A/N: Sorry for the long delay in updating, once again my so-called life caught up with me.

Thanks once again to all of you who reviewed, shows that you care :D

I love the reader traffic, I always thought there were four people who followed this story, but there are really just five :P hehehe

And yes The Dark Knight rules :D


Chapter 9


With his eyes closed, Logan knows he is drenched in blood. Its slick, viscous feel, clings to everything. The metallic smell is so strong he can taste copper in the back of his throat. He moves his boot slightly and underfoot is the unmistakable slippery, slimy feel of blood spilt.

He knows this is real. He knows this all happened, even though his mind quietly tells him this is just a recurring nightmare. He knows that when he opens his eyes, he'll be clean, without a trace of blood on him. But he knows he butchered them all, in a haze of blood, flesh and bones.

But who?

Logan opens his eyes, there isn't a trace of blood on his clothes or on his person. There is still that faint smell of blood hanging in the air. He's alone, standing in front of the heavy oak doors of Aldo Ferro's mansion. The midnight air pregnant with the sweet and sickly smell of moonflowers. He does not recall how he got past the gate or the security. And it is these missing fragments of time that sinks a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. Everything is unnaturally quiet, as if the world were holding its breath, bracing itself for something terrible. Something inevitable.

He swallows hard, gritting his teeth, white fury seething inside him, it hits him, what these missing memories means.

They've been using him as their personal assassin, subdued to do the bidding of Aldo Ferro. And this is not what Theo showed him back in Canada: this, was just for fun. This was Aldo's way of showing Logan who's in charge.

A singular thought flashes in Logan's mind, kill Aldo so he can be free of his hold. And he promises to himself Aldo will not die a quick death. Oh no, because that would be too easy. He will cut him open, slowly and -

"Don't trust everything you see in there Logan." His head sharply turns to the sound of the voice, and its Theo. Standing a little off to his right.

Was he always there? And what the hell was he doing here?

Logan's claws bare, and he barely stops himself from stabbing Theo, despite his helpful words. Rage is eclipsing reason, the Wolverine was taking over. He can feel a deep rumble inside his chest, a warning growl escapes his lips. "Are you going to stop me?"

"Why would I do that?" And there is that smile. A knowing smile, and Logan realizes this is exactly what Theo wanted. He's been played by the uncle and the nephew, like some pawn, a goddamned pawn. Theo, the son-of-a-bitch didn't remove the trigger that activated the Wolverine, he merely changed it to something else. It slides into place, and it is enough to send reason over the edge. He didn't like to be used but for once he shares a common goal with one of his manipulators. But that will not spare Theo once he settles the score with Aldo.

He retracts the claws.

Wolverine opens the oak doors, in the low amber light he can see he is in a large circular room, he can smell the guards; sweaty hands gripping their guns – armed to the teeth. The eruption of gunfire – Uzis by the sound - breaks the silence, at two thousand rounds per minute. A hail of bullets ripping into his flesh from above. The pounding force drives Wolverine to his knees. He now hears the metallic clicks, releasing spent magazines, sounding off almost in unison; he mentally counts the number of guards from the sounds.

Fifteen... twenty... thirty...

He hears the slap of new magazines clicking in place.

He should be healing by now. Shit, he's bleeding heavily – they were on to his regenerative abilities. Something with the bullets. His chest and back feels like its been set ablaze.

"Not so tough without your regenerative abilities are you Logan?" The voice echoes through out the room in barely concealed glee.

Aldo.

"I can still take you out."

"I've studied you, and do you really think that after fifteen years I haven't figured out ways to kill you? Still bleeding are we?"

Wolverine tries to get up. He's riddled with holes, his clothes soaking in his blood. Jesus, it's getting harder to breath.

How does drowning in your own blood appeal to you?

Aldo is in his head too.

If he can only make it underneath the banisters, it might give his healing factor enough time to kick in. What the hell were in those bullets?

Anticoagulants modified of course, if you can't stop bleeding, you can't heal.

Fuck, he isn't going to die here. Wolverine is barely on his feet.

Tell you what; I'm in a generous mood. Why don't you run for cover and I won't shoot you.

