Disclaimer: Same ol', same ol', I don't own anything. Please enjoy this chapter, though, it gave me a headache to type up.

"You weren't at dinner," Logan said, pulling out the chair beside me and sitting down.

It had been five days since my visit with Laura and she hadn't called the school or my cell phone. I hadn't bee on another interview since then, so I spent most of my time in the library, trying to keep my mind off of whether I could have done anything different. Therefore, I was sitting, alone, in the library that night, not feeling hungry enough to pull myself away from a book about dreams, to which, admittedly, I wasn't paying much attention.

"Well done, Sherlock," I said sarcastically.

"You can't stay in here until she calls," he said.

"Why not?"

"Get dressed, we're goin' out,"

I looked up at him from my book. "Where?"

"It doesn't matter, just go,"

"Yes, it does matter; what if I don't want to go?"

"That's why you don't have a choice, darlin'," he said to me with his cocky smirk.

"Logan, I don't feel like playing games right now,"

"I'm not playin' games,"

"Can't you just let me sulk for a little bit?"

"No,"

"Why?"

"'Cause you've been in here for nearly a week,"

"It's only been four days," I corrected.

He blinked at me in his condescending way that he did. "Whatever, you're not stayin' in here any longer. This is the second night you've missed dinner and yesterday you didn't leave here for lunch,"

"Well, thank you for keeping up with me but I do believe that as of age eighteen I've been an adult and if I want to sit in a library all day reading, then I am by all means entitled to do so,"

"You're not reading," he said.

I held up the book that I had opened in front of me and showed it to him. "What am I doing with this book, then?"

"You've not been reading it for the past twenty minutes,"

"How would you know?"

"Because I've been watching you,"

"I really don't like that you can sneak around so quietly, it's a little bit creepy,"

"I don't care, go get dressed,"

"I am dressed,"

"Then get up, we're leavin'," he said, standing.

"I don't feel like going anywhere," I protested, but it was in vain, as he grabbed my hand and pulled me from my chair. I was momentarily upset by the fact that he was dragging me from my sad attempt to drown out my inner dialog telling me that I had pushed too hard or that I hadn't done enough, when I realized how nice his hand felt holding mine. I had to fight back sudden thoughts of wanting him to keep holding it. I couldn't think of him like that, he was too close to the only family that I had to have my thoughts be converted to some warped, foax romantic type of thinking. I tried to chase out the thoughts and was surprised to find that it was much hard than it should have been.

"Okay, so now that you've kidnapped me and brought me to a bar, what are we going to do, because I hope you know that I don't drink?" I said as we were sitting in the parking lot of a bar that was around twenty-five minutes away from the school.

"We're not here to drink," he said.

"Well, I don't feel like trailing after your harem either. The last thing I need is to see a tall, skinny, blonde girl buying you drinks and blowing in your ear,"

"The only tall, skinny, blonde girl who's going to be with me is you," he said. I had never really thought of myself as that type before, even though I guess I rather was. I didn't consider myself skinny, and since I had always just associated it with pretty, tall, skinny blondes, I just assumed that no one else categorized me as the stereotype as well. "Have you ever played pool?"

"No,"

"You're gonna' learn how,"

I followed close behind him as we walked into the relatively un-crowed bar. We found an empty table and he handed me a pool stick as he grabbed one for himself.

"Okay, how does this work?"

It took him only a few minutes to explain the basic rules before we started playing.

"I got one in," I smiled after I hit one of the solid color balls into a side pocket.

"That's a scratch," he said.

"What's a scratch?"

"You're tryin' to hit the ones with the stripes because they're yours. You hit one of mine in, so the points mine,"

"Why is it yours, I hit it in?" I argued.

"Because it's my ball,"

"I think that you're making up rules," I said, standing back to let him shoot.

"If you keep shooting like that, I won't have to," he smirked. I chewed on my lip as I watched him. He looked over at me. "Come here and I'll show you how you're supposed to do it,"

I walked over to him and put my pool stick up on the table. "Alright, what am I doing wrong?" I asked, lining up my aim with the cue ball.

He leaned in behind me and moved my hands to where they needed to be. "Use your fingers to rest the end of the stick on, so you keep it off the table. Then line it up with the center of the ball, pull it back and then-" he said, helping me to slide it forward, knocking the white ball which his a green one, knocking into a yellow one and sending them into one of the corner pockets.

