When he came to it took him a few moments to get his bearings. He was aware of Star, her eyes anxious as she looked at him. He shook his head sharply. Everything in the room seemed...dull somehow, stunted. He felt oddly isolated.
"Is that how you see everything?" She nodded mutely.
"Can you...tone it down?"
"Yes."
"What happened to you?"
"The snow, it was so beautiful that I kept reaching, I wanted to see it all." The towel had fallen away and she was shivering violently. He put his arms around her, pulling her close once more. Her skin was still cold. He leaned his back against the couch, holding her.
"Show me again," he murmured. He felt her gently reach into his mind and suddenly he could see again, though not so far as before. The fire before them leaped and danced like a living thing. The very air seemed alive. He knew it was still snowing even though the windows were covered. He could feel every flake as it fell. He stroked her hair and it was like silk, her skin as soft as velvet. She looked up at him and her features were recognizable, though she seemed to glow with an inner light. He bent his head and kissed her. The kiss seemed to last an eternity and he could feel her body warming, responding to him. He held her tightly and she clung to him, her naked body pressed against him. His growing desire was matched by her desire for him. He broke their kiss suddenly, pulling away from her.
"Logan" she whispered "I am not a child." She put her arms around his neck and kissed him again. He didn't resist. Her small breasts, bare against his chest, suddenly did not feel childlike at all. He put his arms around her and pulled her against him once more. Their minds still linked, they shared every caress, each touch bringing them closer together, until at last, their bodies joined and they were one physically as well as mentally. They made love before the fireplace until at last, exhausted, they slept.
He woke as she gently withdrew from his mind. He held her in his arms and felt a moment of regret. She looked at him sharply, her eyes questioning.
"I'm s'posed ta be takin' care of ya, darlin'. Not takin' advantage of ya."
"Is that truly how you feel, Logan?" There was a catch in her voice. He considered his feelings silently while she kept her mind meticulously closed. After a moment he decided that his regret stemmed from his previous losses and really had nothing to do with the woman in his arms.
"No, darlin'. I guess not." He kissed her once more and felt the unhappiness flow from them both.
Later, after they had eaten, he remembered the dress. He gave her the two packages as she sat on the couch, watching the fire burn. She stroked the box almost as if she could sense what was inside. Perhaps she could.
"Go on an' open it." She tore the paper from the box and opened it carefully. She stared at the carefully folded silver and black cloth, her mouth open. She gently lifted the dress from the box, running her hands over the cloth. She looked at him, her eyes shinning.
"Its beautiful."
"Well, try it on." She scrambled to her feet and held the dress before her. Then, with a sudden glance at him, she dashed for her room.
"Hey, wait a second!" She stopped short and turned back to look at him. He laughed and tossed her the box containing the shoes Mary had chosen. "Take this with you." She snatched the box out of the air and disappeared into her room, the door closing silently behind her.
It was several minutes before she emerged, clad in her new dress and shoes. She had brushed her hair and it lay glistening about her shoulders. He stared at her, speechless. He got to his feet and approached her. He gazed down at her and, finding his voice, said,
"You are absolutely the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." She smiled radiantly up at him.
"Thank you, Logan." She twisted slightly and the full skirt swirled about her legs. "I love it." She smoothed the fabric with her hands. He put his hands on her waist and swung her around, both of them laughing.
"I have something for you, too," she said suddenly. He reluctantly released her and she turned to the third package by the fireplace. He sat back on the couch, still marveling at her beauty, and wondering how he had missed it before. She hesitantly extended the package toward him and he caught her wrist, pulling her down next to him as he took it from her. It was surprisingly heavy. At her silent urging, he tore the paper away. It was a statue of himself, carved from a single piece of dark wood. He touched it, amazed. The likeness was uncanny. She had captured his very spirit in the wood. The statue almost seemed alive.
"Do you like it?" she asked at last.
"Darlin', I love it." He carefully placed it on the small table near the door then pulled Star to her feet.
"Dance with me."
"I don't know how," she answered quietly.
"I'll teach you." Together, they danced.
The days between Christmas and New Year's Eve flew by. Star had learned to tap into the energy inherent in the earth itself and was no longer a danger to others. After the first of the year, they would be returning to the mansion.
Wolverine wondered how the others would react to his relationship with Star. Despite his best intentions, he had fallen in love with the girl. He sighed, knowing that he would do whatever was best for her, no matter how hard it might be for him. Not for a moment did he realize that she felt the same way.
Star came upon him while he was reflecting on the lost loves of his life. She watched him quietly for a long time before letting him know she was there. She sat down next to him on the porch steps and he placed an arm around her shoulders. She was aware that her presence had only heightened his melancholy and she sadly moved away from him. He caught her hand in his and pulled her gently back down to the step.
"Its all right, girl," he said. "Allow an old man his memories."
"You're not old, Logan."
"Older than you know, darlin'. Older than any man who's lived his life like I have has any right ta be."
"Is age so important, then?"
"Sometimes."
"When?" Wolverine sighed and ground out his cigarette. Sometimes he wondered if she would ever run out of questions.
"Like when that goon grabbed you at the mall and then tried ta blame it on you an' Jubilee. Xavier pulled some strings an' had you listed as seventeen an' in his care."
"But I'm not seventeen."
"I know, darlin'. Hank figures ya ta be in yer early twenties. That was just ta protect ya from a legal system that don't always work." He smile wryly. "Didn't work real well at that, did it?" He glanced at her and frowned at her expression. "What is it, kid?"
"I'm not in my twenties, either."
"Well, just how flamin' old are ya, then?"
"The best I can remember, its been about six years since I was hatched." Wolverine stared at her, dumbfounded.
"Six years?" Star nodded, flinching away from the turmoil in his mind.
"Yer six years old."
"M..maybe a little older. I..I don't know for certain." He stood up abruptly, moving away from her. His hands were clenched and she cringed, though she sensed that his anger was directed at himself, not at her.
His anger, and his pain, was so intense she couldn't block it out. When the memory of their lovemaking caused him further anguish, she instinctively seized his mind, suppressing the memories of their love as well as their loving. She fought back tears as she directed his body to resume his seat on the porch steps. Then she gently released his mind, leaving him with no memory of her manipulation, or of their love.
"Six, huh? Ain't that a kick." He laughed. "Jubilee's gonna love it. She always hated bein' the youngest X-Man." She smiled at him, then got up and went inside, ruthlessly suppressing her own grief. She would ever be a child to him now.
After dinner, Wolverine turned to her and said,
"They throw a big shindig in town for New Year's Eve, darlin'. Ya wanna go?"
"All right."
The next day was New Year's Eve. When Star emerged from her room, wearing her new dress and with her hair and makeup done according to Maudie's directions, Wolverine whistled at her.
"Ya know, darlin', it'd be real easy ta ferget yer just six."
"I wish you would." He just smiled at her.
"C'mon, girl. Ya don't wanna be late t' yer first party, do ya?" She shook her head. As he helped her with her coat, Wolverine wondered at the air of melancholy which surrounded her. He shruggingly attributed it to her love of the little cabin and the woods around it. They would be leaving day after tomorrow to return to Xavier's mansion and the other X-Men.
The night was clear and cold as they drove down the twisting road to the town below. The snow cast a smooth blanket over everything, reflecting the light of their headlights back at them. Star shivered and Wolverine put an arm about her shoulders, drawing her close to the warmth of his body. Once more, she fought back tears.
By the time they reached the high school gym, the only building large enough for the annual celebration, Star had composed herself again. Wolverine parked at the edge of the parking lot and they walked to the building. The dance was already underway and they entered without being noticed. They hung their coats on a rack near the door and Wolverine drew her onto the dance floor.
