*Disclaimer: If you recognize it it's not mine (most likely) and even so, this isn't making me any money...*

Chapter 2

Memories of the Past

Logan sauntered forward while Cam went ahead of him to open the door for them. He looked at the small two story house while moving forward. He took in the well kept lawn and hanging baskets with blooming flowers that surrounded the front entryway. The house its self was nothing remarkable but seemed nice. Logan continued to the door as Cam let her mom know they were there and she let him inside. Amber walked to the top of the stairs as Logan walked through the door. He looked up at her and his eyes immediately narrowed to slits and his hands to fists. As he took in her bright red hair, soft grey eyes, white blouse and dark wash jeans he felt a foreign but familiar presence touch his mind. It quickly sifted through his memories and managed to find one that Logan thought was forever gone. Erased. Looking at Amber was like looking into a past long forgotten.

1988

In the dead of night Logan peered around the smoky brick chimney that hid him from the group of armed men that were going about their rounds below. This was his assignment after the others had failed. Explore the town without being seen find the sword that was stolen from his armory, get it and get out. Unfortunately since the first man that Logan sent, hadn't come back he had wondered if they had decided to post patrols, he was right. Only the last man he had sent out had come back, his friend Marcus, and that was because he was a mutant with a teleporting ability so he hadn't been caught, but he had to abandon the mission because of how many men were there. Logan had decided he would go himself since it was his own sword that was taken…

There were three soldiers down on the ground near him, nothing he couldn't handle. The problem was getting to the towns armory because that was where the sword was most likely to be. On top of that the armory was in the middle of town.

It was a small town not many residents, only around a hundred, but a hard layout to penetrate using stealth. If one were to follow the roofs like Logan was attempting, they were too far apart to misjudge, without falling and there were constant patrols going down the alleys. The buildings of the town were in a neat half circle around a church and the river, but with an inner circle, middle circle and an outer circle with additional security around that.

The outer semi-circle was made up of all war personnel such as the weaponry and trades such as a black smith and that was the part with the most security, unfortunately now that he was here he could tell that he would have to get to the center ring, the sword wasn't in the weaponry.

The middle rows were all the housing, personal or public. The inner was all the bakeries and flower shops and such. The very center was a well, right in the middle of the church.

The town it's self sits right next to a glacial river that flows down the small valley that the village sits in, which cuts some of the land away leavening a small sandy river beach. The beach stretches a mile in both directions away from the town, so the town looks like a big donut with a bite taken out of it. The town was completely surrounded by forest on all sides except for the one gravel road that was the only way to and from the village unless you prefer bush waking.

Contemplating his next move Logan thought about how to get to the inner ring without being spotted, he figured get as close as he could on the roofs and then go the rest of the way on foot. He knew that this was the safest and fastest route but also the hardest, he also didn't exactly know the patrols and if he made a wrong move he would be in trouble.

As Logan inspected the amount of space to the next roof, a soldier passed bellow, worrying him. The soldier, was taking no chances and was obviously very good at his job. He looked up from where he was standing and noticed Logan's dark outline against the deep green roof that was black in the dusk that surrounded them. Immediately the soldier stalked forward rifle raised in hand, gun loaded. Damn it! Thought Logan, this is it.

In that split second decision Logan rocked back on his heels and hurled himself at the roof he had been studying. Just as he left, the soldier's bullet pierced the air where he had been previously crouching. Unfortunately even with his enhanced senses he had still misjudged the distance between the two roofs and only just managed to get his torso above the gutter.

While struggling blindly to climb up, the other soldiers around him on the ground grabbed at his legs trying to yank him down. Right before Logan got a good hold on the shingles of roof holding him up, the structure collapsed underneath his belly and deposited him on the ground with a load of debris. As his feet struck the ground Logan rolled himself off to the side and got up in a swift motion, and allowed himself a quick glance at the faulty roof of the blacksmiths'. A rotten beam! This was his luck! Just then he heard a man coming up from behind, he wiped around but didn't have enough time to evade, he had wasted his reaction time by looking at the rotten timber. Logan got just a glimpse at the man just as he brought a heavy mace down on his head, then everything went black.

Extremely woozy and slightly incoherent Logan looked around from his crumpled spot on the dry, coarse dirt. He noticed that the hit had just been moments ago, the soldiers milled around seaming to be looking for something. Logan stirred and groaned as a splitting ache racked through his skull.

"Shut up," said a gruff voice somewhere above him, while presumably the same man's hand came down and grabbed his shirt and tried hauled him up, before it shuttered and dropped him once again. With a grumble the man that tried to pick Logan up started pacing.

Logan wasn't sure he was even going to be able to stand but he also didn't feel like waiting on the ground while the painful throb in his head went away. As he rolled to his side to get up he felt a hard tug on his wrists, he looked down at them where they lay on the ground in front of his stomach, and noticed they were bound. Well no surprise there, he thought and continued to press his hand in the dirt so he could get his legs underneath him. In the distance he heard voices going back and forth, that would be out of hearing range of a normal person.

"Why isn't he dead?" said the first voice

"How should I know?"

"You were the one that hit him! Did you try to kill him or not?"

"Of course, I got him as hard as the other one!"

Then a third rougher voice came in. "Would you two stop yelling at each other and get him to the cellars already! I'll talk to him in the morning."

