Please forgive the lateness of this chapter. So many distractions have kept me away from the keyboard and I've been having an argument with my muse about what should have been the ending to this Chapter. In the end I split it in half, my dilemma unresolved, just to give you something to read…finally.

Thank you for sticking with this story and for reviewing. Special thanks to Dee (MidLifeCrisis), my beta. Hope you enjoy this new instalment. :0)

Chapter Three: Three's a Crowd, Four's a Species War.

Jessie's battered red Toyota is parked untidily in the drive. Probably coz she was too damn tired to care after our short but vigorously sweet failure to keep our hands and other body parts off each other last night. I didn't want her to drive home from Tilda's place but she insisted her Mom not be left alone in case something went wrong at the hospital. I declined her invite to stay over at the Commeau house, more to spare the blushes of her Mom than anything else. Figure the woman's got enough shit to contend with without me adding to it.

No blue Beamer in the drive which means Jessie's asshole brother ain't here. Can't say I'm heartbroken over his absence. Pulling up next to the Toyota I climb from the cab and become an instant attraction for the two mutts as they hurtle around the side of the house. I like dogs, there's a mutual affinity between them and me so I make time for these two, hunkering down to accept their zealous greeting. Much barking, slobbering and leaping around ensues as they welcome me like an old friend. The noise alerts someone inside the house and as the front door yawns open I extricate myself from the wriggling heap of Spaniel.

A pleasantly plump woman steps out onto the porch and proceeds to make an elegant descent of the steps. I'm struck by her similarity to Jessie so I guess she's gotta be Mamma Commeau. The cut of her grey pants suit compliments rather than emphasises her figure and three strings of real pearls grace the pale pink silk shirt beneath her jacket. Her glossy, dark brown hair is cut into a neat bob so maybe Jessie inherited her honey locks from her pop. I'm drawn to the woman's face, particularly her eyes, which are the same shape and colour as Jessie's. She's a coupla inches shorter than Jessie but the smile, even though hers has an air of sadness about it, is one I'm familiar with.

With the morning sun warming my back and an excitable canine escort gambolling around my feet, I stride towards her, attempting a friendly smile and hoping it don't scare the crap outta her.

"Hey," I say injecting something close to affability into my tone. "I'm here to drive Jessica into town."

For several heartbeats her shrewd eyes study me, searching my face, taking in my appearance. Unlike her son there's no knee-jerk antipathy; no sour expression, just polite interest. Makes a change.

"You must be Logan." Said in welcome, not accusation. Even a fucked up son of a bitch like me could get used to this if only my paranoia would quit equating smiling with other people's backstabbing and violence.

"Yeah." I stoop and tickle two sets of floppy ears, not certain if shaking hands with Jessie's Mom is the right thing to do coz my hands are slimy with dog drool. Not a good idea given the mutts both give me another thorough slobbering.

"Brett and Dolly seem to have taken a liking to you," she observes as she takes the time to pet them herself.

"Got a lot of time for dogs," I reply. Gimme dogs over people any day.

"Me too. I'm Jennifer, Jessica's mom if you haven't already guessed. Jen for short." She holds out her hand.

"Jen," I acknowledge, wiping my hands on my thighs before taking hers and shaking it.

"Come on in and make yourself at home. Jessica is rustling up something for breakfast which you are welcome to share with us. If Tilda left a corner to fill, that is." Jen chuckles, her eyes twinkling knowingly. She's obviously aware of Tilda's largesse when it comes to feeding guests; not so much bed and breakfast as bed and banquet. Tilda's breakfasts could give Maggie's specials a run for their money, that's how good they are.

"I'm fine thanks. Wouldn't mind some coffee though," I say, sniffing appreciatively at the aromas wafting from the house.

"I think I can arrange that. Come on through to the kitchen and sit yourself down Brett! Dolly! Stay."

"Thanks," I say as I follow her up the steps and into the house and leaving behind my two furry friends.

The hall is several degrees cooler than outside and the drop in temperature is welcome. Gonna be a scorching day in Annapolis today; a promise of summer. Sorta day I'd rather spend roaming the wilds than fighting my way through crowded streets and shops. Ain't too late to change my mind, I suppose but it's best I get this over with sooner rather than later. Jen leads me along the hall, past the staircase and hangs a right. Through an arched doorway I can see Jessie busying herself buttering croissants.

The kitchen is large and bright, the pale green paint and limed oak cupboards imbuing the room with a fresh and relaxing atmosphere. Warm, natural light streams through the window adding it's brightness to the overall effect. Jen indicates I take a seat at the breakfast counter so I ease my frame into a tall chair. Jessie, her croissant buttering task completed, heads for a large refrigerator. I sit, mesmerised with the way her jeans clad hips sway as she walks. Don't let yer tongue hang out, moron, you'll just make yerself look like a loon.

She pauses, looking over her shoulder and catches me ogling. A mischievous smile plays across her lips but it's the fire in her eyes that draws me in. Unadulterated passion. My heartbeat ain't the only thing that quickens as I smoulder right back at her.

"Hey, Logan. Are you ready for the big challenge this morning?"

Mind in the gutter, it takes me a moment to parse what she's saying. "Yeah, sure. You know me. Ain't afraid of anything, right?"