He had taught her well and soon the graceful couple had attracted the attention, and often the envy, of everyone in the room, though they seemed to be aware only of each other.
At the stroke of midnight Wolverine drew her close and held her in his arms. Chronologically she might be only six, but physically and mentally, she was much, much older. He watched her eyes as he bent to kiss her, ready to back off at the first sign of hesitation. Instead she turned to meet him, her lips parting as they met his. They kissed long and deeply. When they finally separated, he continued to hold her close and, looking into her eyes, he said,
"God, woman. You are so easy to love." To his surprise, she reacted as if he had slapped her. Her eyes filled with tears as she tore herself from his arms and fled across the crowded room and through the door to the outside. He was astounded. He'd had a lot of reactions from the women he'd kissed, but never tears.
"Star, wait!" he called as he hurried after her. By the time he reached the door, she was halfway across the parking lot. He caught up with her in the middle of the street, grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop.
"Star," he said. She refused to face him, keeping her body turned away, her free hand to her face.
"Damn it, girl, look at me!" He turned her toward him, holding her arms. She looked up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"C'mere." He drew her back to the sidewalk, out of the street.
"Now, what's the matter?"
"You said you loved me."
"Yes, I did. An' I do."
"But I'm only six."
"That don't matter, girl."
"It did before."
"What?" Unconsciously, he tightened his grip on her arms.
"You loved me before and it mattered," she sobbed. "It mattered a lot."
"What the hell are you talkin' about?"
"You loved me, Logan. And I love you." His eyes narrowed as she spoke, unaware that his hands were bruisingly tight on her arms. "Then I told you how old I was and you...you...you hated me!" He stared at her unbelievingly. "You hated yourself for loving me. And it hurt. It hurt so badly that I couldn't stand it. So I...I..."
"You what," Wolverine demanded, comprehension dawning in his eyes.
"I...made you...forget," she whispered.
"Ain't I got enough holes in my head without you addin' to it?" he snarled angrily.
"There was so much pain."
"My pain, girl! My memories!" He shook her, emphasizing his words.
"I can give them back," she cried.
"Then do it!" His fury, always so near the surface, was undisguised. She reached into his mind gently and with infinite sadness, for she knew she had lost him again. As she removed the memory blocks she had placed, she felt as though her heart were breaking and she knew she could not live if he hated her.
The memories flooded his mind, nearly overwhelming him. The joy of linked minds. The feel of her body in his arms. The way her smile made his heart swell. Even the despair when he learned her true age. He released her abruptly.
"Now get outta my head, kid," he snarled turning away from her. "It ain't polite." She collapsed to the snow covered sidewalk, her legs drawn up beneath her, her hands covering her face as she cried silently. He stood with his back to her for several minutes, trying to assimilate the conflicting emotions his restored memories had triggered. When he finally turned back to her she had not moved. He fought his anger as he looked down at her. In many ways, she was a woman, but in others she was still a child, even more vulnerable than himself. Abruptly aware of the cold, he took his jacket off and draped it gently around her shoulders. She flinched as if she'd expected a blow. He drew her to her feet, his anger nearly banished by the expression of sorrow she wore.
"Next time ya drop a bombshell, girl, give a man a chance t' adjust." She nodded without lifting her head. He sighed, his anger completely gone. "C'mon," he said. "Let's go home." He put his arm around her, as much to warm her as to reassure her, as they walked back toward the parking lot. They'd only gone a few steps when she stopped suddenly.
"Logan."
"What is it, kid?"
"Where are the children?"
"What?"
"The children. They weren't at the party. Where are they?"
"The local youth center has a sleep in every year." She was frowning. "Why?"
"Something's wrong. I smell...smoke." She looked up at him. "A...a fire. The children are afraid. Logan! Its burning!" Faintly, the smell of smoke drifted to them.
"You go for help, darlin'. I'll go do what I can." He ran in the direction of the youth center. She turned toward the high school, then realized that there was a faster way. She opened her mind, reaching out to touch every adult for miles.
"The children are in danger! Help them! Hurry!" She felt them beginning to respond, so she followed Wolverine.
There were thirty or forty children in the street in front of the youth center, most dressed only in pajamas. Several adults were urging them toward a church across the street.
"Help is coming!" she told them. "Are all the children out?"
"No! I've got at least three missing! Maybe four! Steve 'n Mr. Logan went back in looking for 'em!" Star turned her attention toward the burning building. She found Wolverine and the man named Steve immediately. She searched for a moment and found the three missing children. Two were together on the first floor, the third had run up the stairs, away from the flames.
"Logan, I can hear the children. Two are in front of you, to your left. The third is upstairs." She felt Wolverine move in response to her directions. He quickly found the two youngsters, cowering in a closet. He tore the door from its hinges and snatched them out, handing one to Steve, then guiding the man back to the front door. He handed him the second child and returned to the building.
"Where, darlin'?" She heard him ask.
"Up. Hurry, Logan. The flames are above her now." She struggled to hold the flames back for him, to provide him safe passage to the frightened child.
"Higher," she told him. "Now to your right. She's under something." The smoke was blinding, burning his lungs. He finally located the little girl in an office, hiding under a desk. She was barely conscious as he picked her up. He turned at an ominous creaking. He held the little girl close, protecting her with his body as the ceiling collapsed, burning beams pinning them both.
"No!" Star screamed. Suddenly she was in the burning room with Wolverine and the child. She shifted the burning beams with her mind then put her arms around the unconscious man and the child he had protected. The rest of the floor above collapsed, but the room was empty.
"Please," she called. "We need help." The ambulance attendant turned,
"Where the hell did you come from?" he demanded, turning to her with his first aid kit. "Jesus," he muttered under his breath as he examined Wolverine and the child. "Jim! I've got smoke inhalation and third degree burns here! Gimme a hand!" A second attendant approached at a run. He took the little girl and placed an oxygen mask over her face. He handed a second bottle and mask to the first attendant who fitted it to Wolverine. Wolverine didn't respond.
Maudie found Star as they were loading Wolverine into the ambulance.
"C'mon, honey. Harry and I'll drive you to the hospital." Star shook her head.
"What's the matter? Did you two have a fight?"
"Something like that." Star felt the tears start again. "I...don't think it would be...appropriate for him to see me when he wakes up."
"Are you sure, Star?" She just nodded, watching the ambulance pull away. "Well, all right. But you will stay at our place tonight."
"No, please. I just...want to go home."
Sabretooth grinned as he kicked open the back door of the little cabin. When he'd taken this job, he hadn't known Logan was involved. A simple, although well paying, snatch might turn out interesting after all. And more satisfying as well. He might be required to deliver the frail alive, but the same could not be said of her bodyguard. He snarled as the human entered the cabin behind him.
"Is the Mutie bitch here?"
"Shut up, you moron. Of course she's not here." He sniffed. "But she has been, and I'm willing to bet she'll be back." He grinned again, causing the human to step back. Sabretooth barely noticed. "They'll both be back." Despite the darkness, he spotted the statuette Star had given Wolverine. He picked it up and examined it.
"Looks like the runt's gettin' soft. Might not be much of a fight after all." He put the carving back on the table.
"You got that collar ready? If this frail is a telepath, we gotta take her out first. Then I'll deal with Logan."
"Is this thing gonna work?" The human asked dubiously, fingering the dull gray ring of metal.
"You'd better hope so. If she is a telepath, she's been trainin' with the runt and his X pals, and she won't be a push over." He cocked his head at a sudden noise from outside. He moved quickly to the window and peered out. He watched as a car pulled up to the cabin and a tiny woman climbed out. She stopped and spoke to someone in the car. Then she turned and walked toward the cabin. The car backed down the drive and pulled away.
