Disclaimer: All characters belong to Marvel, to the exception of Abigail.

Note: This story is based off the events and characters presented in Wolverine: Origin. However, I've expanded the background stories for three of the book's main characters, namely John Howlett, Elizabeth Howlett and Thomas Logan.

If you have not read the mini-series detailing the true origins of Wolverine, I suggest you do so before reading this story. The wonderful site has got the summaries. Just check the menu for 'Issue Information', then 'Issue Summaries'. Scroll down the alphabetical list until you find 'Origin #1 - 6' and enjoy the reading.

When Two Worlds Collide

2. Thomas Logan

The house's takin' over the hill like a darned castle. There's that one window with light on, still. He thinks he's so high'n mighty… better 'an everyone else. Always has. So good an' kind ta look down all the way from his perch an' grace us underdogs with his almighty goodness.

"A man like that don't deserve his place in life… not with that fine house an' fine woman o' his."

No, he don't. None of it.

Elizabeth… He don't deserve ya, Elizabeth. Oh, Lord how many times did I tell the woman jus' that? How many times did she laugh in my face… But he never, ever deserved ya.

Ya was mine since that blasted day I saved yer life. D'ya remember it still? The fire in the steamboat? It wasn't a year that one of 'em boats, carryin' folks from the big sea-crossin'-ships ta the cities up river, didn't have a fire takin' it down. I had been in one boat, once, that caught fire, but folks had managed ta put it out 'fore there was a panic. That one day, though, there was no puttin' out 'cause the flames shot up and out an' spilled over ta travellin' folks' clothes an' bags. I escaped by lil', my own clothes all singed and smoky, and I was makin' my way through all the up-station folks when I bumped onta ya. Ya remember? Ya was so pretty; so scared an' so pretty. Everyone's screamin' 'round us and 'em tears on yer face. The old lady gave me a purse wi' money an' told me ta take ya ta safety, 'cause the fire was growin' an' spreadin' ta everywhere. An' take care o' ya I did. I would of died fer ya, that day, Elizabeth. I swear ta ya I would of.

I don't know what I would of done if ya ain't asked yer old man ta keep me. He got me helpin' the gardener an' the stable help, but ya kept stoppin' by ta see 'em flowers or 'em horses an' say 'hullo' ta me.

But I knew it wasn't right. I knew ya shouldn't come an' say 'hullo'. Ya was the Missis. Ya couldn't come down an' talk ta the lowest station in the house like ya did. It was wrong. I could of sat an' gazed up at yer window, knowin' ya was in the room. I could hide in the maze an' gaze at ya sittin' under the tree 'stead o'doing my chores; listen ta ya talkin' ta that girl playin' yer maid and wish I could be in her place. But you! You could not come down an' talk ta me. Lord knows I got flogged often enough fer not doin' my job, 'cause I was gazin' after ya. Lord knows even Mister Oliver 'imself flogged me ta straights when he caught me lazyin' 'round, lookin' up at yer window.

He flogged me ta straights, I tell ya, but ya couldn't let it be, could ya? Ya had ta go an' hide in the maze yerself. Ya had ta go an' tells me ta go fix some out o' place boughs inside the maze, where ya was hidin' an' waitin' fer me.

"It ain't right, Missis," I told ya, "we's from different worlds, Miss Elizabeth, different stations in life." Mister Oliver had flogged me that straight inta my brain, he had. "It ain't ever gonna be possible fer us ta talk ta eachother."

Ya laughed. I was hurtin' worse than the darned floggin' and ya was laughin' at me. "It can't be, Elizabeth; it can't be." It can't be. But ya came ta the maze over and over, and ya made up faults ta complain 'bout me every time I failed ta be there. Ya'd go an' cry when I got flogged fer 'em faults, but ya was the one doin' it. And I had no more strength in me ta refuse ya, in the end.

An' then he came in. All full o' niceties and all. Never fooled me none! He told ya he was better 'an the rest and ya believed 'im, Elizabeth. Even though I told ya he was lyin'; that he's worse than all the rest! Don't even know his place. He never did. And ya insisted I'd be civil ta 'im … Didn't ya see how he talked ta me? Like I was a darned animal wi' too lil' brain ta understand his fine words an' interests? But all full o' blasted niceties in front o' ya… Who ever asked 'im fer his favors! I never needed 'em! I'll spit on 'em. Every one of 'em!

And you! Why did ya have me go with ya? Ya was marryin' that blasted soft fool and ya wanted me ta see it from afar… why, I asked ya? Why? Ya wanted me with ya fer what? Mister Howlett was a more ruthless master than yer old man, and ya knew all too well we could do nothin' but look on at each other, maybe say two words on account of 'em flowers. But ya had me go. Ya had me stand an' watch ya and yer blasted lil' soft husband o' yours play at happiness.

And when that wretched fool of a girl ya kept at yer side came down ta me, complainin' that I kept lookin' at her, when she came with ya inta the garden, an' demandin' I admitted my intentions ta her… ya dared be mad at me. So I had yer girl. Maybe ya should of come down an' sent her away from me, if it's what ya really wanted. But ya didn't, did ya? And ya didn't do nothin' when she went cryin' ta yer soft husband, complainin' 'bout the baby in her gut. Well, what the hell had she been expectin' when she had gone after me? A blasted puppy dog?