Yeah, trust you just like that huh? He starts to move towards the nearest alcove, he wasn't going to run. Pain from the bullet wounds is steadily getting worst, spreading like wildfire.

Do you know how long anticoagulants stay in the blood Logan?

Does he ever shut up? Count on a telepath to be a nonstop yapper. Wolverine presses his back against the alcove's wall, and slowly he inches his way towards the staircase. If this is going to go down badly, he is going to make damned sure to take several guards with him. And he knows exactly how many of them there are to take out. From here the guards don't have a clear shot.

Well what do you know; Aldo's actually a man of his word. A shadow of a smile spreads across Wolverine's face.

He's vaguely aware he's painting the wall with his blood. His blood that is fast thinning into water. Rage and adrenaline is driving him forward, because mortals do not survive this kind of abuse. And right now he's beginning to feel very mortal.

Wolverine can't smell anything other than his own blood; he can't smell the guards anymore.

All he smells is the overwhelming scent of moonflowers.

He presses on towards the stairs. Wolverine can feel his heart rate picking up; he can hear the blood pounding in his ears and he is not sure if it's because of the adrenaline or a pending crash.

Wolverine reaches the foot of the marbled stairs, and slowly makes his way up, he holds on to the railing, to steady himself. As he reaches the top of the stairs his claws are bared, his senses primed, focused and sharpened.

The first guard manages to raise his weapon, before claws connect with the gun, slicing it in half. A shout of alarm warns the others, as Wolverine's left drives the claws into the guard's gut. The first guard goes down. Wolverine registers two more ahead, just as they open fire. He lunges at them, the bullets hitting home but barely slowing him down. With a fierce growl, he plows the claws into both guards. Wolverine grabs one by the throat and secures the guard in a choke hold to act as a shield from future gunfire.

He can see the other guards pause and slowly back away as he advances. He waits for them to open fire, he's not faster than a bullet but he's a hell of a lot faster than they can change magazines. All he needs is for them to run out of bullets - then again all they need is for him is to run out of blood.

"Kill him." Aldo's voice lazily drifts over the waiting silence.

Wolverine grits his teeth, as the familiar stutter of Uzis rips through the air. The sound seeming to go on forever. There's a brief pause, and Wolverine knows what that means.

My turn.

Wolverine releases the dead guard and charges at the nearest ones, in a berserker rage. Cuts one in half, and decapitates the other. He mercilessly pounds through the wall of guards that separates him from Aldo, with the efficiency of a honed weapon.

The last two guards manage to shot Wolverine before he slices their arms clean off. Standing before him is Aldo Ferro who looks like a sixty year old version of Theo. Aldo hasn't made an attempt to escape.

With a feral cry, he drives his claws deep into Aldo's gut, and in an upward motion rips him all the way up to his chest. He watches the telepath collapse to the floor.

Logan retracts the claws, rage spent. He's breathing heavily, his blood mixed with that of the guards. He feels dizzy, and leans into the wall for support. He reorients himself in the direction he came from and finds himself looking over the carnage. His brow furrows then his eyes widen in horror, what he sees hits him like a sledgehammer in the gut.

They weren't guards at all. They were people in their sleeping clothes.

A man and a woman; a family.

Logan swallows hard, his eyes blinking furiously as the agonizing details start to sink in.

Mother. Father. And, oh dear God, children... he can make out the little girls, there are two of them, with mousy brown hair, in pigtails. Limbs strewn about, like plastic dolls carelessly taken apart.

Logan is frozen where he stands. The father was defending his family, they didn't stand a chance. They never stood a chance.

XxX

Logan awakes with a start. His heart pounding, the roar of blood in his ears. He's drenched in sweat, not blood. Not blood.

His breath is painful and ragged, gasping for air. Hungry for air, and his lungs cannot fill up fast enough. His mind still disoriented as to where he is.

"Logan," The sound of the voice snaps him back into the present.

Jean.

Japan.

Safe.

She stands in the doorway to his room, clothed in olive green silken pajamas. Auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her face shrouded in shadows cast by the hallway lights, but in that darkness, he can see her eyes raw with pain.