"Get that damn thing turned on," Sabretooth snarled, thumbing a switch on the metallic belt he wore. "Somethin's wrong. The runt ain't with her." He moved silently away from the window. "Take out the frail. I'm gonna look for the runt." The big mutant glided through the cabin and out the back door. He circled the cabin looking for any sign of Wolverine.
Star opened the door of the cabin and stepped inside, then closed the door behind her. She slipped Wolverine's jacket off her shoulders and turned to hang it on the coat rack. She shivered, for it was cooler in the cabin than she had expected. She looked toward the fireplace. The fire had burned down to mere coals. She would need to build it back up. She was moving toward the fireplace when suddenly there was an awful nothingness in front of her. She froze for an instant and that was nearly her undoing. The nothingness engulfed her and she found herself facing Harry Jones. He grinned as he snapped a cold piece of metal about her throat and abruptly she was blind. She was terrified, but her hours in the danger room had been well spent. She struck him twice with the heel of her hand, once in the belly, and once under the chin. She felt the vibration as he struck the floor. She ran for the door of the cabin and threw it open. She was aware of the warmth of another body an instant before she hit it. She didn't recognize his scent, but she knew he was a large man, the top of her head barely reached the middle of his chest. Before she could try to escape, he gripped her arms and lifted her from her feet. She looked up at him, her blind eyes oblivious to his hideous grin.
"Where's yer boyfriend, girlie?" Sabretooth snarled at her. She lashed out at him with both feet. An attack by an opponent of her size was a complete surprise to Sabretooth. He doubled over, releasing her. She ducked past him, through the open door and toward the trees. He slashed at her, barely touching her as she passed, but his claws, capable of rending flesh from bone, tore deep gouges into her back.
Instinctively, Sabretooth knew that if she reached the trees, she would be very difficult to find, psi dampener or no. Straightening, his hand brushed the statuette. He grabbed it and threw it, with unnerving accuracy, at Star's rapidly retreating figure. The base of the statuette caught her in the back of the head, and she dropped like a stone.
The human on the floor behind Sabretooth moaned, but he didn't spare him a glance. Sabretooth had known he was a waste of space from the instant Richardson had insisted that he be taken along on this job. He approached the girl cautiously, but she didn't move. He crouched beside her sprawled body and put his hand against her throat, checking for a pulse. She was still alive. The smell of her blood, flowing from the wounds in her back as well as from a tear in her scalp, was almost enough to send him into a killing frenzy. He fought it down. She was more valuable alive. Logan would come after her and he could indulge his bloodlust then. He tore a strip from the dress she was wearing and bound her wrists behind her back. As an afterthought, he used more material from the dress to bind her wounds, slowing the blood flow. She showed no signs of regaining consciousness.
Harry Jones walked up beside Sabretooth.
"What happened? I locked that collar on her and she still decked me."
"Told ya she wouldn't be a push over." Sabretooth stood and looked around, still expecting Wolverine to come to the girl's defense.
"Stinkin' mutant," he heard Jones mutter. He turned toward the human just as he delivered a vicious kick to the prone girl's ribs. Sabretooth backhanded him, knocking him to the snow covered ground.
"Richardson wants her alive," he snarled.
"I got a score ta settle with her," Jones answered, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of one hand.
"Take it up with Richardson."
"Maybe I got a score to settle with you too, huh?" Sabretooth grinned at him.
"Give it yer best shot, flat scan." Jones didn't move. He'd suddenly realized how isolated it was up here. The mutant could kill him and blame it on the missing bodyguard. No one would be any the wiser. He'd wait for a better time.
"Go get that fur rug from in front of the fireplace. Wouldn't do ta have the merchandise freeze ta death before we deliver." Jones got to his feet, careful to make no sudden moves, then went to the cabin as ordered. He returned a moment later with the rug. He spread it in the snow, then moved the girl to it. He folded it around her, then picked her up. She made an awkward bundle, especially walking through the deep snow, but Jones decided he'd better not give the crazy mutant any excuse. The snow started again, covering their tracks as they walked the short distance through the woods to the vehicle which had brought them here.
At three o'clock in the morning on New Year's Day, the phone rang at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. Cyclops answered sleepily.
"Is Mr. Xavier there?" the woman asked, hesitantly.
"He's asleep, ma'am. Can I help you with something?"
"I am sorry for calling so late. My name is Maudie Friedlander. My husband I run a little diner in Andrewsville. Anyway, there's been an accident." Cyclops was wide awake now. "Logan mentioned Mr. Xavier once or twice and I thought maybe you'd know how to get hold of his family."
"Scott, what is it?" Jean asked silently.
"I don't know yet," he answered. "Mrs. Friedlander, we are Logan's family. What has happened?"
"There was a fire and Logan was badly burned getting a little girl out. He's in the hospital in the next town." Cyclops caught Jean's flash of apprehension and turned to her for a moment.
"If he's alive, Jean, he'll be all right."
"I know, Scott." She paused, "What about Star?"
"We'll be up as quickly as we can, ma'am. Um," he paused, "there was a young woman with Logan, Mrs. Friedlander," he began.
"You must mean Star. Frankly, I'm worried about that child. She didn't want to go to the hospital with Logan, now don't worry, she wasn't hurt, but she wouldn't stay over with us either. Insisted that we take her home. I hated like the dickens to leave her up there all by herself, but she just wouldn't hear of anything else."
"She can be quite...strong willed ma'am. Thank you for calling us. We will be on our way shortly."
"Now you folks be careful coming up here. Its been snowing on and off since Christmas and its lookin' to blow up a blizzard right now."
"We will, ma'am. Good-bye." Cyclops disconnected and turned to Jean, taking her in his arms.
"He'll be fine, my love."
"I know, Scott. I just..." she sighed.
"I understand." He released her, "I'll get the blackbird, you wake the Professor and the others." In fifteen minutes, the X-Men were on their way.
Using the image inducer, Beast introduced himself to the hospital staff as Wolverine's private physician. He was given Wolverine's chart and went into the room to check his patient. Wolverine was heavily sedated, common practice with a patient as badly burned as he had been. Beast gently peeled back the bandages to peer at the rapidly healing tissue beneath.
"Yes, indeed," he said to the nurse. "Since you have done such an admirable job stabilizing the patient, I believe we will go ahead and transfer him to our clinic now."
"All right, Doctor. Shall I arrange an ambulance?"
"That's not necessary, nurse. We have our own transportation." With the willing assistance of the others, Beast moved the unconscious X-Man out of the room and down the hall to the elevator. A man approached them as they waited for the car.
"Excuse me. I understand that you are Mr. Logan's doctor?"
"That is correct. Can I help you?" The man looked with regret at the bandage swathed figure, lying motionless on the gurney.
"Will he be all right? You see, it was my daughter, my Miranda that he pulled out of that building. And I just...needed to let him know..."
"I quite understand." The elevator opened and Jean and Storm wheeled the gurney inside. "He will be fine. His injuries are not nearly as severe as originally believed. And your daughter?"
"Oh, she's fine. Doc says she inhaled a lot of smoke, but that she'll be OK."
"I'm certain Logan will be pleased to hear that." Beast entered the elevator as the man returned to his daughter's room.
"Hank?"
"He's healing nicely, Jean. He's out because of the sedation, nothing else."
By the time they reached the blackbird, Wolverine was coming around.
"How are you feeling, Logan?"
"Can't answer that in mixed company, Jeanne," he said. "What happened?"
"It seems a burning building fell on you, my friend," Beast told him. Wolverine struggled to sit up.
"There was a kid," he started.
"The child is fine, Logan," Jean hurried to assure him. "Minor smoke inhalation, but no burns. You got her out of the building before you collapsed."
