Hear You Me

Many people had openly disapproved of Tree Hill High's choice of replacement for Principal Turner, the strict and business-like Charlene Rimkus. But there was no denying that in just five years, the school had successfully expanded and thrived under her watchful eye. It was now home to all levels of education from elementary to high school, and nobody complained about the convenience anymore, of course.

On that fateful Friday, twelve-year-old Jamie Scott wandered into the principal's office to hand in a permission slip for his next field trip, feeling thankful that his Mom had resigned as a teacher here when he was still too young to be ashamed by her presence. His cheerful whistling as he dropped the form off on the administration desk came to an abrupt halt at the pitiful sniffles behind him, broken by the whimper of his name; "Jamie?"

Jamie froze and turned around in shock: His eight-year-old cousin Logan was sitting in one of the hard plastic chairs against the wall, holding one hand over a spectacular black eye as tears leaked slowly from the other. The younger boy had just started second grade; fighting was unheard of among the lower classes. Jamie rushed over and dropped into the chair next to him, just as the kindly old receptionist bustled back to her desk. "Your mother has been notified, Logan," she said and went back to whatever it was she did all day, leaving Jamie to stare at his cousin, his own class forgotten.

"What the heck happened?" he asked. "The babies never fight!"

Logan blinked at him with difficulty, his eye was turning a nasty shade of purple and swelling up visibly; "You said a swear," he mumbled. "And second grade is not babies!"

"Whatever," Jamie huffed in exasperation. "Didn't answer the question, did it? Wasn't today just some presentation about your family or something?" He motioned at the colorful bruise; "How did it get to that?"

Logan opened his mouth to explain but was interrupted again by Quinn's flustered arrival. "What on earth happened?" she echoed Jamie, clutching her heart as she slowly caught her breath. She glanced at Jamie as Logan's eyes began to fill with tears, but her nephew shrugged. "You're not in trouble too, are you, kiddo?"

"Of course not," said Jamie indignantly. "I was keeping Wolverine company; he's stalling! I couldn't get an explanation either, sorry." He stood up and waved; "I gotta get back to class, later Aunt Quinn."

Quinn nodded absently as he retreated, and only then snapped her attention back to Logan, who wasn't even bothering to cover his bruised eye anymore. "I'm really sorry, Mom," he moaned, and she pulled him gently up from the chair and into a hug.

"Let's get you home bud, this looks like a long story," she soothed and steered him out to her waiting car with a quick nod to the receptionist.

Quinn didn't press Logan for details until they were seated around the beach house kitchen table, with a hot chocolate and coffee respectively. She plopped a marshmallow into his milk as a bribe, earning herself a faint smile as she covered his small hand with hers and squeezed. "Now, how about you tell me what happened to that eye?" she prompted. "Wasn't your family project presentation due today?"

"Yeah, it was," Logan murmured. "It was supposed to be awesome; Bobby Ryan spoiled everything!" Quinn pulled his mug out of the way quickly as his hands flew up in agitation, punctuating the story with gestures worthy of any Italian.

"But you were so excited about this project," she said. "What could this Bobby Ryan possibly do to spoil that?" She smiled, remembering the thoughtful preparation Logan had put into assembling his family tree for this assignment. She had helped him put miniatures of more recent family photographs into frames of Sara's old pictures herself, to express their attitude to holding on to the past while embracing the future. "Remember how happy your Grandma was to pull out all the old pictures?"

Logan closed his eyes as he nodded; "I was too, it was so much fun," he said, with none of the bright enthusiasm he had initially put into the presentation, it was obvious that something had gone very wrong along the way. "Dad's gonna be so mad at me," he moaned, pressing his head down against the hard kitchen table in shame.

Quinn rubbed his shoulders gently; "Nobody's mad at you, honey…not yet anyway, just quit stalling already! What exactly happened with Bobby?"

Logan swallowed hard, and when he met her gaze, his brown eyes were shining with emotion; "I love you, Mama Q," he murmured. "You know that, right?"