Chiming in together the two soldiers said, "Yes sir" and made their way back towards their captive.

Logan looked around after that to find out where he was in relation to the roof he had been on. He was still where he had landed after being struck, close to the blacksmiths rundown looking place, on the outer rim of the town. He figured that the men surrounding him had a hard time seeing in the current light because of their bright flash lights, he was glad that he would be able to see where the soldiers were going to take him, he hoped it was close enough to his sword that he would feel its calling.

Something shoved into his back making him stumble forward to gain his balance. He was still so dizzy.

"Get moving!" was the voice that followed. Logan twisted his head around and found all the soldiers surrounding him once again. Without a noise he stumbled forward in the indicated direction, toward the main plaza, the inner circle. As they walked Logan scolded himself for being stupid enough to let his mind wander away from the task at hand, and to something as stupid as a rotten beam!

When the parade reached the cellars, the sight confirmed Logan's theory, they were the cells, but what he didn't expect was that they were beneath the church. The soldier behind him gave him a prod in the back with the hilt of his dagger to urge him forward and into the even darker darkness of the cellars. They ended up descending only one flight of stairs then going down the far right wing of a W shaped fork in the road. Counting a set of three doors only, till they stopped, Logan began to decide whether or not he was going to make an escape.

But he felt how his two sleepless nights had affected him so he changed his plan. The soldier that kept him with the dagger cut his bound hands and shoved him through the door not waiting for any kind of retaliation. Logan could see almost anything in darkness if there was a little bit of light, but this musty slime covered hole was pitch black, even he couldn't see much, just a small white shape against the wall. Exhaustion took him over as he went to the lumpy mattress and the second he relaxed on the uncomfortable bed he was asleep.

Logan woke to an odd sensation. It felt like someone had grabbed his stomach and was removing it from his body. The feeling was an exact duplicate from when his sword was stolen; he sat up quickly and scented the air. Nothing was off, and even if there was he wouldn't be able to do anything about it, so he relaxed his tensed muscles and leaned against the cell wall, and attempted to figure out what time it was but was unable to get any kind of actual time, although his internal clock and instincts told him it was early in the morning.

Approximately thirty minutes later, Logan heard loud footsteps and voices coming down the stairs. It wasn't very long before thin beams of yellow light and bodies showed up too. From somewhere down the hall the delicious smell of bacon and eggs obscured the musty scent of the cell, and it sent his mouth watering. Still staring at the cells opposite wall he heard the loud click that signaled the door to the cell being opened.

That's when he turned his head and saw what he expected to see, soldiers. There were nine in total, six were standing outside the cell and three were approaching him. Two of the three inside approached him with pistols trained to his chest and the third with ropes in hand. The two in the front were of regular stature, normal height, both had dark hair and heavily sun tanned skin that was obscured by the dirt colored clothes they wore. Around the one on the left smelt like bear and BO, and the other had a heavy cloud of cigarette smoke, the third was different he showed no sign of fear, and he strode forward with arrogant confidence. He was dressed in camouflage clothes, which made his jade green eyes stand out against his lightly tanned skin. The rope he had in his right hand was the same kind as they used last night, it was twine, thick and rough, and equally hard to break. His left hand, although empty, never hovered far from a knife that was stationed on his belt.

"Get up" said the one in the middle, and when Logan didn't move from his position, with hands wrapped around his left knee and his right leg hanging off the side of the bed and wall to his left, the man ordered him to "get up" once again. This time Logan recognized the voice. It was the one belonging to the obnoxious soldier that had his knife pressed into his side most of the night. Internally snarling at the guy, he complied. As he unlocked his fingers and shifted his legs to get up he wondered if it would be easier and faster to break out now or see if negotiation was possible.

Mister knife happy came forward and grabbed Logan's right hand in a way that rubbed dried blood and dirt chunks into skin that was tender from being moist and dirty all night. His wrists were bound tightly behind his back with the twine. A frown quickly adorned his face but was replaced just as quick with nonchalance.

As soon as he was dragged out the door to his cell, his wrists split again and he felt the fresh warm blood spill off his hand and onto the back of his already dirty muscle shirt, camouflage pants and combat boot.

The party of 10 paraded out of the cells and into the brightness of day, which blinded Logan's extremely sensitive eyes momentarily. As soon as he got his eye sight back he noted exactly where he was. It seemed like, from what he could tell that the cells were directly below the building that was supposed to be the church, right in the center of the town. The direction of travel was definitely towards the outer rim of town. When they passed through the middle rim a large crowd gathered around seemingly just to get a look at him, and he found it strange that they looked away if he returned their gaze.

It didn't take long before the procession reached the largest building in the area; he was positive that it was the armory/ weaponry. When they went inside the six extra guards stayed outside barricading the door, and when the rest of them stepped inside he saw why the others weren't needed.

He first noticed the door at the end of the room thirty feet away. Two guards were stationed on either side, next he saw the guards that completely lined the walls behind shelves that adorned the room in two rows. The contents of the shelves were weapons of all kinds, guns, pistols, rifles, shotguns, automatics, semi-automatics, as well as explosives like grenades. There were also lots of knives and daggers, along with the occasional sword and a couple of hand held crossbows.