"No way. That ceiling hit us like a ton o' bricks." Storm carefully removed the remaining bandages. Wolverine shook his head, still groggy from the sedatives. "Wait a minute. Star was there. She got us out." He looked around. "Hey, where is she?"
"Mrs. Friedlander said she and her husband took her back to your cabin."
"Damn. 'S not a good time fer the kid ta be alone. We had a ... misunderstandin'."
"You care for her very much Logan. I am happy for you."
"So'm I, Jeanne. So'm I."
"I shall fly to your cabin, and wait with her until the rest of you can arrive." Storm said, stepping back out into the early morning darkness.
"Is there anyplace nearby to land the blackbird, Wolverine?" Cyclops asked as he prepared to take off.
"Yeah, there's a meadow about mile from the cabin that's big enough."
They were setting down in the meadow Wolverine indicated when Storm called over their private communication channel.
"Cyclops, the child is not here."
"What d'ya mean, she ain't there. Where else could she be?" Wolverine put in.
"There is ... evidence ... of a struggle," Storm replied. Wolverine was out the door as soon as it opened, moving quickly toward his cabin.
Storm met Wolverine as he neared the cabin.
"She is not within, Wolverine. Nor was I able to find her anywhere nearby." Wolverine entered the cabin through the damaged back door. His nostrils flared as he picked up a familiar scent.
"Creed!" he snarled, "And that no good cop, too. They were both here." He paused by a dark stain on the open front door, touched his fingers to it and brought them close to his nose. "Blood. Star's by the smell of it," his voice was reduced to a low growl as he searched in front of the cabin for an indication of where they had gone. He found the statuette, nearly buried in the snow, more of Star's blood smeared on the base. He swept aside the fresh snow and found the blood stain where she had fallen. There were small pieces of material on the snow as well.
"Looks like they tied her up, so at least she was alive then."
"We'll find her, Logan," Jean said, though she wished she could be as sure as she tried to sound. Wolverine had completely blocked his emotions and Jean was very worried. If they lost Star, they would probably lose Wolverine as well.
Sabretooth put the girl on the table indicated by the technician and stood glowering down at him. The technician removed the fur rug from the girl's body. He gently turned her over and, with a pair of scissors, he cut the cloth which bound her wrists. He straightened her body and fastened the restraining straps across her wrists and ankles. He fastened another across her waist, but left the chest strap off. He removed the make-shift bandaging from her back, hastily replacing it with gauze pads and applying pressure as the wounds started bleeding again.
"Hey, Jerry! Give me hand here, it's a mess!" Another technician entered from a side room, followed by an older man who paused only long enough to make certain the technicians had the situation under control.
"Mr. Creed, I believe our contract stated that the specimen be delivered alive."
"Yer frail is alive, Richardson. The contract didn't say nothin' about deliverin' her intact."
"The specimen is of little use to me in this condition."
"You are gonna be of little use to you if yer thinkin' of reneging on our contract." Sabretooth snarled.
"Of course not, Mr. Creed," Richardson hurriedly reassured him. "You will be paid as we agreed." He cleared his throat nervously. "Mr. Jones tells me you had some difficulties in retrieving my specimen."
"None ta speak of. That moron you saddled me with flubbed the snatch. That's how she got hurt." He grinned suddenly, "Yer gonna have trouble hangin' on to her, though."
"What do you mean?"
"The guy she was running with is a stubborn bastard. He won't quit 'til he's found her."
"Why?" Sabretooth stared down at him.
"Why? You just spent one hell of a lot of money havin' me retrieve the girl, an'..."
"Please, Mr. Creed. Number thirty-six is not a 'girl'. It is merely a laboratory animal. A very valuable animal, I will admit, but an animal just the same."
"Yeah? Well, he ain't gonna see it that way." Sabretooth placed a companionable, and intimidating, arm about Richardson's shoulders. "Ya see, Logan's got this habit o' gettin' ... attached ta people."
"But thirty-six isn't a person," Richardson said. "Its not human by any stretch of the imagination. Why, its not even a true mutant."
"Then what is she?"
"It," he answered, stressing the word, "is a genetic construct. I gathered tissue samples from mutants all over the world. Then I spliced the mutated chromosomes together and implanted them in an unfertilized human egg. The resultant zygote was placed in an artificial womb where it was put through a forced growth process. The entire process takes approximately one year from implantation to hatching, at which time you have the equivalent of an eleven or twelve year old human." He looked up at Sabretooth. "Being prepubescent, they are still quite malleable and eager for training." He sighed. "Unfortunately, many of the zygotes proved to be unviable. And of those that did survive, number thirty-six is the only one to successfully endure adolescence. It proved to be a particularly hardy specimen." He gestured toward the two technicians, still bent over the motionless girl, "You'll notice that they are taking no precautions to prevent contamination of the wounds. That is because it is not necessary. Its immune system is so highly developed that even deliberately introduced pathogens have no effect. I believe...David, hand me that chart." The first technician handed the suture to Jerry and picked up the chart, handing it to Richardson. "Yes, I thought I remembered that," he said, opening the chart to one of the first pages. "Right here, Mr. Creed." He pointed to a list of names. "Your tissue was included in the creation of this one." Sabretooth looked at him sharply, then looked more closely at the list of names. "I had hoped that it would inherit your healing ability, but apparently, it did not." Sabretooth located his name about half way down the list which included such mutants as Jean Grey, Elizabeth Braddock (Psylock), Emma Frost (The White Queen), Charles Xavier, Alex Summers (Havoc), Rogue, and many others. Sabretooth whistled. No wonder this kid was a telepath.
"Quite an impressive heritage, don't you think? I believe, however, that it will be necessary to mix normal human genes with the mutated genes for the next batch. I've begun gathering the tissue samples I will need." He looked at Sabretooth speculatively. "Would you consider letting me have a sample of your tissue? All my remaining samples were destroyed when the specimen was stolen. I would be more than happy to compensate you for it."
"I don't think so, Richardson," Sabretooth said vehemently. "My son's nothing but trouble, and this one...No, I don't want any more little Creeds runnin' around, 'specially if I don't know about it."
"Really, Mr. Creed. You must stop thinking of the specimen as a human. I was hoping to isolate the healing factor this time. It would be interesting to see how extensive the healing is."
"No."
"Very well," Richardson said, obviously disappointed. "If you will come with me, I'll see that you receive your payment." He closed the chart and placed it on the table by Star's head. "Keep me posted, David," he said, over his shoulder.
"Of course, Dr. Richardson." Richardson and Sabretooth left the room. Jerry turned to David and said,
"Boy, he's a cold one."
"You're new here. You learn in a hurry to stop thinking of these things as human." He looked up from the wound he was suturing, "I've been here since he started this project eight years ago. If you'd seen some of the monsters that came out of the hatchery, some of the worst from the same batch as this one, you wouldn't have any doubt that this," he pointed at Star, "is not human."
"She looks human enough to me."
"Take a look at her chromosomes some time." They tended Star's wound is silence for a few moment.
"What are the straps for?" Jerry asked.
"What do you think?"
"But she's not even conscious. It'd be easier to check her out if she wasn't strapped down."
"Look," David said, exasperated. "This thing killed a dozen grown men when it was barely a year out of the hatchery, and from the glimpse I got of that ex-cop, it gave him and that merc a run for their money. I don't intend to take any chances. Now, shut up and hand me that suture."
"What about the head wound?"
"Its not bleeding anymore. After we're finished here, you can take it down to X-ray. With any luck, the big guy smashed its skull and we won't have to worry about it waking up." Jerry stared at him.
