AN: Ok, action on the horizon. Everyone watch out. Oh, if you'd like to submit votes for favorite villians not seen in the movie, please do so now---I'm still writing some fight scenes.

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Yuriko looked up from her borrowed book in the den as Laurel set down a basket of laundry. "It's rather quiet today," she said. "Where is everybody?"

"Hank's been in the lower lab for hours now," Laurel said, pulling out a shirt. She frowned at the five holes in the side. "And I sent Gambit to the grocery store-that boy eats enough for eight." She slid a glance at Yuriko. "How're you feeling?"

"Fine," the older woman said. She set down the book and reached for the clothes to help folding.

"Got any plans as of yet?" Laurel asked. "You're restless here, I can see that. Did you want us to help you remove the adamantium?"

Surprised, Yuriko shook her head. "I think I'll keep it in for now."

Laurel nodded. "Have you given any thought to where you wanted to go?"

"I-no," she said. "I don't know what I should do." That was true: she'd need to get a job, and she hadn't the faintest where to start looking.

"Do you have any family left?" Laurel asked gently.

She shook her head. "All what I had was my father, and he died a few years before." She didn't need to say before what.

"Um, can I suggest something?"

She looked up at Laurel, who tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear nervously. "What?"

"I have a friend in Seattle. He runs a dojo for kids with problems," she said, picking her words delicately. "He's always looking for teachers, and if they have the ability to move quickly and defend themselves, it's all the better."

"Problems?" Yuriko echoed. "You mean kids with mutations."

"Most of them," Laurel conceded. "Some of them are just kids from bad homes, or the streets. Gregory teaches a mixture of ty kwon do and judo, with a bit of yoga thrown in. He'd appreciate another helper, even for a little while. It'd be enough to get you back on your feet, I think."

"You mean I'd get the job, just like that?" She didn't believe it.

"Greg doesn't have to know any details," Laurel said. "He knows that I travel and meet quite a few interesting people along the way. He'd probably give you a week for a try out, just to make sure, but if I put in a good word, he's sure to give you that chance." She paused. "I don't put my neck out very often."

Yuriko knew enough of Laurel by now to know that the last sentence was a blatant lie. But she also felt gratified that Laurel decided to trust her. "It sounds like a good idea," she said hesitantly. "But I don't have any money, or clothing, or anything." She had been wearing a pair of Gambit's pants for days now, because even though she could fit into Laurel's shirts, her pants were much too short for her.

"That I can help with," Laurel said cheerfully. "Come on, let's go shopping."

They ended up in a combination Gap and Goodwill-something called the Buffalo Exchange-close to the center of Bullford. "You know," Laurel said conversationally as she handed Yuriko another set of pants through the dressing room. "You don't exactly have nothing. There's still those fishing floats that I pulled from the base."

"What?" asked Yuriko, popping her head out of the dressing room suddenly. "What fishing floats?"

"I saw some floats in the lab," Laurel explained, a little surprised at the woman's earnestness. "I brought them up with me. They're still sitting in Hank's lab somewhere---"

"I can't believe you grabbed them," Yuriko said, slipping back behind the curtain. "They're not fishing floats."

"Just glass baubles, then?" Laurel asked, browsing the nearby racks.

"No. It's a part of my mutation," came the muffled voice. "They're insubstantial things. I made them between operations," she said, her voice growing distant. "There were so many things floating about in that lab: memories, echoes, old smells and voices. I catch them and make them into solid forms."

"Memories?" Laurel asked. Something tugged at her mind, but she couldn't think of it.

"Uh-huh. The dark blue ones are someone's memories. They're something that someone's forgotten. I don't know who they belong to, however." She stepped out of the dressing room. "Well?"

Laurel had encouraged her to get warmer clothing, seeing as how it would soon be fall and Seattle was a chilly town at the best of times. Yuriko was wearing a deep blue pair of slacks and a long sleeved shirt with a false polo collar underneath. "Stunning," she said, because that was what the woman was. "Add that to the pile. How about a skirt?"

"A skirt?" Yuriko asked uncertainly. "I don't know…"

"Come on, you've got great legs. Show them off a bit. How about this one, at the knees?" she held up a simple tan skirt with a nap that resembled suede. As Yuriko shrugged and went in to try it on, Laurel tossed her a buttery yellow top with fluttery cap sleeves to go with it. "Are the stuff forever trapped in the baubles?" she asked.

"No," Yuriko's voice was muffled again. "If you break them, they get loose again."

"And then you have to catch them?"

"Uh-huh. Sometimes if the owner of the memory or thought is close enough, they'll just join up with her. I've seen it happen before. Sometimes they just remember what they had forgotten." She stepped out of the room. "The skirt's fine, but I just think yellow's not my color," she said in a fluttery affected voice.

Laurel grinned. "Maybe not." She tilted her head at Yuriko. "I think the burgundy shirt we picked out earlier might go well, though. Hey, I know a mutant who can make images in the air. Between you two, you might be able to set the snow-globe business on its ear."

"No thanks." Yuriko replied, humor in her voice as she stepped out again. "I think you're right," she added, turning a little in the mirror. "The burgundy does go well." At the sight of the once-hardened killer acting like a normal woman buying clothes, Laurel had to smile. "You are telepathic," Yuriko said, slipping back into her normal clothes. "You might be able to tell who the memories belong to."

"I'm not that strong," Laurel demurred. "But I'll give it a try." She almost didn't want to touch the memories of some of the people she had known were in the lab. They paid for the clothing, as well as a bag for Yuriko to carry them in, and went in search of undergarments.

By the time they got back to Hank's house, they were so loaded down with clothing and bags it was hard to move.

"Hey Hank," Laurel called down the stairs. "Yuriko's gonna show off her other mutation. Want to watch?"

"Her other one?" Hank appeared at the foot of the staircase, blinking at her. "I wasn't aware she had another one."

"Yeah, she makes the glass fishing floats I picked up. Come on up," she said, jerking her head.

In the lab, Yuriko pulled out one of the large, dark blue floats, a little bigger than her clenched fist. "This is a memory," she said, showing it to Hank. "It's a lot harder to catch than echoes and other things." She tossed Laurel a smaller green bubble. "Shake it."

Cautiously, Laurel raised the bubble to her ear and shook it. She jerked back; a pain-filled scream of agony wafted from the float, with a tinny, almost far-away sound to it. It was also familiar.

"That's an echo," Yuriko said solemnly. "There were quite a lot of them." She took the blue float out of Hank's hand and smashed it firmly between her palms. Instead of the shattering of glass that they had been expecting, it gave a little, and then popped like a soap-bubble. "Quick, before it moves," she said, holding out her hand to Laurel.

There was a suggestion of smoke in the palm of her hand, almost a very pale blue, and quickly lightening. Laurel reached out with her telepathy towards it, fully aware that she was trying to touch the mind of something completely insubstantial. But when she touched it, she was given a blast of memories. It was as if everything that the person had ever known was condensed in a small breath of smoke. She jerked back, eyes wild and panting. "I know who it belongs to," she said, staring up at Yuriko. The woman nodded, and made a little circular motion with her hands. The smoke seemed to concentrate a little more, and the bauble solidified again.

"Then take it," Yuriko said. "And when you find him, give it to him. Tell him I'm sorry-it's the least I can do." She paused. "After all, he set me free."

Hank glanced from the older-seeming Asian woman to the small redhead, who suddenly seemed very, very old indeed. "Logan," he said. "What you've got there are his memories."

"And he will get them back," Laurel said firmly. "I'll make sure of that."