Disclaimer: I don't own anything, except for Mr. Boo-Boo Sock Monkey, but he's built upside down and doesn't have ears. He's enjoying the new story and hopes that everyone else is too, and he hopes you like the next chapter!

The next morning I woke up and took a shower before grabbing some breakfast. After I finished eating, I went to take out the trash.

"Do you always work?" I heard someone say. I turned around and saw Logan standing outside his truck, puffing on a cigar.

"No, but don't you have a job?"

"Yeah,"

"Doing what, you're here all the time?"

"This is what I do,"

"And what is that, going from bar to bar just fighting people until you lose?" I asked.

"I don't lose kid, I never have,"

"So then why do you leave if you don't lose?"

"No one wants to see someone win all the time,"

"I guess,"

"Chloe, are you done, we have to go now!" Viv yelled at me from their car.

"Yeah, I'll be there in a second!" I called back. "I have to go; I guess I'll see you later tonight,"

"Yeah, alright," he said, pulling the cigar from his mouth and getting into his truck.

Viv and I went shopping that day, but I couldn't keep Logan from my thoughts, with everywhere we went my mind wandered back to him. There was something about him that haunted me, his image stayed with me the whole day and by that night, I was anxious to see him. I wasn't sure if I had a crush on him or if I was just fascinated by him. There was no denying that he was attractive, but I didn't want to be that girl who didn't have a daddy growing up, so she runs into the arms of any man that shows the smallest bit of interest in her. I wanted to be smart about the situation, but I couldn't change the fact that he was in my house every night, and since that was my last long night working for the summer, I wanted to make the most of it.

I was waiting at the bar that night when two men sat down, ordered beers and proceeded to heckle and make fun of Logan.

"Twenty dollars says you can't last three minutes in there with him," I said to one of the men.

"Three minutes, that's it?" he asked.

"You think you could last longer?"

"I say…a good five minutes and I could knock him out, he doesn't look that solid,"

"Oh, so you think you would win? Here's the deal; you last three minutes and I'll give you twenty dollars, you knock him out and I'll give you fifty,"

"Deal," he said, shaking my hand.

"Leave your money with your friend, if you lose I'm not going to wait until you regain consciousness for you to pay up," I said.

Sure enough, he pulled out his wallet and gave his money to his friend, and then he walked up to the cage and told Sid he wanted to fight. Once the match Wolverine was fighting was over, Sid let him into the ring as the other guy's friends drug him from the cage. I caught a glimpse of his face and he looked as if he was starting to rethink the bet, but then the bell rang and the fight started. Sadly, for him, he didn't even last two minutes and his friend left me my bet money and paid for their bill before dragging his friend out to their truck and leaving.

By the end of the night I had made over two hundred dollars from various idiots who actually thought that they could take out Logan.

"Chloe," Tom started later that night.

"I'm on it," I said, grabbing a beer on my way over to Logan and setting it down in front of him.

"So, how much money did you make?" he asked with a smirk and a small wink.

"How much did you make?"

"Six hundred,"

"Two hundred and twenty-five,"

"Not bad," he said before taking a sip.

"Not bad at all considering I don't have to actually do anything and you have to be the one fighting them,"

"So are you still mad at me for screwing up your bets?"

"A little bit, this isn't quite as much as I had been running, but I guess I can deal with it,"

"So what are you gonna' do with it?" he asked, taking another sip from his tall bottle.

"Do with what?"

"The money,"

"Oh, well, my birthday's coming up soon and I'll be sixteen, so I'll probably get myself a car,"

"With two hundred dollars?" he asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"Well, I was hoping to bring in a little bit more by then, it's about a week away. I'll get to work for an hour every night, except on Saturdays, I'll get to work all day then, so hopefully I'll get a few hundred more,"

"Do they know you get that kind of money?"

"Who, Tom and Viv? Yeah, they don't care. I don't mess with their money and they don't mess with mine,"

"Are they your grandparents?" he asked, taking a puff of his cigar.

I let out a small laugh. "No, they're my foster parents. My father is in prison so when my mother was killed I came to live with my aunt here in Alberta, but she didn't like the whole mother deal so she gave me over to foster care, where Viv and Tom came and got me. I've been living with them for a little over seven years,"

"Only two more years, kid," he said with another drink.

"Yeah," I said wistfully. "Do you have any kids?"