"Of course, kiddo," Quinn rolled her eyes affectionately. "I love you too, but I think you're still stalling," she said frankly.

"I'm not," Logan protested seriously. "You understand that love, Bobby Ryan didn't," he spat furiously. He reached for his mug again and extracted the soggy marshmallow, chewing it slowly while Quinn processed the outburst.

It didn't make any sense, and she frowned in confusion; "What do you mean?"

Logan just blinked, and the tears started again as his story finally spilled out. "He said that being in heaven was better than being my Mom," he choked. "And that's why Mommy left…so then I said I have you and Bobby said it's only till you have more babies." His lips were trembling so hard now he could barely speak; "He said that paper doesn't make family and you'll just…replace me one day."

"How can you believe that for even a second?" she demanded, pulling him away from the cramped kitchen table so she could hug his trembling figure close to her.

"Dad already left me once," he pointed out quaveringly, and Quinn's hands froze in the soothing motion of rubbing his back. "And he doesn't talk about Mommy, so maybe she is happier dead."

"Stop it!" Quinn said sharply. "No one is happier dead Logan; the dead don't feel anything, and deep down you know that." She maintained firm eye contact as she stroked his sandy hair; "Your Mom had something wrong with her head, nobody could control what happened to her," she said softly. "And more importantly, Bobby Ryan sure as hell can't tell you how I feel," she stressed. "You are my son, and I love you, is that clear?"

"You said a swear." Logan smiled faintly, and Quinn dropped a kiss to the top of his head.

"Silly boy," she said fervently. "You never did tell me what happened to your eye, you know."

Logan grimaced at the reminder; "I got mad," he said quietly. "I tried to hit Bobby but he's bigger than me, so…that happened," he trailed off and stared at the ground in apparent fascination. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that."

Quinn released him briefly to get an ice pack for his bruise; "If your Dad's going to get mad at anyone, it will be this Bobby kid," she said reassuringly over her shoulder, as she rummaged around in the freezer. "Take this in the meantime, no need to worry until he gets home," she promised, as she gently pressed the ice pack to his eye. "How does that feel?"

"Ouch," the little boy groaned, but he held it in place anyway and leaned into her arms again. "Thanks, Mama Q."

"Bobby Ryan has no clue what he's talking about," she insisted and stood there holding him until long after the ice pack had thawed and lost its effectiveness. "We are family, always!"

"Dad's late today," Logan sighed many hours later. The eight-year-old was sprawled across the couch, holding his hands over his eyes and just listening to some program on television absently. "Ugh, my head hurts."

Quinn looked up from the book she was reading and smiled grimly; "Go to bed, silly," she advised. "I already talked to Bobby's mother; there's nothing more your Dad would do right now anyway. You're not in trouble," she repeated firmly. "Okay?" She put down her book and nudged him upright, so there was room for her on the couch. "Everything's gonna be okay, I promise," she said seriously, and he leaned wearily against her shoulder. "Take a painkiller before you go to sleep, you'll feel better in the morning. You want to keep another cold compress or something?" Logan nodded mutely, too drained even to open his eyes. "Alright, that's it," she said decidedly and lifted him up. "This calls for drastic measures." She smiled as he nuzzled against her; "I used to put Jamie to bed like this too, nice to regress sometimes."

That caught Logan's attention; "You carried Jamie like this?" he repeated incredulously. "He's so big!"

"Everyone starts out tiny, you dork," she giggled. "He was only seven when I moved back to Tree Hill. I met your Dad for the first time at his birthday party," she winked. "But that's a whole other story. Sweet dreams, Wolverine." Quinn kissed him gently on the forehead; "I'll tell Dad to peek in if he comes home soon," she promised.

"Thanks, Mom," he whispered. "I love you."

