I found Logan staring at a wall. It was one of the places I hadn't remodeled or covered up. The antique wood was a few shades darker then it had been when we had left all those years ago, but the gouges in it were the same. A matched set. Three rough cuts in each.
"I did this." He rested his knuckles against the wood, measuring the distance, and glanced over his shoulder at me.
I nodded, "You were shorter then." I immediately wished I had said something less obvious, but Jimmy's smile stopped me.
"I'd like to hear that story someday." He was facing me now, the abrupt—almost angry—edge that so often cut his words short was gone.
"Its better not to remember some things." I answered, keeping my tone carefully neutral. I was not going to mess up this time. Not even if it killed me.
Logan raised an eyebrow, "Was it really that bad?"
"No. Not this part. But our story would make a pretty good horror film." I didn't say that I had spent the last fifteen years trying to forget, allowing the animal part of myself to take over so I wouldn't have to feel. So I wouldn't have to see his face when he left, when I betrayed him. When he thought I killed her.
He shrugged, "I still want to know."
"We were monsters." I warned him, "For a long time, both of us." Then you changed, and I broke.
"I want to know." The edge was creeping back into his voice, but it was defiant instead of angry, "I need to know who I am, and you're the only one who knows."
He seemed resigned. There was no love between us. Hate, yes, and rage. Pain as well, but not love. Not for a long time.
"I'll tell you then. About everything. But not now." The kids were starting to mess with things, sensing that their supervisors were preoccupied.
Logan seemed to accept that, shooting me a last mistrustful glace before muttering something about food and stalking away. I snapped a couple of clipped orders at the most unruly of the kids and trudged back into the yard.
The trees were clear of snow, dark smudges against the stars. The smell was familiar, nostalgic. No other place in the world smelled the same. But it wasn't home. The manor house had never been my home, not even now. I jogged farther into the woods, and put my shoulder into the thick, rough hewn door of the little shack. Cabin was to grand a word for the building. The single room was dusty, the blankets on the bed nothing more then moth eaten rags. It still stank of booze and blood and pain. The belt, hanging in a place of honor by the hearth, had eroded down to a metal buckle.
I slid down the wall and rested my wrists on my knees. This ruin was the only home I could remember. I had never felt safe here, but I had always come back. Time seemed to hold still, like nothing had change since I had walked out the door all those years ago. My reflection in the dirty, warped mirror was a boy's face.
I listened to the creaks and pops as the warmth left the logs, enjoying the silence. The shack was uncomfortable. The walls to close and the ceiling to low for comfort, but it brought me back the childhood that I hadn't really experienced. Over the years I had forgotten the worst, holding grimly onto the best parts of my young life. I remembered the whippings, but the pain had faded. It seemed acceptable now, like walking through a thorn bush and getting scratched. I remembered the times that I had escaped to the manor house in more detail. Cleaning out the stables, watching jimmy when his parents left. I remembered the knowing feeling, almost godlike, from being the eldest.
"Victor!" A familiar voice was calling, feet smashing the plants on the manicured lawn.
I slipped out of the still open door, kicking it shut with a scream of hinges. "Relax." I grinned at Jimmy, "I'm right here."
He spun around, eyes widening for a moment. "Rogue was looking for you." He rushed the words, and turned back to the lights of the house.
"Scared of the dark?" I laughed, following. And suddenly we were children again.
"No!" James was rubbing his arms, head jerking form side to side at every noise. "I'm just cold."
"Liar." I poked him, "You're scared."
His eyes shined wetly, and I realized that I may have gone to far. I looped an arm over his shoulders, "Just listen, James, it's the same as daytime. You just can't see."
The younger boy relaxed, leaning against me. "What if something eats us?"
"Nothing will eat you." I laughed again, "What kind of animal would eat you? You're to small."
"What about you?" He gazed up at the stars, letting his arms fall to his sides.
I ruffled his hair, "I'm not afraid of them. I could kill them if they tried to get me."
"What's there to be afraid of?"
I raised my head when Logan spoke, grinning, "Nothing."
He seemed surprised, but shrugged and moved back into the patchwork of lights from the windows. The manor was quiet, Ororo and Marie were the only people left in the main room.
"Found him." Logan announced, toeing off his shoes and kicking them into the pile by the door.
Marie grinned, "Running away from home already?"
"No." I moved to the bottom of the staircase, and the little group followed me. "There should be a couple of spare rooms left." I change the subject, indicating the door when we passed.
"Victor." Logan's voice stopped me, my hand resting on the knob to my room.
"What?" I raised my eyebrows.
A/N Oh no! A cliffhanger. I'll post the next chapter on Monday next week, you'll have to wait until then to find out what happens! Let me know how I'm doing.