Chapter 25

Logan could not tell where he was. Whenever he tried to form a coherent thought it seemed to be ripped away from him. He had recognized Bruce as soon as he had caught his scent. A sickening horror overcoming him as he imagined plunging his claws through his descendant's chest. His lifeblood flowing onto the ground as the man known as Batman slipped away from the world.

It had been only this outbreak of emotion which had allowed him to even retract his claws. He had felt a surge of relief when Bruce's cape had snapped as the man pulled away. When he had been hit by the motorbike his thoughts had fled.

Return home now, Wolverine.

Like a loyal dog he had gone back. His senses overwhelmed when he had descended into the sewers. Easily evading any people he may be looking for him. His black suit insuring no one saw him. Continuing along it took him a full two hours to return to Hugo Strange.

Now in the lab, Wolverine stood rigidly unable to move a muscle. Only his breathing and the steady beat of his hurt any indication he was alive. Around him Strange muttered to himself as he made adjustments to a small computer located at the base of Logan's skull. The man had installed it when he had captured the feral mutant. It negated orders coming from Logan's brain to the rest of his body. Sending out its own waves to control the mutant's thoughts and actions. As Strange had come to find, however, his beast had managed to gain control of himself. If only for a few precious seconds.

"Useless, absolutely useless! What use is Weapon X if he can't kill? Much less the Batman who you should have easily have done away with! How hard is it for a Wolverine to clip a Bat's wings? No matter, I'll soon work out the glitches." Hugo Strange muttered. His glasses glinting in the bright lights hiding his pupils. Wolverine said nothing rigidly silent, but his nostrils flared just a fraction of an inch.

A electronic beeping interrupted the mad scientist. Strange cursed, complaining about constant distractions in his genius as he reached out to press a button on his computer console. Not turning around from his work he spoke. His tone all respect despite his annoyance.

"Strange here, how may I help you sir?" He said pleasantly. Wolverine had his back to the computer console. Yet even he recognized the smooth, cultured voice coming from the speakers.

"How did the experiment go?"

"There were a few unexpected…bugs, sir, in the program. I'm taking care of them now though. After this he will be of great use to you." Wolverine heard the cultured voice give a tired sigh. He imagined whoever it was frowning as the man spoke. His tone sharper than before.

"Strange, what about the serum? Some of us have valuable time. Even more so by the fact they may not be alive to fund you. What is taking so long?"

"I'm in the final stages of testing the serum, sir. You shall have it within a matter of weeks. There have been a few complications though, sir. Concerning the side effects."

"Side effects?"

"Why yes, sir. It seems initially the subject's blood, Weapon X's blood, does have a unique healing factor upon the human body. However, after the first three or so injections the healing begins to have less and less effect. Lose its potency, as you will. I have not been able to isolate this factor which makes one immune to its healing properties."

"But it does heal?"

"Yes, sir, but it can only be used once or twice. After that it has no more effect on the human body. In fact, in some cases it even kills the victim in question for no reason. Which is why I beg you to wait a few more weeks until the testing is complete. I want no risk when you take the serum." Strange confided his tone apologetic. As if he would truly regret losing the other man.

"Be sure to hurry then, Doctor. Time is of an essence. Though a man of your intellectual stature does not need to be reminded of such, does he?" After that Wolverine heard the crackle as the computer monitor went blank.

Strange let out a few more colorful expletives about his employer before going back to programming his creation. Logan grit his teeth, but he could exert no control over his own body. On another monitor a machine beeped showing his brainwaves. When it began to beep faster Strange turned to look at it. Then smiled as he rubbed his greasy hands together.

"My, my, someone is awake, aren't they? Well now, let's see what you have for me today. You're such a mystery, Mr. Howlett. Alive for nearly over a century and still you have barely aged. I wonder if there aren't any others of your kind lurking about. Hiding on the edges of society as you fight day to day for survival. Reinventing yourself for each new dawn. Unable to handle-"

"Fuck. You." Logan managed to ground out. He saw the doctor's face turn pale with alarm, but when his subject could do nothing more than scowl at him the doctor laughed delightly. Reaching up to pat Wolverine on the cheek with one of his sickening soft hands which smelled of human blood and feces.

