Disclaimer: Maggie and Jessica are mine. The others ain't. Life sure can be a bitch that way.

Indebtedness to Dee (MidLifeCrisis) for hauling my butt out of a pit full of writers block slugs. I f you haven't read her X-fic then go there NOW! You won't be disappointed.

I have upgraded the rating of AFON from T to M because Chapter 10 contains an adult situation which may not be suitable for young teens although there is nothing I would consider explicit or slashy. Be warned that the language is still strong.

Thanks to Dee (MidLifeCrisis), joegood2003, Dr. Nat, dayrunner 145, Joruk, Taluliaka, chris-warren876, firefly750, Minisinoo, valcat34 and SaffireSnake for their encouraging reviews.

Chapter 10: Good Things

"Reduce altitude, mister"

People barking orders at me tends to piss me off. Not this one though. This one's wearing an impish smile, a short, loosely tied towelling robe and nothing else. There's something about a beautiful, half naked woman who's animal passion matches my own that makes me feel kinda mellow, ya know?

"Yes, ma'am."

Taking Jessie's bruised face gently in my hands I lower my mouth to her moist, inviting lips and kiss her deeply, hungrily exploring her mouth with a hot, intimate ardour that is rapidly becoming an addiction. Surrendering to my touch like a shy virgin ain't in this girl's repertoire. Reciprocating with a passion that is both chemically and physically charged, Jessie radiates a primal sensuality that kindles a fire in my belly and quickens my pulse. She smells of sex and an all consuming, incandescent desire that overwhelms my senses and drives me wild. No other woman has ever evoked a response like this from me, tapped into my animal impulses and set my entire body aflame. Not even Jeanie.

Christ, I'm growing hard again and I want Jessie so bad it hurts. Dropping my hands to her perfectly sculptured ass I pull her closer in and she rubs against me sensuously. I can't help but growl my pleasure as her movements stimulate me almost to the point of no return. How can this creature wield such power over a cynical, debauched drifter like me? I pull away from her but not far enough to give the impression I want her to stop any time soon.

"Didn't you get enough of me already?" I ask. Her eyes are pools of liquid sapphire that a man can drown in forever. This strange influence she has over me is like a glamour. It's difficult to think straight and my animal is only too willing to give in to it. So is the man.

She looks up at me, her almond shaped eyes provocative slits and her hair still mussed from the wild night we've shared.

"Not nearly enough, buster. You're in my blood now."

The testosterone raging through my veins barely acknowledges what sounds like a declaration of intent. I'm too far gone to care, especially now her hands are busy trying to unfasten the jeans I put on less than ten minutes ago. My own hands slip under the collar of her robe and push it off her shoulders to reveal the creamy skin beneath upon which my lips set to work. Gone is my intention to have an early breakfast in a local diner. All I want is her. To touch her. To feel myself inside her.

Making love to Jessica, lying in her arms and basking in her sweetness, succeeded in holding the nightmares at bay last night. This has never happened before. Not once. Not with any of the ships in the night, fight groupies I've screwed out of sheer loneliness and physical need. And that, in itself, is a miracle. Scooping her up in my arms I head back to the bedroom. Throwing her arms around my neck she smothers me with another one of her devastating kisses and I growl my growing excitement into her mouth. Lowering her tenderly onto the rumpled bed I shrug out of my jeans and peel away her bathrobe. Then she reminds me one more time exactly why it is I want to see her again.

-o0o-

She's so beautiful, lying on her side, her head propped up with one hand, her hair spilling across the pillow and down her arm, sheet demurely draped across her breasts, her eyes searching my face. What the hell's she doing working in a snake pit like the Auger and picking up guys like me? She running away from trouble? Or looking for it?

"Logan, do you have to go?"

Jessica pouts her disappointment as I caress the delicate contours of her hip with my fingertips. The soft linen of the sheet is no substitute for the silkiness of her skin but I'll take what I can get. She's so far removed from the hard-faced, sexual predators I usually end up with I can hardly believe my luck. I breathe in her scent, indelibly imprinting it upon my brain, basking in her womanly glory. I want to remember everything, every touch, every sensation, every smile, every word. What was it she said? I'm in her blood? What the hell does that mean? That she wants me around? And that's a good thing ain't it?

I don't really understand what's happening to me. Somehow Jessie has slipped through my defences and it's like throwing wide the shutters and letting in the light. Part of me, the paranoid psychotic who's kept me running across Canada and Alaska for so long, screams at me to get the hell away from her. I fight. I fuck. I leave. It's what I do. Why change the habit of a lifetime? For me, staying in one place too long makes me a target for the bastards who tore my life and body apart. And that ain't a good thing is it?

