Disclaimer: I own pretty much none of the characters accept for Anna and her family...that's it.

Note: The title of the story, Iris, has nothing really to do with the story with the exception that it's named after the Goo Goo Dolls song, which is my favorite. I've always felt like the lyrics to the chorus fit quite well with the theme of X-Men...yeah, I have too much time on my hands, but enoy the story anyway.

I begrudgingly woke up, pried my eyes open and looked at my watch; it was nearly noon. I slowly drug myself out of bed and made myself shower and put on clothes that I was relatively sure were clean. After that I made my way downstairs, into the kitchen. I saw Scott sitting at the same island that I myself had been sitting at nearly nine hours earlier.

"Did you sleep okay?" He asked as I walked into the room.

"Yeah, pretty much." I half lied. I had slept well until I woke up, and continued sleeping well after my late night chat with the man that I had met earlier that morning.

"Good," he said, taking a large sip of his water.

"I met one of your friends last night," I said, pulling a plastic bottled container of orange juice from the refrigerator. I opened the cabinet across from me using my telekinesis. I removed a glass, and grabbed it with my hand as soon as it was within my reach, then I closed the cabinet.

"Who?" Scott asked, looking up at me, but with the tinted glasses of his, I could never be sure if he was actually looking at me or not.

"Oh," I said, pouring the juice into the glass, "I think he said he name was Logan or something like that?"

He made a funny noise; almost half laugh half frustrated sigh.

"Yeah, he's not exactly what I would call one of our friends." Scott said, finishing off the water in his glass. He then moved to take the glass to the sink.

"Oh…well, he said he knew Jean pretty well and he lives here…so I just assumed…" I said, trailing off.

"No, he liked Jean, that's all there was to it."

"How come I've not heard about him before?"

"He's not really the Golden Child of the school. Magneto went after him and one of the students we have now a few months back. The Professor sent us after them and he stayed here for a few days. Then he took off for a while and came back a few days ago, just before we went off to Alkali Lake, and now he's living here."

I thought for a moment, suddenly it struck my mind that I had heard about him before. Jean had told me about him because she was explaining his condition. Apparently he had metal running along and attached to all of the bones in his body. He was also the one that she had talked about being with them at Liberty Island during the meeting of the world leaders. She had told me quite a lot about him, but she did, however, forget to mention how attractive he was. She also never mentioned that he liked her. My mind was running with wild thoughts, but mostly it was the same question; Did he really like Jean or did Scott just think he did? I didn't want to ask, even if the situation had been different, that's not an easy subject to talk about. So, I kept it to myself.

"We're having a memorial service for her tomorrow, in the chapel. It's going to be from three until five. You don't have to come if you don't want to, I would understand." Scott said quietly, still standing by the sink.

"No, I'll be there." I said, managing a weak, fake smile.

Everything had felt so surreal. Perhaps it was because it had happened so fast, I wasn't sure. But, it still didn't seem real, even as I stood inside the schools chapel off the side of the mansion, the very next day. I looked around at all of the pictures of Jean growing up, her papers declaring her degrees in medicine, all the candles that were lit; it all seemed so wrong and fake. It was like a bad practical joke and I was left waiting for her to jump out and yell 'Surprise!' But I was waiting for something that would never happen.

I watched as the Professor talked about her, how he had seen her grow and learn to control her powers. I watched, but I didn't really listen. His words didn't sink in. Then, he stopped. Now it was my turn. Once Scott knew that I was going to be at the service he had asked me to say something about her. I had spent almost all of that night trying to write something worthy of her greatness. I had always looked up to her, but when it came time to put it in writing what I thought, I didn't quite know how.

I left my pew and went to stand in front of the audience of people, made up mostly of students. I laid my notes down on the pulpit and cleared my throat.