"Now, now, Weapon X, do be good to your master, hm? Whoever decided to create you is a genius. Once which I hope I can replicate in the near future. They did encounter a few problems though, didn't they? Controlling you for one." Strange muttered as he begin to flick a few switches. On a screen mounted on the wall colors flickered before an image appeared. This one of Wayne manor. On the screen Logan saw the memory play out. Feeling a sinking of his heart to his boots as the focus came in on what looked to be a six month old baby. A fuzz of black hair on top of his head as he gazed up the person looking down at him. Big, baby blue eyes wide with wonder as he sat on the toe of a boot twice as big as he was.

"Where's your mom, kiddo?" Logan heard himself say on the screen. Bruce, a baby at the time, smiled at the sound of his voice. Gurgling happily with laughter as Logan let out a hefty sigh. When he shifted his foot Bruce only grabbed onto his pant leg still staring up at him.

"C'mon, I got stuff to do. Whattya want? You wanna help me?" Logan asked his great grandson. Bruce's smile only widened showing pink gums as he laughed. Absolutely delighted with annoying the Canadian.

"If you don't get up I'm gonna throw you in the trash. I'm serious, you think I'm kidding? Okay, keep laughing slobber face. See what it gets ya." Logan threatened, but there was no heat in his voice. He even shook a fist for effect down at the baby. Again, Bruce only giggled as babies do putting a fist into his mouth. Then deciding he didn't like the taste of it, put his mouth on Logan's pant leg. Attempting to eat it as he continued to watch the man glare down at him.

"Alright, that's it, I'm tossing you in the trash. If Martha asks you got in there yourself." Logan said gruffly as he bent down and picked up the baby.

Bruce squealed with delight as Logan walked into the kitchen. He had actually meant to eat some lunch until he had come across the baby crawling around in the study. Martha must have fallen asleep in the nursery again. She insisted on caring for her child by herself. Claiming a nanny would be a waste of time since a mother should raise her own children. Logan didn't point out the fact ever since Bruce had been born he had ended up being the person to mainly take care of him should Martha pass out from exhaustion.

Thomas had no time to spend with his newborn son. Usually busy at the hospital he always claimed an emergency came up. Ever since the birth Martha had fallen into a strange depression. Grieving the loss of the pass children whose faces she had never seen. Logan usually did not touch on these subjects. Neither did Thomas, having to weather his wife screaming at the top of her lungs as she cried. Demanding for her husband to tell her why he could not save the others. After each argument Logan felt an accusing glare at his back from Thomas. How could the Canadian decide to save this child, but not the others?

"No good deed goes unpunished, kiddo. Remember that for me, will ya?" Logan said to Bruce. He put the baby in his high chair locking him in. When Bruce's bottom lip stuck out ready to cry, Logan put some cheerios out for him to eat. Only to have them thrown at him for his efforts.

"Hot! Hot! Hot!" Bruce said waving his hands. Logan stared, blinking as the baby continued to say the word. Becoming more upset as he said it.

"Hot! Hot!"

"They're freakin cheerios, how the hell are they spicy?"

"HOT! HOT!" Bruce commanded. Logan growled, but there was nothing he could do. Then it clicked. Looking around he spotted his old cowboy hat on the table where he had left it last night. Picking it up he shook it slightly in front of Bruce with a quirked brow.

"Do ya mean 'hat'? Say it, hat."

"Hot!"

"Hat."

"Hot!"

"HAT!"

"HOT! HOT!" Bruce screeched delighted. Giving up, he put the hat down for Bruce to play with as he began to make his own lunch. There were some battles a man just couldn't win.

After lunch Logan cleaned up, washing his dishes as he kept an eye on Bruce. He changed the baby's diaper, gave him a bottle, and after that settled down in the library. His feet propped up on the coffee table as he read the newspaper. Bruce yawned, nodding off in the crook of Logan's arm where the Canadian kept him. Having wrapped a blanket around him to protect him from the cold. In the middle of winter the mansion's airy halls worked against it. The size far to vast to keep the entire place warm. Only in the bedrooms was it ever warm enough. Sometimes the library, if the fire was kept burning around the clock. Even then Martha worried about Bruce crawling into it by accident. Insisting it only be lit if absolutely necessary.

