Once again, thank you for sticking with me to the end of this story! I hope you enjoy this little epilogue. I just couldn't resist it! After all, no X-men story would be complete without a little cameo…

P.S.

Warning for this epilogue: a couple of uses of the word F**k, but they got away with it in the film, so I reckon I can here as well!

XXXXXX

Epilogue

It's another dingy bar in another deadbeat town. After a while places like this all start to look the same, and he's seen more places like this in his lifetime than he can count. As the decades tick by the décor may change slightly, but the nature of the clientele (and the quality of the booze) don't. It's reassuring, in a way, to know that some things don't change. However one thing life has taught him is that, every now and again, a surprise will walk through the door.

In March 1964 the surprise that walks through the door of the nameless bar is a girl. She's in her early twenties: slim, wearing skin-tight jeans, knee-high boots and a short leather jacket; her brown hair is cropped into a short bob. It's not unreasonable attire for a place like this, but there's something not quite right about her. For a start this woman stinks of money. It's not just the gold hoops swinging in her ears, or the expensive cut of her jacket. Nor the quality of all her clothes; there's the way she walks, a confidence that in his experience only comes when you know you can kill a person without even thinking about it or when you know you have enough money to hire a dozen such people.

He watches her over the rim of his glass as she leans over the bar and quietly places her order. A few moments later his theories about money are confirmed as a full bottle of the seriously good stuff appears on the counter along with two glasses. The sheaf of bills she places on the bar - without even counting them - are quickly disappeared by the bar keep, who knows better than to leave that sort of money lying around.

She picks up the bottle and both glasses and saunters along the bar until she reaches the stool next to him. Wordlessly she sets down both glasses, pours a generous measure into each and then pushes one across the wood towards him. He raises a curious eyebrow, but she just smiles and raises her glass at him before taking a sip. She barely reacts as the strong alcohol slips down her throat and warms her stomach; this isn't some rich kid play acting –she's drunk like this before. He waits until she has slipped onto the bar stool and settled in, leaning on the bar top and looking straight ahead, before he picks up the glass she's given him.

She waits until he's taken an appreciative sip – it really is the good stuff – before sliding a business card across the top towards him.

And now things are starting to look more familiar: he's been propositioned like this before, normally when someone wants someone else 'taken care of'. He'll listen, and drink this woman's booze, but will probably turn down whatever job she's offering –he's already got a lucrative gig with the Moran Brothers - and this woman looks like more trouble than she's worth. Still, there's no harm in being polite and listening to what she has to say – and who knows, sometimes he likes trouble (it keep things interesting). He turns over the business card.

The Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters.

"What the fuck?"

She laughs softly at his surprise. "I'm not asking you to be a student, Logan." She says, clearly amused. "Or a teacher, though you'd be better at it than you think…" The smooth British accent isn't what he expected from this woman, but it fits.

"Then what the fuck do you want?" Logan is truly confused; he hasn't a clue what she's after. He's caught so off guard he doesn't even ask her how she knows his name.

She turns in her seat, so she's looking straight at him. "I want you to keep your eyes open."

"For what?"

For people like us. It's only because he's looking right at her that he knows her mouth doesn't move.

There is a long silence.

"I don't know what you mea-"

She doesn't let him finish the denial. "Don't be bloody ridiculous, Logan! You know precisely what I mean."

He doesn't try denying it again.

"There are more people like us out there," She explains. "And right now, most of them don't realise they're not alone. Many of them are children; they're scared and confused. And there are people out there who want to hurt these children: to manipulate them, to turn them into weapons, or to just plain kill them. The Xavier Institute is a safe place for people like us. That's all I'm asking; keep your eyes open for people like us, who need a safe place."

"And what do I get in return?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" In Logan's world you get nothing for nothing.

The woman smiles. "Us mutants should stick together Logan. So, there will always be a bed available for you at the Xavier Institute, and if you ever find yourself in a tricky situation just give as a call and we'll come and help you out."

That sounds like a bit more than nothing to Logan, not that he thinks there's a chance in hell that he'll ever take her up on either of those offers.

"That's it?"

She grins. "That's it. But trust me; one day you will need our help. And when that day comes we will come to help you, whether you've kept your side of the bargain or not."

"Why?"

"Because I know you Logan, and you will keep your side of the bargain. You would even if we were offering absolutely nothing in return; because you may be many things but you are not the sort of man who walks away from a scared child. And that's all I'm asking you to do: to not walk away when you come across a scared child." And with that, she stands to take her leave. She pushes the rest of the bottle towards him. "With my compliments." She says and then starts to walk towards the door.

Part-way across the room she stops and turns. "Oh, I almost forgot," She calls back. "Watch out for a man named William Stryker."

"Stryker?"

"Yes, there's a good chance that sometime in the next decade or so he's going to approach you and ask you to take part in an experiment. Whether or not you take him up on the offer is completely up to you. However, you should know that you won't be the only one he experiments on; and most of the others won't be volunteers."

"Why are you telling me this?"

The woman shrugs. "You should know enough to be able to make an informed choice. We'll be doing our best to try and stop Stryker of course, but he's a bit of a tough bastard. While we have some friends in Washington who would be willing to help us bring him down, they won't be able to act until we get some solid evidence on him. And that will be easier said than done."

Ah, now things are starting to make sense… she wants him to help her bring down this Stryker guy…

"Are you asking me- ?"

She interrupts him before he has a chance to finish. "I'm just giving you information. What you choose to do with is up to you. Look after yourself Logan!"

And with that, she leaves. Logan stares at the door for a full two minutes before he realises that she didn't even tell him her name. "Bloody lunatic." He mutters to himself before turning back to the bar and the nearly-full bottle of whisky sitting on it. "Bloody lunatic." He repeats, pouring himself another generous measure.