"Jean was my best friend," I said, looking out across all of the kids, but at the back of the church I saw Logan sitting in a pew by himself, by the door. It seemed as if he was getting ready to make a run for it, if he needed to. I didn't blame him, I wanted to run myself. "I remember the first time we met, it was here at the school," I continued, "we were two of the first students and we shared a room together. We both we telekinetic, the same age and we both felt the same way; lost. In a world full of people who were considered 'normal' we were outsiders. All of us here were. But, together we got through it, because together we weren't different, we were normal. I also remember the day she told me she was going to school to become a doctor so she could work here at the school. I was amazed by her selflessness; she was giving so much back. I remember the day when she and Scott were married. She looked so beautiful and happy. I was so excited for her, she had worked so hard for everything for everyone else and she was finally doing something for herself. And I watched her on the news, fighting in the courts so we could all be free to live how we want. I felt bad when I would watch her because I felt like I wasn't doing enough, but I was always proud of her, no matter what. She took care of and looked out for me when I was younger, she helped me and cheered on when I got older, and she was more than supportive enough whenever I made any sort of decisions, good or bad…which was usually the majority of the time. And even though I'm sad...a little angry, and a little disbelieving that she's gone away from us so soon, I'm happy that I knew her and spent all of the time that I did with her. She was the best person I've ever known and she will always be alive in my heart."

I stepped down from behind the pulpit, tears flooding my eyes. I walked out of the chapel; I couldn't be in there while Storm spoke about her. I didn't think I could take it. But, I knew well enough that when she was through and it was time for Scott to speak I wouldn't be able to stay.

"Are you okay, darlin'?" I heard from behind me.

I was sitting in front of the chapel, on the steps. I turned my head to see Logan standing behind me.

"Yeah…I think I'll be okay," I said, dabbing the tears from my face with the tissue I had wadded into a ball with my fist.

He moved slowly from behind me, to right next to me and sat down. I saw him, from the corner of my eye, look at my clothes. I had made a poor attempt to put together and mournful outfit that I could wear to the memorial service out of the clothes that I had taken with me on vacation. I was wearing a black skirt that had a white, mod, flower pattern on it, along with a white tank top, a cropped nude colored sweater and nude ballerina flats.

He sat beside me for a while the finally asked, "Do you wanna get outta here?"

I thought about it; Should I? I'm supposed to be supporting Scott and helping him, what help would I be if I was gone? But then again, I was hurting too, so whatever idea Logan had of where to go that might help was something I deserved too…right?

"Yeah," I said, standing up, "what did you have in mind?"

I followed him as we took one of the school's cars and we drove to a place called 'Ducky's Bar'. When I asked about the name, he just told me, "Wait until you see the owner."

I walked closely behind him, I had never been to a bar before and some of the people there looked a little shady.

He went to the bar and sat down; I sat on the stool next to him, being very cautious about my skirt. I must have looked quite uncomfortable because I heard him laugh at me as he lit up a cigar and stuck in between his teeth, slowly taking a puff.

"What?" I asked, wanting to know what he thought was so amusing.

"Nothing," he said with a cocked eyebrow.

"What can I get you?" The bartender asked, coming up to Logan.

"A Fosters,"

"And what about you, miss?" The bartender asked, eyeing me.

"Water," I said quickly.

"Water?" he asked with a smirk.

"Yes, water; if ya'll have that then that's what I want. If not, I don't want anything."

"No, we got it." He said, turning and laughing.

Logan didn't say anything until after he had brought us both of our orders.

"Do you not drink?" Logan asked, tipping his bottle to take a sip.

"No,"

"Why not?"

"I tried it once when I was younger and in college but…" I paused, looking for the right way to phrase it, "more came up than I had sent down and when I woke up the next morning with the most pain I had ever felt, I realized that the pain of a hangover is probably worse than the pain I was trying to dull down in the first place."

"Makes sense," he said, taking another puff of his cigar. "But I thought you said you were still in college? That must be one heck of a major."

I laughed. "Yeah, I went for about a year, then my mom got sick and I decided to go back home and take care of her. She was sick for about four years before she died, and then my dad…committed suicide and I had to pay for his funeral all by myself and couldn't get up enough money to finish until just a couple of years ago."

"I'm sorry," he said after thinking for a minute.

"About what?"

"About your parents," he said, turning up his bottle again.