Eventually, Logan nodded off too. His arm wrapped protectively around the baby to prevent him from falling out. When he awoke it was dark out. Sighing, he got up careful not to wake the sleeping baby. Going to check on Martha he saw she was still asleep in the nursery. A baby blanket next to her on the bed.

Going over Logan set Bruce down carefully beside his mother. Tucking them both in beneath the blanket. He set out a barricade of pillows to prevent the baby from escaping as he went to check the thermostat. Turning it up he left the two to their naps.

Going back into the library he took out a cigar. Lighting up with a tired sigh as he put his feet back up on the table. He had been thinking about what his next move would be. He knew he should be moving on soon. Should have moved on by now considering his history. Telling himself the only reason he even bothered to linger was to make sure his descendants were okay. Lying to himself he just wanted to be sure the newest one, Bruce, had no health problems.

Bruce was anything but sickly. He had already begun to learn how to crawl last month. Say his first word at four months, and still repeating that same word two months later. Though his babblings had begun to become slightly more coherent when the Canadian listened closely. Despite the attention from both parents the baby had attached himself to his savior. Even a hardened man like the Wolverine fell for those big blue eyes. A softening in his heart as an odd warmth spread through each of his limbs.

Logan felt proud of Bruce. He doubted he would ever be able to stick around to have his own family. Yet, here, he had been welcomed. This normal life, though an extravagant one, easy to live. He would gladly spend the rest of his life watching Bruce grow up. Tending to his every need and want, teaching him how to live life. How to be happy.

"Logan? Oh, you're still awake. I thought you would be asleep." Thomas said walking in. Logan said nothing, only nodding his head as the young man walked in. There were bags under the doctor's eyes. A five o'clock shadow giving him a rough appearance as he let out a groan. Falling into an armchair only a few feet from Logan. The Canadian said nothing, but he gave the man a disapproving glare. Catching the look Thomas frowned back at him.

"What?"

"Aren't you gonna say hi to your wife and child?"

"They're asleep. And besides, it's to late anyway. I just got home."

"It's six o'clock in the morning, Thomas. Martha will be up in an hour. Bruce will probably be up soon as well." Logan told him. The other man fell silent brooding over this fact. Neither of them had to state the obvious. Thomas had been avoiding his wife lately. Unable to handle her sudden mood swings. One moment she could be as bright as the sun, the next depressing as a thunderstorm.

"How is she?" Thomas said quietly. Logan growled, chomping on the end of his cigar.

"Why don't cha ask her yourself? She's your wife, not mine."

"You might as well be married to her. Whenever I do try to talk to her all I get is how terrible I am and how wonderful you are." Thomas snapped bitterly. Logan sighed then, his tone growing softer as he spoke.

"She's going through a hard time right now. I ain't trying to take your place or nothin', but when she passes out like that what am I supposed to do? Bruce is a master escape artist when it comes to her. I found him playing under your desk this afternoon. I couldn't very well leave him there, could I?"

"You could have woken her up."

"The woman is exhausted. Any sleep she can get is precious. Why can't you just tell the hospital you're needed at home? C'mon, even rich guys gotta take time off to spend with their family." Logan explained. Thomas closed his eyes shaking his head slowly. There was no point trying to talk to the man now. He too, was tired, and would probably pass out in the next few minutes.

"I don't know, Logan. It's just….you seem better at this then I am. Bruce loves you. Whenever I try to pick him up or play with him he just starts screaming. Then Martha gets mad for him being upset and accuses me of pinching him."

"Do you pinch him?"

"NO!" Thomas declared glaring at his grandfather. When he saw the older man grinning at him he just let out a low groan. Sitting back as he put his heads in his hands.