And you, Elizabeth? What had you expected? So ya got herself a fool fer a husband and yer own kid, did ya? I got myself a fool fer a wife and my own kid, too. And if they all just got 'emselves dead, wouldn't ya have been happier? Wouldn't we have been happier?

Yeah, we would. 'Cause he don't deserve ya. He don't deserve nothin', even if he's got everythin' in the world.

"I say it's time we made a change to that."

The boy lifts his head ta me. As much a fool as his mother ever was. And a snivellin' coward worse 'an she ever was. But at least he don't try ta get all uppity like the woman did, after she came back from the East, when the big house was nearly done. Gave me enough trouble, always complainin' 'bout her old mistress, 'bout the new house on the ground's outskirts, 'bout me. Always fawnin' over that darned baby o' hers. She wasted a man's patience, she did. But I taught her ta straights: she got me and 'erself in the trouble, an' she got no business but ta keep her yap shut an' tend ta her new home.

Those days were hell from sunrise ta sunset, an' ta sunrise again. The blasted baby cryin' in the house, the woman weepin' after it, and Elizabeth always moody. I would wait fer her in the maze, 'cause I knew that blasted woman an' baby was eatin' at her on the inside as much as they was eatin' at me. Elizabeth would send that boy o' hers out ta play and quietly come inta the maze. Ta meet me. Ta weep at my betrayal, as she called it. Ta reprimand me. Ta complain. But ta meet me.

I lifted her spirits. I always knew how ta lift her spirits. But that bloody man got her pregnant again, as if gettin' his one kid in this world hadn't been bad enough, an' she got worse again. He'd go 'round wastin' her patience with some good fer nothin' machine that had her staying still fer hours unending. An' the blasted woman always weepin' behind me, makin' my boy into a snivellin' girly coward. I tried ta kick her away from the boy – it was my boy, after all – but the harm was already done an' the boy would cry as if he was bein' killed if I got near it. I had no patience fer it. I had no patience fer none of 'em.

But it wasn't until the woman found that picture Elizabeth had given me that I finally got it in me ta solve the problem.

Elizabeth's first kid had already died then, an' Soft John had been so foolish as ta send Elizabeth away. Away! What kind o' man sends his own woman away? An' then locked her up in her room after she came back. I had always known he was a bastard bloody fool, and I was glad Elizabeth had finally seen 'im fer what he was. But she was weak an' down after her own kid attacked her wi' those knives comin' out o' his hands, like some freak. Like his freakish poppa. His lil' boy all right. There was nothin' she could of done 'gainst it.

I waited fer her ta call me ta her help, like when we was kids in the darned steamboat. But she didn't. An' then the blasted woman saw the picture an' went crazy, cryin' bloody murder and all kind o' nonsense.

I went straight ta the old man Mister Howlett, one o' those days he was up at the house. He's always known his place, that man, nothin' like his soft son. I went straight ta 'im and told him the woman had gone nuts and cracked her head 'gainst a wall an' what he thought ought ta be done ta fix the problem without more cryin'. I knew the kind o' man he is. The priest came and took her down ta buryin' an' that was the end ta the whole thing. 'Cept fer the boy – already too much of a coward, and as soft in the head as his fool of a mother.

I spent my whole life tryin' ta turn that boy into a man. And what does he do? He rolls up in the dirt and trembles like a dog… It goes ta show just how good an' nice Soft John an' his boy really are: one robs me o' my woman, the other turns my boy into his snivellin' dog. It ain't his fault. It was Soft John's, who had me marry that soft headed woman; it was Soft John's boy's, who turned the boy's soft head 'round…

It all ends here. It's 'bout time it does.

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Kenneth is out gettin' wood as well as that red-haired girl. Good. He'll be the first ta pay.

"But if y' ask me," he's sayin, "that piece o' dirt had it comin'."

So we all have, ya bastard. I hit's 'im with a piece o' wood so hard it falls apart.

"Mister Kenneth? Oh, my…"

She drops her wood basket when she sees me an' the boy, and that blasted Kenneth bleedin' on the ground like the pig he was.

"You're going to help us, girl."

"Leave me alone! I'm not helping you…"

"You will if you want to live, girl." I'm so fed up wi' these folks up the hill thinkin' they can order everyone 'round 'em.

"You gotta believe me, Rose, this is serious." So this is the wench that Soft John's kid tried ta rob from my boy, is it. It's 'bout time I teach 'im how ta deal with women. "I can't help you now… We're already too far gone t' turn back now…"

"Shut up, boy! She'll do what's right if she knows what's good for 'er." I grabs hers by the arm so she don't think o' runnin' off. "You're gonna show us th'back way to the master bedroom… 'less you wanna end up like your parents."

The girl's pretty. I'll give the boy's taste that much. But she's a dumb uppity lass, and the darned boy is 'bout ta go down on 'is knees fer her. That boy'll never learn!

