I rolled off the couch and stared at my front door. Kurt cursed, and I heard the soft implosion of air as he vanished off of my couch. He reappeared a few moments later off to the side of the door in a low crouch, staring at it. My door is, as most apartment complexes have nowadays, a steel door. It was meant to take a beating, and help block the outside noise. Nothing could cut through those doors unless it was a cutting torch.

Yet there appeared to be three knives shaving their way rapidly around my doorknob. I felt frozen, I couldn't move. Abruptly, the blades vanished. There was a pause before the door suddenly flew open.

Sunlight poured in through the open door, and I raised my arms to shield my eyes from the near blinding light. Framed in the doorway was a tree stump of a man. He was short, broad, built solidly. I already knew that underneath the flannel shirt and the blue jeans there was a set of tightly compact muscles. I could tell little else. I realized that I was on my knees, one hand on the floor, the other in front of my eyes. Like I was about to beg this intruder for my life.

"Alright," the man said, and his voice was gruff, gravely, "Where is he?" he demanded. I raised an eyebrow at him as I picked myself up off the floor.

"He who?" I asked innocently. The man raised his nose to the air, and sniffed.

"I can smell 'im." He said, and stepped into my apartment. "His scent is all over this place. Brimstone.."

Kurt moved then. He slid in behind the intruder and his tailed lashed around the mans neck. The man's eyes widened, and without even looking he reached back, grabbed Kurt by the back of his neck, and flung him across the room. This of course sent them both tumbling, as Kurt did not release his neck. They bounced painfully off the floor, and Kurt's tail recoiled as he rolled nimbly to his feet. "You will not hurt Morgan!" he growled, placing himself squarely between me the intruder.

"Dammit fuzzy," my intruder cursed. "What the hell has gotten into you?" he hauled himself to his feet and rubbed at his neck.

I saw Kurt shift uneasily. "Who are you?" he asked.

"What th'hell d'ya mean who am I?" The man demanded. "You get knocked on the head or something elf? I'm the same guy I've been for years!"

"As a matter of fact," I interrupted, "he did. And his question is a valid one. Who the hell are you?"

I don't think that the man could have had a better expression of surprise. His bushy eyebrows flew up, eyes widening. Even his mouth gaped open. He must have realized he looked like a stunned fish, because he abruptly snapped his square jaw shut and his expression grew grim. "This better not be a joke fuzzy." He said.

"No joke." I said flatly. "Now who are you?"

The man scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Logan." He said. "My name is Logan." He went back to the door and closed it as best he could. "Now, explain."

Kurt rose from where he'd been crouched on my floor. "Logan," he said softly. The named rolled off his tongue, as if he were tasting it, trying to determine what flavor this particular person was. "I don't remember-"

"So I gathered." Logan said. He gave up on the door –it kept wanting to swing open- and turned his attention back to Kurt. "What happened Wagner?" he said the name as if the v were a w. As if it were pronounced VAH-gner. "Wagner?" Kurt repeated. His brow furrowed for a moment, then his expression brightened "Yes! Wagner! That is my last name!" He smiled, white teeth flashing in the darkness of his face. "Kurt Wagner! Acrobat extraordinaire!"

"Acrobat?" I repeated softly. "Hang on, let's get one thing sorted out first." I pointed at Logan. "You know Kurt. Fine. How do we know you don't mean him any harm? How do we know your not the one who tore him up in the first place?" I looked at those claws, the physicality of the man, and an awful, awful thought occurred to me.

If this man had a pair of claws that could go through a steel door like butter, then he could easily have caused the wounds the Kurt had suffered. That others had suffered. This man could very well be the serial killer.

I backed up slowly in the direction of the phone. Hopefully I could make a dive for it and call the cops before he got to me. Maybe Kurt could delay him-

"Fuzzy and me have been pals for a long time." Logan said. "I'd sooner hurt myself than him. Well, unless it's a session in the Danger room. Then, anything goes." He grinned, it was a vicious smile, but still somehow managed to be filled with good humor. "If there's something goin on with him and I can help, then I'll help." He folded his arms across his chest.

"We are friends?" Kurt repeated. Again, he sounded lost, small, like a child who'd gotten separated from his mamma. "I do not remember!"