"Don't mess with me this early in the morning…"

"C'mon, least you can do is smile. You have other obligations. I'm sure the people at the hospital would understand." Logan insisted gently. Thomas blinked his eyes mirroring Logan's as he gazed up at him. While taller, Logan imagined Thomas might one day look like him as he got older. Something in the genes seemed to be strong to pass on to the men. Even Bruce took after his father already showing an uncanny intelligence for his age.

Or maybe he was just a brat like Logan thought he was.

"What about you, pap?" Thomas said quietly. Logan scowled at the name getting up to peer out the window. He didn't want the younger man to see the grim expression on his face.

"Don't call me that…"

"Why not? I'm not…I could never be angry with you. I understand why you had to leave." Thomas insisted. "Pap" had been his name for Logan growing up. Referring to him as his grandfather before the Canadian had moved on. Being sure to keep an eye on his descendant from afar.

"Look, Thomas, I ain't never gonna stop caring about you. You know that. Which is why I came back. You needed my help."

"You can't mean-"

"Yeah, bub." Logan said chomping on his cigar even harder. He heard the quaver in Thomas's voice and hardened himself against it.

"About time I left."

"But-"

"I ain't gonna leave right away. I'll stay another six months. Make sure the kiddo is getting along fine. But after that, don't stop me. You know I can't stay."

Logan didn't have to lie to himself. He knew Thomas was guilt tripping him into staying. Yet he allowed himself to be tricked. In reality he doubted he would even linger that long, but he would give it a shot. He owed it to his grandson to at least try.

Thomas's father, Clarence, had been the result of a woman Logan had laid with one night. He had not even known her name. From time to time when he came to Gotham, back then not much more than a few scattered buildings, she always welcomed him. One day she announced to the Canadian he had a son.

Clarence was a broken man right from the start. Logan could see that. He had been on the run from Sabretooth a lot back then. Hiding from the government, covering his tracks, and never had time to even check on the man. When he came back years later he discovered another surprise. Thomas, a young boy who struck a striking resemblance to his father's sire. A boy whom Clarence beat every night blaming him for his faults.

Logan did what had to be done. Taking Thomas on as his own until the boy was five. After that leaving him with a friend who promised to care for him. Eventually, his grandson's existence had faded from his mind. From time to time he would get an update. Graduating from high school, and then the boy having trouble getting through college. There had been a time when Logan had seriously considered whether he wanted to fund one of his own to be a doctor. After he thought about it, though, he decided to allow it. A few years later finding out his grandson had opened a clinic who took anyone no matter their financial situation.

Now it was starting all over again. Growing attached to Bruce, shadowing the boy's every move. Wherever Bruce crawled too with obvious delight Logan could be found only a few feet behind. On high alert for any hazards which could hurt the baby. More than a few times he had to conduct a rescue mission by picking the young adventurer up from crawling straight into the fireplace. Thankfully no fire had been burning at the time, but Martha had been upset to find ashes all over the place.

"You know, after I leave there's a guy I want you to hire as your butler. He doesn't know me, but I've seen his work. He has a good reputation too." Logan said suddenly remembering the British agent. He smirked to himself glad he had looked into that. Growing older Bruce would need someone to have his back. To recognize danger coming from afar.

"Is he good?"

"He comes recommended. He wants to live a quiet life, but still work."

"What's his name?"

"Alfred Pennyworth."

Logan felt his throat grow tight at the memory. Strange muttered to himself flicking the screen off as he began to detach the mind readers he had attached to his subject's head. Shaking his head disgustedly as he glared at Wolverine.

"Despite your bestial qualities, you're still sentimental towards him? Why bother with these useless emotions? Gah, I'll have to rework my calculations." Strange complained as he continued to talk. With a sharp command Wolverine moved. Following the doctor with smooth strides that had nothing to do with him going willingly.

On the inside he seethed as his consciousness began to fade again. Sinking back into the dark as Strange reestablished control over his brain. There was nothing the feral could do. He fought, but to no avail. His last thought was of staring into Bruce's eyes. The white slits of his mask wide as claws descended to cut away not only the mask, but the last connection Logan had to that short time.

When he had a family.