Disclaimer –I don't own or make any profit from writing about the X-Men who belong to Marvel Comics. I wish I did, that would be so much fun.

Chapter 6: Horrific Memories of Battles Past

"Rylie, is that really you?" Wolverine asked trying to get his attention.

"You know what Logan, I really don't know any more. At one time I was convinced that I was, but now I'm not so sure." Draghen turned to look at him, his eyes slowly regaining their blood red colour.

In the instant their eyes met, a stream of memories came rushing back to Logan. He staggered back upon the impact from the memoirs of Draghen's and his own life.

He saw himself throwing a little boy of about three years into the air, and promising to him that nothing would ever happen to him. He-himself was dressed in a commanders suit, that was freshly pressed. Germany had just recruited him as a mercenary, because of his fame from the First World War. He had to go; the German Government was keeping his secret of, so far, ever lasting life. He took his young son over to his wife's place and told him to be strong. Then came a battle scene, he was perched up in a tree his gun pointing at the British soldiers below. He took aim. Next he was being dragged in chains by ten soldiers into the British/Canadian camp; the men looked upon him inquiringly. Then there were bars…bars all around him, separating him from everyone else. He heard one of the Major Generals; ask him if his name was Logan? Next he saw a ship, then a British army base, then a Canadian one (these were just brief memories) he then saw many men, flutter past his eyes, all of whom had taken it upon themselves to train him and try to break him, then came a man, Kienneth, who dragged a half conscious boy into his cell. He swore and Kienneth getting the response he wanted, left dragging the boy with him. then came many scenes of the little boy growing and getting beaten, and being taught how to kill, then he saw his son… his little son brought before him, almost unrecognizable, from the beatings and training he had endured. Kienneth had won. He had gained a killer that was under his control and one that could go undetected. A silent but deadly soldier. He saw himself released soon after, and then employed by a younger version of the Stryker they just encountered. And his son passed out of his memories.

"You broke your promise." Draghen replied, shocking Wolverine back into the present.

"Rylie… I'm…" Wolverine started but was interrupted when Draghen turned his head away.

"My name is Draghen now." he half whispered, before he fell suddenly asleep. And for the first time since he was seven he was truly, deeply asleep.

Jean motioned towards the door, and Storm walked over and through it, followed by Jean, and Rogue. Wolverine took one last look at Draghen, whispered, "I love you son," and followed.

"Come on you guys, let's go upstairs and check on the students." Storm said as she and Rogue walked over to the elevator.

"Logan? You okay?" Jean asked putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"No… not really…" he replied, "I… I have to go talk to the Professor."

"He can't help you… he wishes you to let your mind figure out everything for yourself." Jean replied softly.

"Its not that… it's… I need to share these memories with someone… I'm not…" Logan replied slowly, as he walked to where Storm stood holding the elevator.

"You're not used to having memories…" Jean replied. "I… I can help. I know I can."

"Defiantly not. You're not going to see these memories, even if I have to kill myself to stop you." He replied stopping suddenly, and turning to face her. "You don't need to see the violence and havoc I brought upon the world… I… I need at least one person to not know what I've done. Someone who can't hate me for what I've done."

"Logan… I won't hat…." Jean continued but Wolverine was no longer listening.

Memories that had haunted him came back… memories of Stryker, memories of needles, of pain, of hunger… now mixed in with memories of his son, of people he killed, of battles… until they overwhelming him into blindness…he staggered and the last thing he saw was a picture of his son killing a mass group of people…before the ground rushed up to meet his head.

Dragen De Sanglant

Sorry I haven't posted for a while. Grade Eleven is the sht's… so much damn h/w. Oh well; I just hope I can finish this story before I grow too old…