"Hey, big guy," Jessie prompts, shaking me out of my reverie, "You zoning out on me?"

"Uh, no. Sorry, just thinking. Don't have a choice. Got a meeting at eight thirty and a bunch of people are relying on me to be there."

Actually I do have a choice. The X Men need me more'n I need them. I could say the hell with Xavier and his happy band of gooders. Summers reckons I'm a selfish son of a bitch. Why not prove him right by walking away and never looking back? It would be my parting gift to the bastard.

"On a Sunday?"

I shrug. "Wasn't planning on a distraction." I ain't gonna walk away from 'em am I? I got too much at stake to leave now.

Jessie reaches out and strokes my face. The sensation of her fingers snaking through my mutton chops is too much. Taking her hand in mine I kiss the inside of her wrist.

"Is that what I am? A distraction?" I'm sensing bitterness; disappointment. Perhaps the kindest thing to do is to leave now. But first I gotta know. I gotta ask her.

"Why?"

She looks so cute when she frowns. "Why what?"

"Why me? Why the Auger? You don't look the type to go around picking up stray dogs."

Extricating her hand from my grasp she grumbles, "You sure know how to kill the mood of the moment don't you."

If only she knew.

"Why the Auger? Because I needed money fast and Sal was good enough to take me on then and there. Why you? You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

She begins to pick at an imaginary loose thread on the sheet. Nervousness and quiet determination war with each other. Finally she takes a deep breath. "Do you believe in predestination?"

"You mean fortunetelling and shit? No."

"Neither did I until you walked into the bar last night."

What the hell is this? "You're kidding, right?"

No longer worrying the sheet, her body stiffens, as if she's going to throw a mad. Just as quickly the impetus is gone and she relaxes with a sigh. "Logan, I've never been more serious in my life."

She ain't lying.

"Maybe you should start at the beginning," I suggest.

"Not much to tell really. I went with some friends to one of those spook parties. You know, rubbing shoulders with Wiccans, clairvoyants, crystal ball gazers, tarot readers, runecasters and the like."

I don't know but it sounds like a scam to part people from their cash. "Go on."

"There was this old African American woman with a Bayou accent who read my palm after I asked her if I would ever find Mister Right. I'd just got stung big time by Mister Wrong." There's good honest hatred there. She ain't pining after him.

"Someone hurt you?"

"Yeah."

"Let me guess, he ran off with some bimbo with an IQ to match her shoe size?"

Her lips form a moue of bitterness. "If only that was the case."

I arch an eyebrow. "He ran off with a guy?"

Her laughter is a wonderful thing to hear. "No silly. He was an asshole and I'm glad I found out sooner rather than later."

I grin. "Right. So?"

"So this Bayou lady was into the palmistry thing. She knew I'd suffered some serious shit but she could have overheard me talking with my friends. Then she gave me the tall, dark and handsome routine and at that point I thought she was nothing but an old fraud. Finally, she spewed out some incomprehensible guff about psychic realms and twinned souls and how, when I met the right man with a particular aura, I would know. I would feel it here."

Jessie reaches out and touches me in the centre of my forehead.

"People get headaches all the time, darlin'."

"Not a headache. It was like getting zapped by a bolt of lightning. That's how I knew you were the one."

"Hey, my name ain't Neo."

Giggling mischievously she snuggles into my arms. "No, it isn't. But you're definitely the one she foretold. I've been searching for you all my life except didn't know it until you walked into the bar. On the dance floor all I could think about was, you know, touching you, making you want me. I was on fire, my blood coursing through my veins like molten obsession. And this from a good Catholic girl who barely holds hands on a first date."

She'd felt it too. The strange compulsion burning through her like a cleansing fire. "That's some pretty weird shit, Jessie." I nuzzle her hair with my cheek. "So this is what fate feels like huh?"

"I guess."

We both fall silent for a few moments and I'm content just listening to her breathing, feeling her heart beat against my ribs. I could stay like this forever, problem is, time's pressing.

Reluctantly, I shift my weight, pulling away from her as gently as I can. "As much as I hate to run, I gotta go, sweetheart."

Anxiety spikes through her. "Will I see you again?"

"Hey, if the Bayou lady's cool with it who am I to argue? I'll pick you up here at five forty-five, okay and I'll stay with you until your shift ends. Then we can go and eat if you like."

The anxiety evaporates. Suddenly shy, she says, "I don't even know your name."

"Yeah ya do."

"Not all of it."

"Then that makes two of us." The expression on her face is classic. "I'll explain it later, okay?"

She looks dubious, as if I've just brushed her off. "I'm Jessica Frances Commeau."

"Nice to meet you, Jessica Frances Commeau."

