Chapter 26

His head snapped back from the force of the blow, making him reel and stumble to the ground. He wiped the bloody trail of spittle from his mouth as he rose, eyeing his opponent with wariness.

"What's a matter, Jamey boy? Surprised to see me here?"

Jamey boy? Who was this guy, and why was he calling him Jamey boy? Although the name sounded vaguely familiar to him, it teased his senses then eluded him with a quiet abandonment. Logan glanced at the blood on his sleeve, then to his hands so white in contrast, and finally back to his opponent. He shielded his eyes from the blinding brightness of the sun as he looked up at the stranger. A series of long scars lined his face, partially hidden by wispy tufts of tawny colored hair, making him seem more like an animal than a man. Logan looked back at his hands again. He could almost say the same thing about himself. He thought of his own demons. He did not know what siren called to the beast within him, but she would not be denied. He could not control when or how it happened. He only knew it lay dormant, just under his skin, waiting for her to call.

What did this guy want with him?

"You must have mistaken me for someone else," Logan replied shakily, backing away from the tall outsider, looking in all directions for an avenue of escape. There weren't any. If he'd have backed up any further he would have met the solid resistance of the barn wall, instead he stopped short, pausing about a foot away from the doors, his brain scrambling for a way to stall the inevitable confrontation.

He didn't want to fight this man. He didn't want to fight anyone. He just wanted to be left alone. Alone with Rose. Whoever this guy thought he was, he would surely be in for a surprise. Logan was no longer the whiney teenager who had come to this god-forsaken place some years ago. He was now all man, hardened by the lessons life taught him. Working in the mines with seasoned men taught him to work hard, trust no one and to stand on his own. He held his ground shifting from one foot to the other – ready to spring into action at the slightest provocation.

"You're lying," the stranger said as he reached for a pitchfork. "Let's see if I can jog your memory, 'Logan'." He thrust the weapon toward him, making Logan jump back to narrowly avoid being skewered. "You're going to pay for what you did to me…"

The commotion brought a crowd of curious onlookers who gathered around the two men to watch the fight. Eager for the distraction from the day to day boredom of the mines, bets were placed as to the outcome. Most placed their wagers on the larger of the two stating the younger was too small, too weak in comparison to the well muscled stranger. Inside the ring of miners, catcalls and jibes incited the combatants to action. Logan and the stranger circled each other, looking for an opening to strike, measuring each other's strengths and weaknesses.

Pushing herself through the horde of onlookers, Rose called out, "Logan!"

The stranger's great height gave him an unimpeded view of the beauty struggling to reach them. He smiled at the lovely vision making her way toward them, and with a voice filled with quiet innuendo he paused in his pursuit to leer at her, his breath steaming in the cool morning air, "Hello, Rose."

She was brought up short as the familiar voice permeated the repressed memories locked deep inside her mind. "Oh my God," she said, fear catching in her throat. Her voice incredulous,"Dog!"

"I'll deal with you later, girl." Dog promised as he turned his attention back to Logan.

Dog? Dog. He remembered. Anger surged through Logan as the memories came rushing back. All these years he'd blamed himself; and yet it was Dog. Logan carried around the guilt for years, an anchor weighing heavily around his neck, dragging him down into a deep abyss where no-one could reach him…and all this time it was not him. It was Dog. Dog killed his father. He remembered it in startling clarity, as if it happened yesterday. His mother screaming, the sound of gunfire, the flat thud of his father's head as it hit the ground… 'Papa!' He screamed. Blood was everywhere. It pooled about his feet as he stared in wild-eyed disbelief at the scene displayed before him. A child no more, he became a man that day.

Berserker rage roared within Logan as he remembered. Snikt The bones protruded from his knuckles of their own volition and Logan sprang toward Dog with a primal scream. The mines had hardened Logan both in mind and body. Although smaller than the man standing before him, he was strong and quick and plunged forward with his blades extended, going in for the kill.

"Logan, no!" Rose screamed as she rushed between them.

The only sound was the sickening sluicing as his blades pierced her fair skin, embedding them to the hilt and exiting through her back. "Rose?" Oh God no, not Rose. What had he done? Hot tears sprang to his eyes as he swallowed hard.

Rose looked at Logan with surprise then realization as she recognized her fate. She raised her hand to cup his cheek. "I should have told you, James…" she said her voice laden with regret, "I should have…" and she was gone. She never finished the sentence.

No! His mind screamed out for vengeance.

The dream distorted and shifted shape as dreams are wont to do. No longer was Rose staring sightlessly into his eyes; Jean emerged through a haze of thick fog. Jean…his love, his life.

She kissed him deeply, teasing him with her mouth and tongue. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer, melding her to him as he responded in kind. He couldn't get close enough to her, nor she to him. He inhaled her scent, the musky essence made him surge with desire for her. She belonged to him. Him alone. She captivated him mind, body and soul. He'd never needed anyone like he needed Jean Grey. She completed him, made him whole again. He promised himself he'd never be foolish enough to let her go again. He lost himself in the kiss.

'…no, no, no, no,' he thought to himself. 'Don't go, not now, not yet. I'm just getting started.' He felt Jean pulling away from him. He reached for her, only to watch her drift further away.

'Jean!' He called frantically. 'Jean…where are you?'

'Logan!' she called out to him. He couldn't see her. She'd disappeared into the thick fog. It swirled about him, heavy and dense, weighing him down as he tried to follow her. He could hear her breathing heavily. Then she was running, trying to get away, trying to escape. 'Logan!' She couldn't find him.

'Jean!' he thundered. He couldn't find her, the panic rose like a storm within him, turbulent and violent. 'Jean!' he called once more.

Nothing. The silence was deafening. His thoughts of finding her intensified with a gut wrenching need only to be interrupted by the persistent calling of another. 'Help.' It was the same, yet different, familiar yet elusive, younger but ageless, hovering ever so close to consciousness yet never crossing that line. Subliminal in form and fashion, calling out to him, urging him to hurry. He should know who it is, but he was unable to focus. Words were not spoken, but there was the unmistakable feeling of being in danger. Great danger. It was Jean, but not Jean.

Jean! His exhausted mind slowly acknowledged the persistent message and he was suddenly jolted wide awake. The hair on the back of his neck rose and his skin prickled in apprehension; it was Jean, and she needed him.