"No,"

I resisted the urge to say; 'Would you like one?' thinking it might frighten him a little bit. Instead I asked; "Are you married,"

"No,"

"Do you have any family that knows you're sleeping in the parking lot of a bar every night?"

He looked at me, his expression changing slightly, to either upset or confused. He took another long drink of his beer, ran his tongue over his lips and thought for a moment. "No," he answered again.

"Well, I guess we have something in common then," I said. "We don't have kids, I'm not married and I don't have any family either,"

"I thought you said you had a father and an aunt?"

"My aunt gave me away, so she doesn't know where I am and my father's in prison, I haven't seen him since I was three,"

"How long did he get?"

"Thirteen years, so he'll be getting out some time within the next year,"

"What did he get put away for?"

"I don't know, my mother would always tell me that I was too young to understand and that she would tell me when I got older, but uh…my stepfather killed her and him both when I was six, so she never got to tell me,"

"I'm sorry,"

"It's not your fault,"

"So how does that work, do you live with him once he gets out?"

"That's the thing, I don't know. There will be a big case over whose got the better life for me and where it would be in my best interest to live, and all that crap,"

"Would you want to live with him?"

"I don't know, I don't remember him, but like you said; only two more years and then I can do what I want,"

"It doesn't always make things easier,"

"No, but at least if my life is screwed up then, I'll know that I got to screw it up myself instead of someone else,"

"I guess you could look at it that way," he said with a small smile and I couldn't help but smile back.

I was completely shocked by how he could be such a wonderful fighter, how he could beat those men, and yet be so kind and gentle with me. I didn't know how he did, but more to the point, I didn't know why he did it. Even if he wasn't nice to me, I would still have to wait on him, and with all of the woman that I had seen flock over to him every time that he had been there proved that he wasn't looking to pick up an under age girl in a bar, but perhaps he just wanted someone to talk to. Maybe he needed someone to keep him company while he was there. I didn't know, and I tried not to care; if he wanted to talk, that was fine with me, I didn't mind. Bartenders were supposed to listen to other people's problems, but usually they were quite a bit older than me, and I wasn't really listening to his problems, he was listening to mine.

"So, where are you from?" I asked.

"Here,"

"Northern Alberta?"

"Yeah," he said as he took a small sip from his bottle. "What about you?"

"Washington State,"

"Why are you living here instead of in the states, then?

"My aunt lives up here, or lived up, or something,"

"And your father's down there?"

"Yeah, he's in Seattle,"

"Would you want to move back?"

"I don't know. I hated it when I first moved here, but now I really like it and I think it would be a little sad to leave. But, it's this whole place, not just Canada; this is my home. But I don't know, I guess we'll cross that bridge when we come to it,"

"Hey Chloe, you take the rest of the night off, I'll clean up," Sid's girlfriend Nancy said. Her real name wasn't Nancy, but everyone thought it was funny to call her that, except for me, who was a little too young to remember what they were talking about, but I could never remember her real name, so I just called her Nancy, too.

"No, I'm fine," I said.

I knew what she wanted; Logan. All of the woman did and the only way she knew how to talk to him without Sid catching on was to try to take over my bartending.

"Are you sure, you look a little tired?"

"Yeah, I'm sure, I'm talking right now," I said back forcefully enough so that she wouldn't ask again.

"Oh, who are you talking to?" she asked and with that I felt like slapping her. She could clearly see whom I was talking to, she had seen him as many times as I had, and she was acting like a complete idiot. Scratch that, she wasn't acting;she really was an idiot. She was one of those stupid, air-headed, bleached blondes, and her stupidity was making me sick.

I gave him a look of frustration and he just winked at me as he tipped up his bottle, draining it of its last drop, then he pulled out his wallet and threw down the money for his bill.

"Wolverine," I said, answering Nancy.

"Oh, our cage fighter!" she said, as if a light bulb had just been turned on and she could finally see the man who was sitting right in front of me and not even seven feet from where she was standing to my right, doing nothing productive.

"Yeah," I said unenthusiastically.

"I don't have any change, I'll give you a tip tomorrow night," Logan said, standing and tucking his wallet into his back pocket.

"What, don't play out in traffic?" I said sarcastically.

He gave a small laugh and shook his head. "Something like that. See you tomorrow, kid,"

"Alright, bye," I said as he left. Once he was out the door, I grabbed my cleaning rag and handed it to Nancy. "You know what, I am quite tired, thanks for volunteering, I could use some extra sleep,"

"Oh, well," she started.