"What happened to you, Dog? Why'd you turn out t'be this way…"

"One more word an' you're a dead Irish Rose. Now MOVE."

She goes quietly fer as long as I keep the shotgun aimed at her head. Soon, I can hear Elizabeth's voice. Singin'… Lord, I missed that woman's voice! I open the door an' go in quietly. Wouldn't want ta warn Soft John fer 'im ta ruin everythin' again. I put my hand over her mouth so she won't make any noise and I feel her shudderin', as she used ta when I touched her.

"Not a sound, Elizabeth. It's me… Thomas. Understand?" I see her eyes widen in recognition and I release her, lettin' my hand cup her head as I used ta. Lord, why is her pretty hair cut this short? "We're getting out of here, an' I'm takin' you with me. Tonight. Where's the money?"

An' then things start goin' wrong. The girl behind me finds her voice and starts makin' excuses and I see Elizabeth's eyes glitter, as they did when she was mad.

"Thomas, are you utterly mad coming here like this? Let the girl go…" The boy interrupts her, yellin' "No! She's comin' with us!"

Blasted boy! And Elizabeth's up an' movin' fer the girl, mad indeed at the boy's insolence. But we ain't got much…

"Elizabeth? What's going on in here!"

Soft John looks at me dumbfounded fer a moment an' then shows 'is true face, jus' like he did when he kicked me out o' the property.

"By God… Logan, is that you? What the devil do you think you're doing, you bloody fool?"

I move without a thought. I done it so many times in my head; so many times, in so many ways! I hold the shotgun good with my two own hands ta hit 'im as hard as I can. He flies ta the floor, an' there's nothin' but the two of us, an' finally, finally! I get ta finally step 'im down as many times as he's stepped me down!

"You stupid, idiot… Now look what you've done! You've gone an' messed everythin' up, jus' like always!" Like always! Meddlin', messin' everythin' 'round 'im: Elizabeth's life; my life! "I should bloody kill you…"

"And then what, Thomas? Where do you think you'll go? Or were you planning on just swanning out the front door?"

"Don't you talk to me like that!" Always the smart up-station prick! "You understand me, 'Soft John'? Don't you ever…!"

My finger moves, I hear the door openin', "Papa? Is that you?" But I'm already pulling the trigger hard, all the way back, "I heard a noise…", an' there's nothin' but red splashin' all 'round and yellin', yellin', yellin…

"Make her shut up! And the boy, too!"

Fertunetely fer my boy, he does his job fast enough. 'Em blasted up-station kids are nothin' but trouble. Elizabeth ain't yellin' or cryin'… but then again, why should she? I just done her the service of a lifetime.

"Someone shut that idiot up! I swear Rose…" That idiot boy o' mine shuts the red head up wi' that much stupidity. "I ain't never been more serious in my life! I can't think straight!"

And since when can he? Or was he thinkin' it takes a girly ta shut up a cryin' baby-boy like that soft John's kid?

"I said 'shut up, James!'" Finally he lifts the shotgun up at the fool's head. Good thing the boy learned somethin' tonight.

I turns ta Elizabeth while the gun goes off. It's time we have us a lil' talk. It's been too long since we did more than glance from afar. She looks scared, but I don't hesitate. It's gone too far ta hesitate. But she ain't lookin' at me, she's lookin' at somethin' behind me. I turns ta see that good-fer-nothin' boy o' mine snivelling in the dirt once more; and 'fore I knows it, that soft fool boy comes bumpin' inta me.

"I'll kill you back! I'll KILL you!"

More guts than his father ever had, I'll give 'im that. Elizabeth's yellin' at me not ta hurt the boy, but he's gotta learn.

"Get offa me, you little runt!" I hit 'im wi' the gun, like I did his darlin' poppa. Teach 'im ta behave! "You soft little turd! You think there ain't another barrel-full where that one came from? I'll have your bloody guts for garters! I'm gonna…"

Something's wrong… My gut is hurtin'… like a fire spreadin' inwards and… blood? Blood!?

"…what did you…?"

He was bare handed! An' now I'm… how did he…? Why am I all cut up like a… a…

"dear lord"

I remember that day… Elizabeth had returned from the East with 'er second boy, and was always moody. I saw her alone in the garden and went after her ta lift her spirits. I held her tight until she smiled fer me. It was dangerous, grabbin' her like that in the garden, 'cause someone could've spotted us… we should'a been meetin' up in the maze, but I couldn't very well let her go 'round sulkin' in 'er moodiness.

I had left Elizabeth in the rose garden.

Minutes later there was an uproar. I hurried ta the spot, an' there she was: Elizabeth fallen over the housekeeper, blood all over her, and the stable hand, Charles, havin' trouble keepin' Soft John's first kid quiet, even though he was as big an' strong as a bear. There was blood all over the boy, too; and he growled an' roared like a wild animal… things like knives comin' out o' his hands. Things like knives…

I could never forget the boy's hands… knives comin' out of 'em, his mother's blood all over him... animal grunts an' roars… And I hear it again... The same howlin' as that day. Elizabeth…

Dear Lord, Elizabeth…

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