The room was very long and narrow with a low ceiling; the air was cool and dry thanks to the loud noisy fans hanging on the ceiling. However the thing that he noticed the most was that the closer he got to the building the less sick he felt, and now that he was inside the feeling was gone.

When he turned his head, he saw it, about halfway down the hall a boy that looked eighteen, was holding a long covered object. A low almost inaudible growl slipped out as one thought entered his mind, Ornthrond. The boy quickly left the scene through the door at the other end and disappeared with his sword.

A dagger's pommel connected with the strip of skin between his shoulder blades, ordering him to continue forward. When they stepped through the door at the end of the hall the only guard that followed him in was the one holding a knife

Logan stopped short in the doorway as the air drastically changed from the smell of leather, metal and gunpowder to a thick fog of flowery perfume that made his eyes water. He stepped hesitantly into the room and glanced around, it was a pale green room lit by the wall length window on the back. There was a big mahogany desk in the center of the room with a large stack of papers on the right; the boy that had entered earlier with his sword was standing in the corner of the room still holding it with a sheet covering it.

It took Logan a long time to divert his gaze from Ornthrond and when he did they didn't go very far, only up to meet the boy's brown eyes, when they connected his eyes and the boys narrowed. Another growl came from his lips as the boy held Ornthrond tighter.

"Sorry to interrupt your all to important starring contest, but we have more pressing matters to attend to" A man stepped around the large desk, which caused Logan to snap his attention to him and watch the boy from the corner of his eye. The man was lean and tall with thinning gray-brown hair, he was wearing a suit made out of high-quality black fabric with a white button down and a purple tie. He recognized the rough voice from last night.

Logan made no comment and almost bit his tongue to keep from hissing when the man behind him moved his position and shifted the ropes binding his hands to the point that they bled again.

The man came around his desk and sat in a plush green chair in front of him and when he was comfortable he gestured to the chair opposite him which was also plush green. "Have a seat."

"No thanks."

The man looked quite surprised that he'd been refused, "well can I accommodate you at all?"

Logan never spoke he just twisted his hand in their bounds.

"Yes, of course," The man gestured to Logan's hands, "Mick, would you please?" Logan contained a small smile as he felt, and smelt the waves of anger and distrust fall off the man behind him named Mick, but he refrained because he was a master of the poker face.

"But Sir! You can't . . .!" Mick stumbled on his frustrated words.

"You will release him, Mick."

Logan heard a mumbled "yes sir" before he felt the cool blade split the ropes holding his hands. The pressure that was building between his shoulder blades quickly dissipated as his healing factor took effect. He brought his hands around front and rubbed a couple chunks of dried bloody dirt off his wrists to allow them to heal but they oozed fresh blood first. Then he nodded in thanks.

"Well now let's get to the matter at hand, shall we? What would be your name . . .?" Logan saw that man glance at his tags, "soldier?"

"Logan," He watched as the man gave a small frown before brightening up.

"Mine is Kyle, and this, I'm sure you know by now is Mick" Kyle stood up and gestured towards Mick before he held out his hand to shake. Logan shook it.

Now it was Logan's turn to frown. "What's with the friendliness?"

"I don't believe in harsh leadership, but I will be strict with my charges if I have to, you included." Kyle sat back down in his chair seemingly getting back to business. "So, what would be you, and previously, your comrades, reason to visit our peaceful town in such an invading way?"

Logan stared at Kyle before he hesitantly said, "An object disappeared from our camp a few nights ago. I believe that you have it."

"An object? What kind of object, and why would you think that we have it?" Kyle raised an eye brow but looked on Logan with understanding.

"It's a sword, the blade is curved and it was mostly made of red and black leather." Logan stared Kyle down waiting for him to hand back the katana, but it seemed like Kyle had other plans.

"Yes, I believe we do have this sword of yours," the boy in the corner stepped forward behind Kyle holding the sword in the sheet delicately like it would burn him. Kyle grabbed the long object and uncovered it but kept the sheet between his skin and the scabbard. "We found this on the steps of our church three days ago, and when my right hand man tried to pick it up it scalded his hand so bad he won't be able to use it for a month at least. Now tell me," He paused, " if this is yours, why should I give it back?"

Apparently the kid would have been burnt if he had touched it, he thought, as he looked into Kyle's eyes and waited. But why would it burn anyone, it's just a sword!

"Touch the end of this for me." He held the katana's end out to Logan and he connected his fingers to the scabbard before pulling away slowly and showing his fingers to Kyle. When out of nowhere Mick hit the back of Logan's knee causing him to drop to the floor, but with his lightning fast reflexes Logan spun on his knees and knocked the knife out of his hand. Then he got up and griped Mick's head lifted his left knee and connected the two.

He heard the wet squelch of Mick's nose breaking just before the hot blood made it through his pants. He was just about to punch Mick in the face when he heard the metallic clink of and automatic pistol. He turned around slowly to face Kyle while lowering his hand. He could smell the metallic scent of blood as it gushed out of Mick's nose and he held back a smile in satisfaction.

"Step over beside my desk please Logan," Kyle reached behind himself and the boy who was holding his sword handed Kyle a rag, who passed it to Mick, "Clean yourself up before your nose makes a bigger mess on my floor."