I halted my progression to the phone and instinctively took a step towards Kurt. Fortunately, I stopped myself before I could do something embarrassing. "Okay. Here's how it's going to work. I don't trust you." I said, looking at Logan flatly. "You didn't come a-knocking, you came a- breaking and entering. I'm not entirely sure you are who you say you are, or that you know Kurt as a friend of as someone who might look tasty at the end of one of your claws." Logan snorted, and I continued. "My Uncle is a cop. I'm going to call him, and have him have his buddies on standby. He's already met Kurt, so you can relax, he has no problem with mutants."

"I hope not." Logan muttered. "Seeing as how he's got on in the family."

It took a moment for me to realize what Logan meant. I looked at myself, I mean really looked. My legs gleamed whitely, my arms, my hands-my illusion was gone! I don't know when it happened, or why I hadn't noticed, but it was alarming that my control had slipped at some point. With a hiss of irritation, I slipped the illusion back on. Logan raised an eyebrow. I ignored it. "is that satisfactory with you?" I said.

"Whatever makes you feel better." Logan said. He wandered into my kitchen, and came back with a beer. Then, he dropped bonelessly into my recliner. "Mind if I smoke?" he asked, producing a cigar from his pocket.

"Hell no." I said, still rattled. "it sounds like a damn good idea to me." I hated smoking indoors, but with the front door open, it wasn't that bad. I left long enough to retrieve my cigarettes from my nightstand, and open the back door so that the wind drafted through my apartment. I lit a cigarette with shaking hands and came back into the living room before calling my Uncle.

Our conversation was brief. It would take him about fifteen minutes to get to my place, so I decided to make a pot of coffee while we waited. The tension in my apartment was so thick, it was almost like a visible force. Kurt was agitated, shifting, moving around the room, trying to stay out of sight of the open door. Without thinking I laid an illusion over him, and he smiled at me gratefully.

"Illusionist?" Logan asked.

"Among other things." I answered, and emerged from the kitchen with a cup of coffee and another cigarette. "Coffee in the kitchen if you want it." I said.

Logan raised his beer. "No thanks."

"I was talking to Kurt." I said. Not that I thought Kurt needed anything else, it might make him even more edgy.

Patrick arrived not long after. It looked like he'd just thrown on a pair of suit pants and his trench coat over his pajamas. How the man could wear layers in this kind of heat was amazing. He saw the two men, and raised an eyebrow at me. "Both real." I said. "That's Kurt." I pointed at him in his disguise. "This is Logan."

"Right." Patrick said. "Fine then. Bring me up to speed. And what the hell happened to your door?"

I gave him all the pertinent details, and he said "Aha. Alright. Well, let's get started then. Has anyone explained to Logan here what's happened?"

"Nein." Kurt said. "But I will." He told Logan everything that we knew about how he was found, what he remembered, everything. Logan's face grew darker and darker when Kurt told of his injuries, and then speculative when Kurt came to how I had found him and helped him. "There is more, of course. But, I am afraid I do not remember much. I know I should know you, my body wants to know you. It wants to relax, to just be, but my mind is getting in the way. It is telling me that I do not know you, and my heart tells me yet another thing!" He finished in a near yell, tension clearly visible around his eyes.

"I can tell you anything you need to know-" Logan began to say.

"It's best if he discovers it on his own." Ryan said from the doorway. He was wearing a pair of cut off shorts and a blue T-shirt, sandals encasing his feet. Bearing a crock-pot and several bags, he simply walked in and went straight into my kitchen. "If you tell him, his brain might stop trying to find the answers." He said. "Best to let him find out on his own."

"Would taking him home help?" Logan asked.

"A familiar environment couldn't hurt." Ryan emerged from the kitchen. "What happened to your front door?"

"Him." I said, and pointed. "You owe me a new front door."

Logan shrugged. "Fine. Bill me."

"You will buy the fraulien a new door, mien freund." Kurt said firmly.

"All right, all right." Logan said, and he grinned at Kurt. "Some things never change. You always have a soft spot for women." He rolled his shoulders. "You trust me enough to come back on my own? Or are you gonna send an escort with me?"

"Escort of course." I said. "If you don't mind, Uncle Pat?"

They left, and I sat down heavily. This was all going so fast! Kurt seemed willing to trust Logan readily enough, but we had heard nothing from him that would indicate he was friend or foe. I was leaning toward Logan being one of the good guys, judging solely from his reactions, but it could be that he was just a phenomenal actor. The fact that was an asshole was secondary.

"He is a friend of Kurt's." Ryan said softly. He sat down next to me and put his arm around me. "You okay?"

"I'm exhausted." I said. "I'm worn out, I'm scared, I'm confused, I don't know." I said softly.

