Disclaimer: As mention in the former chapter, I own nothin'. NO- THING. So don't bother me. Actually though, that's not entirely true. I do own the character Thorn and this plotline, so ask before archiving or stealing, and I also own a jug of fermented cider. Insert insane grin

Author's Note: Finally! It's here! Sorry this chapter took so long, but hey, cut me break, it's pretty long. I'm kinda proud of it, actually. Came out better than I expected. Anywho . . .I'd like to send a special thank-you out to my math teacher, who, besides being the coolest teacher ever, lent me his copy of Wolverine: Origin (which is freakin awesome!!!!) The next chapter is one of my favorites, so be looking out for it in about a month! Happy readings!

*hey* = italics

_hey_ = thoughts

hey = psychic messages.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Logan retraced his steps down the passage, turning this time to leave through the back door. He paused in the doorway, surveying the grounds, greeting the open air. It was something 'Roro and him had in common- the both loved the open air and wilderness. He decided that maybe a walk later on would help calm his frazzled nerves and ease this restlessness that had plagued him since his visit to the compound.
No sooner had this thought entered his mind then he noticed a flare of light; sunbeams reflecting off glass, probably. Thing was, he didn't remember glass big enough to give off that kinda light out here.
Warily, he made his way toward the source of the flash, a place he remembered being a clearing, surrounded by a copse of trees, which bordered the outer walls of the school. But as he was to find out, that had all changed.

Logan was assailed by unfamiliar smells, mostly a strange, earth smell that was a mix of flower, pollen, and the musty smell of dirt. As he came in view of the "clearing", he paused, taken aback.

The clearing was no more. In its place was a vast beautiful garden, containing plants of all shapes and sizes. A line of young fruit and ornamental trees spread their leafy shade over the rows. Off to the right of the garden was a large greenhouse, its clear, spotless windows slightly fogged with the perspiration caused by the inner heat and the balmy spring air.

Still surprised, Logan walked down the center path, impressed in spite of himself. He was certainly no botanist, but even a blind man could've told you these were truly magnificent specimens of vegetation. Homely tomato plants and corn stalks grew next to exquisite petunias and stunning hibiscus, as if displaying a defiant harmony all their own. Even more, these plants seemed.alive.almost sentient.

Logan hesitated on the path, a simple grass strip that separated the rows into halves and branched off to split into smaller paths that crossed between the rows themselves. He knew this wasn't a trap, but he had no inkling of what it was. It wasn't like Chuck to simply decide to build a garden for no reason. Logan knew Storm liked her plants, but this was too elaborate for her tastes.

He continued his stroll down the path, admiring the greenery as he went. As Logan reached the last of the rows, he realized he had truly found the soul of the garden.

Roses.

Huge, amazing rose bushes that seemed flawless in every aspect. He spotted a bush that bowed under the weight of blooms a little smaller than dinner plates. Another plant held sprinklings of tiny pink and white roses, some tinier than a normal roses petal. Astounded in spite of himself, he gazed at the flowers. As his eyes followed the flower line to the last plant in the row, where he found the piece d'resistance.

The snowy white rose stood out against the other, darker colored blooms, an embodiment of grace and perfection. It was as stunning as the others, but in a simpler way that made it all the more appealing.

Logan regarded it, considering a sudden impulse. Woman like roses...Jean was a woman [a/n: Wow... he's a quick one ain't he...]. Plus, it'd really piss Scotty-boy off. He glanced around, checking to make sure no one was watching. Then he swiftly bent down, reaching to pluck the rose neatly from its stem.

Things didn't quite work out as he planned.

Logan couldn't hold back a slight jump of shock as the vine, well, grabbed him. Several thorn-studded vines twisted themselves around his wrists, yanking him forward and forcing him to crouch on his haunches. The plants wrapped tight, ripping his skin in a hundred different scratches.

Logan gritted his teeth. Of course, the wounds healed immediately, but dammit, it *hurt*! Besides, healing only made it worse, since the miniscule injuries ripped open once again.

Vainly, Logan tried to unravel the vines, but merely managed to make it worse. Cursing, he cast a glare of pure death at the inch long thorns, noting for the first time their abnormally large size. Their lived green color was now tinted red with his blood, making him all the more livid.

Logan could see he was left with only one option; that is unless he wanted to stay there until someone came waltzing along. Besides the fact he had no idea how long that might take, he was extremely aware of how stupid he looked right now. And the Wolverine despised looking stupid.