The rich laughter spilling from Jen's lips takes me by surprise. "You speak as if shopping is akin to warfare."

"Nah, it's way worse than that. I speak from personal experience. A sensible guy don't get between a broad and a bargain." I was about to tag ma'am on the end of that but it don't sound right. For some reason her name don't fall from my lips so easily. Dunno why but I feel uncomfortable about getting too close, even just saying her name. Fucking paranoia.

"Guys like Logan don't go shopping, Mom. When they enter a store they grab likely looking items off the nearest shelves and rails and trust to luck."

"Hey, I might be a guy but I ain't stupid," I snort. Even I understand ya don't waste hard earned bucks buying gear that won't fit. Jessie continues her progress to the fridge. An array of colourful children's drawings, pinned to the fridge door by equally colourful magnets, flutter as she pulls it open. She rummages on a shelf and emerges, each hand clutching a carton, one of orange juice, once of cream. With a deft swing of her hips she uses her ass to nudge the door shut. Did I say mesmerised? I meant riveted. I swallow hard, trying to cool my keyed up libido. Diversion needed.

"That's a nice sailboat you got out there," I say to no one in particular.

Jen chooses to answer. "Charlotte Rose my husband's pride and joy. Do you know anything about sailing, Logan?"

"Saw Moby Dick on TV coupla times."

Jessie giggles and Jen's face creases into a smile. It's eerily reminiscent of Jessie, right down to the dimples in her cheeks. "When Claude recovers I'll have him and Jessica take you out. You'll love it."

"Look forward to it."

I can hear a car pulling into the drive. Engine's smooth purr tells me it's asshole's Beamer. My presumption's confirmed when the draught created by him opening the front door carries his scent through the house. He'll have seen the Jeep which explains the taint of anger mixed with his scent. And what's that? A whiff of unadulterated loathing? Guess a good night's sleep ain't mellowed his disposition none since yesterday.

"We're in the kitchen, Phillip," Jen calls out to her son.

Phil strolls into the kitchen trying to look nonchalant, a watery grimace twisting his lips into a parody of a smile. Uneasy don't describe what's pouring off of him. Dunno what the fuck's going on with this bozo but he's scared shitless and his proximity to me sends him into adrenaline overload. He smells and looks like he's caught a rattlesnake by the tail.

"Morning." He plants a light kiss on his mother's cheek but his gaze keeps darting towards me. Wonder what new development has given him another cramp in his chronically spastic colon?

"Bright and early, I see," his mother replies. "How are the girls today?"

"They're fine," he says, casting me another sidelong look. I get the impression he don't wanna discuss his girls with me in the room. "How's my baby sister this morning?" he enquires with forced cheer.

"Me being twenty three minutes younger than you doesn't qualify as baby, bro'." Jessie, busy pouring coffee, doesn't turn around to acknowledge his presence. Body language and the faintly acrid scent of mild annoyance says she's still pissed at him for yesterday. Guess what, so am I.

Picking up on Jessie's coolness he makes a friendly overture, perhaps intent on mending the bridge he stupidly burned down with his jerk-off behaviour. "Lily loved the doll. She's drawn you a picture as a thank you." Reaching into his slacks pocket he pulls out a carefully folded piece of paper and hands it over. Taking it, Jessie opens it up and turns on a warm, high wattage smile.

"Oh that's so sweet. Look, Mom."

Holding up the picture I can see a stick woman with blue hair and a big green smiling face. There are two brown and yellow blobs that might be dogs. Underneath, written in the hand of a young child, are the words thank you JJ.

"This one gets front and centre," Jessie says brightly and proceeds to fasten the picture to the fridge door using a spare magnet.

Ignoring me Phil strolls over to the coffee and snags two cups, handing one to his mother. Is it coincidence he's placed himself between his Mom and me? Nope. Numbnuts is as nervous as a nun caught sneaking into a dildo factory. What the fuck does he think I'm gonna do to her?

"You're so early I haven't eaten yet," Jen chides her son as she dodges around his stiff form, picks up a plate of croissants and a dish of fruit conserve and takes up a seat opposite me. "There's plenty to go around if you're hungry."

"Coffee will do fine, thanks."

Jessie claims the seat next to me leaving Phil standing at the end of the counter, on edge and on the spot. Reluctantly he pulls up the chair beside his mother and facing his sister. The next ten minutes seem to stretch as Jessie and her Mom set to eating and Phil broods over his coffee, flicking anxious glances in my direction as if he's expecting me to leap over the counter and tear out his throat. The talking is mostly about the progress being made by Commeau Senior, which is good. I'm content to sit next to Jessie and occasionally stare hard at her brother, sizing him up, giving him further cause for concern. What the fuck is wrong with this guy? He's sweating so profusely he risks drowning in his own excretions. Jen is the first to stand and begins clearing away the dirty dishes.

"Leave that, Mom," Jessie offers. "You go finish up making yourself beautiful for Dad, not that you need it of course, and I'll see to the dishes."

"Thank you, dear. I'll be down in ten minutes, Phillip."

"Sure, Mom."

Phil waits until his mother is safely out of the way before rising to his feet and taking Jessie by the arm.

Glaring directly at me he announces, "I need to talk to Jessica. In private."

"I..." Jessie begins.

"This is important, Jay." His eyes are pleading, willing her not to refuse him.