"It's okay, I've still got my grandparents for now," I said with a small, forced laugh.

"I'm sorry about being a jerk the other night, too."

"I didn't think you were being a jerk, I don't neither one of us were in too good of moods."

"I know but I didn't have to act the way I did when you were asking me questions. I know you just wanted to know what went on that day."

"It was probably for the best because now I don't really want to know." I said, taking a small sip of my water.

"I was in love with her, I did everything I could to stop and try and save her, I want you to know that."

I traced the brim of my glass with my index finger.

"Thank you," I said, looking at him with another weak smile.

"So, what are you taking in college?"

"Behavioral Psychology,"

"Wow, that must be interesting," he said sarcastically.

"I find it very interesting, actually. People make a lot of statements with how the act, I think it's fun to learn why."

"Alright, the tell me; why do I act like I do?" He said with a cocky smile.

"I can't," I said.

"C'mon,"

"Look, I don't even really know you, there's not a lot I can figure out right now.

"But you do know some, c'mon, it'll be fun."

"All right, um…" I said, facing him. "You are defensive, sarcastic and just a little bit cocky, which are all signs that you're trying to mask something, usually pain of…problems, anything you don't want other people to know about you, because you think that they'll think you're weak. You come off as very unsocial which also feeds into the whole deal about people not knowing what's going on with you. You have an animalistic quality about you, which means you probably have a short temper and you tend to solve problems by fighting, rather than talking. It also means that you're very protective of the people you're close to and you probably go after what you want, because once you get yourself focused on it, you have to have it."

"Too bad you don't know me all that well," he said with a sarcastic laugh.

I smiled, but soon I was curious about something that he had said; he told me that he was in love with Jean.

"Did you and Jean…did you ever –"

"No," he said, cutting me off.

"But, I thought that you said –"

"Jean…I was in love with her, but she was married and she chose him over me."

"I wouldn't take it too personally; she was in love with Scott since she was fourteen."

"What about you? How does your boyfriend feel about you just taking off to visit some guy?"

"I don't have a boyfriend, so I guess he doesn't mind." I said with a laugh.

"Really," he asked, raising his eyebrows, "why not?"

"Why? Because…I'm not exactly the perfect catch, I'm thirty-seven, still in college, working a time consuming job, and trying to pay off my parent's funerals. When I do have time off I'm usually at my grandparent's house trying to help them out…and being what I am, it's hard to find someone who doesn't care and can realize that I'm not some dangerous freak, or something…I don't know." I said, taking another sip of my water.

"How did you get time off to come here, then?" His questions seem to focus on the odd parts of my statements.

"I actually got fired…because my boss found out about me."

He nodded his head quietly and took another sip of his beer.

"What about you?" I asked, "Why don't you have a girlfriend…aside from the fact that you were in love with Jean? Which, may I add; you're not the first person who's fallen in love after meeting her, because I've seen quite a few guys chase after her."

"Same as you, I guess, not really someone that you want to get involved with."

I laughed out loud on accident.

"Well, I'm glad you find that funny." He said tipping his beer up and taking a long drink.

"No, it's just…you're not…half bad looking, I have a hard time believing that you would have a difficult time getting a woman to go out with you. I don't think that that's the problem." I said. "There must be something more than just 'not wanting to get involved' with you."

"Well, my problems seem to get in the way."

"What problems?"

"I only remember the past sixteen years of my life, what happened before was pretty unclear until the past week we went to Alkali Lake. But, everything's still not clear."

"What do you remember?" I asked.

"Waking up in a forest in Canada, completely naked, not having a clue who I was except for a dog tag I was wearing around my neck that said Wolverine. That's it."

"Isn't a wolverine and animal?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said, tipping his head and draining the last of his beer from the bottle.

"I don't get it, why did it have the name of an animal on it?"

"Because that's what I am, an animal," he said, pulling out his wallet and paying for his beer. "Are you ready to leave?"

"Yeah," I said, standing from my stool.

We walked back to the car in silence, once we were in and making our way back to the school, I said; "I still don't get it."

"Get what?"

"How are you an animal?"