"That's not too hard," I said, slightly blushing by our position, and yet it felt nice to have him standing there, his arms sort of wrapped around mine, almost holding me.

"Wait, no, stop it! It's Logan, what are you doing? He's teaching you how to play pool, why can't you just keep your mind on the game?" I thought to myself.

"It's still my turn," he said huskily into my ear.

I laughed. "Sorry, I'll move then," I said, slipping out from under his arms, tucking the hair around my face behind my ears.

He shot a few more before finally missing and letting me go.

"Who did you go out on a date with last week?" he asked me as I was thinking about which shot I should try to line up.

"I didn't, I just went out to eat with the girls that I used to work with."

"Why did you say that you were going out on a date, then?" he asked, puffing on his cigar.

"Ah, but I didn't. I told you that I was going out, you just assumed it was a date," I said, shooting and hitting one of the solid billiards. "Crap,"

"Another scratch,"

"Thank you, I see that,"

We switched spots and he took his turn, nearly winning in his last shot, which sent two more billiards into one of the side pockets.

"How do you imitate hamburger meat?" I asked him as he was lining up another shot.

"What?" he asked, looking at me confused, not sure of what I said.

"It's a joke; how do you imitate hamburger meat?"

He looked at me with his intense stare. "I don't know," he said around his cigar.

"Hi, I'm hamburger meat," I said with a smile.

He smiled at me and shook his head. "That's just swell darlin', you're a real riot,"

"Yeah, you make fun of me now, but tomorrow you'll be telling it to everyone," I teased.

"Oh yeah, Chuck'll get a kick out of that one," he said sarcastically.

"I bet he would be a bad person to tell jokes to, he would know all of the punch lines before you got to the joke,"

"I wouldn't know, I've never tried to tell him one,"

"I would think that you're pretty bad at telling jokes, he he's probably better off that way,"

"You just told me the worst joke I've ever heard and you think that I would be bad at telling them?" he asked, cocking his eyebrow at me.

"It may have been a bad joke, but I told it so well, you have to admit that much at least," I said as he shot the last ball into one of the corner pockets, winning the game.

"I win," he said to me with a smirk.

"You cheated,"

"How?"

"Because I shot two of them for you while you were showing me how to shoot, that shouldn't count,"

"You didn't complain about it at the time," he said.

"That's because I couldn't think with you right behind me, making me blush and getting me embarrassed," I thought.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"Yeah,"

"Let's go get something,"

We ended up playing two more games of pool before leaving to go to a small mom-and-pop type hamburger place called Tubbies. I ordered one of the half pound, chili-cheese burgers and French fries and he ordered hot wings. When we sat down, he let me taste one of them without realizing how hot it was going to be, I took a big bite, burning my mouth.

"Why didn't you warn me?" I asked, sipping down my Coke as fast as I could.

He just shook his head. "I thought you were smart enough to know what 'hot' means without havin' to tell you,"

"No, there's a difference between hot and third degree burns inside your mouth. How can you eat those things?"

"They don't bother me," he said as my cell phone rang.

"Hello?" I answered. It was Laura; she had decided to live at the school. "That's fantastic, I'll talk to Professor Xavier tonight and will see if we can come get you by tomorrow," I said after she told me the news. Apparently the reason it had take her so long to call back was that one of the other girls had taken her backpack which had had both numbers in it. Sure enough, the next day Storm went to pick her up.

I was sent on another interview later that week, and that's how it went for the next couple of months. Bobby, Rouge and I went, usually, one interview a week each. I learned that most of the kids that I talked to weren't quite as easy to convince that the Professor didn't want something from them, and that they would be safe at the school. However, when I could talk them into joining us at the school and I got to see how much they changed when around the other students; it was the biggest reward anyone could have given me.

I heard a knock on my door from where I was lying in my bed and called out for them to come in.

"How you feelin'?" Logan asked, walking into my room.

"Like I'm on my deathbed," I said, giving a glance in his direction. "You look awfully spiffy,"

It was late November and I was sick with what Dr. Grey had diagnosed as monno, but I felt like it was much worse than just simple, boring monno. I was aching all over and felt like I was going to die.

"Thanks," he said, plopping down in the chair next to my bed.

Jean and Scott were celebrating their forth-wedding anniversary with a party. I was, unfortunately, too sick to even go downstairs and see everyone, so I was locked in my room, by myself, save Logan who had come in looking extremely good looking in his blue jeans and a black dress shirt.

