Chapter Seventeen: Thanksgiving

Wolverine sat upright and forward in the chair. The bandage wrapped his eyes, but his nose was perked up, to catch the scents in the air.

He could smell the fall leaves outside although in his mind he called this smell the 'fall colors'. There was sweet, cool moisture in the lush grass beneath those leaves, and soon, Wolverine was sure, Thanksgiving would be upon them.

When the smell of roast bird and extravagant food always filled the House of Charles Xavier. Where football and laughter and food would renew the soul in time for winters chill.

But Wolverine needed something more to renew his soul. And he had waited a month, for Xavier's return, to begin the process.

A door shut in the distance and Wolverine straitened, and pulled his wolfs head cane (A gift from Charles) up properly, his hands resting on the large silver head.

A moment later the door opened and Wolverine took in the scent of the oil and the residual fragrances left on the handles on the back of Xavier's chair. He had long since become so accustomed to Xavier's smell that he could smell him on anything in the house.

"Good evening Logan." He said smoothly, wheeling himself around behind his oversized desk. "How are you?"

"I'm good Chuck. Real good." Good and nervous.

"I've heard that there have been developments while I was gone."

"Yeah. That's why I need to talk to you." Wolverine reached out gently with his hand and pushed the door lightly. It swung closed in an appropriate manner. "I found some things out Professor. Some things that matter to me more than anything before." He advanced on the desk using the cane to guide him. When he found it, he took the chair opposite Xavier.

"You've been real good to me Professor. Better than most anyone I'd wager. Even when I was unreachable, you were there, reaching."

Xavier was stunned. Such a change in so short a time.

"And now I need to ask a favor Professor." He could smell the professor's surprise. "I need to go looking for my son."

Xavier didn't speak. Not at first. But after a moment he leaned in forward. "What is it you need Logan?"

"Eyes!" He hissed in a tone lower than he had intended.

"Y-e-s." Xavier responded slowly and noncommittally. He leaned back, intent on not responding; "I see."

Six Weeks Later

Wolverine's head was swimming. Briefly he wondered if he could get some of this anesthetic for the next Fourth of July weekend.

He could hear them talking about him. Hurry up! They would say. I want to be right here. Mom, you stand here. And How long now?

Then, all too soon, Hank was unwrapping the bandage. He felt naked without it for just a moment.

And then he blinked. Twice.

And there was Rogue. His Marie. And her smile, still so bright, genuine.

And then to his left, that smile again. Younger this time and less familiar.

"Mary-Ann" he said softly, looking away to Rogue, only to see her nod and confirm it.

And he pulled his girls close, afraid he was dreaming, afraid he was insane, afraid that the moment would end and fade like a dream until it was lost to him.

Lost... The word floated through his mind even as he pulled his head back to see them both, again, together. He's months overdue, Hank's making arrangements. . . And it suddenly all felt false; His wife, his purpose, his recovery and his life.

"It's not a dream." He said to Marie who shook her head and bounced up and down in excitement

Scott and Jean stood in the corner, behind Mary-Ann, but removed from the group.

"Marie, Mary-Ann, can I have a moment with Scott and Jean?"

For a moment Mary-Ann hesitated but then left with Marie to wait "Right outside."

"Summers." Wolverine beckoned him forward. "Jean." He swallowed. "Thank you both. So much. Thank you."

And where the words failed him, his actions would speak so much more clearly, as he drew them both close to him, as he had his own family just a moment before.

His emotions flowed through his touch and in to Jean's mind. An unstoppable emotional rush flowed through her as she came to understand that this feeling was Logan's conviction, his understanding, and his appreciation.

The emotional charge flowed between Jean and Scott through their shared psychic bond, until it was so strong that Scott found himself opening up, and sharing the pain, and insight and the love that resulted from raising Logan's daughter.

In the hall outside, both Marie and Mary-Ann jumped as the door opened. Much to Mary-Ann's delight, her father and her dad were walking together as the best of friends.

The night dissolved in to dinner and exhaustion. Soon however, the moments led in to the night and Logan stood alone, looking out the small cabin window as Marie rose and fell in the gentle pattern of sleep.

The moon was out, although not quite full, and the night was clear.

Only one thing was missing. Only one thing remained.

Wolverine had never met his son. A son lost somewhere out there. Marie spoke well of him; he was kind, smart and strong. Logan never pushed her to talk about him although he longed to hear more. He knew that Rogue was suppressing the paradoxes. He finally understood that the dimensions had diverged and then recombined in some fashion. He understood that paradoxes were like scar tissue, proof of a healed wound. Nothing more.

But Marie was still fragile. Still unsure in theory but not in practice.

And that's enough for now and more than I deserve. He would tell himself.

But soon it would be time, time to find his son, time to hold an entire family, time at last to see his whole world. Soon, it would be time to show the world what he had learned about standing by your family. Soon.