"Whatever. Make it quick will you because Logan and I have plans."

Allowing her brother to steer her through the kitchen door she glances at me over her shoulder, her expression unreadable. Phil shuts the door firmly behind them, a tacit fuck you if ever I've seen one. I figure the bug that's crawled up his ass has gotta be the size of a bull moose and it's cowering there coz he's got a problem with me. Save for existing and liking his sister I've done nothing to warrant his loathing so I ain't gonna feel guilty about eavesdropping. After pouring myself another coffee I take up station near the open window, propping myself against the counter so I can observe this little heart-to-heart in comfort. As I suck down the hot, aromatic liquid I fine-tune my ears into what's making Phil so twitchy. Somehow I don't think it's down to caffeine.

Phil's in the lead, all but dragging his sister across the lawn and into the shade of the huge gingko. On their way they exchange strained pleasantries about the gifts Jessie sent over. When he thinks he's out of earshot the real conversation takes over. Jessie shrugs herself out of his hold and fires the first shot.

"What the hell is this about, Phil?"

He begins pacing to and fro, his steps agitated and measured, his entire demeanour fraught with emotion. "Last night I did some research on healing factors."

"What? I thought I told you to lay off interfering."

He halts, using his body to punctuate what emerges from his mouth. "Jay, you need to hear this. What I discovered is extremely disturbing." He pauses, whether for dramatic effect or to gather his courage I can't be certain but what does it fucking matter anyway? "There are a few things you need to know." The strain in his voice reflects the tension in his posture. This boy needs to seriously consider stress management.

Jessie's expression turns cold but the anger I can see glowing deep in her eyes is anything but. Phil's opening gambit has put her volatile temper on high alert.

"Like what?" Her tone is neutral dangerous, her temper primed to explode. Phil looks like a man caught in quicksand, nervous that any movement will make him sink deeper into the quagmire. He keeps flicking glances in the direction of the house but that ain't stopping him doing what he dragged her outside to do.

"Well, healing factors are pretty rare and almost always secondary mutations. Maybe something like one in twenty thousand mutants possesses one. Not much is known about them because mutants with healing factors tend not to need treatment…"

"People! They are people, Phil. Just like you. Just like me."

"Actually, no they're not." He pauses, waiting for a response which doesn't come. He gets a frosty glare though. The type that can rapidly escalate into a real nut-shriveller. "It is estimated that ninety-five percent of people with healing factors are feral."

"And the point you are trying to make is…?" Jessie's exasperation is evident. So's his.

"Have you any idea how many feral mutants are violent, psychotic sociopaths?"

Hah! Bro's done his homework. But he ain't differentiated between degrees of psycho-sociopathy. Guy like me'll only gut ya in self defence. A sick bastard'll do it for laughs and then shit in the hole for the hell of it. It's the not so subtle difference between me and the likes of Sabretooth.

"Have you any idea how many aren't?" she counters. Good point. Wonder if she's got the numbers to back that up coz I ain't.

"Take a closer look at him, Jay! The overgrown furball has feral stamped all over him. Messing with this guy is like holding a lighted match while paddling in gasoline."

Dropping her head as if studying her shoes, Jessie grinds out, "Gasoline. I see." Silence, broken only by birdsong and the breeze stirring the branches, descends. It's one of those boding silences, pregnant with tension, that radiates outwards like a subliminal scream, raising hackles and goosebumps as it washes over you. Expression hidden by her cascading hair, I watch for other tell-tale signs – the way the skin across her knuckles tightens, how her shoulder muscles bunch slightly beneath her shirt. Silence done with, Jessie raises her head and I can see her eyes ablaze with fury. Nevertheless, she keeps her voice level as she demands, "Why are you doing this?"

"You know why."

"Do I?"

The failure to communicate his fear gets him twitching some more, marked by his agitated hand movements and the grim line of his lips. "Your boyfriend isn't like a pet dog. He isn't domesticated, excitable but otherwise harmless."

"Well at least we agree on something."

Phil's eyebrows knit together. If his plan was to shock her into ditching me then it's failed miserably. "You knew! And knowing what he is you invited him into the house?"

"Of course I knew. Logan told me himself. Told me everything. Gave me the choice of sticking around or walking away. I chose to stay. And what's this house shit? Are you worried he's gonna piss on the carpets or hump someone's leg?"

Heh, gotta love the girl's sass.

Phil's gesticulations grow more frenzied. "You have no fucking idea do you? It's bad enough you want to shack up with him, let him touch you, but to expose Mom to the danger this creature embodies well that's…that's inexcusable!"

To my surprise, Jessie keeps her cool. More than I could say for myself. If he was a fly I'd tear his fucking wings off. Maybe I should settle for tearing his arms off instead. It's the hardest thing to just stand here and deny my escalating feral tendencies. Temper surging, I discover I'm gripping the coffee cup hard enough to crush it, imagining it's Phil's neck beneath my fingers. Downing the last of its contents I set the cup aside, not wanting to explain to Jen why she no longer has the full set.

"Logan is not a creature. He's a man. And for your information, he is also a kind of policeman, a member of a task force that protects the likes of you and me from rogue mutants. And when he's not saving lives he's a special needs instructor, helping young ferals to control and channel their aggression in positive ways."