"No matter what," she smiled and blew him another kiss from the doorway. "Sleep tight." Quinn didn't remember drifting off on the couch, but the next thing she knew the steady background noise of the television was shut off and she stirred to gentle butterfly kisses from Clay. "Hey babe," she mumbled sleepily. "What time do you call this?" she yawned and sat up, pulling open the zipper on his jacket on the way.

"Tell that to my new client, literally one of those eleventh-hour types," he sighed and flopped down beside her on the couch. "Sorry. How was your day?"

"Eventful," Quinn told him hesitantly. "This feels like a rotten time to mention that Logan got into a fight at school today. I had to go and get him from the principal's office."

"What?" Clay gasped and jerked tensely upright, the brief look of relaxation gone in a flash. "Why?"

Quinn put her hand on his arm; "It's all taken care of," she said soothingly. "You remember that presentation about the family he was preparing? Some kid teased him very badly for it," she explained. "Now, calm down!" She grabbed one of his clenched fists and forced the tightly curled fingers to relax again. "I promised him you wouldn't get upset, help me out here."

"Did he get hurt?" asked Clay quietly and Quinn gulped.

"I said I took care of it," she tried to say, but he stared her down with those irresistible blue eyes of his. "Black eye," she sighed at last. "No storming, he's been asleep for ages!"

Quinn hurried after Clay, who had ignored her and stomped off in the direction of the bedroom. She found him staring down at Logan's sleeping figure; the bruise was just visible by the glow of the little boy's nightlight. "Shit," he whispered, and the shock was evident in that single word.

Quinn laid a warning hand on his shoulder; "Don't disturb him, physically it's not as bad as it looks." She dragged him carefully back out into the hallway. "But we do need to talk," she added grimly.

"Sounds ominous," Clay sighed and led her gently towards their bedroom. "First tell me something: Why were you sleeping on the couch?" he asked curiously.

"Dozed off you dork, it happens," she said, hoping the tone wasn't too evasive. "You were very late." She threw in a pout for good measure, knowing the expression turned him on like crazy.

Clay glanced at the curtains in front of the bedroom's adjoining balcony door, fluttering with the ocean breeze. "Look me in the eye and swear it has nothing to do with Katie," he said knowingly, and Quinn shuddered as she followed his gaze to the window. "It's been over a year since you got rid of her yourself, Q. She's never coming back!"

"I know that," Quinn protested half-heartedly; "I just prefer this big bed when you're in it too. Do you mind?"

"Not at all," Clay grinned and pulled her close to him, pressing a kiss to her lips. "What did you want to talk about anyway?"

At the reminder, Quinn frowned and perched on the edge of the bed, motioning for Clay to join her. He did so and slipped his arm around her firmly; "Is this about what happened at school today?"

Quinn stared at him in silence for a long minute, knowing he wasn't going to like what she was about to say. "We need to go to Raleigh tomorrow," she blurted out finally, and Clay raised his eyebrows.

"Where did that come from?" he asked skeptically, and his wife simply grimaced.

"Baby, I'm serious," she said urgently. "You didn't hear Logan today! Whoever this kid teasing him was, he pushed all the buttons to bring up a ton of insecurities. He kept going on about being replaced if and when we ever have more kids," she said sadly. "And that wasn't the worst of it, just trust me."

"What the hell could possibly be worse than that?" Clay gaped at her, completely horror-struck. "That's insane!"

"Try this," said Quinn grimly; "This boy Bobby told him that being in heaven was better than being his mother. That completely crushed him, he ended up convinced Sara didn't love him and that somehow linked to the old fear of you disappearing again."

By the time she was finished, the anguish in Clay's eyes made them contrast severely with his ghostly pale face. "Oh my God," he groaned. "Who the hell does that Bobby kid think he is?"

Quinn felt a sense of déja vu as she rubbed his back comfortingly; "See what I mean?" she sighed and he glanced at her as if daring her to say the words out loud. "It's time honey; we need to take him to see Sara. He's old enough now, and he needs something to hold on to, even if it is just a slab of granite. And I bet seeing his grandparents right now wouldn't hurt either."