Reluctantly, Logan glanced around guiltily, making sure for the last time the coast was clear. Then, carefully, he slid one shining blade from it's housing in his forearm and raised it above the sinewy green rope, preparing to..

"What the *hell* do you think you're doing?!?" An angry voice demanded from behind him.

Logan jumped, barely avoiding slashing himself. He sheathed his claw, and by instinct, tried to stand to face the intruder. The vine, of course, yanked him back down. He was forced to be satisfied with groveling in a half crouch, unable to face his potential enemy. He growled angrily, wondering how the hell he owner of the voice had been able to sneak up on him. Only smell he could discern was that weird earth smell...oh...right...unfamiliar scent, unfamiliar person.

The stranger saved him the trouble of further speculation by circling around to stand to his right, allowing him a glimpse of his rescuer..._or attacker_, he considered darkly.

The voice belonged to a she, he noticed immediately. And she was giving him a glare of pure death.

She was to say the least a bit, er, perturbed. Her hands were on her overly-thin hips, her emerald-bright eyes practically shooting sparks as she surveyed the scene. Her golden tanned skin bore a tracery of scars, thin ones, almost invisible, but to him, plain as day. Her auburn hair frizzed out from the heat, reminiscent of the brown moss familiar to Canada. Her throat was an odd shade of red, like she had a welt or had been burned badly in the past. She favored her right leg, he noticed subtlety, but it didn't seem to bother her unduly.

She might have been fairly good-looking, if she tried, but Logan had a feeling she couldn't care less.

Seeing that he wasn't going to answer her question, the woman tried again. "I *asked* you what you were doing," The woman reiterated icily.

"What's it *look* like I'm doing?" Logan asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"Honestly? Looks like you're mauling my plants." She replied. Nope, defiantly not a happy camper.

Anger boiled abruptly inside Logan "Me? Mauling *your* plants? Lady, your plants are the hostile offenders here, not me." _For once_, a nasty little voice added in his head.

_Shut up!_

The woman crossed her hands over her chest, a smug look crossing her face. "Oh, did da poor widdle man get hurt by da nasty woses?" She asked with an impudently smirk.

Logan growled "Look darlin', you're lucky these things are holding me down or I'll-"

"You'll what?"

Silence fell over the garden as they glared at each other. Logan could smell the very tension and anger rolling off her; it was palpable. Amidst the stifled onslaught, the nearly forgotten plant around Logan's wrist gave him a vicious reminder of where he was. _On the ground. Beaten by a flower. _That nasty little voice supplemented.

The woman saw Logan wince and blinked, perplexed, as if waking from a daydream. She glanced up at the sun, just beginning to set, her eyes searching for something in the streaks of colors that painted the sky. The reddish tint of the fiery globe reflected on her face, casting a ruddy glow over her features, so serene, so calm. Logan never knew if she found what she was searching for that day, but she regained her composure. She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, making it stand up worse than ever, adding to the illusion of dark moss gently draping her scalp. She knelt in a single smooth movement, offering a murmured apology. She muttered under her breath, something about the plants feeding off her negative emotions and becoming increasingly violent. Logan took this explanation for what it was worth, trying to ignore how strange it sounded. _Hey, you've got knives that come out of your knuckles, remember? _ He reminded himself.

The reminder was a painful one, but it brought him back to earth. Still wary of his 'rescuer', he took the chance to study her further as she aided him.

Her brows furrowed in concentration as she leaned forward, gently prying each twist and knot free of his wrist. She was beyond lean, almost emaciated, although she carried the air of one whose been treated better in recent times, and was filling out well. She was tall, over the age of 20 and still growing, he guessed. Worry lines were present near her eyes, far too many for someone her age, and her skin was a golden tan, obviously sun and weather beaten. The shoulder facing him was decorated with a tattoo of a dagger with a thorny vine, much like the one currently wrapped around his wrist, twirled around it. There was some sort of inscription on the blade, Latin by the looks of it. Only one of her ears were pierced, the one above her opposite shoulder and Logan, watching the fading sunlight dart across it, judged it to be similar to her body art; a twisting vine or perhaps even a snake.

"Nice tattoo." Logan approved grudgingly. The woman accepted the complement with a nod, causing the silver earring to swing in small circles. She leaned back on her heals, brushing her palms together in a satisfied way.

"All done," She announced proudly. Logan, surprised, glanced at his wrist and saw that the vines were indeed gone, and was even more astounded to realize she had removed them without him noticing.

The young woman, seeing he was making any move to thank her or go away, reached forward with a sigh, seizing his hand and pulling it towards her. Her grip was not ungentle, belaying her seemingly hostile nature as she turned it over.