I almost choke on my mouthful of coffee. Fuck! She's painting me like I'm Mother Theresa. Girl's gotta learn to understand I'm just a short-fused bastard trying to get by the best way I can. Ain't nothing heroic nor admirable about what I do.

"I thought you said he worked at a school."

"That's part of it."

"Where is this school?"

"Westchester, New York."

I watch realisation dawn across his face, a black sun casting shadows of outrage. "Wait a minute. School? Westchester? Mutant task force? Holy Mother of God, you don't mean the same school on the news a while back? The mutant terrorist training facility that got raided by government troops?"

"That was bullshit propaganda put out by a rogue element in the Pentagon so they could shoot up a mutant school, steal experimental communications equipment and kidnap some of the children and staff. The school doesn't train terrorists, it provides education and a safe haven for kids who have been rejected by their families, by society, just because of their genetic inheritance. Kids like Lily!" She pauses to let her last remark sink in. "The attack was instigated by a traitor who lied to the President in order to pursue the destruction of every mutant on the planet. Including you."

"Bullshit you say? What you're expecting me to believe is beyond bullshit. It's out there with Grimm's Fairytales!"

Jessie shakes her head, the force of her denial throwing her hair in an arc around her shoulders. "You're wrong. The school's still there, still in business. Work it out for yourself."

"And you'll be what, fighting alongside these people? Possibly against the authorities, or even your erstwhile military friends?"

"It won't come to that. Professor Xavier is a man of peace. A visionary. He strives towards mutant integration with the population. Meanwhile, I'll be training the kids how to defend themselves in the old fashioned way, without powers, against those who would wish them harm. And in turn being trained to fly Professor Xavier's Swearingen jet. That's a significant step up from helo pilot wouldn't you say?"

What? Fucking Summers is the only qualified flight instructor at the school. Is he the one she talks to about her love of flying? What's the odds against him not offering his services to train Jessie? The sneaky streak of dick-slime needs to watch out coz if he makes a move on her he won't live long enough to count the loops of steaming intestines coiling on his shoes as they slither from his belly.

"But Jay, why risk your reputation, possibly your life, working with a group of people who, to be perfectly honest, are viewed with more than a little suspicion and alarm by ordinary folk? Believe me, I know what I'm talking about."

"What reputation is that? I resigned from the Navy half a step ahead of a dishonourable discharge remember."

"I'm not comfortable with the idea of you doing this. I don't want my only sister to be injured or worse fighting in the name of a doubtful cause."

Dunno how many bequerels of fuckwit radiation this asshole's giving off but I'm damn certain it's several times the lethal dose. Bastard's dead from the neck up and he don't even know it. Wonder if he'd change his tune if he discovered that same doubtful cause saved the world's ass just a few months ago. Twice!

"Has me being with Logan blinded you so much?" Jessie steps away from her brother, half turning as she does so, folding her arms across her chest like a shield.

"I'm not the one who needs to open my eyes here, Jay."

Snapping her head around to face him she fires back, "Listen to yourself will you? You sound more like one of those Sapien League bigots than a doctor blessed with the gift for diagnosing any illness with a single touch. I embraced potential doubtful causes in the name of protecting US citizens the day I enrolled at the Naval Academy. This is no different."

Closing the gap he presses his argument. "Of course it's different. Those people aren't the Navy, or the Army, or the Air Force. They're no better than a private militia. Our own government thought they were goddamn terrorists. You would honestly risk everything just to be with him?"

"What's your problem, Phil? What has Logan ever done to you to earn your unmitigated resentment?"

"Have you looked at him? I mean really looked at him? The guy is a feral, an animal. Anyone less than an improvement on David I can't think of!"

One arm unfolds and Jessie stabs her finger at her brother's chest forcing him to step away. "I don't give a stuff what you think. He isn't a selfish Daddy's boy, that's for sure. Logan is more likely to watch my back than stab me in it."

Not bothering to hide his incredulity dickweed spits out, "Oh, come on. How can you possibly know that?"

"Because he already has!"

This shuts him up for a handful of seconds while he takes this new information on board. Knocked off track Phil changes tactics. "Is this what it's all about? You're fucking him and in doing so fucking up your life out of gratitude?"

Jessie's eyes narrow to slits. If she was a cat her tail would be switching violently. "I sleep with Logan because I like him. Because he's a real nice guy. Because he's not a self-centred, arrogant little prick like David. And because he makes me come with the intensity of a nuclear detonation. Satisfied?"

Bro's mouth gapes wide with shock when Jessie delivers her show-stopper. Stunned, he seems to collapse in on himself, shrivelling under the blunt admission from his sister. For a moment I think the fight's over but then he inflates like a bullfrog with an air pump shoved up its ass.

"Sexual gratification? For this you put Mom's life at risk?" Slowly, he raises his hand to his head and for a moment I think he's gonna cross himself like a good Catholic boy. Instead he nervously rubs his face as if trying to relieve the sting of a slap. "Jay, this just isn't you. What the hell has gotten into you girl?"

"Apart from Logan you mean? Nothing! Zilch, zero, absolutely fucking zip. Logan is not an animal and no way would he harm Mom." Pausing to draw in a deep breath, she continues her relentless assault. "You know what, Phil?"

"What?"

"Yesterday, when I found out Logan was on his way down here, I told Mom about him being a feral, explained what that meant, and she's okay with it. She asked to meet him."