"The last time I went to see her was when we took Logan in again," he choked. "I don't know if I can do this, Quinn."

"Yes you can," she said firmly. "Do it for Logan; he needs this!" She smiled and let him press a grateful kiss to her forehead. "Another big difference is you've got me this time," she promised. "It's a new beginning, not the end, right?"

"I love you too much for words," he breathed. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Positive." Quinn pushed him flat on his back at that. "Got enough energy left for a little fun?" she teased. "Just by the way, I love you too." Clay smiled up at her as she pinned him down and put an end to his pained protests with an insistent kiss.

When Clay wandered into the living area the next morning, it was to find Logan toying unenthusiastically with a bowl of cereal. "Hey buddy," he said softly. "How's your eye?"

The boy stopped swirling the milk in his bowl around with a start and looked up; "I'm really sorry, Dad," he gasped and launched at Clay with full force.

Clay stroked his hair; "How many times did your Mom say this is not your fault last night?" The fact that Logan had Sara's eyes frequently bothered him and to see the hazel orbs full of tears was a killer. "I love you, and Bobby knows nothing, you hear me?" Clay glanced around as his son nuzzled close to him, clingy and apologetic for no reason. "Where is your Mom anyway?"

"She said she was going to buy flowers." Logan stepped back and wiped his eyes with a grimace. "It was kind of random."

"Not really," Clay smiled. "Did she mention we're going to visit Grandma and Grandpa today?"

"But the presentation sucked," Logan mumbled dejectedly. "Won't Grandma be sad then? She worked so hard to help me make it perfect."

"Nothing makes her happier than spending time with you, you goof," Clay pointed out and ruffled Logan's hair. "Forget about that stupid presentation; it's over now. We were thinking of all staying over there tonight, would you like that?"

As if his father had spoken some magic words, a grin broke out on Logan's face at the proposition. "Awesome! Can we take the tent?"

Clay was pondering that skeptically when Quinn shoved the front door open, carefully holding a mixed bouquet of seasonal flowers in one hand. "Hey boys," she said cheerfully, raising her eyebrows at Logan's cereal bowl; "Still not done with breakfast, buddy? Get a move on!"

"He wants to take the tent," said Clay. "Guess we need to take your car, is that okay?" Quinn carefully put the bouquet down on the table as he kissed her cheek, making Logan giggle. "I like the way you think, beautiful."

"Do you mean me or the flowers? Let's go in my car then, camping is lucky for this family clearly." Logan finally drained the last of his milk from the bowl and tackled her happily. With a smile to match his, she pressed him close and kept her loving gaze on Clay.

"I mean you and the flowers," he told her appreciatively. "But camping is lucky indoors only," he stressed. "That tent stays inside the house!"

"You're so weird, Dad." Logan rolled his eyes; "Is that a yes?"

"Who can refuse you, Logan Evans?" Clay sighed. "That's a yes, go and get it." Logan whooped and ran to his bedroom, where the orange tent was stored in his cupboard.

Quinn drew closer to Clay as soon as the boy was out of sight; "Are you ready for this?" she asked softly.

"I don't think I'll ever be ready for this." Clay closed his eyes to block out the dread of the task ahead, concentrating instead on the way she felt in his tight embrace. "Thank you for always being there."

"There's nowhere I'd rather be," she told him solemnly. She took his hand and pulled him back towards their bedroom. "How does a shared shower sound?" she suggested flirtatiously.

"Like bribery," he groaned. "God, I love you, tease!"

Quinn giggled and beckoned him with one finger; "Better be quick," she winked. "Come on!" Clay shook his head and dashed after her, the daunting task just hours away temporarily put out of his mind.

A few hours later

"I still wish you kids had warned me you were coming," Lil Kay sighed, not for the first time since their arrival at Sara's childhood home in Raleigh. "Sam could have stayed home; he spends plenty of time with those golf club buddies of his."