"I'll have to get water and a bandage for this--" She stopped, uncertain, when she noticed that underneath the dried blood lacing his skin, his flesh was virtually unbroken. Her mouth opened, then shut, as she managed to stutter "How'd you...where'd it...no one's gotten away from the snowy without marks to prove it..." The thin scars tracing her own arms stood testament to this statement. _Jeez.....and this thing actually seems to like *her*..._

Before she could ponder this occurrence further (and things could really get awkward) they were interrupted.

"Thorn...are you here?" A nervous voice called, breaking the still spring air. The woman's head snapped up and she rose quickly to her feet. Logan stayed where he was, allowing himself a small smile. He'd been meaning to talk to the owner of that voice later...

The woman (_Her name's Thorn_ he corrected himself _Real fitting to her personality_) smiled in a non-threatening way as she faced the newcomer.

"Hey...uh, Rogue, right?" She greeted.

"Yeah," The teenage girl said somewhat shyly, brushing a strand of white hair from her face. Two snowy streaks stood out in her auburn hair, framing her face as she stared about her. "Sorry ta bother you, but Ah was just wonderin'--" Just then Logan decided to make his presence known. He stood with languid ease, facing the two girls.

Rouge's eyes widened as she saw him, her lips parting in surprise. "L-Logan?" She asked in a voice little more than a whisper.

"Hey kid," He said softly.

Rogue still seemed to be slightly in shock, but she walked up to him, reaching around her neck with trembling hands. She looked as though she wanted to throw those arms around his neck, but restrained herself with obvious disappointment. Instead, she unhooked a pair of dog tags, handing them to him shyly.

"These are yours," She said. Thorn, who had stepped off to the side, watched the ordeal with a mild interest, arms crossed over her chest. She craned her neck slightly to read the metal tags.

Wolverine.

_Suitable name_ She reflected wryly _Seems to have the lovely temper of his namesake_

Logan seemed faintly surprised "You still wear them?" He asked incredulously.

Rogue looked embarrassed "Uh, yeah..."

Thorn, somewhat bored, tuned out the conversation. It seemed pretty personal and she had never been one to pry in others affairs. She turned her attention to the earth, cherishing the gentle breeze and sunlight in her face. She noted the wind direction and judged the time by the sun's position in the sky. About 6:30, she'd guess. She wriggled her toes in the damp soil, feeling the grass sway to the wind's gentle caress. She felt so at home here, in the wild. She missed her home so much, but the duties of caring for her plants kept her occupied. It'd been a month since they'd moved her here, salvaging all the plants they could, packing her meager belongings, and moving out. She was astonished at the kindness displayed by these people, who had replanted her whole garden, doing so while putting up with her more than a little particular tastes, and even building her a beautiful greenhouse. They were warm and caring, and, despite her lack of human contact (and people skills), had grown on even her. Even that trickster, Bobby.

The thought of the kids made a smile come to her face, though it was quickly replaced by a faint frown. There was a tremor rippling through the blades of grass, against the wind. Thorn crouched to the ground, laying the more sensitive skin of her palm lightly on the earth. Yep, definitely a disturbance there. She glanced over at her visitors, but they seemed too absorbed in their conversations to notice anything. She declined to interrupt them and turned instead to face the western edge of her garden, which, incidentally, was towards the school.

It was a few seconds before Logan caught a scent on the relatively calm air. He turned to Thorn, only to see her staring absently in the direction the scent was coming from.

"Someone's coming," He informed her gruffly.

"I know," She answered vaguely.

"What do you mean, 'you know'?" He repeated suspiciously. Before she could answer, the object of their discussion burst into the garden. The 'someone' was obviously one of the students, a tall and well-built young man. He seemed to have jogged from the school, but didn't appear to be out of breath. Thorn gave him an appraising glance _No wonder this kid's approach was so noticeable_ She thought _The guy's friggin' huge! _

He brushed a lock of dark hair from his sapphire eyes. "Sorry to bother you," He apologized "But I was sent here with a message for a Miss Thorn." His voice carried a strong foreign accent, Russian origins probably, but his English was very good.

Thorn was more than a little surprised to be addressed in such a way, but she took it in stride. "It's just Thorn," She corrected him, "But yeah, that's me."

"Professor Xavier has scheduled you an appointment with Dr. Gray on Wednesday at 6 pm." The kid said. He smiled when he recognized Rouge, who returned it with a wave.