He looks at her, reproach written all over his face. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"If you have to ask that question then you don't deserve an answer!"

"I'm your brother. Your twin brother! Doesn't that count for anything?"

"Not since you became so bloody interfering and sanctimonious!"

With that one line Jessie finesses an unprecedented third act of her super-whammy. Bastard asked for it and she served it up; hammering in the truth with the subtlety of an avalanche, grinding his argument down to pulp. Ain't the killer stroke though. There's still fight in the asshole. Phil's panting hard, trying to rein in his disintegrating control. Adrenalin fuelled fury suffuses his features so deeply his cheeks are the colour of a baboon's ass. Reckon he's about as pissed as a guy can get and still function on a civilised level.

"What I think is that deep down, way down where the real Jay has been buried, you're ashamed. Ashamed of what you've become. You couldn't tell me to my face because your conscience wouldn't let you."

The words squeeze from between his lips; venomous, inexorable, full of despair. His mantle of righteousness has slipped and what's simmering beneath is raw and destructive. He's been pushed beyond his limits, fatally wounded by one of his own. I take no pleasure in watching the man's emotional collapse coz I'm fucking certain I've been there myself. Waves of negative emotion wash over me and for a second I'm him. Betrayed. Rejected. Desolate. I can empathise but I ain't got no fucking sympathy for him. If ya don't wanna be knocked down ya don't stand up and tell the man with the piece of two by four to take his best swing.

In contrast, Jessie's complexion is pale and eerily calm; the Ice Queen personified. Voice hard and as cold as a glacier, she grinds out, "That does it. I'm sick of your sermonising. Whether you like it or not Logan and I are together and you…you can go to fucking hell."

Jessica storms off, heading towards the shore, her brother following close behind, demanding, almost pleading, that she stop and talk to him but she ain't listening. He tries to catch her shoulder, to halt her progress, to make her turn and face him but she fends him off, blindly flailing her arm in his direction. I sense she's beyond his ability to reach her right now, beyond immediate reconciliation. He's hurt her too deeply, stupid fuck. The only reason I ain't out there decking the sanctimonious asswipe myself is because Jessie wouldn't thank me for my input.

I'm debating whether or not to go out there and get her the hell away here when Jen chooses this moment to return to the kitchen. A frown deepens the wrinkles on her forehead.

"Did I hear raised voices?"

I don't insult her intelligence by feigning ignorance of what's going on in the garden. "You did. They took it outside but I reckon they're done." Or at least Jessie's done.

Arms folded, Jen leans forward and looks through the window in time to witness her daughter stalking angrily along the shore, ignoring her brother's pleas to stop. Evidently unhappy with what she sees Jen's lips purse into a moue of disappointment.

"Oh dear."

Not quite the way I'd word it. Her shitwit son thinks ferals are psychotic mutant trash. All ferals. And knowing one's fucking his sister is sticking in his craw and choking him. Yesterday he was merely an obnoxious, condescending prick. Today he's slimed his way further up the dizzying heights of assholeness and added hypocritical bigot to his repertoire. Jerk-off.

Perhaps sensing my irritation Jen goes into advocate mode. "This isn't your fault, you know," she reassures me as she watches her conflicted children with saddened eyes. "Jessica's temper has been so volatile since her break up with David. Phillip isn't helping by playing the protective older brother. He is concerned she is being hasty entering into another relationship so soon but all he seems to be achieving is making himself the focus of her anger rather than David."

Jessie's temper was fine until asshole started in on her. What's the betting she's gonna be pissy with me for the rest of the day while she works through her bad. My gaze follows Jessie as she stalks along the shore, dimwit brother dogging her heels.

"Jessie has a mind of her own, Jen. She knows how to take care of herself. I discovered that from the outset."

She smiles wanly. "Just like her father." She emits a deep sigh. "The situation in the garden seems to be very heated. I hope no permanent damage has been done to their relationship."

Don't give a shit whether it has or it hasn't. "I'm sure they'll work it out," I reply trying to inject false sincerity into the words. Solution's simple, Jen. Your son should learn to keep his big fucking mouth shut.

"Tact is not one of Phillip's virtues," she admits as if she can read my thoughts. This gets me to wondering. Breathing in her scent I check for active X Factor. It isn't there. So why is she telling me these things? Is it some sort of test?

"I wouldn't know," I lie.

Tearing my gaze away from Jessie's retreating figure I find Jen studying me once more. Suddenly aware she's been caught staring, she blushes. "Forgive me. You are so unlike David it comes as something of a shock."

Can't help being what I am, lady. I breathe in her scent, testing for negativity but there is none, well nothing I need worry about. "You ain't the first one to feel that way. Ain't gonna be the last."

"I've offended you. I'm sorry."

"No need to apologise. I ain't offended. Yer being honest and I don't have a problem with that."

Reassured, she relaxes. "You've made quite an impression on my daughter, Logan. Jessica waited several months before announcing she and David were going steady. I learned of your existence within twenty four hours of you two meeting."

Wonder what Jen'd say if she knew the impression I usually make on people is the fist in the belly kind? Come to think of it, Jessie knows how to make an impression too. Girl's got one helluva mean right hook. Not to mention the efficient way she uses her knee to crush nuts. I quirk the corner of my mouth into the briefest smile as visions of Jessie handing those Atlantic City pussies their fat asses drift through my mind.

