Notes: Thanks to all who read and reviewed. It's always good to hear from you. :)

To Dogo and those of similar thinking, I haven't finished writing this series yet, but the way things stand now, I have no plans to make this a Siskan centric story. The guys are here to give an assist to the X-men and all that, but there will be no new Siskans introduced and none of the guys will get new powers or anything like that. The focus of this series is Twilight and the people that are found there.

(Four)

Kimble was well on his way to losing his tenth round of cards when he caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. He had set up the views from the outside cameras onto the main screen, just to help keep an eye on things happening below outside the warehouse. They wanted to know if anyone else besides Logan should come in or out.

Kimble paused and squinted, taking a closer look. Outside in the alley, near some overturned garbage cans, was a man thrashing on the ground. He hadn't been there a moment ago. "Uh, Rems..."

Gambit looked up and followed where Kimble was looking. He got up on one knee, trying for a closer look. In the gloom it was hard to make out. "Is dat Logan...?"

"I'll goes," Kimble offered without hesitation and got up. He went out the door and took off at a run, vaulting silently off the roof. He flew down swiftly, keeping to the shadows and away from the light. He was cautious as he approached the writhing man, he still couldn't tell if it was Logan or not, there was something not right about the body. He wasn't sure of it was the garbage or not, but there was a strange smell here, like crushed flowers and sickly sweet candy.

As if sensing the Siskan's approach, the flailing man stilled and then snarled a warning in Kimble's direction, sounding more like a dog than a man. "Easy there, fella..." Kimble soothed, holding up a hand that asked for patience.

The man raised his head and hissed at him, showing yellowed eyes and large white fangs, larger than anything Wolverine already possessed. He was filthy and dressed in rags, partially covered by the ruptured bags of garbage that lay strewn about. It was hard to get a good look at him.

Kimble froze, thinking he might have made a mistake. The man's rumpled clothing looked like shredded black leather that could have been Logan's uniform, but he was also covered in dark black body hair, far more than Logan usually had, and those fangs... Kimble took a step back, almost tripping on something at his feet. He looked behind him and saw a black backpack, the same one Wolverine had left with.

Kimble wasn't the brightest bulb in the pack, but he was far from stupid. This was Logan, it had to be, but something had been done to him to change him. That explained the strange smell as well. Best to pick him up and ask questions later, hopefully after the guy had calmed down some. Kimble picked up the backpack and slid it on, his eyes never leaving the snarling bundle of feral rage in front of him. It was just as well that he had been the one to come, the others might not be able to handle Wolverine in this state. Kimble, being telekinetic, had the advantage.

Without saying anything more, Kimble used his power to raise them both off the ground, flying them back up to the roof and to the Dragon 2. He kept a good sized space between them, he wasn't about to let Wolverine snatch and claw at him. As the garbage fell away from Logan's body, Kimble could see that the guy had been seriously injured, his legs were mangled and bloody, little more than metallic bones with hanging scraps of shredded flesh. While an injury like that would be enough to send Logan feral, it didn't explain the extra body hair and elongated fangs.

Kimble flew them both into the Dragon 2, careful with the man as he lay him down on the passenger seats. The others came close, just as mystified at Logan's condition as Kimble was. Wolverine was thrashing, trying to claw and bite at them. He was contained, held in place telekinetically by Kimble's powerful mind, and unable to hurt them.

"Sacre merde..." Remy breathed, shocked by Logan's appearance. They guy looked like some kind of werewolf, all furry and fanged. One that had been tossed through a meat grinder - he was also bleeding all over the place. "Kim, get de first aid kit, s'il vous plait."

"It's got Bactine and band-aids in it. I thinks this might be beyonds that," Kimble replied, being ironic without meaning to be. The guy was slashed and bleeding all over the newly installed seats. They were not going to have fun cleaning that mess up. "Maybe we kin packs him with clean towels from the lav if we kin gits him calmed down."