Mick held the cloth to his face and looked at Kyle incredulously, "How can you say that so calmly! That asshole broke my nose!" Logan almost laughed at how Mick's voice sounded now that his nose was broken

"Well, I have a feeling you started it, Mick." Kyle unarmed the gun and placed it on the edge of his desk.

"But, he . . .!" Mick gestured with his right hand towards Logan and took a step forward but stopped when Kyle placed a hand on his chest and said, "That's enough."

Kyle turned back to Logan who was more than slightly amused, "so, your hand isn't burnt . . . ?"

"No. Should it be." Logan said as he watched Kyle place Ornthrond's tip against the ground keeping his hand on the pommel with the sheet in between. Logan couldn't take his eyes off it.

"How bought we cut a deal, hmmm?"

Logan frowned.

Kyle smiled, "It's, nothing much, but since I've got this," he lifted the sword and put it back down, "and I lost a blacksmiths, then you can repair the roof, then leave with your sword." He smiled wider which bothered Logan because he knew he couldn't refuse, unless he planned on making a loud exit

"Fine, but you've got to provide all the equipment, and promise that I will actually be allowed to leave when I'm done."

"Yes, yes, of course. You'll be staying at the Downey house while you're here, and when you are outside of the house Mick will be in charge of you." Kyle said seeming pleased that he had complied.

"Oh and one more thing before you go, your hands will be bound till you get to the house so we don't see a repeat of what happened here." Kyle gestured to Mick's face.

Mick took that as a sign and he strode forward and bound Logan's hands harshly behind his back, stretching and tearing the skin before, once again shoving him out the door.

Logan was just fine with the arrangement, at least he knew how to build, but Mick definitely wasn't happy. He grabbed his knife before they left and he seemed quite keen on trying any excuse to use it.

They were about halfway there when Mick decided to open his can of 'whop ass', which mind you was not very impressive.

"I'll skin you alive, if you so much as put one foot out of line, got it?" Logan heard him trying to catch up then he felt a light pressure on his hands. He turned around and found that Mick took a little spill in the only pile of mud on the street, face first to. Logan just sighed and walked off a foot or two to lean on a tree to wait.

When Mick got up he wiped his face with his hand wincing when he bumped his nose. Logan noticed and smelt the blood soaked earth that Mick had removed and it looked awful. When Mick was done spitting out mud then he made his way over towards Logan found his knife in the mud and went to rinse it in the nearby river. Meanwhile Logan looked around at the beautiful snow capped mountains that seemed to surround the valley and he felt the longing for the Rockies' in Canada. His home, more or less apart from all the traveling he did for the military. His gaze quickly snapped back to Mick the second he felt the other man watching him. Logan scowled at him till Mick started to once again move down the road, and then he followed him.

This was going to be one hell of a time.

When they reached the Downey house Mick had one last thing to say. "Don't touch anything. Got it?" Logan just stared back at him, slightly confused as the man's tine didn't seem to intend actual objects. After a moment Mick opened the door then shoved him inside and followed behind, announcing their presence.

"Mary you've got company." Logan heard the banging of cutlery and pans in the next room, a shorter thin woman about 40 years old, with burgundy hair and stunning blue eyes walked out of the kitchen.

"You should have told me sooner Mick, otherwise I would have prepared more lunch." Mary wiped her wet hands on her cooking shoal and reappraised the two men in her door way. "Mick Trowel what have you been doing? Sleeping with the pigs?" Laughing it off she said "No matter you can head upstairs to clean yourself of momentarily." Then she stuck out her hand out and said, "And you would be?"

"Lo …" He rolled his eyes as he was interrupted.

"That's probably not a very good idea Mary." Mick tried to point out that he was a captive and violent, but she wouldn't hear it.

"I've had many of your so called violent captives in my house Mick and none have been anything but gentlemen, unlike you." Mary shot him a dirty look. "What would be your name sir?"

"Lo ..." Logan sighed as he was interrupted again.

"Mom, who's there? It sounds like Mick and some other guy, is it another "tenet?"" The next minute there was a petite girl in the stairwell. She looked no older then nineteen and really beautiful. Her fair complexion almost blinded Him.

"Who are you?" she commented, "I've never seen you before, and why are your hands bound?" her brow wrinkled a little as she contemplated the problem.

"We were just trying to sort that out when you interrupted, Amber. Now why don't you apologize to him for being so rude?" Mary looked very sternly at her nearly adult daughter until the girl gave up with a sigh.

"I'm sorry I interrupted you, please continue." Then she looked more closely at Mick and Logan. She scrutinized Mick's face and turned her gaze to Logan's, she seemed slightly indifferent about seeing a new face in her home, but she definitely didn't seem pleased to see Mick.

"My name is Logan." Logan nodded his head forward. Then he twisted his hands and looked down at the blood that was pooling up on the wood floor behind his feet, the origins of the blood stung but it gave his wrists a nice slick feel, the perfect release from the scratchy rope. "Sorry about your floor."

"Oh, for heaven's sake release his hands, he won't do anything. If you don't I will, with a knife from the kitchen." Mary looked between Logan's bound hands and the dagger that Mick had pressed to his side, until Mick grabbed Logan's right hand letting the left dangle and spliced through the rope.

"You happy now Mary?" Mick said sarcastically.