"I'll see you guys tomorrow, goodnight!" I said, leaving before Nancy could change her mind.

When I got to my room, I put up my money, changed into a pair of sweatpants and an A-line shirt and flipped on the radio before getting in bed. 'Time' by Enya was playing and I let it play as I made up my bed and switched off the lights. I lay in bed listening to the music, nearly falling asleep before the song went off.

Music had been my only means of entertaining myself as there was only one TV in the house, and one in the bar, both of which were usually turned to the news and I hated the news. It wasn't that I just didn't care about what was going on in the world, but it was just so depressing and I had a sad enough life without having to feel bad about someone else's.

Although I was tired, sleep was elusive and I once again found myself thinking about Logan. Why was he so interested in my life, what kind of motive could he have for wanting to know about me? My life had been filled with motives, always wanting something in return for being nice to me, why should I expect it to be any different with him. And with that thought, I fell asleep; once again angry with the strange man for wanting something from me and thinking he could have it so easily. I was determined to fight and show him that I wasn't an easy person to crack, and if he had an ulterior motive for being nice to me, he was going to find out just how tough I was.

When I woke up the next day, I found that all of the excitement that I had had to see Logan the day before was gone, once again replaced by a feeling short of hate, by loathing. I didn't want to see his smug face again, I didn't want to see him fight anymore, and I didn't want to have to wait on him. I wanted him to just leave, to get out of my house and to not come back ever again. I couldn't tell him that, obviously, or I would have gotten in trouble. It may have been my house, but it was also my job, I couldn't just go around telling our top fighter to leave, we had been doing more money since he had been there than we ever had. I was in a sour mood all day long, and Viv couldn't help but notice.

"Why are you so upset?" Viv asked me as I was cleaning up after dinner. We only had an hour before the bar opened, so I was hurrying.

"I'm just not feeling too great today,"

"Cheer you, you'll get to see Wolverine in an hour," she said. I shot her a look. "You thought I didn't notice the two of you flirting with each other? I may be getting old, but I'm not blind yet, and I'm certainly not stupid,"

"Well, you might just need to check your eyes again because not only have we not been flirting with each other, but I don't like him…at all,"

"Chloe, I told you, I'm not stupid, you may just think that you don't like him, but you do. Just don't start coming up with any crazy ideas,"

"Like what?" I asked, leaning back up against the sink and staring at her where she was sitting at the small dining table.

"Like running off with him,"

"Why would I do that?"

"I don't know, I was a teenager once, too. If I was offered a chance to run off with an attractive, interesting man, I would have,"

"This is my house, I'm nearly sixteen and I don't have too much longer before my father gets out of jail, I'm not screwing anything else up anymore than it already is by running away. You may not be stupid, but believe it or not, neither am I,"

"Good," she said, standing from the table. "You got this in the mail yesterday from the United States," She shuffled through a small set of mail before handing me a letter. I looked at the return address and saw that it was from Christopher Wells, my father.

"Why didn't you give this to me yesterday?" I asked.

"I forgot," she answered lamely.

"So you're not blind, you're just getting senile," I said, walking to my room.

Once there I shut the door and looked at the letter. I sat down on my bed, nervous about what it might say. I didn't want to open it, and yet I wanted to rip the envelope apart and cling to every word that was written. So, with shaky hands I carefully peeled the seal open. I pulled out the letter and began to read the words that were neatly written on the paper:

"Dear Miss Chloe Wells,

I don't know what to say, I don't even know how to begin, but I guess I could try apologizing. I know that what I did made your life the worst it could ever be, but I didn't mean for it to. There's no way for me to explain to you how much better I was only trying to make your life, because believe me, I would.

I can understand completely if you hate me, I wouldn't blame you at all, if you did, but I want you to know that I really am sorry and that I want to make it up to you any way that I can.

This letter isn't much, considering I haven't written to you in thirteen years, but I was just given your address so that I could write you this letter. I get out of here in three months, after that you'll get to chose where you want to live. I can understand if you don't want to live with me, I'm still a stranger to you, but if you decide to stay with the family that you have now, I still want to be able to see you. You are my daughter, my one pride and joy, and you are the only thing that has kept me going these years.