Remy nodded and Kimble left for the towels. That was the easy part, now for the hard. Remy concentrated, attempting to use his empathy to calm the wounded man's rage. He thought of his precious wife, the love he felt for his twins, the thrill of flight. He sent out those feelings of love and joy, hoping they might get Logan back into a normal frame of mind.

Wolverine calmed, letting out a startled grunt of surprise at the sudden influx of good feelings, but it was only for a moment. His legs were mangled and no amount of joy was going to get him past the pain of that. Not to mention that he was still tripping on the Honey, something that was clouding his mind. He resumed his flailing and clawing, his eyes bloodshot and red.

Aiden snorted with an amused half smile. "Amateurs," he teased Remy's way and reached out himself, using much greater talent than Gambit possessed. He held out his hands, still out of reach, and released a small cloud of Morrowhiem glitter.

Not all empaths are created equal, any X-man could tell you that. This was also equally true of these empathic Siskans. Aiden was no Rogue, but he was still blessed with his own gifts. His empathy was strong enough to be physically seen and he wasn't afraid to use it. He usually reserved the Morrowhiem for those he loved best, it was typically only Kimble that received the pleasure of it this these days, but he wasn't beyond using it to help out in a pinch. The glitter couldn't outright heal the wounded man, but it would put the guy in a much better frame of mind.

Logan jerked as the glitter cascaded over his ravaged legs and shuddered hard. The pain from his injury vanished and all he felt was another sort of blissful high. One much better than the Honey had given him. His eyes closed and he relaxed, finally calming down. It was lasting, he no longer fought as Aiden next began to strip off the rags of his tattered clothing and packed his legs with the clean towels Kimble had brought. That finished, Aiden next covered him with a blanket. The injuries Logan had sustained were severe, mortal to any normal human. Aiden didn't let this faze him, he spoke softly, whispering soft comforts in Siskan as he worked, the glitter still wisping off his hands as he moved.

"Karen...?" Logan breathed drunkenly, tears from the strain leaking from his eyes. Karen was the name of his wife, the woman he loved best.

Aiden chuckled softly. "Not quite, but Aiden will forgive, me" he gently teased. He understood the confusion, the Morrowhiem took away the worst of the pain but it often also sexually aroused the recipient. The intoxicated man was too messed up to fully realize both where he was and what exactly had been done to him. At least his pain was gone.

"What happened to him?" Remy asked Kimble, as if the Siskan would know just by having found him.

"Don't knows," Kimble answered. "But his pack is full."

Kimble started to rummage through it, but Remy thought better of it and stopped him. "Best we get 'im 'ome, eh? We get 'im fixed up proper and den maybe Chuck can 'elp us figure out what 'appened to 'im."

"He smells funny, like candy."

"Non, not candy. Honey," Remy surmised. That was what was supposedly being sold out of the warehouse after all. He had been told about its effects on mutants, that it changed them and most often not for the better. Logan would probably be luckier than most, with his ability to regenerate and heal, he would probably come out of it with nothing more than a headache and a bad hair day. "Let's get 'im 'ome."

"Right."

Kimble shoved the pack under the seats and went back to his pilot stick, preparing for the flight home. Aiden stayed with Logan at the passenger seats without having to be told. He couldn't make good shields like Kimble could, but he was strong enough to hold Logan back if it came to that. Aiden doubted it, the feral man had fallen asleep now that his rage had been dissipated. Already Aiden could see the man's healing factor start to kick in now that it wasn't being fought against.

Logan was quiet for most of the trip home. Aiden sifted through the man's shredded clothing, looking for clues. The only thing of interest that caught his eye was the crushed body of a brown furry moth. It was dappled brown with emerald heart shapes on the wings. Aiden didn't recognize it, but he had an idea that it still might be important. He put it aside to be looked at later.