With a sigh of relief Logan murmured the word thanks and rubbed his healing but still bloody, dirt covered wrists. He was slightly surprised when no one noticed when they were healed, it was probably the dirt's fault, but he was thankful for it as well.

Mary ignored Mick and turned to Logan, "You are very welcome Logan. Now honey why don't you help this man clean up his wrists and then show him his room. And you Mr. Trowel will clean up this mess before it stains the wood." Mary went back into the kitchen and soon the house was filled with the smell of grilled cheese and chocolate cookies. Amber rushed over and grabbed Logan's newly freed right hand and started to drag him over to the stairs and away from the glowering Mick.

"Come on! Wait till you see the view!" Amber raced up the stairs and down the straight hall, with her bright flaming red hair streaming out behind her, till she came to the second door on the left, the last one in the hall. She showed Logan his suite. It contained a bedroom that held a double bed, a small balcony with sliding glass doors, a comfy looking chair and a bed side table.

As Logan walked through the door the smell of the room hit him like a wave, smoothly but stiff and strong, it smelt like mountain pine. The hall had been almost completely odor less. It surprised him that the smell could be so intense in one room but also so refreshing, maybe it was just him. The bathroom door was off to the right, a door just beside the balcony. It opened to a small blue room that contained a vanity closest to the right of the door and a white porcelain toilet beside it. In the far left corner was a standing shower stall with perforated glass. This room too had a strong smell of pine but was more faint then the bedroom.

Amber led him past the bedroom and onto the balcony. It had an amazing view of the gentle glacial river and the snow capped mountains behind it. It looked like the perfect scene, stunning, but his sightseeing was cut short when Amber led him back to the bathroom and got him to sit on the edge of the toilet, which he did without complaint, but an exasperated sigh attempted an escaped.

When Amber was done fishing around under the sink, she emerged with two rages, a couple wraps and cleansing ointment.

"Let's take a look at those," said Amber as she motioned towards his hands. With a quiet sigh he held his right hand in front of her as she kneeled beside him on the ground.

"There's no point you know"

While dabbing at the wet and crusty crimson liquid Amber questioned "What are you talking about?" Then as she washed away what was left of the blood and dirt Amber could only stare with wonder as she held Logan's perfectly fine hand. After a long uncomfortable silence she whispered, "I see what you mean." He heard her swallow, but her position didn't change, and he could detect no anxiety in her scent, she wasn't afraid. Then she quickly got up and rinsed the cloth and when back to finish cleaning his other hand.

Shocked Logan asked, "It doesn't bother you?" as he tried to catch her eye.

Clearly avoiding the contact she mumbled "should it?"

"I don't see how it wouldn't." He commented still trying to make eye contact. She looked up at him. Logan thought that he would capture her eyes in his gaze to draw out answers, but instead he got caught up in their stunning grey beauty.

Finishing quickly Amber got up and put the stained rag in a garbage can under the sink before she stored the unused ointments in a red first aid kit. When done she stood up straight, leaned slightly on the counter, and stared at Logan then spoke. "Well?"

"Well what?" He looked back into her deep absorbing eyes, but this time held his own against their power, though it wasn't easy.

She gestured at his clean hands, "You certainly can't go downstairs looking like that, the ropes were soaked with your blood he isn't going to believe that your wrists are fine."

No he couldn't, she was right, it would start a never ending reign of questions. He stood up and looked out a small window that over looked the back edges of the quiet town, and he could see that the beach stretched a fair ways down. Then he answered. "Your right, something needs to be done." He looked back at her, and she dropped her eyes. "What do you suggest?"

She fidgeted clearly a bit uncomfortable, "Um… we could wrap them loosely with some cloth and say that the cuts weren't as bad as they looked?"

He gave a Humph and said, "Not a bad idea kid."

She quickly looks up, her face furious. "I'm not a kid!" Logan watched taken aback as she stormed out of the bathroom and slammed herself down in the chair by a small fireplace opposite the bed.

"Whoa, chill, no need to break the chair." He walked out of the bathroom and slowly approached Amber but went no farther than the edge of the bed.

"Well, if everyone stopped calling me kid I wouldn't have to break the chair!" Logan watched Amber's face go from a color almost identical to her hair to a light shade of pink, which overall gave a nice contrast to the coordinately green room. It made her look stunning.

"Who calls you kid?" He watched her reaction closely.

"Why would that matter to you?" She looked him in the eye daring him to tell the truth, but he could also tell her anger was short lived.

He shrugged giving no answer, and then looking out the sliding glass doors that lead onto the balcony. The sun was bright and shinning, making him squint a little. The awkward silence dragged on, neither saying anything, neither feeling like they had something to say.

"Well, guess I should wrap your wrists, then, and go." She got up and headed back into the bathroom; Logan shifted his positing to watch. When Amber came back she wrapped his wrists loosely, no words were spoken as she finished and walked to the door, until she turned to face him in the doorway.

"After you've had time to settle down and explore the room lunch should be about done downstairs and I would like it if you would join us." She gave the hint of a smile, and her eyes were sincere.

Logan gave a small smile, "I'll be there."

"Great," She gave a slight nod and turned around.

"Wait."

Amber turned back towards him slowly, "What is it?" she asked cautiously.

"When you said that 'he isn't going to believe your wrists are fine' why were you only implying that Mick is the only one who won't understand?"