I know that I have changed your life is such horrible ways, if I had been with you, nothing would have happened to your mother, and that eats me away inside. I wouldn't blame you for hating me for it; I can't even forgive myself for it. I loved you and I loved you mother with all of my heart, that's why I did what I did and nothing could ever change how I feel about the both of you.

I'm writing you because I wanted you to know how I feel and how sorry I am for everything that I've done. There's no way for me to describe how remorseful I am in a small letter, but I thought that I at least owed you this much. You don't have to write me back, but you can if you want, I would love to hear from you. I love you so much, Chloe.

Love you Always,

Daddy,"

Once I was through reading the letter, I folded it back up, placed it into its envelope and put it into my keepsake box that I kept under my bed. I didn't know how to feel. I didn't hate him, I never had. I didn't blame him for how my life was, I just always felt that was what it was, no one's fault. I certainly didn't blame him for my mother's death; my stepfather had been the one that killed her, not him. I didn't know if my emotions were healthy, I had never been angry about my life. I had once heard that a 'normal' behavior was whatever didn't disrupt your life. Though my life probably wasn't in itself normal, my feelings never got in the way, and for some reason, that bothered me.

I saw him come in and sit down out of the corner of my eye; I hoped that someone else would notice him and I wouldn't have to wait on him. However, Tom and Viv were both talking to some of the older customers.

"Hey Chloe," Tom yelled at me.

"Just pretend like you don't hear him," I thought to myself.

"Chloe," he yelled again. I clanked around the glasses that I was drying off, hoping that he would assume that I couldn't hear him over the noise. The bar was already starting to fill up with the sound of drunk men and slutty woman. The TV was turned up and on to the news. "Chloe, are you deaf?"

"No, but if you keep yelling I might be," I said, grabbing a beer as I passed him. "You know, you own this place, it wouldn't kill you to actually do some of the work,"

"Don't act like you're the only one here that does any of the work," he said as I slid past him, plopping the bottle down in front of Logan with a small swish, sending a few drops spilling out onto the counter.

He looked at me a blinked. I had never seen anyone who could blink with a condescending manner, but that's how he was looking at me. "Are you gonna' throw it in my face this time if I tell you that I was a whiskey instead?"

"No," I said, grabbing a glass and pouring whiskey in it. "Here," I sat it down in front of him, trying not to spill it.

"It's not even eight o'clock yet and you're already pissed at me?" he asked.

"What does the time have to do with anything?"

"You're usually not this mad until you close,"

"That's because you haven't been in when we first open, until now,"

"So, you just stay mad at me all the time?"

"Pretty much,"

He nodded his head. "Why?" he asked.

"Why do you care?"

"Because I'm the one you're mad at,"

I let out a sigh. Why could he just leave me alone?

"Why do you have any interest in me what so ever?" I asked, my hand on my hip and staring right at him.

He swore and took a sip of his whiskey. "You're the only person in here that ain't drunk, sorry if I wanna' talk to someone who actually knows what they're sayin',"

"That's it, that's the only reason you want to talk to me is because I'm sober?"

He gave me a sideways glace as he took another sip of his drink. I could tell that he was taking him time to think, choosing his words very carefully. "I'm not sure what you're expecting me to say to you, kid. This is a job for both of us; although you seem you hate yours more that I do,"

"You don't have a job, you may get money for throwing other guys around, but that's not work. You always knock them out with three minutes and you come out with no problems, not scrapes, no cuts, not nothing. You get to act like an animal locked inside of a cage, that's not a job,"

"I do the work, I get paid for it, that's a job,"

"Ah yes, beating men senseless is really the career to write home about," I said sarcastically.

"You know, for you to only be fifteen you're really on it, aren't you?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You've got it all figured out, don't you? I'm just some drunk idiot who comes in here wasting your time, taking up space and making too much trouble for you, right?"

"I didn't say that,"

"That's what you meant, though,"

"No, it's not,"

"I may look it, but I'm not stupid, kid,"

"Why does everyone think that I think that they're stupid?" I asked, frustrated.

"Because you treat me like I'm stupid,"

"I don't think…I'm used to people not being nice to me unless they want something from me, so if that's the case I suggest you find someone else to get it from.

He let out an amused laugh. "And what would I want from you?" he asked, and for once I was actually forced to consider what he would want. I didn't have anything that he didn't, or couldn't get for himself.

"I don't know," I said quietly.

"Not everyone wants something from you,"

"That is something that has yet to be proven to me," I told him, looking him in the eye.