Kurt surveyed us for a moment before taking himself a bit apart. "I think I will just go, ah, take a shower.." he said.

I leaned into Ryan, and the comfort his shoulder offered me. "I feel like I haven't really had a moment to rest for the past three days." I said.

"How did things go after I left?" Ryan asked.

"Kurt was a perfect gentleman, if you're trying to imply something." I said.

"Not at all." Ryan said. "I just-" he shifted. "Well, you know I'm a bit of an empath"

I pulled away from him. "Get to the point Ryan."

"Just that." He scrubbed a hand through his blonde hair. "You know that I can't read you very well-"

"Because I'm an illusionist." She said. "I still don't understand that one, but go ahead."

I heard the water turn on in the shower. "He's attracted to you Morgan."

"Hmm?" I said, distracted. Then, I blinked. "Wait, he's what?"

"Attracted to you." Ryan repeated patiently. "He really likes you. I just, I wanted to make sure that he didn't try anything."

"Ah, no." I said. "No, he didn't try anything at all."

"Good." Ryan said. "Well, I mean not good, but.. well, you know what I mean."

I laughed and patted his knee. "I know what you mean." Desperate for a change of subject, I said "So what's the crock pot for?"

"Pot Roast." He said. "I figured that's what's for dinner tonight."

"Your cooking?" I asked.

"Well, we can't subject an invalid to your idea of food." Ryan chuckled from the kitchen. I couldn't argue with that. I was horrible cook.

Left with nothing to do, I proceeded back to my computer. It was possible I might be able to get a little bit of work done before Logan and Patrick came back. I booted up and went straight to my email. Amazingly enough, it appeared that today was going to be a slow day. I only had one e-mail, and it wasn't from a source I recognized. I clicked on the name, and watched it load.

It was another bank hack. Not too much of a problem. I had it finished by the time Kurt had exited the shower. "You leave me enough hot water?" I smiled at him. The illusion was still in place, and I wondered briefly if that had made showering difficult. I didn't wonder for long though, because once again he was clad only in those jeans and toweling his hair dry. I felt my eyes travel down the length of his body. I realized what I was doing and snapped my eyes back up to his face, but I knew I'd been caught. "Ja, I think so." He said shortly. Too late, I realized he must have thought that I was checking him out because of the illusion. I wanted to correct him, but didn't have the courage to say so.

I rose from my computer and padded into my bedroom. I was sweaty and sticky, the heat of summer rolling into my apartment, and I wanted nothing more than a cool shower.

I hoped the water would help to wash away the clutter in my mind as well, but it didn't. It still wanted to run little circles around what Ryan had told me, and why every time I thought about it, I got a little flutter in my stomach. Unbidden, a sensory memory came to me. The touch of velvet against my skin, and the hardness muscle beneath. The strength of his arms, the silk of his hair running through my fingers, even the feeling of his tail as it had looped around my leg. I shuddered, but not because of the chill water.

I took a deep breath, and forced myself to calm down. I couldn't deny that I was intrigued by him, attracted to him. Still, I didn't see myself building a relationship with someone who could only remember half of his life, and I wasn't one for a one night stand.

I finished my shower and dried myself off, then dressed. When I emerged from my bedroom, Kurt and Logan were busy installing my brand new door. I raised an eyebrow at Kurt, and he shrugged. Logan sniffed, and turned to look at me. "Huh." He said. Then he turned back to Kurt. "No wonder you smell like a girl. Using her bath stuff, huh elf?"

"Ja well, it's what's available." Kurt said. "Besides, I like mangos."

I laughed. "Could be worse. Could be baby powder fresh." Both of the men winced, and I chuckled again.

Patrick came back in then. He'd dressed, and was carrying a thick file. "Well, I had to fight like hell to get this, but.." he shrugged, and tossed me the file. "It's all there, pictures and everything." He said grimly. "If I were you, I wouldn't eat before or after looking at them."

Logan looked at me inquisitively, but didn't say anything. They got the last screw in place, and he slide it open and closed a few times. "Works fine." He said, then he knelt on the floor and began to take apart the lock and the doorknob off the door he'd cut up.

I sat down on the floor, and put the file in front of me. I didn't want to open it, I didn't want to see the pictures that I knew it contained, or read the information that was probably written in cramped script. There would be lab results, fingerprint notes, and personal information on the victims that they had. The file was a good four inches thick, and it would take a while to go through it.

Kurt squatted on the floor across from me, and regarded me wordlessly. His tail twitched around his legs, and tapped the folder. I nodded slowly. "I don't want to open it." I said softly.

