Disclaimer: I don't own any of this. Rights belong to Marvel, DC, 20th Century Fox and Warner Brothers.

Wolverine in Arkham

Chapter Three: "Nothing is Sure"

"I'm telling you Doc, I can remember. It was all real!" Wolverine was pacing Sharon's office, looking agitated, with his dark hair on end and coffee stains on his robe. "It's coming back. I remember Master Ogun, the Silver Samurai with his fuck'n magic sword, the Yakuza and Itsu!"

"Hold on, did you say the Yakuza? As in the Japanese Mafia?" Sharon asked, tapping her pencil on her clipboard and frowning dubiously at Logan.

Logan nodded, rubbing his forehead, "It's complicated, but I remember. And I remember what happened in Canada last fall."

Sharon frowned.

He'd only gotten back from Japan a few weeks before and really hadn't given a fuck about anything. Live, die, freeze none of it had seemed to matter. Nonetheless, he'd made his way steadily northwest, toward the Canadian Rockies. He didn't know what he had hoped to find, but, but something had been drawing him there. By the time October came around, he must have been well into the middle of nowhere, with nothing but an old camper and trailer full of junk.

He clearly remembered the cold, mean and biting as he drove down empty roads, empty of everything but snow and ice that is. Everything had been white and grey, the road, the frozen forest, the sky. It seemed like an endless dream: the cold road going on and on and never changing.

"I was making my way steadily northward," he said, "Driving, just driving. When someone hit my van with a tree."

"Hit your van with a tree?" Sharon repeated and then made a note, "I see."

Logan growled and gripped the back of his empty seat, fighting the urge to extend his claws and rip something up. For months, Sharon had helped him work through his rage and blind violence, but now that things were becoming clear and he was finally getting his memory back, she wasn't listening. She was just signing him off as a nutcase, just like the rest of the white coats had been doing all along.

"Well, maybe the tree just fell, Doc, but I doubt it. I mean, crazy or not, I do know that healthy trees generally don't just rip themselves out of the ground and slam down on innocent passer-bys for no good reason!"

Sharon just lifted her eyebrows, looking at him to see if he were joking. "Alright, go on," she said when it was clear that he wasn't, "I'm still listening."

The impact had been sudden and crushing. A shatter of glass and a pain in his spine, as he'd flown through the windshield were the first warnings he had of trouble. One moment he'd been adjusting the heat vents and the next he'd been out in the vast fields of white and gray, twisting his neck back into joint and wiping blood off his forehead.

"When I got up, I could smell some other mutant nearby."

"Another mutant?"

"Yeah, you really think I'm the only one, Doc? There's more and this one came of the woods like a lion."

Logan grimaced as he remembered the fight. There'd been something strangely familiar about the smell of the other man. The enraged roar of his attack was almost like the call of an old forgotten friend. It'd startled him so much he hardly got a chance to see the dark eyes and sharp teeth of his attacker, before getting blown completely away.

"He attacked and must have thrown me a hundred yards, right through two more fuck'n trees."

"Logan you know how I feel about…"

"Through two more FLAMING trees! ALRIGHT!" roared Logan.

He could still remember the smash of his body through wood, splinters and freezing wind ripping at his face, the surge of fear, which rapidly turned to fighting rage. The other mutant was dressed in a fur coat and leapt through the forest like he was half wildcat. Even though his body was still trying to heal several major injuries, Logan had gotten up and lunged at the stranger with every intention of ripping his face off.

"Then he just picked up another tree, and used it on me like a baseball bat. He must have been as strong as a bulldozer." It'd all been so strange and yet familiar, like living a dream he'd had a thousand times before, but always forgotten. He'd come face to face with someone like himself and he'd had the tar kicked out of him, as if he'd been no more than a whipped puppy, who'd dared to bark.

Sharon pushed her glasses up her dark-skinned nose, looking worried. "Logan, don't you think you may be exaggerating, just a little?"

"I'm NOT EXAGERATING! And I'm NOT CRAZY!" In a sudden burst of rage, Logan picked up the empty chair and threw it against the wall, where if was smashed to pieces with a crash. "That guy was using me as his personal football and I couldn't do anything to stop him! And then I woke up…" Logan pulled at his hair and paced angrily, trying to force his memory to work for him. … A red light, cold steel, pain, Bruce Wayne and a voice… a deep voice… The truth was in there. He could feel it like a cold pressure on the back of his mind.

"I know there's more!" he exclaimed, coming desperately across the room and grabbing Sharon by her coat. "You need to help me remember, Doc! You said you would. You got to!"

By now Sharon had dropped her clipboard and was fumbling for the emergency call button, but she still managed to keep her voice authoritative and firm. "Logan, if you don't calm down and let go of me RIGHT now, I'll have to call in Guardswoman Revera! I'd hate to see you back in a straightjacket! Now… LET. GO. Take a deep breath and count to ten. You must control your anger."