"Well… My mom and I… we… understand that there are people who are more… special than others. Mick and everyone else don't," she looked at him closely and for some reason he felt oddly exposed in her gaze. He didn't give Amber a reply and after another moment Amber smiled and headed out the door.

Present day

There was a rush that swirled around in his head, whoa, what happened he thought but before he could make out anything in his vision, he once again felt as if something was picking around inside his brain. The presence felt angry and it was pulsing in his head, must be mad from having the memory slip away. He was upset too, he was enjoying it, but once again he fell into the past.

1990

He was driving a jeep wrangler down a long narrow dirt road, it was dark out and he was heading back to the Brazilian base. It had been three long days since he had left Amber there all alone and he couldn't wait to get back to her. A rescue mission they had sent him on, as if someone else couldn't have gone, why did he have to go? "Because even if you die you come back," well that's what General Glanshire said . . . like he hadn't heard that one before. Logan sniffed the air and cringed, the metallic tang of the soldier's blood on the backseat was getting stronger. He pulled over and got out just to climb into the back to attempt to stem the flow.

"How you doing there?" the man looked up at Logan and gave a small smile.

"I'm dying aren't I?" Logan thought about this question, he could lie to the man that was lying in front of him and say that he would be alright, but he wasn't stupid. The bullet had hit between the mans ribs and was lodged up against a lung. Internal bleeding was most likely. When Logan didn't answer, the soldier took that as a bad sign and nodded, he was suffering with an unrecoverable wound. "Can I ask a favor from you Major?" Logan gave a small depressed laugh; he pressed a spare shirt against the open wound.

"How many times do I hav' ta tell ya to call me Logan?"

The soldier smiled, ". . . Could you bring me back to my girl at camp, and if I'm not here to say it, could you tell her that I love her, that I love her beyond all else?"

"Aye, I can do that, but hang on and I'll get you there so you can tell her yourself."

"Thank you . . .Logan." They both gave the other small smiles. This would probably be their final good bye. Again Logan cursed his healing factor, he's fought against so many men, and they have all fallen against his wrath. But when one of his friends or comrades go down he can't do anything about it, just stand by and watch as everyone and everything he's every cared about disappears as he stands and out lives it all.

He climbed back into the driver's seat put the vehicle in drive and took off as fast as he possibly could without jarring his precious cargo.

An hour later he stopped at the gate to camp. A guard stepped lazily out of the small gatehouse and sauntered over to the jeep, making Logan growl under his breath, too low for anyone with normal hearing to notice. The guard tapped the window, Logan rolled it down and leaned out.

"Got clearance for this gate?" The man tipped his hat back and placed a hand on his belt, it held a couple grenades, a semi-automatic pistol and two spare clips. He looked down quickly at his clipboard and asked again, "Name?"

Logan gave an impatient sigh, "Major Logan," The lazy guard looked down his list and frowned.

"Sorry Major you don't seem to be on the list for access to this division's gate, you're going to have to go around to the east gate." Logan glowered and opened his door to get out. Immediately the guard's face adopted a frightened look, everyone in this camp had heard different rumors about him and none of them all that good, except his ability to keep his charges alive during a skirmish. Right now, Logan could tell that one of the nastier rumors about himself was running through this man's head. He decided to play up that fear; he leaned forward and got in the guards face and grabbed the front of his shirt. Even though he was half a head shorter than this particular guard, he could have been a foot taller than him for how he was acting now.

"Look, bub! I've got a dying soldier in the back and I have orders to bring him to Glanshire. I am not going to take precious minuets driving around when there's an operational gate right in front of me! Now open it unless you want his blood on your hands!"

"Ye, ye, yes, sir!" Logan let go of the man's shirt, grunted and jumped back into the jeep. The guard had run back to the gate house and was unlocking the hinge the other guard had begun to open the other side of the gate.

Logan had left the jeep idling so he put it in drive and sped forward through the half open gate, and down the narrow lane that led directly to the medical tent. When he got there he slammed the jeep into park and jumped out leaving the door open. A nurse came out of the tent to find out what the noise was and almost ran into Logan.

"Watch it." Logan almost snarled

"Oh, sorry Logan, is everything alright?" Logan was glad that it was Judy who came out, she was the only nurse in the camp that he liked. The automatic frown that crept onto his face when he thought about David in the back of the jeep alerted Judy that things weren't going good. "What is it!? What's wrong!?" He lightly grabbed Judy's wrist and pulled her to the jeep's rear door. When he opened it, he let her wrist go.

"Is there anything you can do for him?" Judy made a sharp gasp and quickly climbed into the back seat.

"What happened?" She looked back at Logan with concern, but he ignored it and hopped into the driver's seat.

"He got shot, between his fourth and fifth ribs, the bullet seems to be up against his right lung, probably internal bleeding." Soon he stopped outside the Generals' tent. He killed the engine and grabbed the radio that was sitting on the dashboard, he turned it on.

A crackly voice came over the speaker, "Logan?"

"Yah, it's me, I'm just outside Glanshire's tent, look I need you to come here, it's . . . about David."

"David!? Is he okay? Please tell me he's okay!"

"Why don't you come see for yourself Heather?"

"I'm on my way."

He put the radio back down on the dash and jumped out. He opened the back and addressed Judy, "How's it going back there?" She didn't turn; a crimson cloth that was once pure white was pushed into David's side, right beside the shirt.