"Shut your mouth and hand me that damned suture. It wouldn't break my heart if this thing dies, but I don't want it to be my fault." Jerry handed him the suture.
"Is that how you see everything?" She nodded mutely.
"Can you...tone it down?"
"Yes."
"What happened to you?"
"The snow, it was so beautiful that I kept reaching, I wanted to see it all." The towel had fallen away and she was shivering violently. He put his arms around her, pulling her close once more. Her skin was still cold. He leaned his back against the couch, holding her.
"Show me again," he murmured. He felt her gently reach into his mind and suddenly he could see again, though not so far as before. The fire before them leaped and danced like a living thing. The very air seemed alive. He knew it was still snowing even though the windows were covered. He could feel every flake as it fell. He stroked her hair and it was like silk, her skin as soft as velvet. She looked up at him and her features were recognizable, though she seemed to glow with an inner light. He bent his head and kissed her. The kiss seemed to last an eternity and he could feel her body warming, responding to him. He held her tightly and she clung to him, her naked body pressed against him. His growing desire was matched by her desire for him. He broke their kiss suddenly, pulling away from her.
"Logan" she whispered "I am not a child." She put her arms around his neck and kissed him again. He didn't resist. Her small breasts, bare against his chest, suddenly did not feel childlike at all. He put his arms around her and pulled her against him once more. Their minds still linked, they shared every caress, each touch bringing them closer together, until at last, their bodies joined and they were one physically as well as mentally. They made love before the fireplace until at last, exhausted, they slept.
He woke as she gently withdrew from his mind. He held her in his arms and felt a moment of regret. She looked at him sharply, her eyes questioning.
"I'm s'posed ta be takin' care of ya, darlin'. Not takin' advantage of ya."
"Is that truly how you feel, Logan?" There was a catch in her voice. He considered his feelings silently while she kept her mind meticulously closed. After a moment he decided that his regret stemmed from his previous losses and really had nothing to do with the woman in his arms.
"No, darlin'. I guess not." He kissed her once more and felt the unhappiness flow from them both.
Later, after they had eaten, he remembered the dress. He gave her the two packages as she sat on the couch, watching the fire burn. She stroked the box almost as if she could sense what was inside. Perhaps she could.
"Go on an' open it." She tore the paper from the box and opened it carefully. She stared at the carefully folded silver and black cloth, her mouth open. She gently lifted the dress from the box, running her hands over the cloth. She looked at him, her eyes shinning.
"Its beautiful."
"Well, try it on." She scrambled to her feet and held the dress before her. Then, with a sudden glance at him, she dashed for her room.
"Hey, wait a second!" She stopped short and turned back to look at him. He laughed and tossed her the box containing the shoes Mary had chosen. "Take this with you." She snatched the box out of the air and disappeared into her room, the door closing silently behind her.
It was several minutes before she emerged, clad in her new dress and shoes. She had brushed her hair and it lay glistening about her shoulders. He stared at her, speechless. He got to his feet and approached her. He gazed down at her and, finding his voice, said,
"You are absolutely the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." She smiled radiantly up at him.
"Thank you, Logan." She twisted slightly and the full skirt swirled about her legs. "I love it." She smoothed the fabric with her hands. He put his hands on her waist and swung her around, both of them laughing.
"I have something for you, too," she said suddenly. He reluctantly released her and she turned to the third package by the fireplace. He sat back on the couch, still marveling at her beauty, and wondering how he had missed it before. She hesitantly extended the package toward him and he caught her wrist, pulling her down next to him as he took it from her. It was surprisingly heavy. At her silent urging, he tore the paper away. It was a statue of himself, carved from a single piece of dark wood. He touched it, amazed. The likeness was uncanny. She had captured his very spirit in the wood. The statue almost seemed alive.
"Do you like it?" she asked at last.
"Darlin', I love it." He carefully placed it on the small table near the door then pulled Star to her feet.
"Dance with me."
"I don't know how," she answered quietly.
"I'll teach you." Together, they danced.
The days between Christmas and New Year's Eve flew by. Star had learned to tap into the energy inherent in the earth itself and was no longer a danger to others. After the first of the year, they would be returning to the mansion.
Wolverine wondered how the others would react to his relationship with Star. Despite his best intentions, he had fallen in love with the girl. He sighed, knowing that he would do whatever was best for her, no matter how hard it might be for him. Not for a moment did he realize that she felt the same way.
Star came upon him while he was reflecting on the lost loves of his life. She watched him quietly for a long time before letting him know she was there. She sat down next to him on the porch steps and he placed an arm around her shoulders. She was aware that her presence had only heightened his melancholy and she sadly moved away from him. He caught her hand in his and pulled her gently back down to the step.
"Its all right, girl," he said. "Allow an old man his memories."
"You're not old, Logan."
"Older than you know, darlin'. Older than any man who's lived his life like I have has any right ta be."
"Is age so important, then?"
"Sometimes."
"When?" Wolverine sighed and ground out his cigarette. Sometimes he wondered if she would ever run out of questions.
"Like when that goon grabbed you at the mall and then tried ta blame it on you an' Jubilee. Xavier pulled some strings an' had you listed as seventeen an' in his care."
"But I'm not seventeen."
"I know, darlin'. Hank figures ya ta be in yer early twenties. That was just ta protect ya from a legal system that don't always work." He smile wryly. "Didn't work real well at that, did it?" He glanced at her and frowned at her expression. "What is it, kid?"
"I'm not in my twenties, either."
"Well, just how flamin' old are ya, then?"
"The best I can remember, its been about six years since I was hatched." Wolverine stared at her, dumbfounded.
"Six years?" Star nodded, flinching away from the turmoil in his mind.
"Yer six years old."
"M..maybe a little older. I..I don't know for certain." He stood up abruptly, moving away from her. His hands were clenched and she cringed, though she sensed that his anger was directed at himself, not at her.
His anger, and his pain, was so intense she couldn't block it out. When the memory of their lovemaking caused him further anguish, she instinctively seized his mind, suppressing the memories of their love as well as their loving. She fought back tears as she directed his body to resume his seat on the porch steps. Then she gently released his mind, leaving him with no memory of her manipulation, or of their love.
"Six, huh? Ain't that a kick." He laughed. "Jubilee's gonna love it. She always hated bein' the youngest X-Man." She smiled at him, then got up and went inside, ruthlessly suppressing her own grief. She would ever be a child to him now.
After dinner, Wolverine turned to her and said,
"They throw a big shindig in town for New Year's Eve, darlin'. Ya wanna go?"
"All right."
The next day was New Year's Eve. When Star emerged from her room, wearing her new dress and with her hair and makeup done according to Maudie's directions, Wolverine whistled at her.
"Ya know, darlin', it'd be real easy ta ferget yer just six."
"I wish you would." He just smiled at her.
"C'mon, girl. Ya don't wanna be late t' yer first party, do ya?" She shook her head. As he helped her with her coat, Wolverine wondered at the air of melancholy which surrounded her. He shruggingly attributed it to her love of the little cabin and the woods around it. They would be leaving day after tomorrow to return to Xavier's mansion and the other X-Men.
The night was clear and cold as they drove down the twisting road to the town below. The snow cast a smooth blanket over everything, reflecting the light of their headlights back at them. Star shivered and Wolverine put an arm about her shoulders, drawing her close to the warmth of his body. Once more, she fought back tears.
By the time they reached the high school gym, the only building large enough for the annual celebration, Star had composed herself again. Wolverine parked at the edge of the parking lot and they walked to the building. The dance was already underway and they entered without being noticed. They hung their coats on a rack near the door and Wolverine drew her onto the dance floor.
He had taught her well and soon the graceful couple had attracted the attention, and often the envy, of everyone in the room, though they seemed to be aware only of each other.