After a half hour nap, when they were still just a few minutes out, Logan began to wake. His healing factor had held him in good stead — as he had slept, Aiden had checked on him, seeing that the residual effects of the Honey had worn off. The extra body hair receded and his eyes and teeth returned to normal. Unlike most other mutants, he had been able to handle the temporary secondary mutation without dying. His legs had also healed up somewhat – the cuts had sealed and he was no longer bleeding. He was less a bit of flesh, he looked like an anorexic man from the waist down with hardly any muscle covering the long bones of his thighs, but that would be made up for in time.

Logan opened his eyes and blinked, struggling to get his bearings. The last he had known, he was being shot at in Twilight.

"Reszt now, you are almoszt 'ome."

Wolverine grunted softly in greeting, he would know that voice anywhere. It seemed that Leroy's words had been correct, the Honey and the moths had seen him safely home. "Where'd ya find me?"

"Outszide ze warehousze on ze ground. You were szick and injured, but you are better now. Do you 'ave much pain?"

"If I do, it don't matter. Where are we?"

"About ten minutes out," Remy answered from his stick, glancing behind him to see that his teammate was okay. "I called ahead, dere will be a medical team waiting for us."

Logan sat up stiffly. "Don't need it. Tell them to call Fury, I need to see him right away."

"You should get more reszt," Aiden insisted. He could see that the guy was still badly injured even if he could not. "You legsz, zey are shredded. You losze much blood."

"I'll be fine. This is too important. Tell them to call Fury. Now."

Remy nodded, obeying the order and sending out a message.

Logan looked down at his body, the blanket had shifted from his movement, enough for him to know he was naked. He glanced at Aiden with some discomfort, uneasy with the way Aiden was looking at him though there was no hostile intent in the Siskan's eyes. Logan wasn't homophobic per se, but the oversexed nature of Siskans made him nervous. "You got something I can wear?"

"Keemble'sz szweatsz are in ze lav. Zey were clean juszt disz morning."

"That'll do."

Aiden nodded and rose. He came back with more than Kimble's sweat pants, he also brought a wet face cloth and a bottle of water. Logan nodded at his thoughtfulness and dressed awkwardly, his legs were still numb. The cuts had sealed and the towels had soaked up most of the blood. He was already regaining some of the lost muscle, but he was still in pretty bad shape. Aiden offered to help him, but he refused, not wanting to seem that helpless. Even so, he might need help walking out of here. He wasn't sure his legs could support him in this state. The wet cloth was cool and sweet on his face and water delicious. Healing from so severe an injury was hard on his body. He would need to eat soon as well.

"How long was I gone?" he asked just for something to say.

"About forty-five minute or szo," Aiden answered.

"That's impossible," Logan countered. "I was on the island for at least a couple of hours, if not more."

"Island?" Aiden questioned, unsure of the man was still intoxicated. "What island?"

Logan squinted at him, getting it. If he was transported to some other place, time there might not be the same as time here. "Forget it. We almost there, Rems?"

"Two more minutes," came the reply, the thief looking back at him again with more than normal curiosity. At least he was sensible enough not to ask more questions Wolverine wasn't likely to answer.

He and Kimble landed the craft out on the runway outside the Complex and they all helped Logan out and down the ramp. They were met by a couple of nurses and a wheelchair. At first Logan's initial thought was to refuse the chair, but he was simply much too tired at the moment. He would need it if he wanted to debrief Charles and Fury.

"Is Fury here?"

"He'll be here in twenty minutes," one of the nurses answered. "We'll take you down to medical and get you looked at."

"No, have Charles warm up a meeting room and get me there. This can't wait."

"But, sir...?"

"Best not to argue, non?" Remy teased, though his eyes were a little hard. There was some lingering resentment at not being invited along the mission, even if had ended a bit badly. "De man more stubborn dan an overpacked mule."

Wolverine saw it, and felt generous enough to suggest, "Maybe you'd better come along for the meeting, kid. I have my way, we're going right back as soon as possible."

"D'accorde," Remy agreed quickly, happier now.