"Ja. Yet you must." Kurt said sympathetically.

"Bad news?" Logan asked. He had gotten the knob and the deadbolt apart, and was busy fitting the doorknob into the whole the door had for it.

"You might say that." I said.

Patrick's pager went off. "Dammit." He said. "I gotta go, they may have more news on the scene." He said. He bent over and kissed my on the forehead. "Take care hun, I'll call you later to see how things are going, okay?"

"Okay." I said, and watched him leave. This left me alone with Ryan, Kurt, and Logan.

I sighed, heavily.

"Well, I'm off." Ryan said, surprising me. He glanced at Logan. "You gonna be okay..?" he didn't bother to make a pretense of his suspicion.

"I'll be fine." I said. "Kurt will make sure I'm safe, won't you Kurt?" I asked him, smiling, and he grinned back. "I don't trust him either." Ryan said flatly. I was shocked at that. I stared at him, not knowing what to say. There was a ver pregnant pause, and finally he shrugged. "I'll be back in a few hours." He said, and then left without even saying goodbye. What the hell had crawled up his ass? I have a feeling he would have slammed the door, if I had a door to slam.

"Well." Logan said.

"I agree." I said tersely.

"I would not hurt you Morgan," Kurt said. "You must believe that."

"I do Kurt." I said it without hesitation. I didn't even have to think. Sometimes, you just know things, and I knew that no matter what, even if Kurt turned out to be a bad guy, that he would never hurt me. "I'm not to sure about him though." I jerked my head towards Logan.

"Oh, you don't have to worry about Logan." Kurt said. "He's a kitten." There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "I remember once, when Kitty-" he paused. "Katzchen." He said softly. "Ach, I remember her name, her face, but I don't remember how I know her!"

Logan closed the door, for he'd finished working on the door. He closed it, then, to my surprise, locked it. In response, I let the illusion around Kurt fade. I'd much rather see him as himself, then in the colors I'd painted him with.

Logan came over and rested a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "Kitty is a very close friend of both of us." He said. "She's like a little sister. She was the one who begged me to come looking for you. Granted, I was already planning on it, but still.." he shrugged. "The sooner we get you home, the better."

Kurt's tail coiled and uncoiled. "There is still something that needs doing here." He said, and indicated the folder. "Perhaps you can help solve the mystery Logan."

He shrugged, and dropped down on the floor next to us, so that we sat in a circle around the still closed folder. "What mystery?"

"Murders." I said softly. "And why they didn't finish the job with Kurt."

I took a deep breath, and opened the folder.

I was relieved to see a neatly typed cover page, and not glossy pictures. I lifted the file out, and skimmed it. Mark Blackburn. Age 24. Strangled. It was the file on the first victim. Attached to the file by paperclip, on the back, were the photographs.

He'd probably been fairly attractive alive, but now his face was purple, a line of blood around his neck where the wire had cut into his skin. There was a look of terror on his face, eyes still open and staring glassily forward. I spread the photographs out on the floor, they showed his apartment, down to the last detail.

Forensics had found no prints, no fibers, no hair, no epithelials, no nothing. There was no sign of a struggle, other than the immediate area, no sign of forced entry. It was like the person had just walked in, strangled him, and walked back out without leaving a single piece behind. There wasn't even any skin under the victims fingernails. Nothing.

Each of the crime scenes were like that. There was nothing in the way of clues, nothing to link the murders together except for the countdown to the end. The two women broke up the gender theme, and they were all so vastly different from each other, that it seemed there was no rhyme or reason to it at all.

I was willing to bet that they'd been so busy testing the DNA of the victims to make a positive match, that they hadn't been testing DNA for anything other than that. Some mutations were more subtle than others, and they may not even necessarily show up on the initial tests.

I had to stop about halfway through to throw up. It didn't make me feel better, but it did reaffirm the fact that I was indeed alive and human. We poured over each file carefully, until we came to the very last one. This one was simply entitled "Possible connection." It read basically that there was lots and lots and lots of blood on the scene, signs of a struggle, and that, shock of shocks, it appeared that the blood had come from a mutant. This of course had made everyone wonder if it was connected at all, and right now the lab was running tests to see if any of the other vics had been mutants. Boy, would they be surprised.

"you must have a lot of genetic markers on your DNA if it popped up that fast." I said.

"Well, look at me." Was his response. "I was born this way. It's pretty clear to anyone what I am." The tone he used was light, but I could hear the pain behind it. So many years of hurt piled up, my heart ached for him.

