It was soon dark. Xavier had been trying to contact Danielle and Logan and had been met with nothing since dinner was served. He sat in his dimmed office, trying to think of why the two were delayed. There had been reports of rogue forces coming in and out of Black Serpent territory and fights had been recounted back to the mansion. Xavier was only glad that most of the facility had been cleared out and that he, Hank and Roger remained. Everyone else, save for Ororo (who was expected back soon, according to Bobby and Colossus), had been shipped behind the Canadian lines and situated on their main safe house in Nova Scotia.

Hank gingerly entered, Roger stomping in loudly behind him, the opposite in every way. They saw Xavier appearing so distressed that they did not venture to say anything, although they knew that he sensed their presence behind the wheelchair. Roger wanted to say how sorry he was that he didn't put in a full effort to keep the two out of trouble (for it was obvious that Danielle and Logan had run into that), but Hank shushed him with a finger to his lips. Roger resented the parental gesture, inching forward to see if he could have the final word in.

Dammit, Logan. What the hell trouble did you get into this time and all for a woman you haven't seen in years? Did you know we needed to leave for Canada soon, you fucking fool?

Xavier turned around instead, smiling weakly when he saw his friends. "What news?" he asked, acting like all was well and that two people plus two children (and one a month old) were not missing.

Roger saw this as his chance, even though Hank was eying him with contempt and wanted to warn him against being an asshole. "Ellis and his men snuck in," Roger reported, feeling ashamed that a large party could have gone through their lines. "We didn't know until this morning, after Danielle and Logan left with the kids. By the time we were able to trail them and try to find their intentions, they had disappeared from their last destination."

Xavier dreaded the answer of where Ellis could have gone. He knew. There was no doubt about where Ellis decided to go. He did not blame Roger in the slightest. Ellis' exact location and how he was faring had been a mystery since he disappeared over a month ago. Even the master spy could not locate him, something that frustrated Roger more than anything else. Xavier could have used Cerebro, but with electric power so limited in the town and his own powers weakening him at times, he didn't dare. Hank had no other options to power it up and that alone was costing them time and people.

A lot of things made us fail, even if we thought we could win. It was never a competition and we never meant to make enemies. However, even now, we have caused something worse than Ellis had. Opposition was never our focus, although Roger liked to make it that way. What to do, what to do?

Hank was nervous as he dared to take a turn. "We could have done more," he offered to Xavier. "I'm for Roger's unorthodox methods, but we still could have found something for –"

Xavier put a hand up to silence Hank. "It's not anyone's fault, Hank. We have to deal with the cards we have and place them down to show when we're ready."

Roger never heard Xavier so resigned before and using a metaphor so cliché too, showing that their captain was about to give up permanently. "Charles, we need to move out now, dawn at the latest. If Ellis is in Salem Center, we might be next. I don't want to be a prisoner and a prized one, if you know what I mean."

"With so many people vying for power, we might not need to worry," Hank pointed out, even though he knew it wasn't true. His voice even quivered with the revelation.

"I think we will. Our names are well known. We all are also named as opponents of the regime that took over some years ago. Before that, we were branded as one of the most dangerous mutants around. We're not going to be forgotten, Hank."

"Since we're also named as dangerous, I assume you're right. When are we leaving?"

"Soon. I want to see if Storm has been found."

"I think she's arrive shortly," Xavier revealed, smiling.

Roger looked at Xavier incredulously, shaking his head. "If my best men can't locate her and she has been three steps ahead of them, what makes you privy to her whereabouts?"

"Simple trust and a little faith," Xavier replied, looking up past the pair to the doorway. "Ahh, Storm. Welcome home."

Hank and Roger turned around and saw Ororo with a teenager they assumed to be the one they had been searching for. Kitty Pryde came into the office, a hand on her shoulder for reassurance. She studied the group before us like they were enemies and that she had to find a way to escape. However, when Xavier smiled at Kitty, she relaxed. Having Ororo nearby was a plus too, planting her feet into place when all she wanted to do was run. Roger saw that Kitty trusted Ororo and that she did something with the teenager that merited it.

Damn her too! We'll see how this girl works though. She'll probably be as underfoot as the others and try her hand at getting to McDonald's as well.

"What's going on?" Ororo seemed confused, hardly amused at Roger's obvious animosity. "Where's everybody?"

"Packed up," Roger answered, feeling the only person heartless enough to tell the truth and s bluntly too. "Lines are being broken and territory is overrun by everyone and anyone. We're all leaving."

"Everyone?" Ororo's voice was small and childlike, scared even after a chase from the west coast to the east.

"Everyone," Roger conformed. "Keep your bags by the door. I've got a van running and taking all of us before the sun comes up."

"And Logan?"

"Not here."

Ororo was startled, her eyes widened like she had been stabbed. "Why? Where is he?"