(break)

Wolverine sifted through the pile of personal items he had brought back with him from Twilight. He was down in the meeting room he had requested and he had dumped out the contents of his backpack for them to go over. Nick Fury was here, not the least bit upset at having to be recalled back so soon. Charles was at the table with Remy beside him, all of them trying to make sense of what Logan had collected.

Wolverine had briefed them quickly on what he had seen – the mutant kids, the rough conditions, the SupraMax, the brothel, meeting Leroy, and most importantly, the graveyard. He had Fury's attention, the man was already talking about how they might proceed.

He was listening as Fury talked, but at the same time he was trying to identify with the nameless group of people he was trying to save. The more he sympathized with them, the more angry he would become. That anger would help him get through this. His fingers sought and found a small stack of photos that had come from that cardboard box in the shed. He idly thumbed through them until one made him pause in shock and surprise. "Rems," he said in a soft whisper.

Remy had been talking to Fury, but he heard Logan's call just the same. "Oui?"

Blue eyes met red and black as Wolverine flipped up the last photo he had seen.

Gambit's face showed only confusion. He took the picture and stared at it, demanding it give up its secrets. He flipped it over, looking for a name scrawled on the back but there was nothing. "Where you get dis?"

"With all the rest," Logan answered, gesturing to the pile of pitiful clothing and effects.

"What?" Nick asked, rudely taking the small Polaroid from Gambit's hand. It seemed quite ordinary to him, but on closer inspection, he saw where there might be some concern. It showed a man and a woman naked and tossed on a cheesy hotel bed. The woman was blonde and skanky, nothing notable about her except for an unusually large and expensive looking necklace around her neck that she was holding up like a prize. The man next to her was immediately recognizable. It was Gambit himself.

"Nice," Nick grunted in disdain. "Thought a pretty boy like you could score better than that."

Remy wasn't listening, he took the photo back and kept staring at it.

"Got something you want to confess?" Wolverine asked, a less than friendly grin on his face. Remy's wife, Molly, was his niece.

Gambit's eyes shot up to meet his, the look hard as he tried to control his temper. He hadn't liked Logan's tone or the inference that he had been unfaithful. One close look at the picture would have answered Logan's question but the man hadn't had the patience. This photo was quite old, clearly from his more promiscuous days.

Gambit's fingers started to glow faintly pink and he switched the photo from one hand to the other, not wanting to charge it by accident and ruin it. This had been happening lately, these spikes in energy that sometimes happened when he was upset, something he had tried very much to hide.

He knew exactly why this was happening, even though he hadn't said anything to anyone. When he had been injured during the Game, the Rogue Siskan Star had used her powerful Morrowhiem glitter to try and heal him. Aiden's Morrowhiem could uplift a person's spirit enough to send them on the road to getting better, but Star's could outright heal. She had done more than help him recover from being so emotionally traumatized from the fighting. She had actually restored his ability to create higher levels of kinetic energy, in effect reversing a surgical procedure that had been done years ago to blunt it.

Remy was much older now and wiser. Unlike when he was young, he now had the maturity of an adult and the X-man training to deal with it. He no longer feared this and as long as he kept his emotions under control, was not afraid of harming anyone. It wasn't all that different than his empathy, really, that too could be used as a weapon if he wasn't careful.

Usually a nice long flight in the Dragon 2 like they had just taken was enough to burn off the edge enough to keep his power levels low for a while. This had just caught him by surprise. His voice was sharp as he retorted, "Dat wasn't even close to funny, patron."

"Was she a mutant?" Charles interrupted, not wanting to witness a fight.

Remy tried to think. The picture was from a long time ago, at least fifteen years back if not more. One look at his naked body told him that, the scars he had received from Sabretooth during the Morlock Massacre were missing. For all he knew this was only days before he had led the Marauders down into those tunnels. He had been on his own then, lonely, driven, looking for the next thrill to take the loss of his Thieves' Guild family out of his mind. He had ended up in New Jersey after his exile and had robbed a drug lord of some stature, taking his jewels and art and then setting the bastard up to be caught. The DEA was quite happy with the anonymous prize they had been given. The man had ended up in jail for life.