I coughed and sat up against my headboard so that I could look at him. "Do these anniversary things not bother you anymore?" I asked.

"No," he said. I had become aware that he had had a crush on Dr. Grey, lasting years, before I had gotten there. The he had dated Ororo off and on for a while, again, all before I had arrived.

"That's good," I said.

"So, he said, smirking at me. "Jean says you got monno. I could be wrong darlin', but I hear that's the kissin' disease. So, who've you been kissin'?"

"Since when is who I kiss any of your business?"

He just kept smirking at me. "Well if I ever wanted to kiss you I should know if I'm gonna' get sick,"

"You are such a cocky little jerk," I coughed out with a smile. "I caught it from Jason, and since I doubt that you're going to be kissing him and that kissing me is all hypothetical, I don't think you have to worry about catching anything. Besides, I thought you couldn't get sick?"

He quirked an eyebrow at me, creating lines on his forehead. "Who says it's hypothetical?"

"I do,"

"So who's Jason?"

"Oh, you haven't been stalking me on my dates?" I asked sarcastically.

"Maybe, who is he?"

"He's just a guy I met,"

"Where?"

"He works at the coffee shop part of the book store downtown,"

"How old is he?"

"Thirty,"

"Isn't that too old for you?"

"No,"

"I gotta' go," he said, standing.

"You're already twenty-minutes late, why are you rushing? You can stay here with me while I zone out from Bynadryl," I laughed.

"I'm gonna' go and eat so I can leave,"

"Yes, while I'm drinking my dinner you'll be-"

"Stuck in this stupid outfit havin' to make nice with Jean and Scooter's families,"

"But still eating good food,"

"I'll sneak you something back,"

"Thanks," I said with a smile.

"Just don't tell Jean,"

"Oh yeah, because she won't find out on her own," I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

"Get some sleep, you look terrible," he said, turning to smirk at me from my doorway.

"If I didn't agree with you so much I just might be offended by that,"

He just smiled at me shortly before leaving and closing the door behind him. It didn't take too long for my medicine to catch up with me and I was falling asleep.

I woke up later that night and looked at my watch; it was eleven forty-five, time to take more medication. I sat up and when I looked over, I saw Logan in my chair.

"Ah!" I yelped, not expecting to see him sitting there. "You scared me!"

"Sorry,"

"What are you doing in here?"

"I was just makin' sure you're alright,"

"Yeah, I'm okay," I said. "How was the party?"

He just grunted. "Jean caught me with your food and wouldn't let me bring it to you; she said that you needed to eat that soup crap,"

"Thanks for trying," I said, ruffling my hand through my hair. "Would you have me that pill bottle?" I asked, pointing to the bottle of penicillin that Dr. Grey had given me, to take the swelling in my throat down, which had swollen to what they called 'kissing tonsils', where my tonsils were touching my uvula, or 'the little punching bag thing at the back of your throat', as she had explained it to me.

He handed it to me and I popped it open, pouring out five pills into the palm of my hand, dropping them into my mouth and swallowing them as fast as possible, chasing them down with the water in the glass beside my bed. I was supposed to take them for a week; seven the first day, six the second, five the third, so on and so on. They were the single most disgusting things that I had ever tasted, leaving a strong bitter taste in my mouth that I couldn't get out for such a long time, that the after-taste itself almost made me sick enough to not want to take them. Almost, as the pain of my throat was killing me.

"Thank you," I said, settling back down in my bed.

"Are you feelin' any better?"

"Yeah, maybe I'll be able to get up and actually do something tomorrow," I said while yawning. "Are you not tired?"

"No," he said, running his hand through the back of his hair.

"Are you lying to me?"

"Yeah,"

"You can go to your room if you want, I'll probably be back to sleep in just a few minutes,"

"I thought you had to talk to get sleepy?" he asked.

I gave a weak laugh that came out with a cough. "I can't believe I told you that…I can't believe you actually remembered that, wow, that was a long time ago,"

"Yeah,"

"Did I ever tell you how much fun I had that day?"

"We just drove for fourteen hours, how did you have fun?"

"Maybe it's the meds talking her, but I had fun just hanging out with you, back before you got all teachery and started hanging out with other adults that you weren't beating the crap out of or accepting drinks that they were buying you," I laughed, then I was hit with a sudden memory. "You know, I was going to ask if I could live with you when you came back, I guess I wasn't meant to,"

"You are now," he said and I looked over at him.