"Wolverine, fighting time," Sid said, coming behind him and giving him a small smack on the back.

"Alright," Logan said to him as he walked off.

As he drank down the last of his whiskey, I saw a group of three, drunk, barely dressed, middle-aged woman pointing and giggling at him.

"You better go, your fans are waiting," I said.

He looked over his shoulder at the woman and lit up a cigar as he turned his head back. He looked at me and I thought he was going to say something, but he just puffed on his cigar, paid for his order and stood up to leave,

"You gave me too much, here," I said, handing him a five back.

"You gave me a beer and a whiskey, that's what I paid for,"

"No, you didn't order the beer, I gave it to you," I said, wanting him to just take his money and leave.

"Then keep it as a tip,"

"Aren't tips supposed to be for good service?"

"Bring me a whiskey tonight and that's all I want,"

"Just one?"

"Yeah,"

"Alright," I said, taking the money from him, touching his hand as he handed it to me and accidentally shocking him as I did. He jerked his hand away, swearing. "Sorry," I apologized.

He studied me for a moment. "It's fine,"

I gave him a weak smile and nodded my head in acknowledgment as he walked away.

He fought hard that night and I couldn't help but think that it was because I had put him in a more defensive mood than usual. For the most part he would just knocked them out, but that night, for some reason, he was taking his time with them, making sure to keep them up for as long as he could.

It was nearly ten o'clock that night when I started to feel bad about accusing him of something that I had no proof of and that that I would buy him a bottle of whiskey for him to keep with him inside of the ring to show him that I was sorry. So I paid for a bottle and grabbed one from behind the counter as I headed over to the cage.

I waited in his corner as a new fight started and I watched the man fighting him kick him below the belt. Logan let out a loud growl and the crowd cheered. I winced at the thought of the pain he was going through and was glad that I was not a man. The other fighter kicked him in the ribs, punched him in the stomach and kicked him into the cage. He continued to kick him until Logan pulled his foot out from underneath him, knocking him to the ground. Then he pulled him back up by the collar of his shirt, slung him up against the cage, throwing a punch, hitting him right in the gut. I heard the man let out a sick groan and I thought he would throw up right on the mat. After that, Logan swung a solid hit right to the side of his head, right by his eye, sending him to the mat, out cold. Logan cracked his neck and let out another growl, of triumph that time. I watched him strut back to his corner and he caught my eye. I knew he was wondering if I was going to start something with him, that with the excitement of everything that had been going on he had forgotten about our agreement.

"Here, I thought you could use a little bit more than a shot, I guess I was right," I said, handing him the bottle through the hole in the wire.

He took it, twisting the cap off and took a long drink of it. I watched as his Adams apple bobbed as he gulped it down like water. "Thanks," he said, wiping his mouth with his free hand.

I didn't know how he drank it the way that he did; when I was younger, I had stupidly taken a small sip of it and nearly threw up from choking on the harsh, bitter, stinging taste. I never drank it, or any of the other drinks, ever again.

"If you need anything Nancy will get it for you, she's at the bar. I have school in the morning so I have to go up to the house. Just tell Sid and he'll get her for you,"

"Yeah, alright," he said, picking up his cigar stub and puffing on it.

"Good luck tonight," I said with a weak smile.

"Thanks," he said as I began to walk away.

I took a quick look at him before I headed up stairs and caught a glace of his shadowed form still standing in his corner, tilting up his bottle. My emotions had never rushed back and forth between so many different levels of likeness and loathing as they had since he had arrived at the bar. I wasn't sure why had had gotten under my skin the way that he had, but for some reason I had let him. He was a stranger, just another costumer who had blown through town looking for some money, but I had made a big deal about the situation. It was not a new thing to see a fighter come in and stick around for about a month before leaving and moving onto the next town, he was not an unusual case and it wasn't unnatural for me to get close to the fighters, but he seemed different for some reason. I felt an awkward, yet familiar, connection with him that allowed his strong figure to be burned and sealed into my mind, keeping him at the surface of my thoughts at almost every minute that I was awake. There was nothing I could do to stop it or slow it down, so I gave in to it, I allowed myself to be taken with him and resigned my hate for him. If he turned out to be anything like I had originally thought, then oh well. As I fell asleep the phrase 'Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice shame on me,' ran through my mind, and I was bound for no shame to be placed on me.