"It's no big deal." Clay smiled indulgently and put his arm around her. "Just relax and enjoy the show." They were standing in Logan's regular bedroom, watching Quinn and the little boy trying to figure out how to erect the infamous tent.

"You're not still scared of him, are you?" asked Lil disbelievingly. With her thin white eyebrows raised, she too painfully resembled her daughter.

"Maybe a little," Clay admitted, grimacing when Logan dropped one of the tent's metal poles with a clang and Quinn shrieked in surprise. "I worry he hasn't forgiven me yet for those five years I missed, that's all."

Lil's gaze was sad as she watched Logan puzzling over two mismatched tent poles. "It's been almost eight years sweetie, you're allowed to be happy again," she said seriously. "Sam was upset because Logan missed you in his life, that's over now. We want him to be safe and happy, but the same goes for you." Her eyes sparkled with affectionate warmth, and Clay couldn't help but feel undeserving; "You know Sara would agree with me," she added softly. "You're very lucky to have found someone so special twice, you know?"

"Trust me, I know," he said. "But I don't want to forget either." He swallowed hard, the emotions rising; "That's actually why we're here today anyway, to remind Logan how much his mother loved him."

Lil frowned slightly, even though Logan was joking animatedly with Quinn now, apparently not bothered by his black eye anymore. "Kids can be cruel," she said grimly. "I'm glad you came anyway, he will always be one of the great loves of my life."

Clay smiled sadly and hugged her; "I really wish I had come back sooner," he sighed. "I'm really sorry for running out on him; it was not okay!"

"Let it go, honey, I'm serious," Lil advised solemnly. "Everybody's happy now, that's all any of us ever wanted." She glanced at her grandson's puzzled frown and cracked a wide smile; "Hey Logan, why don't you let your Dad take over with those poles? I was going to make cookies today, want to help?"

"Cool!" Logan jumped up and climbed over the many scattered metal rods quickly. "Sorry Mom, this is too confusing, and cookies are yummy," he laughed as Quinn rolled her eyes at him.

"Your loss baby, I never complain about alone time with your Dad," she shot back as Clay crouched next to her. "Have fun!" As soon as Logan and his grandmother disappeared from view, she turned seriously to Clay; "Stop beating yourself up," she demanded, and her husband stared at her.

"What do you mean?" he replied, feigning innocence.

"You know perfectly well what I mean, Clay." She shoved the numerous rods out of the way and kissed him gently; "Lil is right, you have to stop blaming yourself for the past."

"But I…" he started defensively, and Quinn narrowed her eyes at him, the soft blue that ran in the James family. Clay raised his hands in defeat; "Alright, I'm sorry, okay?" He pulled her close for another kiss; "I really love us."

"You can do this," she said confidently. Reluctantly she reached behind her and picked up one of the tent's rods; "Come on, we better get this thing set up for tonight before we head out."

By the time the tent had been correctly constructed an hour later, the enticing smell of Lil's cookies wafted strongly all the way from the kitchen below. The commotion of footsteps pounding up the stairs reached them even before Logan came charging into view. Busy adding sheets and pillows to the tent's interior, his parents both turned to stare at him in amusement; "How much sugar did Grandma give you, Wolverine?" Clay asked, abandoning the sleeping bag he was rolling out to tackle the little boy.

"I stole the sugar, not her fault," Logan giggled, bouncing up and down on the spot. "It was so good; I couldn't wait!" Beaming mischievously, he licked his lips, which were framed tellingly with smears of melted chocolate. "Grandma says we're going out somewhere. What's going on?"

At the less than subtle reminder of why they were here, Clay froze and stared out the window at the street lined with trees in bright fall colours. Leaves floated to the sidewalk with the slight breeze and Quinn's hand on top of his was warm as she tactfully answered the question for him. "We're going to take you to see your Mom, okay? Forget everything that stupid Bobby said, we love you, and she did too." She held out her free hand to him; "Come here, kiddo." Logan paced over to Quinn and held onto the hand she'd offered, but he chose to sit on Clay's knees instead of the cushioned tent floor between his parents. "How do you feel about that?" she asked him gently.