"What can I say? I'm a sucker for damsels in distress." Working in a snake pit like the Auger would distress any decent broad. Still don't understand how she ended up there but at least she don't need to go back.

"Defending my daughter's honour against those creeps is something I'll always be grateful for."

Yeah, saved it and then thoroughly corrupted it less than an hour later, not that she needed much persuasion. Beating the righteous crap outta a bunch of chickenshit greaseballs really juices up the libido. "She told you about that, huh?"

"The shiner needed explaining."

I guess it would. "She gave better," I reply, trying to keep my expression serious.

Jen sighs again and then shakes her head. "Jessica always was a tomboy," she says, a hint of humour putting a twinkle in her eyes. "There were times when I thought I had two sons, not one."

Well she's all woman now. "So, no froufrou dresses and dolls houses then?"

"Heavens no. Outside of school it was always jeans and T shirts. Toys never really interested her. As a child Jessica loved sailing. I swear she was born with seawater in her veins. Her passion for flying manifested at around ten or eleven when we flew to England for a holiday."

That's odd. If she has an enthusiasm for sailing and flying Jessie sure don't talk about it much. Not with me. Wonder why? Maybe when she's with me she's too busy thinking about other things…

"Is that why she joined the Navy?"

Nodding her head Jen continues, "One of the reasons. A major influence in her life was her grandfather, a larger than life, salt of the earth character if ever there was one. From the time Jessica was old enough to crawl up onto his knee and beg for a story he regaled her with tall tales of the sea and his years in the navy, most of them quite incredible, full of pirates and treasure. Some of the contemporary ones may have had some basis in truth. He ought to have written a book. All of the stories were thrilling of course, designed to fire a child's imagination. They certainly fired Jessica's. He's the main reason she joined the navy in the first place. Becoming a Navy pilot was her dream, all she ever wanted to do."

And she gave up her dream to save the rep of some worthless, disloyal piece of crap? Why for chrissake? An unworthy thought pops into my forebrain and begins to fester. If this hadn't happened I would never have met her. Lover boy fucked up her life but he did me a favour.

Damn! Where the hell did that come from? One-eye once accused me of being selfish and shallow. With thoughts like that he wasn't wide of the mark was he? Feeling guilty, unable to formulate a comment Jen would find palatable, I remain silent.

A shadow of regret falls across her face, deepening the lines on her forehead into contours. "Georges was dying, battling terminal cancer. It was the proudest moment of his life seeing Jessica graduate from the Academy with honours. His little scrapper in the Navy, a pilot no less. I swear it was all that kept him going for the last few months of his life."

Little scrapper? "Sounds like quite a guy."

"He was. In a way you remind me of him. Tall, rugged and with a shock of unruly hair. His was red though."

Oh, wonderful! A girl gets the hots for me coz I remind her of Gramps? Hardly a fucking boost to a guy's ego is it? Quick change of subject needed. "If the Navy meant so much to her why did she quit? Was a blemish on her service record something she couldn't live with?"

"She told you about the indiscretion did she?"

"Not in so many words but…yeah."

Doubt infects her tone. "I'm not sure I should be discussing this with you. Perhaps you should ask Jessica…"

Ain't gonna mellow Jessie none if I broach the subject after her bust up with the asshole. I use the scrap of information Jessie confided in me the first time I stayed over at her place. "They were caught fraternising and his daddy cut a deal to get lover boy off the hook. But it came at a high price, didn't it?"

"It should never have been allowed to go so far. Considering what happened in Iraq I'm certain the Navy would have dealt leniently with her indiscretion. A censure perhaps, at worst loss of pay."

I know Jessie's body intimately, the way she smells, the way she looks, the way she responds to my touch. Seems I know fuck all about who she really is. At some stage I'm gonna hafta quit letting my dick do the talking and engage my mouth and brain. Feeling stupid I nevertheless gotta ask, "What happened in Iraq?"

"She didn't tell you?"

I shake my head.

"It doesn't surprise me. It took her father and I several days to tease the entire story out of her. Truth be told, she felt embarrassed talking about it and desperately tried to play down her role in the affair."

Play what down? What affair? What did she do?

"I've always known Jessica possessed fortitude and the day people everywhere suffered those terrible, paralysing headaches, the day so many people died, she proved it."

Jen pauses, looking reflectively out of the window. C'mon, woman. Neither of us are getting any younger. What did she do? Shit! Was she flying? Did the attack cause her to crash?

"What happened, Jen? Was she flying? Did she get hurt?"

"Yes, she was flying but she didn't crash if that is what you're worried about. Jessica was flying shotgun for two Super Stallion marine helicopters when the catastrophic affliction occurred. Paralysed, practically blinded by immense pain, the pilots of the other two helicopters lost control and began to veer dangerously around the sky. Death seemed imminent, either from a mid air collision or from crashing into the desert below. Jessica remained calm and was able to keep the other pilots focused throughout the duration of the ordeal by constantly screaming orders at them via radio. Her prompt action saved over sixty lives, aircrew and Marines. Sadly, not everyone was so lucky and Jessica lost some good friends that day and I strongly suspect she feels guilty she survived what they did not."