"You said it; I have an 'animalistic quality' about me."

"But I didn't call you an animal; I just meant you had qualities like them."

He cracked a grin. "I know."

He slowly pulled off the main road onto a smaller road, which was most likely used for teenagers wanting to make out. The car was completely hidden from where we were parked.

He turned the engine off and suddenly I saw four metal blade emerge from his hands, right by his knuckles.

"Holy!" I managed to scream, as the quickness scared me. "You could have warned me!"

He smiled at me again.

"This is why you're Wolverine, because you have claws?"

"The rest of my senses are like theirs."

"But doesn't it take a long time to heal?" I asked confused.

He slowly slid his claws back into his hand, careful not to scare me once more. I watched as the open wounds that they had left behind began to heal in front of me, and soon enough there was no evidence that anything had ever come from his hands.

"Does it hurt?"

"Yeah…"

I absent mindedly grabbed his hand and ran my fingers over his knuckles. His hands were strong and rough. I loved how they felt. Soon I realized what I was doing and quickly let go.

"Sorry," I said, turning my head, embarrassed.

But he grabbed my head and turned it back around to face him, forcefully pressing his lips to mine. He wasn't anything like I thought he would be like and yet everything I had hoped; He was rough and passionate and some how soft, but I still felt like he was doing just what he wanted with me. It had been so long since I had even kissed a man I didn't really care. We had only been kissing for a few moments when he pulled away abruptly.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"You're not Jean,"

"No, I'm not," I said, leaning back in my seat, "I'm not going to be, no one's ever going to be."

"I know."

"Do you, or was that the whole point of this?"

"The whole point of what?" he asked, slightly frustrated.

"This," I said, motioning around me at the trees we were hidden behind, "did you pull off here to show me your hands or to see if you could find Jean by kissing me?"

"Look, you asked a question about me and I showed you the answer, that's why we're sitting here. You grabbed my hand, not the other way around."

"Maybe I wanted to kiss you,"

"Did you? Because I'm not Scott either,"

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"It's supposed to mean that I've seen how you look at him, you follow him around, pretending to comfort him when you want nothing more than for him to forget all about her and pay attention to you. That's what you've always wanted, isn't it?"

"No, it's not. Scott is one of my friends, I've known him since I was fourteen and I'm sorry if you get the wrong impression of me but what I want is for this whole thing to have never happened."

"Which whole thing?" he asked.

"Both,"

"I thought you said you wanted to kiss me? You've changed your mind pretty quickly."

"Well, perhaps my thinking has been impaired by the recent events."

"I don't think so; you still want to kiss me,"

"Maybe so, but why should you care, I'm not her?"

Once again he grabbed my face and pulled me towards him, pressing his lips to mine more forcefully than before. He kissed me more passionately than any man had every kissed me. I felt it all over me; my lips, my fingers, all the way down to my toes. I had never felt so connected or alive. He pulled away, but more slowly, leaving his hand resting on the side of my face.

"We should get back, it's getting late." I said. I didn't know what he just happened.

"We're not kids, we're allowed out after dark," he said kissing me once more.

"I know, but I need to get back."

"So you can see Scott?" He asked.

I jerked away from him, sitting properly in my seat once more and strapping on my seat belt.

"I'd rather see him than you," I blurted.

"I bet," he said, turning the car back on. He turned around and we drove back onto the main road.

"I don't know who you think you are but you have no right to talk to me that way,"

"What way?" he asked.

"By implying that I have any sort of feelings for Scott other than that of a friend; we're both mourning over someone we lost and while I'm trying to be somewhat of a comfort to him, you come along and completely contort and misconstrue everything about the two of us."

"Why don't you just cut the crap, okay?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You think you have everyone figured out and that you see what no one else does about people, well guess what darlin'? I've got you figured out as well."

"Really, do you?" I asked sarcastically.

"You use words and try and cover up what's going on. You smooth it over by acting like you know what you're talking about. Then, you pull away when someone tries to give you what you want, because you're scared of someone seeing what you're trying to hide."

"And what's that, what am I trying to hide, what is it that I don't want anyone to see?"