"Yeah…I guess so," I said, letting out a deep sigh. "You really…affected me,"

"How?"

"Up until I came here you were the only person who knew that I was a mutant, and there was something about the way that you knew something about me that no one else ever knew that always kept you in my mind. When you left, I uh…I missed having someone to talk to. I felt for some reason you actually gave a care about what I had to say, when no one else had given me that before, it stayed with me,"

"I'm sorry,"

"About what,"

"Leavin' you,"

"Don't be,"

"I know, but I shouldn't have left you there by yourself, I should have stayed with you,"

"Do you believe that things happen for a reason?"

"I don't know,"

"Well, when I was growing up my mother always told me that they did, but when she did I couldn't believe that there could be a reason for her leaving me by myself, and then even thought Tom and Viv took care of me, I missed having someone who…loved me, I guess. So when I met you, I don't know; I felt as if you were kind of like my family, just the two of us. So when you left and I didn't get to tell you goodbye properly I was more that just a little upset. I felt like I was being punished for something that I had done, or what my father had done, just something that wouldn't let me have a family. I felt like that for a long time, then I saw you that night at the bar and I wondered if I was stupid to think that you remembered me, or what's more, cared about me. Then you guys brought me here and the Professor gave me my job and I get to do something that not only makes me happy, but actually helps other people. I don't know if how my life has gone is so that I could understand and help other kids, but it led me here and no matter how bad it was I am finally happy. If you hadn't left the way you did then you wouldn't have ended up here, I probably never would have seen you again and wouldn't have ever made it here either. I was a little mad at you for not coming back for me, until I found out why and over these past few months I've realized that my mother was right; things do happen for a reason. I was meant to meet you when I was younger so that when things were going wrong and I couldn't control what was happening I could have someone to think about. When I was lonely and scared and by myself, I thought about you and everything would seem a little bit better. I knew that no matter what happened to me, that while I knew you, you cared about me, even thought you never said it. Those few months that I knew you made me so happy. It doesn't matter what happened, don't feel guilty for leaving me somewhere because you couldn't help it, everything that has happened between then and now has made me see how my experiences have made me, me. You helped make me who I am, and I like who I am, so don't apologize for that," I said.

He looked eerily handsome soaked in the moonlight spilling in from the window beside my bed. His eyes sparkled, the green and brown doing their hazel justice, causing my breath to momentary catch in my chest. The lines of his jaw looked more pronounced as the shadows cast themselves on his strong bone structure. His hair looked wilder than usual, falling down, sweeping across his forehead. The top few buttons of his dress shirt had been undone and the front half had been partially un-tucked from his blue jeans.

He was slouching in the chair, resting the side of his face against his thumb and index finger of his right hand. His mouth was cinched, causing his lips to look slightly pursed, until he let out a long breath and then taking another in, causing his chest to rise and fall with a perfect rhythm that I subconsciously found myself mocking with my own breathing.

I watched him as his eyesight shifted, looking out my window, up at the full moon the framed itself in my window like a bright, iridescent photo. I cocked my head to its side, looking at the same moon as he. I wanted to see what he was seeing, hear what he was thinking, feel what he was feeling. I wanted to know everything about him, but as the sound of silence stretched itself out further, I couldn't force myself to break it, couldn't find the words to make a valid enough question to ask that would be worth ending what we were sharing together.

The night was cool and through my window, we could see the leaves on the tree, blowing in the soft wing, causing a small rustling sound, the only one I could hear besides our breathing going in and out together.

I fought to keep my eyes open, to continue watching the ever still moon, to hear his breathing, but I couldn't. My eyes slid closed and I found myself drifting into sleep. Before giving in completely, I felt the covers being pulled up around me, as Logan tucked me in gently. I then felt him pick up my hand and softly kiss it, causing me to shiver from where I laid in my bed. He lay it back down at my side, and then I heard him walk to my door and leave my room.

I fell asleep knowing that my Wolverine hadn't ever left me, that he had always been right there in my thoughts and I in his, never more than a simple flicker of memory away from the forethought of our minds. Though the image of him standing barebacked in a shadowcasted wire cage, drinking from a bottle of whiskey had never left me, my opinion of him had shifted from a father-esque figure and friend to someone that I actually loved in more than a one dimensional way. It was then, as sick sleep washed over me, I found myself wondering, if quite possibly, my thoughts and feeling had crossed some increasingly blurred borderline from loving him, to perhaps, being in love with him.