Well, hello there *hides from various flying objects* Let me say a few quick thank yous. Thank you to everyone who favorited, reviewed and put this on their alert list, thus nagging me quietly and reminding me that this is still very much there. And of course to those who dropped a few not-so-subtle hints. You know who you are. I'd also like to thank my new boss. Yes, I am working again, which is part of my excuse. I work, I sing in a band, I tattoo, I have a house to renovate and on the side, a kid to take care off. So what did I do? Got really sick, just for you guys :D I've been home a few days and it was very inspiring. Just had to wait for my body to get used to the medication, unlike my other story I did not plan for this one to be filled to the brim with what I consider funny things. We are approaching the chapters I started this story for, so I hope you are as excited as I am.

When she walks out of the bathroom, relaxed and very intent on keeping her calm composure she has been fighting to achieve for the past twenty minutes, Logan is staring at the TV, restlessly flipping through the channels. Only his right index finger is moving and she carefully sits down on the other end of the worn couch. Her cheeks flush automatically and her heartbeat accelerates as she tries to assess the situation. Him. He sure is able to smell it on her, even she can smell it.

And then she sees it.

Just the slightest twitch of muscle, the corner of his mouth lifting just the fraction of an inch. She hopes that he will just ignore…

"Next time warn me. I'll go out for a few hours."

Summoning the last speck of dignity she could find she picks up a dusty cushion and smacks him over the head with it. Without taking his eyes off the TV – or his finger off the remote- he snatches the weapon from her and tosses it across the room.

"So. What are the plans for dinner? You didn't take me all the way up to Canada to starve me here did ya?"

With a grunt he gets up and stalks towards the door, not bothering to turn the TV off. Or commenting on the fact that they have eaten not even two hours ago. At the door he turns around , looking at her with an expression briefly flickering across his face she has never seen on him before.

"If it was that urgent you'd be out the door already."

For someone who didn't know better it would have seemed like he was actually enjoying joking around with her.

He takes her to a small corner restaurant two blocks down, the only other place in this small town where one could eat, aside from the diner they have visited earlier. They pick a table in the far corner of the place, Logan seated facing the door. On their way he has casually flared his nostrils, something nobody would notice and Marie did. Nothing out of the ordinary for a feral mutant bordering on paranoid. Studying the menu he bends over and mumbles:

"We should leave after this."

"But…"

"We are being followed."

"How do you know that?"

For a brief moment she is sure he will raise an eyebrow, smirk, ask her if she really is that dense. But he is Logan. He is the Wolverine. He does not kid. Especially not when someone is stalking him.

Or her.

"The scent. Picked it up a few times during stops, at the border. Near the diner earlier. Outside the motel. Just now. Traces were already fading, so whoever it is knows what he is doing-but not enough to know about my senses."

"Or maybe he wants to be noticed."

His eyes dart over to her face and she realizes he had not taken that into consideration. After mulling it over for a few seconds that stretch out like chewing gum, he gives her a curt nod. The new idea will be carefully prodded with a stick and examined at a more convenient time. She sighs.

"Can't we even go on a vacation without some asswipe butting in?"

Logan grins at her

"Let's go, we can grab something on the way somewhere."

Two days later they are on their way to Edmonton. Rogue had voted on not staying too long in Calgary, eyes on the prize: The West Edmonton Mall. Right now her hands lift up to the radio again, interrupted by Logan, angrily chewing on the stub of a cigar.

"Stop that fumbling. Or I'll cut your hand off."

"One more save a horse and I will kill a cowboy!"

"What, don't like country?"

"Not for ten hours straight over two or three fuzzy stations."

"Turn it off."

"You don't want to talk either."

"No."

With a sigh she throws up her hands and looks out the window again. There have been a few traces of their stalker, but he has never shown himself. Usually they arrive at a destination with Logan smelling creepy guy already, as if he knows where they are going. They have spent the first night driving, her sleeping and dreaming the same dream. Last night they stayed at a motel, Logan sleeping on the couch mumbling incoherently in his sleep. She has had a few run-ins with the guy from the first dream. Surreal scenarios, always having something to do with military. Thinking of the last she can remember she closes her eyes and drifts off again.

There are other mutants around them and they engage in some friendly banter. She doesn't mind them as much as she usually does other people, it feels nice to be part of a group for a change. Her brother sits on the other side of whatever vehicle they are in and argues with another guy that can't keep his mouth shut either. Putting them into any small space together is like experimenting with explosives on your kitchen table. Not very smart.

The man sitting next to her grins and says something nobody else would understand over the sound of the engine. And this is supposed to be a quiet matter, get in unnoticed. With those blabbermouths and the loud car they could have brought the marching band.

They stop and everyone gets out, each following their own tasks. She takes off to the right, her brother on her side. Along a chain link fence they fight their way through the thick jungle to the back of a large building. As they arrive they both crouch, waiting for the signal. The other flexes his fingers and talons shoot out.

"Be careful."

Her brother grins at her. For a moment she is stunned by Logan's voice coming from what feels like her body. And she has seen that grin before, she just doesn't quite know where.

"Remember, I lead the scoreboard by one."

She stiffens as she hears the bushes rustle behind her. She has sensed someone approaching even before she heard it. With a low growl she swings around her left shoulder, lifting the right arm and unsheathing her claws at the same time. All she feels is the warmth of fresh blood pooling over her fist, the body itself was not much of an obstacle for the adamantium. With a grunt she pulls them free and turns back to her brother, who has not moved an inch.

"I think we have a draw, Victor."

They grin at each other when they hear a sharp explosion in the distance, their sign that the games have officially begun…

Her eyes open reluctantly as she notices the absence of any sounds and a draft across her face. The door is open and Logan leans against the frame, eyeing her.

"You've been sleeping a lot. Figured I get you something that ain't as boring as my company."

Dropping a small cardboard box in her lap he shuts the door again and walks around to his side. A satellite radio.

"Guess you'll figure out how to set it up in a… Hey. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just… dreaming again. Thank you, this is great."

"I was gettin' tired of country, too. There's some salad and stuff on the backseat."

He puts the truck in gear and as they cross the parking lot she thinks, for a brief moment, she sees a familiar face looking at her from between two exceptionally ugly trucks.

"Logan… About your brother…"

He pauses lighting his cigar, lighter in mid air, and looks at her, briefly taking his attention off the deserted highway.

"I said I could have one. Not that I know that I have one."

"I think you do."

Even though her eyes are on the landscape outside, prairie, prairie, cows and… a few houses, she knows how he looks like. Brow furrowed, eyes fixed on her.

"Logan, I get your dreams again."

"How can that be? They stopped after the cure."

"They're coming back, I think. It's not the usual nightmares, but I definitely recognize them as yours. One was… I don't know enough about weapons and all that, but it seemed like World War II to me. And today… I think you were in Vietnam, too. With your brother, Victor."

For a few moments all she can hear is the low rumble of the engine and below that, their breathing. She doesn't want to look at Logan because she knows how weird this sounds. But he has been in her head for a long while, she has shared his memories and his nightmares. She knows the quality of his dreams, she could never come up with the smells, the sounds, the very realistic feel of everything.

"You don't believe me, do you."

Automatically her fingers try to pick at her gloves, a habit she couldn't quite get rid off.

"No. I really want to. But… How do you know all that? I don't remember anything from that time."

"I don't know! It's just… there. And I know I have seen your brother before. I just can't figure out where…"

Just to clear things up before anyone starts nitpicking-of course when I mention Victor I mean the one we all could admire in X-Men Origins. Not the crippled version we saw in X1. More to that later. Maybeeeee :P