Logan knows she's been crying. She's been crying every night for a week, and this is the first time he fell asleep before she did. Logan had a good idea who was the source of Jean's tears. But she didn't talk about it, and he never asked. She had been gone from the Mansion for a month and Boy Scout still hadn't made an appearance. It didn't take a genius to know Scott's apparent lack of interest in visiting her was the source of their quarrels. It was painful to watch her wait for his call, always checking her cell phone, as if it were a vital link to life.

And after they do talk, all he can sense from Jean is tension and disappointment, but mostly sadness.

That's the thing with Boy Scout, even if Jean refused to see it - he's married to the job as leader of the X-men. And she is only the mistress. A ring would not change priorities or loyalties.

A part of him wanted to comfort her, but they weren't friends, they were barely sensei and student. And he'd done a bang up job of putting Jean on defensive; he knew she'd treat any act of kindness on his part with suspicion. Maybe even throw it back in his face, so – no. He wouldn't go to her.

But he would stay up with her, and be with her; even if it is from behind so many walls. Wait till her sobs finally fade into soft breathing, and she let sleep claim her. Only in sleep would he allow his thoughts to go to her, to comfort her in that place of dreams. And tell her all the things he should be saying in the light of day instead of the cover of night. He hopes she hears him because come morning he won't allow her to see how much he was beginning to care. Come morning they will go back to a perpetual stalemate, regarding one another from across defenses they built around themselves.

And yet here she is in his doorway.

"Are you okay?" Jean hadn't moved from where she stood, she obviously learned from a past incident in the Mansion to keep distance till he woke up from one of his nightmares.

He wanted to snap at her to get out; he didn't want anyone to see him like this. At the same time he wanted her to be close by with a need that is almost desperate. But he wouldn't say it. He would never say it. Jesus, he felt like he was drowning in a rip tide of emotions.

"Did I wake you?" He deliberately made his voice sound gruff. He shudders as a wind sweeps in through an open window; his mind faintly registers the sound of rain.

"No I picked up a feeling of distress, I assumed it was you." She moves towards his nightstand and pours water from a glass pitcher into a tumbler.

He probably created some phantom link with her when he sent his thoughts to her at night. And she would probably nit pick him about it. If she does, he'll throw her out, he's in no mood to verbally fence with her.

"Did you see anything of my nightmare?"

"No. I just felt you." Jean's voice sounds heavy and pinched. She hands him the glass of water, their hands brush. He waits for Jean to start grilling him, when she doesn't, he realizes that the idea of a mind link never occurred to her, but more importantly, her concern for him is genuine. He feels a warmth take hold of his heart. He does not want this from her. He cannot need this from her.

With every sip of water the nightmare ebbs away into the abyss of forgetfulness. He holds the empty glass between both hands, the coolness calming. He was going to be alright. Yet he couldn't say the same for Jean. "How are you doin'?"

"It's just a cold, nothing fatal." Jean sniffs again.

Logan knows they're both aware that was not what he meant at all.

"Wanna talk about it?" He ventures, as Jean takes the empty glass from him.

The sound of raindrops fills the silence and the silence stretches out; convincing Logan, Jean didn't hear his question. He turns his head, and looks at Jean, and notices her face glistening with fresh tears.

He reaches for her and tugs her beside him on the bed, his arm wraps around her shoulders. And Logan can feel Jean start to shudder with sobs, her pain surging with the tears, surfacing in full force. She had been deprived of a sympathetic ear who would listen without judgment in this place; she locked up her sorrow during the day, and cry it all at night.

"It's alright, whatever it is; it's goin' to be alright." He pulls her closer, so that her forehead is pressed against his cheek. And he strokes her hair while she cries.

Like this they are just two people seeking comfort in each other, ferrying through the darkness till morning. And for a moment he felt they needed one another.

When her tears are spent, he turns her face to him, and gently dries the dampness from her eyes with his fingers. He tucks the stray strands from her face behind her ears. And he thinks how Scott could bear to leave her out of his sight for a minute, because if she were his...