"Same here." I said, then smiled. "Same boat I guess."

We spent hours going over the folders, and in the end could find nothing, absolutely nothing that was helpful. Whoever the killer was, they were very, very good. And, I was willing to bet, they were also a mutant.

I finally declared I'd had enough, and we put the folders away just as the smell of the crock pot began to fill the apartment. Pot Roast! Ryan sure knew how to make me happy! I rose from my position on the floor, legs and back aching, and stretched. "Oh my goodness." I said, and dragged it out to go with the stretch. "Too much time on the floor, and not enough exercise."

Logan snorted. I ignored him and went into the kitchen to make sure the roast didn't need more water. It would be my luck that the damn thing would dry out while I was otherwise occupied.

Someone knocked on my door, and I halted my progression. I glance at Logan and Kurt, and they took the hint, retreating to my bedroom. I waited for only a moment before going to my front door and opening it right up.

A petite blonde stood before me, dressed in tight blue jeans and a midriff top that exposed the larger portion of her belly. Sandals clad her feet, and her skin was a deep, deep golden brown. There was a clipboard clutched in her tiny hand, and had a sunny smile. "Hi!" She said brightly. "My name is Candy, and I'm conducting a survey for my Psychology class. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

Sure what the hell? It's not like I was busy. Besides, I was lonely. It had been a few days since I had company. "Sure, what can I answer for you?"

"Okay great!" She said, and bounced on her toes. I noted that she had rather an attractive figure. "First question.. may I have your name please?"

"Morgan Flannigan." I said. She jotted it down. I found my eyes kept drifting to the line of her collarbone and lower, peeking at the cleavage revealed by the low-cut midriff Tee she was wearing. Really, she was incredibly attractive. Why hadn't I noticed it before?

"Okay. Now, how do you feel about mutants?" she asked.

"I feel fine about them." I said. "They are people too." She jotted that down too, and now I found myself staring at her rosebud of a mouth. I wondered what it would be like to kiss those soft lips.

"Are you a mutant?" She asked.

"Yes." I said. Did she have to flip her hair like that? It was very distracting. I was having difficulty focusing on anything besides how much I wanted to get this girl into my bed.

"What are your powers?" she asked.

"I'm an illusionist." I said. I summoned a rose for her, hoping it would please her. "See?"

She clapped her pretty hands together, clipboard and all, and wiggled most pleasantly. "Ooh most impressive!" She lowered her eyes, then glanced up at me through impossibly long lashes. "Do you think, you might let me in and show me what else you can do?"

I really had to fight to keep myself from throwing her to the ground and ripping all of her clothes off, but I managed a strangle "Sure." She was going to let me please her! Yay! I stepped aside and let her in, then closed and locked the door behind me.

Immediately, she dropped the clipboard and turned to me, her fingers sliding into my hair, and pulling my head down for a kiss. All thought left me as I lost myself in her, hands wandering over her curves, tugging bits of clothing off of her...

I felt arms wrap around me from behind, strong arms, masculine, and I squirmed. "Lemme go!" I said.

"Nein." And unfamiliar voice said. "You will hurt yourself."

"You!" Candy said. Her eyes flared red, and I felt a twinge of fear. Why was my blonde goddess angry? What could I do to make it up to her? "I wasn't able to finish the job before, but I sure as hell can now!" Candy hissed, and I whimpered.

"Please, don't hurt me, I love you!!" I said. I struggled, I wanted to get down on the floor, to prostrate myself before this divine creature. I had to be in her favor!

"Not you dolt!" She said. "Him!" She pointed, and I looked over my shoulder at was holding me.

A blue devil was gripping me tight. Terrified, I screamed. I screamed and thrashed, and in desperation, I conjured an illusion of a loin leaping at him. But he held me fast, and would not let me go. I scratched at his arms, kicked, scream, in desperation I even bit him. I broke through the skin, and his blood hit my tongue with a coppery tang.

"You got a problem with him?" I heard another man ask, and saw someone come out of my bedroom. How had he gotten there? What the hell was going on?

"Behind you!" I shouted, and Candy turned.

"Fuzzy?" Logan questioned. I heard a soft noise, and felt as if something jerked me around. Suddenly I was behind the man, still being held fast. I threw up, and felt a sudden lurch. The room swam, and suddenly I was standing in the sunlight. I threw up yet again, getting it all over myself and the devil who was holding me, and then everything went black.