Logan glared, but let go. Stepping back, he took a deep breath and counted to ten in his mind. Gradually, his frustration and pent up rage started to subside. Leaning against the wall and trying to control his breathing like she'd taught him, Logan suddenly felt a wave of dizziness and doubt come over him. A moment ago, he'd been so sure, but now his anger, his memories and today's medications all just swirled about his mind in a psychedelic puddle of insanity and blurred reality. Maybe it was all just nothingness and he really was just another delusional whacko in the madhouse…

"Feeling better?" Sharon asked, picking up her pencil and clipboard and straightening her lab coat.

Wiping sweaty hair from his eyes, Logan silently nodded.

"Good." She retook her seat, "Why don't we talk about something a little more in the present. Mr. Cash said your first day in the common room went smoothly enough. Would you like to tell me about it?"

Logan shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets, still feeling a little dizzy. "Not much to say. We played cards, told stories. I made a little money, though I guess it was really Joker's money."

"Cash told me that the Joker was being rather friendly with you," Sharon said with a slight frown.

"So what? He seems like a nice guy… for a murdering lunatic that is."

"You need to be careful Logan. The Joker is notorious for manipulating others and trying to twist them to his own purpose. I'm glad that your willing to make new friends, but take my advice and don't let the Joker get too close to you." Sharon gave him a hard look.

"What should I be afraid of? Its not like he can do anything to me here."

"I'm not so worried about what he could do, but what you might do, should the Joker get his hooks in you."

Logan just snorted derisively then glanced at the door, as the sound of Cash's voice suddenly came from the hallway outside.

"Revera! Is this true!" He must have showed her something, because all Logan's keen ears could pick up was Revera's speechless spluttering.

"Where… where did you get that?"

"An anonymous source left it at the office this morning. Have you been accepting bribes?"

"I… uh… I'm sorry! My daughter's still in the hospital! I didn't mean for it to go this far…"

"Stop! Just stop. I don't want to hear excuses! You're through Revera! You know the policy. Of all the people to be on the take!"

"Sir, I was going to tell you. It wasn't…" Revara's voice was shaking.

"Enough!" shouted Cash, "I've heard ENOUGH."

At this, Sharon got up and pulled the office door open. Logan peered over her shoulder at the two guards outside. Cash was standing just a few inches from Revara, glaring furiously into her face and Ravera was close to tears. At the sight of Sharon and Logan, she rapidly rubbed her eyes, trying to cover up her emotion and failing miserably.

"What's going on out here? You are disturbing our session."

"I… Sorry Dr. Patel," Cash said and managed to soften his tone some as he took a step back, "Revera go to the office. I'll meet you there."

"Yes Sir," she muttered and walked rapidly away.

"Do you need me to stay until someone else comes to stand guard?" Cash asked, turning back to Sharon.

"No, Logan and I were about done anyway. I promised him he could have lunch with the other patients in the cafeteria and it's already 11:30."

"I guess I can escort him there on my way to the office," Cash offered.

"Thank you guardsman, I would appreciate it." Sharon gathered her notes and tucked them into her purse. "I'll see you tomorrow Logan, hopefully we'll make some better progress."

Logan watched her leave and then stuffed his hands in his pockets as Cash waved for him to fall in step before him.

"So what was that all about?" Logan asked, once they'd turned the first corner.

"None of your business, Freak. I shouldn't have confronted her in the open like that. I was just…"

"… So angry you wanted to hurt someone." Logan finished for him, "And so you did. I recommend Risperdal. Those little pills have done wonders for me."

"Shut up!" Cash snapped, shoving Logan in the back of the shoulder, before sighing and rubbed his brow.

Logan glanced back at him, hesitated and then spoke carefully, "You could just talk about it."

Cash sighed, "Its just… this never ending battle. I try so hard to make this a better place, to keep both the staff and inmates safe, but every time I think things are getting better, some maniac escapes, or I find corruption where I least expected it."

"Like with Revera?"

"She's a good woman. I shouldn't have talked to her like that, but I thought she was someone I could be sure of, someone I could trust, but no. Nothing is sure. All I can count on are my own actions and principles around here."

Logan didn't respond, but he kept on listening, allowing Cash to get it all out. After two months of therapy he knew how relieving a good listener could be.

"It's just so hard, you know," Cash continued, "Trying to be this solid rock. Trying to stand against the tides of … well evil and not dissolve into insanity myself."

"Why even bother? Why not just make it easy on yourself and go with the flow? Its what everyone else seems to do. Why should you have to be the only one living through Hell?"

Cash's voice hardened, "Because if good people did nothing, then psychos like you and the Joker would run the world and we'd all be in Hell. No. Some people have to take the hurt, so the rest of the world can live in peace."

Logan didn't say anything for another moment and then he finally shrugged. "Whatever. Let me know how that all works out for you."

They made it to the cafeteria and Cash opened the door for him. "Enjoy your meal, Wolverine," he said bitterly.

Logan sniffed and grimaced, "I always did love burned beans."

"Hey Cash," called one of the guards supervising the line. "You're supposing to super in here today, right?"

"Yeah. I'll be back in a bit, Frank. Just have to take care of some things in the office first."

"Good luck," Logan said, as he made his way toward the back of the line.

Cash just glared and then slammed the door closed.