Logan twisted around on Clay's lap and stared thoughtfully up at him for a moment; "Grandma says Mommy is always watching anyway," he said softly. "I think you should smile more, Dad. If you look sad, she'd be sad too."

"Seriously?" Clay stared at his son in disbelief as Quinn looked on with a proud smile. "That was deep, Wolverine." He kissed the top of Logan's head; "Ready to go then?"

"Grandma said no cookies until after dinner," Logan sighed. "I guess we can go now. Make dinner come faster, right?" Clay and Quinn shook their heads incredulously at his cheek. The three of them crawled out of the tent and Logan held onto one each of his parents' hands on the way down the winding staircase. The trio waved at Lil as they passed the kitchen, still bustling busily around in her flour-coated apron. Then Logan clambered into the back of Quinn's car, and she took to the driver's seat, giving Clay's hand a firm squeeze before turning in the direction of the local cemetery.

All too soon, in Clay's opinion, the car pulled to a halt on the broad gravel path beyond the ornate black cemetery gate. Quinn let out a low whistle of amazement; "Wow, the caretaker of this place has been busy." Although the trees lining the path were bare, not a single dead leaf littered the surroundings. The setting sun glowed through the gaps in the bare branches, casting golden light on the headstones spread out in the area. More gravel paths separated the rows of grave markers and headstones, these narrower than the one where the car now stood stationary. Logan sidled up to Clay and latched nervously onto his hand, taking in the surroundings with wide and fearful eyes. Quinn came up behind them and squeezed the little boy's shoulder comfortingly; "You're not scared, are you, little man?"

"What if there are ghosts?" he whispered, so quietly she could barely make out the words.

Quinn handed the flowers to Clay and motioned to him to lead the way to Sara's gravesite, pulling Logan close to her once both hands were free. "Of course there are no ghosts, sweetheart," she said firmly.

Logan was staring up at her, not looking convinced, when Clay came to an abrupt halt. "There are only angels," he promised quietly, the simple engraving of Sara's name on the granite slab already making his vision go misty. "Like this one." He put the bouquet on the ground at the base of the headstone and Quinn quickly dragged Logan close enough so that she could offer him moral support too. The boy shuddered and ducked behind her tall figure quickly. There he stayed while Clay pulled her into a tight embrace, drawing strength from the firm sensation of her hands sliding up and down his back. "If I ever say I don't need you, remember it's the biggest lie in the world," he murmured. "Don't let go, please!"

"Have I ever?" she challenged affectionately. "You're stuck with me Clay Evans, like it or not."

"Love it, actually," he shot back seriously and inhaled her flowery scent deeply before pulling back reluctantly. Logan pushed quickly into the gap between his parents and continued to stare at Sara's headstone apprehensively. Clay followed his gaze with a sigh; "There's nothing to be scared of Wolverine, I promise. This is just a…" But exactly what it was Quinn and Logan never found out, at that moment a figure standing behind the headstone at a bit of a distance caught Clay's roaming gaze and he froze mid-sentence.

It had been many years since her last appearance, but for some reason now Sara was standing a few paces behind her headstone, staring at him in silence. He knew the figure was a figment of his imagination, as always, but the bright smile tugging slowly at her lips lifted the weight in his heart at once. She was wearing the same cream sundress she had died in on that devastating July day eight years ago. With countless headstones all around her and the loose blonde curls framing her round face, Clay thought she looked more like an angel than ever before. She moved a little closer to her own headstone, still completely mute, eventually coming to a halt just behind it.