"I can't stop the blood, and you were right Logan, the bullet has ruptured his right lung and he has extensive internal bleeding." She looked over at David's face, "I'm so, so sorry David."

Logan sighed, "Let's bring him into the tent, Glanshire wanted to speak with him." Judy nodded, and moved to get out of the jeep. He stepped out of the way so she could hop out and then he climbed in and leaned towards David, "Common yah got ta help me get yah out of the jeep." David's face was pale white as he attempted to get out of the jeep, Logan helped him sit up and slide out. Judy caught him as his feet hit the ground. After David was leaning against the vehicle Logan jumped out and picked him up without waiting for him to consent.

Logan had David's head leaning against his left shoulder with his left arm holding his torso and his right arm underneath David's legs. The hundred and seventy pound man was nothing for Logan to carry, but still Judy was worried, "Are you sure you have him? He won't fall, will he?" Logan did his best to ignore her.

When he got inside the tent a bench was set up with pillows on the right just behind the door flap. There was a table that had been pushed off to the left of the tent and General Glanshire was going over maps of all sizes that showed the different villages of the area, and how to get there. He set David down on the bench, and stood to look at the General as Judy once again tended to David.

Glanshire looked over to see the commotion. "Ah Logan, it's about time you got back, what's this?" he moved towards the small group of three and away from the soldier he was previously addressing.

"What does it look like Glanshire, he got shot." The General glared at Logan and raised an eyebrow in question.

"So what part of the mission went amiss then, was it his fault," he pointed at David, "or, was it your fault?" He pointed at Logan. Logan opened his mouth to make a retort but was cut off by a quiet wheezing sound.

"Shit happens," David crocked, "it wasn't Logan's fault." He swallowed loudly.

"Then what happened soldier?" Glanshire spoke with a slight distaste, as he addressed Logan.

It was David who answered, "Logan came in and waited just the way he was supposed to, but I screwed something up when I was leaving the compound, and I got detected." David's eyes had been on the General as he spoke but they were closed by the time he had finished speaking, and blood was dribbling out the corner of his mouth.

A few more words were passed about David's mission and Logan's rescue before Heather showed up. She came in all excited and happy but when she saw who was on the bench tears weld up and spilled onto her cheeks.

"David?" A sob escaped from Heathers throat as she kneeled down by his head, and caressed it. His eyes opened and he smiled slightly.

"Heather, my dear Heather, I love you so much." He wrapped his free right arm around her and cradled her close.

"No, no, no, you can't leave me." Heather's words were harsh whispers around the tent, everyone could feel the pain inside of them.

"Everything will . . . work out in the end. Just . . . never forget . . . that you are my life." He gave her a sharp kiss on her lips, and leaned back into the comfort of the pillows and closed his eyes. For a few moments everything was quiet, as silent tears fell freely down Heather's face, and the shallow rasp of David's breath got quieter and quieter.

Soon the only one able to hear his shallow breath was Logan, and along with his last few, the final words he spoke, "Thank . . . you . . ."

Logan quickly stepped forward and as he touched David's cold shoulder he whispered, "Your welcome." And he knew that his words were heard when as the last exhale from David was accompanied with a content, satisfied expression.

Logan had left shortly after, leaving the jeep behind he walked off to find Amber. When he got down to their tent he could immediately tell something was wrong. Her stuff was gone, but her sent was fresh, and he could feel her through their psychic link, but she was hiding where she was from him, in fact she had almost completely cut herself off. He began to worry a bit but decided to ask Marcus to save himself from having to hunt her down; next to himself Mark was the only other person Amber was close to. He crossed the small lane and moved down to the mechanics shop. Mark was hunched over an engine with grease covering almost every available surface of his body and clothes. The smell of the grease monkeys and their sweat in the small area was intense especially when he didn't have a beer to dull down his senses a bit.

He came up behind Mark walking quietly enough that it was silent to the normal ear. "What you up to Mark?" With the first sound that came out of Logan's mouth Mark jumped, hitting his head on the trucks hood.

He turned exclaiming, "Man, you gotta stop doing that! Sneaking up on people ain't nice." Logan half smiled then it dropped to a frown.

"You know where Amber is, don't you?" Mark grabbed a rag from off a table somewhere behind him and wiped his hands on it, while leaning against the trucks grill.

"Not a clue." He watched with a careful eye and took in Mark's careful breath. Logan's gaze narrowed.

"You've gotten better at lying to me but you ain't there yet, now tell me where Amber is." His voice was unintentionally a growl, threatening was describing it lightly.

Mark backed away a step before he bumped into the truck, he looked back at the engine he was working on and sighed. "I knew I wouldn't be able to keep it from you."

"Keep what from me?"

Mark sighed again and put the rag back down. "Amber left."

Logan was taken aback, and his reply came in a snarl. "What do you mean she left?"

He could feel the tell tale signs of his rage setting in, especially when he saw Marks eyes widen. Struggle for control quickly became a problem as the beast within reared its ugly head. His fists clenched till his knuckles turned white, his eyes cooled even more from his ice blue and turned silver with a slightly elongated pupil. His sight shifted and got even sharper than it was before but was overlaid with a red haze, when he say Mark jump forwards toward him, his body already zinging with the energy needed to teleport them. Logan closed his animalistic eyes and took deep breaths to avoid hurting Marcus.