Gambit meanwhile had celebrated his successful heist. Got himself a few bottles of booze and couple of whores and had himself a blast. He barely remembered the whole thing, really. He had gotten quite trashed. It was the necklace that brought him back now. It had been a huge, gaudy thing that he could never really sell without getting busted. No, he had given that expensive trinket to the woman in the picture, a generous tip.

Remy hadn't been anywhere near as strong with the empathy then, but he could still get a sense about people. Mutants were actually quite rare in the general population. He strongly doubted that either of his partners in celebration that night had been mutants. He would have tried to recruit them instead. So why would this battered photo be in this stack?

"I don't t'ink so, non," Remy answered eventually. "But it wasn't like I asked 'er or anyt'ing. It wouldn't be anyt'ing real obvious if she was."

"There were lots of girls in that barracks, maybe she was one of them," Logan offered. "I didn't see them all."

Remy shuddered at the thought of her being one of them. While he had used his share of girls, he had always treated them well. He had never forced any of them and the idea of rape galled him. He didn't like the idea of anyone, especially someone he had known, being harmed in that way.

"Is dere anyt'ing else?" Remy asked next, starting to paw through the clothes and junk.

"I have no idea," Wolverine answered. He started to spread the stuff out, but how could you identify what belonged to whom with such a mismatched jumble of items? There were clothes, shoes, toys, and jewelry, relics from a vast range of subjects. The thief's hands worked fast, but he couldn't find any more clues. There had to be a reason why this picture was there.

"You remember her name?" Nick asked with some sarcasm, trying to work this.

If Remy was offended, he showed no sign. Well, not to Nick. Logan heard with some concern the change in Gambit's heart rate, though his teammate tried to hide it as he spoke. "Non. Most times, de filles lie nohow."

What're you hidin', boy? Logan thought to himself, but didn't speak it. He understood that Gambit was a private man, that he kept his secrets, but if this woman's identity could help them discover what Frost was up to, they needed to know.

Nick grunted and took out a notepad to scribble on. What Remy had said was true of course. Prostitutes were a private bunch. Almost as private as thieves. "Well, if you remember anything, let me know. Maybe we can backtrack how these guys are finding the mutants they take."

Remy nodded and watched as Nick started to gather up the items he had brought. "Can I keep dis?" he asked, holding up the photo.

"Not the original. It might have a clue we need."

"You can scan it here," Charles offered, gesturing to the back corner where some computer equipment was located.

Remy nodded and went about scanning it. As he worked he spoke, giving Logan some of his answers. "Don' recall 'er name, but dis girl from Jersey. Gonna take de Dragon and go check it out. See if dere's any report fo' missin' persons dere. Gonna check in wit Etienne, too."

Nick nodded, happy to get anything rolling on this. "Keep in touch."

Remy finished his scan, bobbed his head and was out the door, his mind racing. He couldn't get out of there fast enough. Of course he knew he knew her name, he had always had a head for that sort of thing, especially when a particular girl had pleased him more than most. He made his way down the hallway, dialing his cell phone quickly as he walked. "Dreamer? You guys still up?" It had been a long day and it was now quite late.

"Yesz, but Keem isz aszleep."

That was no surprise, Kimble always did sleep more than Aiden did and flying did take something out of him. Just the same, Remy ordered, "Get 'im up, s'il vous plait. We goan back out again."

"All right. Give usz a few minutesz."

"You got ten."

"Aye," Aiden replied, no questions asked, and hung up.

Remy had no sooner closed his phone when it rang right in his hand. "Bonjour?"

"Heya, Rems, it's Asher. I heard you wuz back. You gots a minute? Simone's in real bad shape."

Gambit stopped in his tracks, making a sudden reversal as he instantly changed direction. Damn, in his excitement he had forgotten about the little guy. Still true to his own semi-Siskan nature, they would always take priority. "Be right dere. Where he at?"

"Med Labs."

To be continued in Lost and Found.