"How the hell did she overcome the pain, let alone save others?" I demand.

When Stryker's genocide machine fired up not even I was immune to its effect. It felt like my head was trying to explode and the pain was excruciating, second only to the bonding process. I was as helpless as a baby and had Stryker hung around long enough to gloat he could have finished me off, no problem. I couldn't even unsheathe my claws to defend myself. I know coz I tried, instinctively reacting to a threat response.

Taken aback by the ferocity of my question, Jen flinches. "She survived because she wasn't affected."

"What?" That's impossible. Not affected? What the fuck…?

"Neither was I. Both Phillip and Claude succumbed and from your reaction I guess you did too. From what they told me, their ordeal was harrowing in the extreme. I'm thankful they both survived the experience unscathed."

I thought everyone had been affected. Mutants first and then baseline humans. "How…?" I trail off, unwilling to incriminate myself. Like it or not, I was part of what went down at Alkali Lake. I could have, should have stopped Stryker instead of wasting vital minutes drifting around that lab and feeling sorry for myself.

"I wouldn't like to hazard a guess but Phillip formulated a plausible hypothesis with the aid of his gift."

Yeah, the fucker's just brimming with theories ain't he. "Plausible how?"

"Logan, what do you know about how the X gene affects people?"

I shrug. "Not much. Some have the X gene, most don't. Of those that do, many are latent while others develop powers. Are you saying latents weren't affected?" Shit, Jen must be latent too.

"According to Phillip, the majority of latents fell victim to the headaches. He had the opportunity to examine a few during the ensuring state of emergency. A small percentage, however, did not."

"How come?" Don't make sense that some escaped the influence of Stryker's jury-rigged Cerebro.

"According to Phillip there are not three variations governing the human genetic condition, there are four."

Not many things make me blink and perform a double-take but this does. Humans are scared shitless by the current situation. A new mutant variation, if it exists, could only serve to fan the flames of panic. As if things ain't fucked up enough.

"Go on," I urge, trying to moisten a mouth gone suddenly dry as ashes.

"The first group is the largest. Ordinary people are classed as X Factor Negative, baseline humans as some would have it."

She looks at me, as if gauging my response so I keep my expression neutral, giving nothing away. Political correctness ain't something I lose sleep over. Particularly since some of those baselines tore apart my mind, tortured me and poured metal over my bones.

"Mutants are XF Positive, their powers fully realised." I already know all this, sister so when're ya gonna get to the punch-line? "It has always been assumed that latents, people who carry the X gene but have no manifest powers, are, to all intents and purposes, on a par with ordinary people. The difference being latents carry the potential to produce mutant offspring. They are classified as XF Passive, as you know."

Actually I didn't. Course I know about latents but I never looked that deep into it. Either yer a mutant or ya ain't. There ain't no in between. Or so I thought. Guess nasty surprises get to creep up on me real fast these days.

"So what makes the fourth group special?" Whatever the fuck you are.

"The fourth group, the most uncommon, falls between Passive and Positive. Phillip described this group as XF Inhibited. Effectively XFIs are mutants whose powers have failed to manifest due to factors unknown. The analogy he used compared XFIs to cars without wheels."

"How come no one noticed this before?"

"I asked the same question. People have been known to discover their powers late in life but it has always been assumed the powers were present at puberty but were never noticed until something traumatic happened to bring them to prominence. Obviously this latest discovery sheds new light on the subject. The genetic difference between Passives and Inhibiteds is so subtle even Phillip had difficulty detecting it while using his gift. He feels it is unlikely anyone else has discovered this fourth genetic condition although it is quite possible its existence has been brought to the attention of others following the aftermath of that awful day. So far no papers have been published postulating any theory and he is unaware of any research being conducted in this field."

Doesn't mean there ain't none though. And it's unlikely that certain interests failed notice a few escaped the agony. If brother Phil is on the button this gives monsters like Stryker a fresh source of victims. Fuck subtle. It's one helluva difference. The difference between life and death. Shit! Bet Charlie don't know about this. I'll hafta inform him so he can reprogram Cerebro to monitor the people who've slipped through his psychic net. "Does he plan to write a paper on this?"

"Goodness me, no. Being a mutant himself he understands the ramifications if he does. It would jeopardise the safety of others, including Jessica and myself. Idiots like the Sapien League do not need another minority objective to focus their hate on."

Sensible guy. "Good. Best that it stays that way."

Then the implication hits home. Stryker didn't know about XFIs. He fucked up. Once, possibly twice. Did he disregarded the latents as a threat or were they included in his initial attack? Maybe he assumed his genocide machine would automatically wipe out anyone carrying the X gene. Obviously he was wrong. Might be important to find out if the latents keeled over with the mutants or the baselines but that's Charlie's job, not mine. My money's on the baseline theory since the latent X factor is inactive, simply excess baggage, performing no function other than to be passed on via DNA.

Stryker missed an entire group coz no one knew they existed. And thanks to him they've been revealed. His attempt to destroy mutants failed. Spectacularly. And not just coz of the obvious reason. Perhaps XFIs evolved to prevent a catastrophe like this. The irony of his humungous cluster-fuck forces a chuckle out of me. It's a grim, strangled sound, devoid of humour.

Her face clouding over Jen sounds indignant when she asks, "You find something amusing about this?"