It was a mere moment before the energy from Marcus pulsed down his body, and when Logan opened his eyes he was in the middle of a small enemy camp, but he could smell Mark close. Figures, thought Logan, but he gladly accepted the small gift Mark gave him. This camp must have been here for a while, Mark obviously knew that since he did quick patrols every now and again at the General's request; Amber must have told him she was leaving at least a couple days ago, otherwise these soldiers would have been destroyed already.

The group around him was about 50 armed and trained soldiers by the looks of it, They must have only been left here because they knew I was going to lose it, that thought didn't sit well with him in fact in made his anger worse.

By now his rage had consumed him and the beast inside him took control. All the strings holding him to his sanity were almost completely severed, he was Wolverine as he extended his claws and dismembered five soldiers before the rest even noticed. He jumped, kicked, and spun, and slashed as he let his fury out on the helpless people who didn't see it coming. He could tell he was being shot at by the sound of bullets and the feel of the quick wind currents, but in this bought of rage his finesse didn't seem to leave him, as it usually does, for not one of the bullets connected with his flesh.

Less than ten minutes has passed and the camp had been destroyed, but Logan's fury was far from gone. He was standing near what had been the camps fire, his breathing was still heavy with the exertion but he was a long way from being tired. He smelt the air burn beside himself on his right, half a second before Mark became visible.

His claws had retracted with the last person he had dispatched, but now his right hands claws extended. They rested just below Mark's chin, the side two straddling his neck and the middle pressed against his Adams apple. Logan growled and bared his teeth.

Mark took a sharp breath, and again Logan felt the air burn so he pushed his hands forward and fully extended his middle claw towards Mark's exposed throat but the man was gone. The beast within him howled in frustration and the sound escaped out his mouth. He wasn't in control and what small amount that he felt he had left had was slipping away.

Somewhere off in the woods before him he heard the crackle of a radio and a whispering voice, "He's gone out of control; I need you to send Agent Zero with a tranquilizer … Alright … I'll be there in a moment, but we have to be fast before he finds me or leaves."

Logan gave a sinister chuckle that held no humor and he took off into the bush with the full speed of a tiger. When he reached Marcus he was already juiced up ready to leave. He planted his hands on Marks shoulders and in about two seconds they showed up beside General Glanshire's tent.

Logan regained enough control to leave his claws housed in his arms, but his eyes revealed that he was still far from control, and when he stepped around an unconscious Mark he laughed a sadistic laugh.

2010

The dizziness and disorientation that came from coming out of the memory was less this time but the effect was way worse. He froze, eyes wide, breathing heavy, and he continued to hear the sadistic laugh that had came out of his mouth. He started to tremble as he recalled just how out of control he had been, at that moment in time he had lost all forms of humanity that he had managed to keep for so long. So why was he standing here now? So why wasn't he somewhere off in the woods destroying everything in his path? When he had knocked Marcus unconscious all other restraints disappeared and the beast was completely free. What had given back his control, but took away all of his memories?

He saw Amber slide towards him, arms outstretched with concern clearly in her eyes and on her face. He didn't remember anything of what they shared, in the last memory flash he had felt the whole hearted trust he had for her, his love and devotion for her and his respect, though he couldn't remember how it came to that. Not to mention that she had caused him to become that very thing he hated most, a sadistic killer, his darkest side. How could he trust her now? Everything good and worthwhile in his life crumbled to dust when she left him.

Logan stumbled back nearly tripping over his own feet in an effort to get farther away from her.

"No! Wait!" She called out to him, but the call fell on deaf ears as time slowed down to the pace of a snail around him, and he felt his anger stir as it had not stirred since that gruesome day. She had left him! The thought hurt and he didn't like it especially because he only knew the beginning and end.

She must not have been able to tell quite what was going on because she continued forward. He quickly turned and strode back towards his Harley and put the key in the ignition. The concentration of trying to calm his anger resulted in the loss of acknowledgement to his senses, and he didn't know that Amber had followed him till she placed a hand on his.

His muscles locked down and the beast screamed at him, but he managed to muzzle it and shut it back in its cage. He took his hand back, and straddled his bike, avoiding Amber's gaze. What was wrong with him? He hadn't felt this out of control for years. He needed to get out of here. Perhaps he could ask Charles for help to get his new found memories in order? He started the engine.

"Logan?" Amber tried to catch his eyes, "James?" she whispered when he didn't acknowledge her.

A shutter went down his back. The name sounded familiar but he knew nobody who went by it. So why did she just say it and why did he react? He had automatically lifted his head to the sound of the name, like it was his. But he didn't go by anything other than Logan or Wolverine; he didn't even know his real name or know of a last name at all. Was it possible that James could be his real name?

When his eyes connected with Amber's endless gray pools, his breathing got a little ragged and he felt the need to feel her touch. Where there was passion though, there was his lingering fury too.

Logan escaped the only way he could, he put gas through the lines of his bike to fuel the engine and he sped away from her shocked face. He was sure that she had said or tried to say more than just those few words to him, but all he had heard was the turmoil in his own head. What was all this he wondered? How is it all connected, how were we connected? And a psychic link, we had a psychic link!?

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