Before Logan has time to even think, his face is moving closer to Jean's. His lips hovering before hers, a breath away from kissing her.

"Unbelievable." Jean hisses.

The words burn like acid. Logan jerks back, and sees the hardened look in Jean's face. He pulls away from her not sure what he did to earn him that look.

Jean quickly stands. "I should've known you'd take advantage of this." She slams the tumbler on the nightstand. "Just when I thought my opinion of you couldn't sink any lower..."

XxX

After a light shower of rain the damp ground releases heat in waves. This wasn't hell but the humidity was making it feel pretty damned close. Logan's white samue clings to his skin, adding to his discomfort. He approaches the three story pavilion built on the edge of the garden lake, where he knows Master Ayumu will be. This is where Jean has her meditation exercises, and he knows that by this time in the afternoon they're done.

Logan hasn't ventured to the pavilion in years but it once was his favorite part of the villa. Whenever he came here he's filled with a deep sense of peace. On a clear day the placid waters of the lake mirrors the sky, and on those days he felt caught in an existence somewhere between heaven and earth.

This was also the last place he saw Natsuko Tanaka, Master Ayumu's granddaughter, three springs ago. She had just turned twenty five back then and was typically slender like most Japanese women her age. Her face was smooth and delicate, framed by deep black hair. Brown eyes, that shone with a wisdom beyond her years. She had a quiet beauty that people often overlooked.

They were seated on the step that separated the pavilion's hall and the veranda overlooking the lake. The maple trees surrounding the lake was lush and green on that warm spring day. The haru kaze - spring wind - carried with it the white petals of the last of the cherry blossoms.

Natsuko's shoulder length hair, pulled to one side, exposing her neck. She cradled his open palm in her hand, her index finger tracing the crease that ran from his thumb across the length of his palm - his lifeline she called it.

She was focused on his open palm. She became conscious of his gaze and a mischievous grin curved on her lips. God, he ached to kiss her.

"So what do you see?" He purposely made his voice so low that she had to lean in closer to hear him. She smelled of peaches and sunshine, she was every bit her namesake - summer child. The nearness of her intoxicating Logan. As a rule he didn't believe in palmistry, or any form of divination for that matter. He always thought of it as silly superstition that gave people excuses as how their life should be lived. But in this case it got Natsuko this close to him, so he didn't mind at all.

"Your future."

"And what does my future hold?"

When her eyes met his, there was a graveness in her expression that made him stop.

The first wooden step leading into the pavilion groans in protest underneath Logan's weight, the sound brings him back to the present. He enters the pavilion, and he knows Master is already aware of his presence.

The blind mutant's telekinesis are his eyes, it sends out pulses every thirty second intervals very much like bats use sound waves to "see" their surrounding. The telekinetic pulse spans in a twenty feet radius in all directions. This gift/skill was not a natural evolution of Master Ayumu's mutation, he trained himself with intense meditation so that the telekinetic bursts did not require him to put conscious thought in the effort. Now it's a reflex that is innate as breathing.

And as far as Logan knows, he is the only mutant who has been able to fashion his mutation to compensate for a disability. As Logan steps into the Japanese mutant's visual radius he can feel the change in the air, charged with ripples of telekinetic energy.

"Logan-san what is it that you wish to speak of?"

They always spoke in Japanese.

"Jean Grey – Master I wish to bow out as her sensei."

Master Ayumu's forehead furrows. "What is it that makes you say this?"

"I do not believe martial arts is the way for her. Jean is a healer, and healers do not inflict harm. This goes against her nature, thus there is no harmony. If she is to win the battle for control of her mutation – she must be one with her chosen discipline." No, he wasn't bowing out of this for personal reasons. Although he knew that her being a telepath was bothering him more than it should have.

"But you did say she has improved since she started."

Improvement was a relative term, and with the rate of Jean's progress, stating that one year is not enough, is actually a kindness. The quality of improvement was what he meant. Master Ayumu knew this... so why is he questioning him?

"Master, she finds herself more on the mat than on her feet. Even when I provoke her she is hesitant to strike. How can you expect her to break bones if she is unwilling to inflict injury? And -" Logan stops himself. His mind begins to race. It dawns on him what it is that he's been doing wrong with Jean's training.