"No," I deny, shaking my head vehemently. "I lost…a close friend that day. A lot of people died or were hurt. There's nothing amusing about what happened. It's just the irony of it all."

"What so you mean?"

"Just something a nut-job scientist said to me once. I…it's not something I want to talk about, kay?"

"Then I shall not pry." But she'd like to. She is intensely curious but thankfully Jen lets the matter drop, returning to the previous topic.

"David's betrayal wounded Jessica very deeply. They were less than a month away from their engagement too. I never thought he would turn on her so callously in order to save his own reputation. What he did and said bordered on vindictive, especially since his culpability was equal to Jessica's own. He accused her of using emotional blackmail to force assignations upon him. The very idea!"

She was gonna marry the bastard? Jeezus! How come that little factoid slipped her mind? Or the one about her latency? Maybe she reckons it's none of my business. Brings home to me how little I actually know her. "Given what he did maybe it was for the best," I suggest.

"Maybe. What really puzzles me is Jessica's philosophical acceptance of the loss of her career, walking away from it without so much as glancing over her shoulder. Giving up without a fight is so unlike her. David has a lot to answer for."

"And no civilian outfit would take her on," I add.

She looks at me askance, surprised that I would know about that. "You would have thought aviation companies would have beaten a path to her door. Navy trained pilots are highly prized after all. Jessica was determined to fly again but she continually failed to impress prospective employers. Perhaps she wore her stigma like a badge or they picked up on her lack of enthusiasm for civil aviation. I suppose, after an exciting military career, anything less would pale by comparison."

Yeah, I can imagine going from kicking major ass to flying milk runs throwing Jessie into a tailspin. The prospect of flying for Oconus must have seemed like a godsend.

"It was heartbreaking watching her confidence eroding as her prospects diminished with every rejection. Eventually, she travelled to New York on the promise of a job, only to have her hopes cruelly dashed once more. Apparently some silly clerk got his wires crossed and gave her incorrect information. The position had been filled weeks before so her journey was wasted. Or so she believed. While sitting in the waiting room Jessica saw an advert in one of the magazines. A logistics company was recruiting ex-military personnel, including helicopter pilots, from a temporary office in Westchester. Being so close Jessica decided to try her luck. The recruiting process took quite some time and rather than ask us for money to help pay her bills she took a job in that awful bar."

"Where she found me," I point out with wry humour.

Raising her hand to her mouth as if trying to take back her embarrassing comment she reddens and says, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply…"

"'S okay," I assure her. "Don't hang out there for the company, just the beer. Best in the district." Last place I'd expect to find someone like Jessie.

Looking decidedly sheepish Jen says, "It doesn't matter where she found you. You gave Jessica back her smile. And her opportunity to fly again. To train as a jet pilot no less. I thank you for that."

"Even knowing what I am?" I'm trusting that Jessie wasn't leading her brother around by the nose out in the garden.

"Logan, my son is a mutant. Both Jessica and I are latent mutants. Your being closer to nature than most people would find comfortable doesn't make you a bad person."

Closer to nature? Well it beats being called an animal. "Ya think?" Shame yer frigging son don't share yer sentiments.

"It's how you live your life that matters. You risk your life to help others, that much Jessica has shared with me although she did not go into detail. She holds you in high regard and, having seen you for myself, I am inclined to accept her judgement despite your daunting appearance."

She likes me? Fuck! If this carries on I'm gonna hafta start wearing shades to disguise myself in the street.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." I think.

"I realise my son's behaviour falls short of acceptable. He sees you as a symptomatic complication of David's betrayal rather than a genuine suitor for Jessica's affection. He needs time to adjust."

Why don't she just say rebound? It's what everyone else wants to believe. The idea's even passed through my mind.

"Ain't like that." Taking a gigantic leap of faith, I decide to confide in Jen. "Can't explain it but something drew us together. We just kinda connected ya know?"

"Jessica said much the same thing. When news of your recovery reached her she was euphoric. Her father's cautious but promising prognosis put the icing on her cake. Then she discovered you were making your way to Annapolis and it was like all her Christmases had come at once. Never have I seen my daughter look more spirited, more vivacious. Sadly, that is the source of contention between Jessica and her brother. He cannot understand why she should be as concerned for the wellbeing of a comparative stranger as she would her own father. Admitting to being somewhat mystified myself I understood her feelings for you the moment I observed the way she looked at you when you strolled into the kitchen. The fire in Jessica's eyes never burned that intensely for David."

"It didn't?" Are those words of encouragement and acceptance or an admission designed to scare the shit out of me? There's no guile, nothing to suggest she's being anything other than forthright. I take her at her word.

"Please do not think badly of Phillip. Despite what you have witnessed he and his sister are very close. He has old fashioned values, so like his father in that respect. And Jessica, being a free spirit, confounds his principles sometimes. In my son's eyes womenfolk are to be cosseted and shielded from harm. He feels it is his place to protect his sister from the ills of the world."

"You're kidding. Jessie could kick his a…butt six ways from Sunday."

Patting my arm, pretty much like Maggie would, she sighs, "I know. But men can be so pig-headed sometimes."

Her quiet laughter is so infectious I add a belly laugh of my own. Together we watch the drama outside draws to a close as the two siblings, differences unresolved, make their way back to the house.

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