Her lips quivered as her soft brown eyes settled on Logan, clinging nervously to both Clay and Quinn's hands by this point. Finally, she lifted both hands and bent her fingers into a heart shape. Clay smiled sadly at the apparent apparition; sure she wouldn't say a word today. It was a shock when her voice drifted towards him, echoing as if carried on the wind, so faint that Clay almost wondered if he had imagined it; "Thank you for finding him," she sighed, the single phrase oozing with emotion. She backed away again and began to fade, but the glowing smile was back in place, and as the ghost increased the distance between them, she held up two fingers in plain sight. Staring lovingly from Clay to Logan, Sara dropped first one finger, then the other and Clay knew what he had to do next.

Staring at the spot where Sara had vanished as suddenly as she appeared, Clay distantly heard Quinn still trying to convince Logan the grave was nothing to fear. He turned to see his wife smiling encouragingly at the eight-year-old wrapped tightly around her waist. "On the count of three we'll both go closer, okay?" she said sweetly.

Logan appeared to be considering this, but Clay shook his head and held out his hand to the nervous boy again; "How about on the count of two?" he suggested softly.

A flash of understanding shot across Quinn's face but Logan looked adorably confused; "Nobody goes on the count of two," he protested, "That's so weird."

Clay smiled sadly and nodded at the headstone; "That's what your mother said too. The count of two was our thing; it's a long story."

He met Quinn's proud gaze as Logan pondered this strange explanation. She released the little boy's hand and nudged him towards Clay gently; "I'll be in the car," she said softly and walked off after giving him double thumbs up. Clay stared after her, feeling like his optimism was drifting further away with every step she took, but his son didn't give him time to dwell on the hopelessness.

Logan tugged insistently on his shirt sleeve until Clay finally tore his gaze away from Quinn's retreating figure and knelt down to the little boy's level. "Hey Dad, how come you never talk about Mommy?" he asked innocently. "Did you love her?"

Clay swallowed and stared at the lettering on Sara's headstone for a moment; "Of course I did, buddy," he insisted. "More than anything in the world."

"Then why do you never tell stories the way Grandma does?" Logan pressed, apparently not satisfied with his answer.

"Sometimes when you love someone as much as I loved your Mom, it's hard to remember the good times without feeling sad that they're gone," his father explained, inwardly cursing how simple little kids made such painful matters appear. "You know how I know that she's not an evil ghost to be scared of?" Logan shook his head innocently, and Clay answered the question himself; "Because I called her my angel…and she always will be, okay?" Logan curled close to Clay's heart, and he squeezed the eight-year-old tightly. "She's the reason you exist," he said softly. "I will never forget that. I'm so sorry I ever let you go, Logan."

"Don't let go again," he replied pleadingly, curling his short arms tightly around Clay's neck as his father straightened up. "I need stupid Bobby to be wrong. I love you, Daddy."

"Forget that stupid Bobby," Clay insisted. "You're stuck with me forever Wolverine, I promise." He grinned as Logan leaned back and looked him in the eye; "You better get used to ghosts by the time I die because I swear I will haunt you for life, alright? I love you, kiddo." Logan twisted around awkwardly in his arms and stared at Sara's headstone again, less fear in his eyes now. "Are you ready to say hello?" Clay asked and lowered him gently to the ground.

After hesitating for a moment, Logan knelt down in front of the headstone and traced each letter of Sara's name with his tiny forefinger. "Hi Mommy," he said softly. He glanced up at Clay over his shoulder; "This feels weird. Can she really hear me?"

Clay crouched next to him and ran a hand comfortingly down his back. He stared at the spot where the ghost had stood for a moment before responding. "She can always hear you," he promised. "I kind of let her down by letting you ever doubt how much she loved you." Logan nuzzled against him again; "I promise from now on you'll get as many stories as you want."

Logan kissed his fingertips and pressed them to the headstone; "I love you, Mommy," he said quietly. He smiled hesitantly at Clay; "Is it okay that I think Mama Q is totally awesome?"