Why didn't he see it from the start? The answer was right there.

It's because he never really wanted the job in the first place. Fact is, he has no patience for teaching, because to Logan things somehow came naturally –or from repressed memory. He always fared well with minimal instruction, to him new skills always had a strange logic which he understood and immediately grasped. Constantly repeating and explaining himself pissed him off to no end, it made him sound like a broken vinyl record, hiccuping the same irritating line over and over again.

Figure it out, was the most he would tell anyone asking for his guidance or tutelage. Logan believes if one wasn't taking initiative in learning – by trial and error - then it wouldn't matter if he instructed them till he turned blue in the face. If they did take that initiative, but bungled in the process, only then would he offer his advice.

Logan is well aware he's a bad teacher, and he never tried to hide that fact. Master knew this too, yet despite of it Master insisted he become Jean's sensei.

"You were saying Logan-san?"

It also dawns on Logan that Master Ayumu probably knew he had been going about Jean's training all wrong. But this was never pointed out to him.

"Master what is the true purpose in my training Jean Grey? You must have known that my way is not her way, yet you allowed me to carry on training her in that manner, knowing I was wasting time."

"Logan-san, has it ever occurred to you that Jean-san is not the only one in training?"

Of course. And Logan shakes his head for not realizing it sooner, he should have known.

"You are rightfully a sensei, Logan-san. There is much people can learn from you, despite your broken memories; and, your belief to the contrary. But you must also realize that with the title sensei comes a responsibility to ones students – to make the teachings you pass on, something that is their own. You must learn to understand something of your students, just as you have right now with Jean-san."

"But Master, one month -" Logan still could not reconcile with the time wasted. If he'd known this was what Master Ayumu intended, Jean would be half way back to the Mansion by now. Half way back to Boy Scout's arms, and the thought twists an ugly knot in his stomach.

"I do not see it as wasted time, for it was the time you needed to learn your lesson. "

"I understand." Yet there still is that nagging feeling that he hadn't learned his lesson. And it had nothing to do with combat training or martial arts.

"But, you are still troubled."

Logan is not sure he is quite ready for this conversation, but it's a conversation that is long overdue.

"Yes."

"Ah, this is regarding Madripoor I suspect."

Logan nods and his eyes involuntarily shifts sideways. He frowns and ponders where to begin...

"Three months ago I learned I was an experiment by the Canadian government for the program they called Weapon X. I was targeted because of my regenerative abilities to become an assassin, and I am certain I was not the only one. The program took away all my memories, and robbed me of my free will so that I would execute their missions without fail. I went to Madripoor to seek out the psychiatrist they hired to reprogram my mind, fifteen years ago. I hoped he might be able to help me regain my lost memories. But now I believe I was set up to kill him instead, I cannot remember my stay in Madripoor. All I have are recurring nightmares of butchering Aldo Ferro."

At the mention of the name, Logan notices Master Ayumu flinch. In all the years that he has known the Japanese mutant, Logan does not recall ever seeing him react in that manner. And for an instant Logan thinks he imagined it.

"Master is familiar with the name."

"Yes. He was a brilliant doctor, and there are many who still remember him. Well now I know I what happened to him after he was disbarred. Aldo Ferro was a truly evil man, who placed science above human life. He had no ethics, when Aldo resurfaced he went on to experiment on mutants mostly for biologic warfare. He used regenerative mutants to modify deadly viruses. He would inject them with it, and collect samples of the virus when the mutant eventually died. The process would could go on for years, exhausting the healing capacities of the mutant. And they would dispose of the corpses like so much trash. It was a cheaper method to produce a super virus rather than bioengineering one I suppose."

Logan has a recollection of the visions Theo showed with him in Canada. "Business as always." Logan murmurs.

"You are sure it was Aldo Ferro you saw in Madripoor."

"Yes."

"And you are certain you killed him."

Logan nods.

Master Ayumu shrugs. "Well, justice has been served then. The world needs to be spared from people like him."