The question startled Roger for some reason. He regained his composure and swallowed the lump he suddenly realized was in his throat. "You probably heard that Danielle, Mae and the children had been picked up the month before. Earlier today, Mae went off to Canada and Danielle wanted to check out the farmhouse. She took her children and Logan."

Kitty seemed a little less shocked than the others, deciding to chime in through her embarrassment. "Ellis has been spotted around here," she decided to input. "Some of the Black Serpents have been following him for weeks and decided not to say anything. They wanted the bounty themselves."

"I know." Roger was irritated that Kitty knew so much for a girl on the run. "I know."

"What now?" Ororo's foot was already out of the office, ready to sprint at any time.

"Mae is going to kill me, but I can check things out," Roger announced, looking to the remainder of the group. "Go ahead and don't wait for me. I can hitchhike a ride with someone else."

"You don't know what you're going to find there," Hank said to Roger, feeling a pit in his stomach. The blue mutant was very much afraid that the small family had been ambushed and had to warn Roger.

"But I am one man," Roger pressed vigorously. "One man that can hide in the shadows, might I add, Hank. I've spent most of my life there. What's one more night? It's not like I was born yesterday and would miss someone."

Xavier had to consider the options before nodding consent at Roger. "Go. I think we can depart in an hour. Meet us in Nova Scotia. I'll remain open for your word or any news."

Roger grinned. "You can count on me, Charles."

"I always did, even when you were in prison." Xavier wheeled himself to the doorway, facing Kitty. "Now, we have some introductions to make. It would be rude on this trip not to otherwise."

~00~

Roger made his way under the cover of darkness into Salem Center, taking a few side roads he remembered from years past to get to the Mitchell farmhouse on the other side of town. He had not bothered to check on the place in the years since the family had left and considered it foolish otherwise, but he was a kind man. He did not like Danielle and Logan heading there in the first place and said nothing about it at breakfast that morning, allowing them their adventure. Now, their worst fears were probably coming true. With Ellis on the run, anything was possible, including their worst nightmares.

On the way, Roger unlocked the home he and Mae had shared for a short period of time and entered carefully. He purchased the place in the woods years before, using it as a home away from home, and brought his new family in when he married Mae. Now, it was as empty as the Mitchells' and just as cold without a fire going. Roger only needed a few supplies anyway, one of them being a quick drink. He always kept a bottle in the false bottom of his study desk and occasionally took a swig out of it.

After grabbing some camo gear and a few weapons and packing some food in a knapsack, Roger made his way to his study down the hallway, using a knife to unlock the knob. He dropped the bag to the dusty floor and found his chair, swiveling it forward to face the opposite room. With the same knife, he unjammed a drawer and the bottom, taking out a glass and Wild Turkey, an old friend of Chameleon's and leftover from the initial push against Ellis. Roger poured himself a generous amount and gulped it, feeling it burn all the way down.

Mae made Roger promise not to drink as often as he used to, attempting to make him quit, especially when the couple gave up cigarettes for good. However, in this case, the master spy found it necessary, a secret his wife did not need to know. Since 1997, he had been stuck without the alcohol and felt pretty dry. Indeed, he also felt he needed some courage for the mission ahead, even if he had an idea of what he was finding.

Being brave? How? This should be an easy mission, in and out. No tears or fuss. Roger could not figure it out. He just had to find out how bad it was and ignore the nagging feeling inside…

After three glasses, Roger had enough of the numbing feeling. He replaced the materials back into the desk and stood up, ignoring the wonderful rush to his head. He picked up his equipment and locked behind him, walking the rest of the day to the farmhouse. It was twenty minutes max and a nice one too and only if Roger wanted to count running into a family of deer good. Regardless, he reached his destination soon enough and was watching from the bushes by the driveway for any activity.

There seemed to be nothing happening. The wind whistled behind Roger's head, indicating that zilch had changed and that there were no unusual patterns. No vehicles were parked, no new tracks and no watch animals sniffing the air. Roger took a chance, thinking that there was nobody left to shoot, and peeked out from his hiding spot.

Still nothing.

The driveway offered no new clues except for some old car tire marks made maybe hours before. Roger studied them for a second, seeing that they were not recent and not made by the vehicle Danielle borrowed, and followed them on the grassy pathway beside it. It was a truck, all right, and a pretty large one at that. Roger noted that it was originally parked behind the garage, hidden from view. When he checked to see how anyone could have missed it, Roger saw that the vehicle had initially come from the back property. The large grass on the trail might have been disturbed, but the yard was not.

Someone had covered themselves pretty well.

The master spy then walked around the eerie house to check the outside without looking at the house itself. Again, not much was evident other than some blood and that was led from the house and a few heavy puddles dotted here and there, most of them caused by a certain person with adamantium claws. The last thing Roger stored for reference later was a message on the garage door. It was spray painted quite crudely and proved that some people never received an actual education. Roger only had to shake his head at the misspelling, although the message was quite clear and rude too.

LEON ELLIS WIL RIS AGEN!

