout-out to Indigo-Night-Wisp, AmuletSpade, Caprichoso, Anahbell and Gabry): Don't be too disappointed. Even as I write this, I am already drawing up plans for the sixth and final volume. ^^