At the stroke of midnight Wolverine drew her close and held her in his arms. Chronologically she might be only six, but physically and mentally, she was much, much older. He watched her eyes as he bent to kiss her, ready to back off at the first sign of hesitation. Instead she turned to meet him, her lips parting as they met his. They kissed long and deeply. When they finally separated, he continued to hold her close and, looking into her eyes, he said,
"God, woman. You are so easy to love." To his surprise, she reacted as if he had slapped her. Her eyes filled with tears as she tore herself from his arms and fled across the crowded room and through the door to the outside. He was astounded. He'd had a lot of reactions from the women he'd kissed, but never tears.
"Star, wait!" he called as he hurried after her. By the time he reached the door, she was halfway across the parking lot. He caught up with her in the middle of the street, grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop.
"Star," he said. She refused to face him, keeping her body turned away, her free hand to her face.
"Damn it, girl, look at me!" He turned her toward him, holding her arms. She looked up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"C'mere." He drew her back to the sidewalk, out of the street.
"Now, what's the matter?"
"You said you loved me."
"Yes, I did. An' I do."
"But I'm only six."
"That don't matter, girl."
"It did before."
"What?" Unconsciously, he tightened his grip on her arms.
"You loved me before and it mattered," she sobbed. "It mattered a lot."
"What the hell are you talkin' about?"
"You loved me, Logan. And I love you." His eyes narrowed as she spoke, unaware that his hands were bruisingly tight on her arms. "Then I told you how old I was and you...you...you hated me!" He stared at her unbelievingly. "You hated yourself for loving me. And it hurt. It hurt so badly that I couldn't stand it. So I...I..."
"You what," Wolverine demanded, comprehension dawning in his eyes.
"I...made you...forget," she whispered.
"Ain't I got enough holes in my head without you addin' to it?" he snarled angrily.
"There was so much pain."
"My pain, girl! My memories!" He shook her, emphasizing his words.
"I can give them back," she cried.
"Then do it!" His fury, always so near the surface, was undisguised. She reached into his mind gently and with infinite sadness, for she knew she had lost him again. As she removed the memory blocks she had placed, she felt as though her heart were breaking and she knew she could not live if he hated her.
The memories flooded his mind, nearly overwhelming him. The joy of linked minds. The feel of her body in his arms. The way her smile made his heart swell. Even the despair when he learned her true age. He released her abruptly.
"Now get outta my head, kid," he snarled turning away from her. "It ain't polite." She collapsed to the snow covered sidewalk, her legs drawn up beneath her, her hands covering her face as she cried silently. He stood with his back to her for several minutes, trying to assimilate the conflicting emotions his restored memories had triggered. When he finally turned back to her she had not moved. He fought his anger as he looked down at her. In many ways, she was a woman, but in others she was still a child, even more vulnerable than himself. Abruptly aware of the cold, he took his jacket off and draped it gently around her shoulders. She flinched as if she'd expected a blow. He drew her to her feet, his anger nearly banished by the expression of sorrow she wore.
"Next time ya drop a bombshell, girl, give a man a chance t' adjust." She nodded without lifting her head. He sighed, his anger completely gone. "C'mon," he said. "Let's go home." He put his arm around her, as much to warm her as to reassure her, as they walked back toward the parking lot. They'd only gone a few steps when she stopped suddenly.
"Logan."
"What is it, kid?"
"Where are the children?"
"What?"
"The children. They weren't at the party. Where are they?"
"The local youth center has a sleep in every year." She was frowning. "Why?"
"Something's wrong. I smell...smoke." She looked up at him. "A...a fire. The children are afraid. Logan! Its burning!" Faintly, the smell of smoke drifted to them.
"You go for help, darlin'. I'll go do what I can." He ran in the direction of the youth center. She turned toward the high school, then realized that there was a faster way. She opened her mind, reaching out to touch every adult for miles.
"The children are in danger! Help them! Hurry!" She felt them beginning to respond, so she followed Wolverine.
There were thirty or forty children in the street in front of the youth center, most dressed only in pajamas. Several adults were urging them toward a church across the street.
"Help is coming!" she told them. "Are all the children out?"
"No! I've got at least three missing! Maybe four! Steve 'n Mr. Logan went back in looking for 'em!" Star turned her attention toward the burning building. She found Wolverine and the man named Steve immediately. She searched for a moment and found the three missing children. Two were together on the first floor, the third had run up the stairs, away from the flames.
"Logan, I can hear the children. Two are in front of you, to your left. The third is upstairs." She felt Wolverine move in response to her directions. He quickly found the two youngsters, cowering in a closet. He tore the door from its hinges and snatched them out, handing one to Steve, then guiding the man back to the front door. He handed him the second child and returned to the building.
"Where, darlin'?" She heard him ask.
"Up. Hurry, Logan. The flames are above her now." She struggled to hold the flames back for him, to provide him safe passage to the frightened child.
"Higher," she told him. "Now to your right. She's under something." The smoke was blinding, burning his lungs. He finally located the little girl in an office, hiding under a desk. She was barely conscious as he picked her up. He turned at an ominous creaking. He held the little girl close, protecting her with his body as the ceiling collapsed, burning beams pinning them both.
"No!" Star screamed. Suddenly she was in the burning room with Wolverine and the child. She shifted the burning beams with her mind then put her arms around the unconscious man and the child he had protected. The rest of the floor above collapsed, but the room was empty.
"Please," she called. "We need help." The ambulance attendant turned,
"Where the hell did you come from?" he demanded, turning to her with his first aid kit. "Jesus," he muttered under his breath as he examined Wolverine and the child. "Jim! I've got smoke inhalation and third degree burns here! Gimme a hand!" A second attendant approached at a run. He took the little girl and placed an oxygen mask over her face. He handed a second bottle and mask to the first attendant who fitted it to Wolverine. Wolverine didn't respond.
Maudie found Star as they were loading Wolverine into the ambulance.
"C'mon, honey. Harry and I'll drive you to the hospital." Star shook her head.
"What's the matter? Did you two have a fight?"
"Something like that." Star felt the tears start again. "I...don't think it would be...appropriate for him to see me when he wakes up."
"Are you sure, Star?" She just nodded, watching the ambulance pull away. "Well, all right. But you will stay at our place tonight."
"No, please. I just...want to go home."
Sabretooth grinned as he kicked open the back door of the little cabin. When he'd taken this job, he hadn't known Logan was involved. A simple, although well paying, snatch might turn out interesting after all. And more satisfying as well. He might be required to deliver the frail alive, but the same could not be said of her bodyguard. He snarled as the human entered the cabin behind him.
"Is the Mutie bitch here?"
"Shut up, you moron. Of course she's not here." He sniffed. "But she has been, and I'm willing to bet she'll be back." He grinned again, causing the human to step back. Sabretooth barely noticed. "They'll both be back." Despite the darkness, he spotted the statuette Star had given Wolverine. He picked it up and examined it.
"Looks like the runt's gettin' soft. Might not be much of a fight after all." He put the carving back on the table.
"You got that collar ready? If this frail is a telepath, we gotta take her out first. Then I'll deal with Logan."
"Is this thing gonna work?" The human asked dubiously, fingering the dull gray ring of metal.
"You'd better hope so. If she is a telepath, she's been trainin' with the runt and his X pals, and she won't be a push over." He cocked his head at a sudden noise from outside. He moved quickly to the window and peered out. He watched as a car pulled up to the cabin and a tiny woman climbed out. She stopped and spoke to someone in the car. Then she turned and walked toward the cabin. The car backed down the drive and pulled away.