Logan is at a loss for words. It is not what he expected Master Ayumu to say. It just did not sit right with him.

"I thought Master respected and honored life. I have failed in controlling my rage – Aldo should have been brought to justice, I should not have allowed myself to kill him the way I did. No one deserves such a death not even someone like him."

"You cannot expect justice to be served in Madripoor. It is a country that is corrupted to is very core. How do you suppose Aldo Ferro managed to bypass ethical issues in his experiments on mutants?"

"Master you told me once that revenge is the surest path to destruction. Yet you seem to condone my actions."

Master did not answer, but his jaw tightens and Logan realizes this issue with Aldo Ferro is more personal than Master is willing to share with him. But he has enough respect for the Japanese mutant to not pry, and to trust that in time he will share that piece of information, whatever it may be.

"I will look into this matter Logan-san, and I do not condone your actions. But if fate had placed me in your position, perhaps I would have done the same. Sometimes laws cannot reach those people who deserve to be punished. Sometimes we need to serve justice in our own way."

There is a pause and Logan turns to leave when Master Ayumu calls him back.

"Logan-san, one last thing. Jean-san is a doctor is she not?"

"Yes."

"Do you not find it odd, that she chooses to teach instead of healing people? It seems a waste of so many years of training."

Logan's forehead furrows.

"Doctors are married to hospitals, it is the reason Natsuko decided on another career path."

"How is Natsuko-san?"

"She is to be married in the spring. To a gaijin, she met in England."

Logan forces a smile. "I am certain he is an honorable man, and I wish her happiness."

Master Ayumu nods. "I will tell her. She will be pleased to hear news of you."

And Logan leaves, heading off in the direction of the sento.

XxX

Ayumu Tanaka felt sorry for Logan. He shared in Logan's belief he was used. And there were always consequences to ones actions whether by ones volition or otherwise.

Although there did not seem to be much evidence in the news of anything beyond the usual anti-government demonstrations that were common in Madripoor, Ayumu learned a thing of two about the Madripoorian government. One of the government's many talents is suppressing press freedom, and over the decades they became so good at it they elevated it to an art form. So whatever negative news their country garnered, was blunted into half truths.

It will be hard, if Ayumu is to base facts on the news, to discern what exactly Logan-san had been involved in.

However Ayumu was certain of one thing, whoever it was that Logan believed he killed couldn't have been Aldo Ferro. The bastard died over a year ago from liver cancer. The Tanakas learned of Aldo Ferro's death eight months after he was buried. Aldo's passing, like his disbarment was quiet. Ayumu understood the necessity for the secrecy, the Ferro clan feared Aldo's past would catch up with him. Fear that was rightfully placed.

And between his failed practice, work in Weapon X and experimentations on mutants, he earned the ire of many people seeking revenge.

And Aldo Ferro made many enemies in his life, the Tanakas were no exception.

It was a pity really, the Ferros were amongst the few families with distinct mutant lineage who gained respectability not only in Madripoor but in the eyes of the world as well and in one fell swoop they single handedly tainted the world's view of mutants. Now their bloodline is scattered like ashes in the four winds. No roots, no honor, no country. The mighty have truly fallen.

What troubles Ayumu is why this ghost is coming back to haunt his family. For he is not someone who believes in coincidences in life. And after this meeting it confirmed his suspicion Logan was a pawn to some greater scheme.

He feels a growing sense of foreboding, a feeling that Logan's personal incident already set in motion a chain of events that would affect them all. Like ripples in a pond.

Ayumu sighs, as his white eyes moves across the waters of the lake. He will have to leave for Tokyo sooner than scheduled - where he can tap into his network in Madripoor - if he is to get to the root of all this. He hopes that everything will be settled by the time Natsuko comes home from England. After she marries her visits will be sporadic at best, and he intended to spend as much time as he could with his favorite granddaughter.

He wishes he could share the burden of knowledge with Logan with regards to his suspicions but he cannot do that. Ayumu knows Logan will hunt down whoever it was that set him up in the first place. He suspects that the people responsible for Logan's setup are probably counting on Logan's retaliation.

And right now that is Logan-san's weakness – predictability.