"Whoa now, what *kind* of appointment?" Thorn asked, alarmed.

"Physicals; powers assessment, psychological statistics, stuff like that," Rouge supplemented, "We all have ta have one when we first come to the school."

"Oh peachy," Thorn muttered rebelliously, "Why didn't anyone inform of this development a month ago? Bloody hell..." Her companions offered no explanation, nor did she expect any. She heaved a sigh and brushed her bangs away from her face. "Anything else we should know about?"

"I was, um, also suppose to tell Mr. Logan that his classes are starting on Wednesday," The boy added. He seemed slightly nervous as he said this, though Thorn had to wonder how a kid that size could worry about anything.

_Kid's got a thing for titles hasn't he?_ Logan noted.

"Look kid, it's Logan, not--" He stopped, the full impact of the messenger's statement sinking in. "What classes?!"

"Hey, I'm just the messenger..."

"What *kind* of classes?!" Logan repeated in a deliberate tone.

"Self-defense?" The teen offered meekly.

Logan's mouth dropped open. He had never agreed to do those classes! Ohh, he was gonna have a nice, long, talk with the Professor later.

The boy was giving Logan an apprehensive look, but Rogue barely seemed to notice. She distracted him with an offered greeting "Hey Peter," She said.

"Hello Rogue," He replied. He glanced at Thorn as if waiting for her permission to return to the school. Thorn gave him an approving glance. What a gentleman...

"You guys can head up to the school if you want," She said, "Oh, and thanks for the messages Peter."

"You're welcome miss," He said with a smile, already beginning to walk away with Rogue by his side. Rouge said a brief farewell to Logan, who managed to smile before replying in kind.

Thorn watched them leave, an unfamiliar fondness forming in her heart. She turned to see Logan frowning at their receding backs, absorbed in his own thoughts. She rolled her eyes.

"What's wrong?" She queried, irritated.

"Don't trust 'im." He muttered stubbornly. He flexed his fists reflectively. "Not with Marie."

"Well, you won't have to worry about it, because Rogue's not interested in him." Thorn replied, turning her back on him to face her greenhouse.

"She's not?"

"Nope. She's dating some other kid." Thorn informed him. She hated handing out second-hand information, but this guy obviously had a bad case of big-brother protectiveness going on here. Too bad for Rogue; that wasn't the kind of relationship she wanted with Logan.

"Not that Drake kid?" Logan's statement was more of a question, one he was really hoping he didn't know the answer to.

"Yep."

"If he hurts her I'll..."

Thorn cut his tirade short. "You'll make idle threats and throw him around a bit. Whatever." She picked up a pair of hand clippers from the grass and threw them through the open door of the greenhouse. It was a neat shot, one made by someone experienced with blades, and landed with the metal blades imbedded in the dirt floor. "I'm just telling ya you won't have to worry. Bobby cares for Rogue and I think half the school would pound on him before you got there if he did something as stupid as that."

"How do you know so much about it?" Logan inquired, wondering if there was more than meets the eye here.

"Let's just say I've got an open mind and a sympathetic ear," She said with a small smile.

_What the hell is *that* suppose to mean?_ He wondered crossly.

Before Logan could spring any more questions, she raised a hand, palm forward.

"Listen, I've got to run up to the school, but you're welcome to hang out here," She grinned insolently, "As long as you don't try to butcher any more plants."

Logan stared in disbelief. She strode away from the garden before he could think of a suitable reply, her light laughter echoing in his ears.

He gazed after her, her slim form moving quickly and silently across the sprawling lawn. She moved with a grace and smoothness he hadn't witnessed since he'd come here, with these city folks. A saying from long ago entered his mind unbidden.

_"Child of the forest..."_

Only then did it occur to him that Thorn hadn't flinched when she saw his claws. Hell, she had hardly even seemed to notice. Or care.

Waking himself from his silent reverie, he recalled the original reason he'd entered the garden. Well, he was all alone and had been formally invited this time. He looked around before choosing a quiet spot beneath a cherry tree, as far from the flower garden as possible. He'd had enough of roses for one day.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Well, there ya go! I hope you liked it. Please, please, *please* review! Unless you're a writer, you have no idea how happy reviews make me (just ask Amy Potter 13 . . .every time I get a review, jump on her the next day in school . . .) I will gladly accept constructive criticism since I wish to be an author and I need to figure out my faults to get rid of them. Thanx so much! Oh and I will someone PLEASE inform me where I can get English to Russian translations and how to use italics, etc. in my story?

Coming Soon: _A Lesson in Self-Defense_