"Get that damn thing turned on," Sabretooth snarled, thumbing a switch on the metallic belt he wore. "Somethin's wrong. The runt ain't with her." He moved silently away from the window. "Take out the frail. I'm gonna look for the runt." The big mutant glided through the cabin and out the back door. He circled the cabin looking for any sign of Wolverine.
Star opened the door of the cabin and stepped inside, then closed the door behind her. She slipped Wolverine's jacket off her shoulders and turned to hang it on the coat rack. She shivered, for it was cooler in the cabin than she had expected. She looked toward the fireplace. The fire had burned down to mere coals. She would need to build it back up. She was moving toward the fireplace when suddenly there was an awful nothingness in front of her. She froze for an instant and that was nearly her undoing. The nothingness engulfed her and she found herself facing Harry Jones. He grinned as he snapped a cold piece of metal about her throat and abruptly she was blind. She was terrified, but her hours in the danger room had been well spent. She struck him twice with the heel of her hand, once in the belly, and once under the chin. She felt the vibration as he struck the floor. She ran for the door of the cabin and threw it open. She was aware of the warmth of another body an instant before she hit it. She didn't recognize his scent, but she knew he was a large man, the top of her head barely reached the middle of his chest. Before she could try to escape, he gripped her arms and lifted her from her feet. She looked up at him, her blind eyes oblivious to his hideous grin.
"Where's yer boyfriend, girlie?" Sabretooth snarled at her. She lashed out at him with both feet. An attack by an opponent of her size was a complete surprise to Sabretooth. He doubled over, releasing her. She ducked past him, through the open door and toward the trees. He slashed at her, barely touching her as she passed, but his claws, capable of rending flesh from bone, tore deep gouges into her back.
Instinctively, Sabretooth knew that if she reached the trees, she would be very difficult to find, psi dampener or no. Straightening, his hand brushed the statuette. He grabbed it and threw it, with unnerving accuracy, at Star's rapidly retreating figure. The base of the statuette caught her in the back of the head, and she dropped like a stone.
The human on the floor behind Sabretooth moaned, but he didn't spare him a glance. Sabretooth had known he was a waste of space from the instant Richardson had insisted that he be taken along on this job. He approached the girl cautiously, but she didn't move. He crouched beside her sprawled body and put his hand against her throat, checking for a pulse. She was still alive. The smell of her blood, flowing from the wounds in her back as well as from a tear in her scalp, was almost enough to send him into a killing frenzy. He fought it down. She was more valuable alive. Logan would come after her and he could indulge his bloodlust then. He tore a strip from the dress she was wearing and bound her wrists behind her back. As an afterthought, he used more material from the dress to bind her wounds, slowing the blood flow. She showed no signs of regaining consciousness.
Harry Jones walked up beside Sabretooth.
"What happened? I locked that collar on her and she still decked me."
"Told ya she wouldn't be a push over." Sabretooth stood and looked around, still expecting Wolverine to come to the girl's defense.
"Stinkin' mutant," he heard Jones mutter. He turned toward the human just as he delivered a vicious kick to the prone girl's ribs. Sabretooth backhanded him, knocking him to the snow covered ground.
"Richardson wants her alive," he snarled.
"I got a score ta settle with her," Jones answered, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of one hand.
"Take it up with Richardson."
"Maybe I got a score to settle with you too, huh?" Sabretooth grinned at him.
"Give it yer best shot, flat scan." Jones didn't move. He'd suddenly realized how isolated it was up here. The mutant could kill him and blame it on the missing bodyguard. No one would be any the wiser. He'd wait for a better time.
"Go get that fur rug from in front of the fireplace. Wouldn't do ta have the merchandise freeze ta death before we deliver." Jones got to his feet, careful to make no sudden moves, then went to the cabin as ordered. He returned a moment later with the rug. He spread it in the snow, then moved the girl to it. He folded it around her, then picked her up. She made an awkward bundle, especially walking through the deep snow, but Jones decided he'd better not give the crazy mutant any excuse. The snow started again, covering their tracks as they walked the short distance through the woods to the vehicle which had brought them here.
At three o'clock in the morning on New Year's Day, the phone rang at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. Cyclops answered sleepily.
"Is Mr. Xavier there?" the woman asked, hesitantly.
"He's asleep, ma'am. Can I help you with something?"
"I am sorry for calling so late. My name is Maudie Friedlander. My husband I run a little diner in Andrewsville. Anyway, there's been an accident." Cyclops was wide awake now. "Logan mentioned Mr. Xavier once or twice and I thought maybe you'd know how to get hold of his family."
"Scott, what is it?" Jean asked silently.
"I don't know yet," he answered. "Mrs. Friedlander, we are Logan's family. What has happened?"
"There was a fire and Logan was badly burned getting a little girl out. He's in the hospital in the next town." Cyclops caught Jean's flash of apprehension and turned to her for a moment.
"If he's alive, Jean, he'll be all right."
"I know, Scott." She paused, "What about Star?"
"We'll be up as quickly as we can, ma'am. Um," he paused, "there was a young woman with Logan, Mrs. Friedlander," he began.
"You must mean Star. Frankly, I'm worried about that child. She didn't want to go to the hospital with Logan, now don't worry, she wasn't hurt, but she wouldn't stay over with us either. Insisted that we take her home. I hated like the dickens to leave her up there all by herself, but she just wouldn't hear of anything else."
"She can be quite...strong willed ma'am. Thank you for calling us. We will be on our way shortly."
"Now you folks be careful coming up here. Its been snowing on and off since Christmas and its lookin' to blow up a blizzard right now."
"We will, ma'am. Good-bye." Cyclops disconnected and turned to Jean, taking her in his arms.
"He'll be fine, my love."
"I know, Scott. I just..." she sighed.
"I understand." He released her, "I'll get the blackbird, you wake the Professor and the others." In fifteen minutes, the X-Men were on their way.
Using the image inducer, Beast introduced himself to the hospital staff as Wolverine's private physician. He was given Wolverine's chart and went into the room to check his patient. Wolverine was heavily sedated, common practice with a patient as badly burned as he had been. Beast gently peeled back the bandages to peer at the rapidly healing tissue beneath.
"Yes, indeed," he said to the nurse. "Since you have done such an admirable job stabilizing the patient, I believe we will go ahead and transfer him to our clinic now."
"All right, Doctor. Shall I arrange an ambulance?"
"That's not necessary, nurse. We have our own transportation." With the willing assistance of the others, Beast moved the unconscious X-Man out of the room and down the hall to the elevator. A man approached them as they waited for the car.
"Excuse me. I understand that you are Mr. Logan's doctor?"
"That is correct. Can I help you?" The man looked with regret at the bandage swathed figure, lying motionless on the gurney.
"Will he be all right? You see, it was my daughter, my Miranda that he pulled out of that building. And I just...needed to let him know..."
"I quite understand." The elevator opened and Jean and Storm wheeled the gurney inside. "He will be fine. His injuries are not nearly as severe as originally believed. And your daughter?"
"Oh, she's fine. Doc says she inhaled a lot of smoke, but that she'll be OK."
"I'm certain Logan will be pleased to hear that." Beast entered the elevator as the man returned to his daughter's room.
"Hank?"
"He's healing nicely, Jean. He's out because of the sedation, nothing else."
By the time they reached the blackbird, Wolverine was coming around.
"How are you feeling, Logan?"
"Can't answer that in mixed company, Jeanne," he said. "What happened?"
"It seems a burning building fell on you, my friend," Beast told him. Wolverine struggled to sit up.
"There was a kid," he started.
"The child is fine, Logan," Jean hurried to assure him. "Minor smoke inhalation, but no burns. You got her out of the building before you collapsed."