It meant that Ellis or his followers were previously here and left their mark. Roger's heart sank, but he had to push himself onward and forget that friends were now in obvious trouble. He forced himself to the porch, where he noticed more of a struggle (maybe several). The door had been pulled open and hanging off of its hinges forlornly, forgotten in the fight. All of the windows within sight had been punches and shattered, the glass leaving jagged edges in its sad, reflective circles. Appliances inside the first room, the kitchen, had been overturned, and other items broken and chopped to pieces by an axe thrown haphazardly in a corner by the stairs leading to the second floor.

Roger carefully walked into the house, using his best skills to ensure his own safety. Pulling out his gun and leaving a knife within easy reach, he first checked out the kitchen and saw nobody. The mud room, which was just off of it (and led to the garage) yielded nothing more than the usual – broken furniture and the new smell of gasoline, an abandoned gas can nearby. Roger then turned to the dining room and living room and saw the same thing. It was when he moved back into the kitchen that he noticed a figure laying almost unconscious near the downstairs half bathroom.

Logan.

There was no doubt about it. It was the older mutant. He groaned, which was unusual to Roger. Mesmerized by the thought of survivors, the master spy drew closer, inching slowly so that he did not get sliced to pieces. He did not dare touch Logan, fearing that in his state he might not know where he was, and only watched as Logan tried to regain consciousness.

For now, that as the name of the game. It was time to wait.

~00~

Pain.

Suffering.

Anguish.

Rage.

Revenge.

Death.

He could not tell which feeling was more dominant and which he could just brush away. Indeed, all of them seemed to overwhelm him in a way that demanded a memory be presented. However, when he tried to think back to what happened, he drew a blank. He did not know who he was, where he was or what happened that got him on the floor in some old and smelly house. He could only open his eyes to the darkness of night.

As soon as he did, a wealth of senses surrounded him, enough to tell him that he was in a dangerous place. Primal instinct kicked in, immediately prompting the man to stand up quickly and check the area wordlessly, walking the space before the doors like a pacing animal would. There was nothing except an older person standing there and he had stepped backwards and was in apparent terror, afraid of what he found.

The man who remembered nothing stared at his opponent, ready to pounce when it was necessary, but seeing that no harm was meant made him stop and think. He allowed something cold and metallic to slip through his knuckles, realizing that he himself was a sort of weapon, and waited patiently. The other person would soon act and would show his true colors.

And the unknown person did. The fear stopped abruptly steps away, staring at him for a few seconds before moving forward again, appearing more frightened. When he came to the man of no life, he touched the sharp items gently, which made them slip back into his arms with ease, almost like it was known it would happen. He stared again, which made the man jump back again, wanting to strike without reason and opting not to. This one was familiar though, but in what way, the man could not place.

"Logan," the other person began, "we need to go."

"Go? Go where?" The man found his words after a lifetime without, amazed that he recalled those at least. "Who are you?"

The person shook his head sadly now. "Logan, we need to go. They're going to kill us here."

The man felt angry and frustrated at his lack of memories, lifting the other person in the air by the front shirt collar. "Who are you? Where did you come from? Where are we?"

The other person started coughing, sounding like he was choking. "Logan…Logan, put me down. Put…me…down…"

There seemed to be no choice since the request seemed fair. The man put him down, unsure of how to proceed next. There was no threat or immediate danger. So, what then? Would this person be able to answer some questions? Would he take him back to where he needed to be? What kind of life was there before this uncertainty, when all the man could feel was an ire that he could not describe?

"Logan, don't you remember me? The spy who annoyed you for many years and vice versa?" the other peered once more, this time with sympathy. "It's Roger. Roger Mortimer. Come on. We need to head back. You're going home to Canada."

"No." The man seemed adamant about it, unsure of why home was someplace called Canada. "Not until I know…know what happened."

"There's time for that later, but not now," the person named Roger urged. "Look, Logan, you're gonna have to trust me. You don't have much of a choice. Come with me or they'll find a way to make you die this time."

The man was skeptical, hearing of an enemy he did not see. He was about to turn away, but his foot knocked into something that clanked against his boots. When he looked down, he saw a necklace of some sort, tangled with military dog tags. He picked them up, studying them closely. The necklace was bloodied, but it was obvious that it belonged to a mother. There were two tokens, a sun and moon pendent, with names of her children on them and the year they were born perhaps. The dates of March 12, 1969 on the sun and June 4, 1979 on the moon were easily seen.

The dog tags seemed more of a mystery. It had a serial number on it and a name and an animal, possibly his own (it made some sense). The man could not tell. All he could was that Roger was holding out his hand in friendship, trying in every way to get him to leave this horrible place. His gut told him to trust it because there seemed to be no reason not to. Even so, if there was trouble, the man knew how to get out of it, no questions asked.

Roger smiled when the man took his hand, although he had to cringe about the bloody items wedged between his fingers. The two then walked outside together into the spring night without another word, onto a new adventure that would bring more questions than answers. Their hands parted and the beginning of a new journey started.