"That's more than okay," Clay told him. "I happen to agree with you. We're lucky boys, huh?" He held up his palm and Logan slapped a high five to it, all traces of fear completely gone. Clay held out his hand to the boy; "Let's go home, buddy." They both turned and blew air kisses at the grave together before heading back to the car.

"Lord knows how that kid is going to sleep tonight," Clay laughed as he straightened the row of pillows in the tent later that night. Quinn smoothed the thick blankets cushioning the floor and smiled at him from the other end of the confined space.

"It was an emotional outing, let him enjoy the reward," she said, referring to Lil's mouth-watering cookies, which Logan had been waiting for all day. The eight-year-old was taking his time over the home-made dessert, leaving his parents to put the finishing touches to the tent's interior in peace.

Quinn continued to watch him intently as Clay rolled out their three sleeping bags on top of the blankets. "What are you looking at, you goof?" he asked finally, the affection in her eyes putting him fully at ease.

"I'm so proud of you," she said simply. "I knew you could do this." She patted the edges of the base sheet down once more, and then crawled into the center of the tent to meet him half-way.

Clay held onto both her hands and pressed them to his heart. "I couldn't have done it without you, Q," he said seriously. "Sometimes it still amazes me that I'm lucky enough to have both you and Logan in my life."

Quinn glanced at the slight gap behind the row of pillows, still vacant, and snapped her fingers; "That reminds me…," she murmured mysteriously and scrambled out of the tent quickly. "Be right back!"

Clay frowned curiously at the tent opening, but in less than a minute Quinn returned with a photo frame in her hand. "Oh," he said softly, and she nodded decisively.

"Logan doesn't go anywhere without this now," said Quinn affectionately and wiped the glass shielding Sara's smiling face carefully with her sleeve. A miniature of the first picture Clay had taken when Logan first moved in with them shared the frame with her, the day the then six-year-old had faced the ocean's immensity. Quinn crawled over to the pillows and tucked the frame carefully behind the middle one, Logan's guardian angel. She grinned at Clay as he pulled her close to him; "Now, where were we?" she teased.

"You tell me," he moaned, crashing his lips adoringly against hers.

Quinn returned the kiss deeply for a minute, then leaned back and looked him seriously in the eye. "You can stop thanking me for always being around, you know?" she said. She trailed her hand down the side of his face and smiled. "Logan is a great kid, and you two make the life I could never picture with David a reality, every day." He pulled her into a grateful hug, and her hands ran lovingly through his hair as she leaned close to his ear and whispered; "The bottom line is, I really love us too."

Clay grinned at her, but before he could say another word the tent flap got wrenched to one side, and Logan wriggled through the opening. "Grandma kept an eye on the cookies this time," he sighed regretfully. "Not too much sugar."

"Poor you," his mother teased, and Logan stuck his tongue out at her and climbed back onto Clay's lap. "The tent is making you Daddy's boy this trip, huh?" she winked playfully.

Clay wrapped his arms tightly around the little boy; "Making up for lost time," he only half-joked and Quinn nodded and unzipped Logan's sleeping bag for him.

Clay ruffled his son's sandy hair once more and gave him a gentle nudge; "In you get, Wolverine."

When Logan was tucked in, Clay and Quinn lay down on either side of him and laid one hand each on his chest. He squirmed until his hands were free from inside the sleeping bag and offered one to Quinn. She pressed a kiss to his palm as he rolled over and cuddled close to Clay this time, the opposite of the first time they had done this on the night Clay ended up proposing. "Night baby," they said together.

Clay kept his arms tightly around Logan as his son drifted off to sleep with surprising ease. Then he glanced at the photograph above Logan's head longingly for a moment, until he sensed Quinn watching him again. He reached across their son's peacefully sleeping figure and caressed her hand. "I love you, Quinn Evans," he whispered. "Till kingdom come!"

A / N Wow, this plot bunny really exploded and grew out of nowhere. I normally struggle with Logan because I can't relate to Clay's obsession with superheroes so hope everyone enjoys this! xx