"No way. That ceiling hit us like a ton o' bricks." Storm carefully removed the remaining bandages. Wolverine shook his head, still groggy from the sedatives. "Wait a minute. Star was there. She got us out." He looked around. "Hey, where is she?"
"Mrs. Friedlander said she and her husband took her back to your cabin."
"Damn. 'S not a good time fer the kid ta be alone. We had a ... misunderstandin'."
"You care for her very much Logan. I am happy for you."
"So'm I, Jeanne. So'm I."
"I shall fly to your cabin, and wait with her until the rest of you can arrive." Storm said, stepping back out into the early morning darkness.
"Is there anyplace nearby to land the blackbird, Wolverine?" Cyclops asked as he prepared to take off.
"Yeah, there's a meadow about mile from the cabin that's big enough."
They were setting down in the meadow Wolverine indicated when Storm called over their private communication channel.
"Cyclops, the child is not here."
"What d'ya mean, she ain't there. Where else could she be?" Wolverine put in.
"There is ... evidence ... of a struggle," Storm replied. Wolverine was out the door as soon as it opened, moving quickly toward his cabin.
Storm met Wolverine as he neared the cabin.
"She is not within, Wolverine. Nor was I able to find her anywhere nearby." Wolverine entered the cabin through the damaged back door. His nostrils flared as he picked up a familiar scent.
"Creed!" he snarled, "And that no good cop, too. They were both here." He paused by a dark stain on the open front door, touched his fingers to it and brought them close to his nose. "Blood. Star's by the smell of it," his voice was reduced to a low growl as he searched in front of the cabin for an indication of where they had gone. He found the statuette, nearly buried in the snow, more of Star's blood smeared on the base. He swept aside the fresh snow and found the blood stain where she had fallen. There were small pieces of material on the snow as well.
"Looks like they tied her up, so at least she was alive then."
"We'll find her, Logan," Jean said, though she wished she could be as sure as she tried to sound. Wolverine had completely blocked his emotions and Jean was very worried. If they lost Star, they would probably lose Wolverine as well.
Sabretooth put the girl on the table indicated by the technician and stood glowering down at him. The technician removed the fur rug from the girl's body. He gently turned her over and, with a pair of scissors, he cut the cloth which bound her wrists. He straightened her body and fastened the restraining straps across her wrists and ankles. He fastened another across her waist, but left the chest strap off. He removed the make-shift bandaging from her back, hastily replacing it with gauze pads and applying pressure as the wounds started bleeding again.
"Hey, Jerry! Give me hand here, it's a mess!" Another technician entered from a side room, followed by an older man who paused only long enough to make certain the technicians had the situation under control.
"Mr. Creed, I believe our contract stated that the specimen be delivered alive."
"Yer frail is alive, Richardson. The contract didn't say nothin' about deliverin' her intact."
"The specimen is of little use to me in this condition."
"You are gonna be of little use to you if yer thinkin' of reneging on our contract." Sabretooth snarled.
"Of course not, Mr. Creed," Richardson hurriedly reassured him. "You will be paid as we agreed." He cleared his throat nervously. "Mr. Jones tells me you had some difficulties in retrieving my specimen."
"None ta speak of. That moron you saddled me with flubbed the snatch. That's how she got hurt." He grinned suddenly, "Yer gonna have trouble hangin' on to her, though."
"What do you mean?"
"The guy she was running with is a stubborn bastard. He won't quit 'til he's found her."
"Why?" Sabretooth stared down at him.
"Why? You just spent one hell of a lot of money havin' me retrieve the girl, an'..."
"Please, Mr. Creed. Number thirty-six is not a 'girl'. It is merely a laboratory animal. A very valuable animal, I will admit, but an animal just the same."
"Yeah? Well, he ain't gonna see it that way." Sabretooth placed a companionable, and intimidating, arm about Richardson's shoulders. "Ya see, Logan's got this habit o' gettin' ... attached ta people."
"But thirty-six isn't a person," Richardson said. "Its not human by any stretch of the imagination. Why, its not even a true mutant."
"Then what is she?"
"It," he answered, stressing the word, "is a genetic construct. I gathered tissue samples from mutants all over the world. Then I spliced the mutated chromosomes together and implanted them in an unfertilized human egg. The resultant zygote was placed in an artificial womb where it was put through a forced growth process. The entire process takes approximately one year from implantation to hatching, at which time you have the equivalent of an eleven or twelve year old human." He looked up at Sabretooth. "Being prepubescent, they are still quite malleable and eager for training." He sighed. "Unfortunately, many of the zygotes proved to be unviable. And of those that did survive, number thirty-six is the only one to successfully endure adolescence. It proved to be a particularly hardy specimen." He gestured toward the two technicians, still bent over the motionless girl, "You'll notice that they are taking no precautions to prevent contamination of the wounds. That is because it is not necessary. Its immune system is so highly developed that even deliberately introduced pathogens have no effect. I believe...David, hand me that chart." The first technician handed the suture to Jerry and picked up the chart, handing it to Richardson. "Yes, I thought I remembered that," he said, opening the chart to one of the first pages. "Right here, Mr. Creed." He pointed to a list of names. "Your tissue was included in the creation of this one." Sabretooth looked at him sharply, then looked more closely at the list of names. "I had hoped that it would inherit your healing ability, but apparently, it did not." Sabretooth located his name about half way down the list which included such mutants as Jean Grey, Elizabeth Braddock (Psylock), Emma Frost (The White Queen), Charles Xavier, Alex Summers (Havoc), Rogue, and many others. Sabretooth whistled. No wonder this kid was a telepath.
"Quite an impressive heritage, don't you think? I believe, however, that it will be necessary to mix normal human genes with the mutated genes for the next batch. I've begun gathering the tissue samples I will need." He looked at Sabretooth speculatively. "Would you consider letting me have a sample of your tissue? All my remaining samples were destroyed when the specimen was stolen. I would be more than happy to compensate you for it."
"I don't think so, Richardson," Sabretooth said vehemently. "My son's nothing but trouble, and this one...No, I don't want any more little Creeds runnin' around, 'specially if I don't know about it."
"Really, Mr. Creed. You must stop thinking of the specimen as a human. I was hoping to isolate the healing factor this time. It would be interesting to see how extensive the healing is."
"No."
"Very well," Richardson said, obviously disappointed. "If you will come with me, I'll see that you receive your payment." He closed the chart and placed it on the table by Star's head. "Keep me posted, David," he said, over his shoulder.
"Of course, Dr. Richardson." Richardson and Sabretooth left the room. Jerry turned to David and said,
"Boy, he's a cold one."
"You're new here. You learn in a hurry to stop thinking of these things as human." He looked up from the wound he was suturing, "I've been here since he started this project eight years ago. If you'd seen some of the monsters that came out of the hatchery, some of the worst from the same batch as this one, you wouldn't have any doubt that this," he pointed at Star, "is not human."
"She looks human enough to me."
"Take a look at her chromosomes some time." They tended Star's wound is silence for a few moment.
"What are the straps for?" Jerry asked.
"What do you think?"
"But she's not even conscious. It'd be easier to check her out if she wasn't strapped down."
"Look," David said, exasperated. "This thing killed a dozen grown men when it was barely a year out of the hatchery, and from the glimpse I got of that ex-cop, it gave him and that merc a run for their money. I don't intend to take any chances. Now, shut up and hand me that suture."
"What about the head wound?"
"Its not bleeding anymore. After we're finished here, you can take it down to X-ray. With any luck, the big guy smashed its skull and we won't have to worry about it waking up." Jerry stared at him.
"Shut your mouth and hand me that damned suture. It wouldn't break my heart if this thing dies, but I don't want it to be my fault." Jerry handed him the suture.