"You don't want people to see what you want and who you are,"

"And you know what I want?"

"You want me,"

I was extremely frustrated with him. On one level he was way out of line with what he was saying, he didn't know me, but on another level I knew he was right and it scared me. But, I laughed.

"You don't even know me, so what you think about me is your own problem, not mine."

That's when I saw the semi-truck coming around the curve, taking the turn much wider than it should have. I watched in horror as the large bed of the truck swung out. Logan tried to stir the car away, but it still hit the driver's side and sent the car flying into a tree. The airbags exploded and filled with air, smacking into my face which was thrown closer to the dashboard by the impact.

I gasped for breath as the wind was knocked out of me. As I became more aware of myself I pushed the airbag out of the way, trying to see if the car was on fire. As I looked out the broken windshield, I saw that the front of the car was completely smashed in. My legs were trapped between the floor and the dashboard. I could feel them but I was fairly sure that at least one of them was broken.

I fumbled with my hands, trying to unbuckle my seat belt. But as I looked my side I saw that Logan wasn't in his seat. I pushed the airbag down further to see that his had not worked and he was sent out the window, onto the ground. I saw him stand up and watched as the large gash on his right cheek healed.

"Are you all right?" He yelled to me.

"I think my legs are broken," I called back, "but I can't feel them."

He walked around the tree that we had crashed into, over to the passenger's side of the car. He yanked open my door and looked at me.

"Can you move?" he asked.

I tried moving my body, turning towards Logan, but my legs were trapped and wouldn't move.

"They're stuck," I said, gritting my teeth as the feeling in my legs rushed back, a sharp, hot pain rushed over my body.

He moved back and shot out the claws from his left hand. He then attacked the dashboard, ripping out it pieces and removing it.

"Can you move them now?" He asked as his metal claws slide back into his hands.

I used all of the energy that I had and moved my legs outside of the car. I tried stand and found that in fact my right leg was broken. Even though my left leg hurt badly, I shifted my weight onto it in hopes that I wouldn't further damage myself. I tried to take a step, but my legs buckled and I nearly fell. Logan caught me and stood me back up.

"My right leg's broken, there's no way I can walk on it." I said.

He grabbed my arm and slung it over his neck and helped me hobble to the road. We both stared at the semi-truck which had stopped. The driver inside was looking out his window at us, shaking. He was more than likely in shock, I thought.

He slowly stepped out of the truck and made his way over to us, very slowly.

"You…you're alive!" He stammered, pointing at Logan. He just stared back. "I saw you fly out of the windshield, hit the tree and fall to the ground and you don't even have a scratch on you!"

"I didn't hit anything too hard, I'm fine." He lied.

"No, the way you flew out and hit that tree…it should have broken your neck!"

"Is there anyway you can call for help? My leg's broken and our car is wrecked, there's no way we can get out of her." I asked.

"I've got a C.B. radio in the truck that I just called on, I thought this fella' was dead."

"Okay, how long is it going to take?"

"About half an hour I think, miss."

"I need to sit down," I said to Logan. I was getting dizzy and not feeling well. I looked down to see blood pouring from my left calf. "I'm bleeding pretty badly."

Logan ushered me back to the car and I sat sideways with my feet on the ground. I watched as he took off his leather jacket and then removed his long sleeved, plaid, button up shirt and ripped it into small strips. He proceeded to bend down and wipe the blood from my leg, checking how bad of a gash it was. It was around one inch wide, three inches long, and a quarter of an inch deep. He carefully cleaned it the best he could before he began to wrap a strip of the shirt around my leg. Soon he had covered the entire wound and tied it off.

"Here, put this on," he said, handing me his leather jacket. The fall weather was turning cold.

"No, you need it," I protested.

"If I needed it I wouldn't have told you to put it on." He argued back.

I pulled the jacket on and relished in it much larger size, as it covered the upper part of my legs as well.

"Are you okay, ma'am?" The truck driver asked, walking over to the demolished car.

"I think so," I said. But, I was much dizzier than I had been just minutes before and I realized that I was losing consciousness.