I kiss her again and experience that inexorable compulsion to melt into her arms, to combine into that single, conflagrating entity one more time. Reluctantly, I exert the full force of my will to break the contact. Breathing heavily I can't help thinking that there's gotta be something to that mystic shit after all. Either that or Bayou lady is a mutant precog. Might be worthwhile mentioning her to Xavier. Could be a good tactical advantage to be one step ahead of the bad guys once in a while.

Before I leave we exchange phone numbers. Never done that before. Two new experiences in one day and neither of them nasty. Who'd of thought it?

-o0o-

I quickly towel myself dry. Having showered at Jessie's place last night to wash off the blood from the fight I was reluctant to wash her heady scent from me after returning to the mansion. Fact is her scent is a distraction and I don't want to find myself fixating on her when I should be concentrating on explaining to Xavier and Summers why it's a bad idea to spread one egg between too many baskets. Reaching into the laundry hamper I haul out fresh clothing. No point pressing clothes 'coz they're only gonna get rumpled again. I try and smooth some of the worst wrinkles out of the T shirt and give up. Guess the grunge look has just come back into fashion.

Down on the first floor the smell of breakfast wafting from the kitchen makes my stomach growl. It's been a long time since the pizza Jessie and I shared and my body craves fuel to replace the energy used up healing the knife wound. Not having time to eat right now don't mean I can't ask Maggie to put something by for later. It'll take no time at all to swing by the kitchen.

"Morning Maggie," I say, grinning at the matronly woman loading a tray with sizzling bacon. My mouth waters and temptation proves too strong to resist. I swipe a succulent slice from the tray and stuff it in my mouth. It's hot so I try and suck in air around it.

She looks up. Brown eyes the colour of faded autumn leaves seem to look through me and I can sense her surprise. "Logan?"

"Yeah, that was the asshole staring out of the shaving mirror this morning," I mumble as I chew contentedly and reach for another slice. Maggie takes up a spatula and bats my hand away from the tray. I grin manically, dodge her efforts to swat me and snag another piece.

"The Logan I know is a stroppy sod who growls like a bear with a toothache and mauls people with his scathing sarcasm. He certainly isn't a morning person, ergo you are not him." Holding the spatula defensively Maggie makes a show of protecting the tray.

Licking the grease from my fingers I smirk, "Would a pod Logan filch bacon?"

"A hungry one might. Isn't there somewhere you should be?"

"Yeah, but I had to leave there to come back here."

A slow, knowing smile spreads across Maggie's face. "I knew it. I sensed a fundamental change in your psyche when you came in just now. You've met someone haven't you?"

"How d'ya know I haven't discovered a great new beer?"

"Because not even a reprobate like you could get this worked up over beer, pet. Besides, you're giving off the same emotions my Ben did on our wedding night. He hadn't discovered a great new beer either."

All I can do is grin. The expression on Maggie's face is wicked with humour. Bursting into laughter she confides, "You're a fast worker aren't you? Such a pity courting a girl has gone out of fashion. However, your secret is safe with me. Anyone capable of putting a smile on the face of someone as distrusting and traumatised as you must be a very special person indeed."

"She is," I admit.

"You know where to find me if you want to talk about this."

"Thanks." I don't intend to share Jessie with anyone just yet, not even by proxy. As an afterthought is ask, "Do you believe in sexual chemistry, Maggie?"

"Believe in it? Sweetheart, I married it. The first time I set eyes on Ben it was as if I'd found a part of myself I didn't know I'd lost."

I stare at her, trying my damnedest not to look as stunned as I feel.

Maggie puts her hand to her mouth. "Oh, my. No wonder you're prancing around like a yearling colt."

Hey, raging hetero here! "I do not prance!"

"Metaphorically, dear, you do it as well as the best of us." There's a twinkle in her eye. She's yanking my chain and enjoying seeing me yelp in protest.

Not wanting to share my private life with anyone else I ask, "Does it show?"

"People are used to seeing a surly grouch prowling around the school. You could try not grinning like a Cheshire cat. Just think growly."

I chuckle. "Think growly. Right."

"You have a beautiful smile, Logan. I'd like to see you keep it so promise me one thing will you, pet?"

"What's that?"

"Make certain you're firmly anchored to something before you throw yourself over the parapet. Hitting rock bottom is a killer."

I nod. Maggie's advising caution but I'm not some love struck teen falling for the first skirt that bats her eyelids at me. I'm gonna put all my cards on the table about my mutation, my feral nature and the claws. I want no lies, no secrets or uncertainties about what I am. If she still wants me after that then I'll buy, borrow or steal the biggest bungee rope I can find.

-o0o-

Thrusting a plate containing two of Maggie's celebrated bacon doorstop sandwiches into my left hand and a steaming mug of black coffee into my right one, she boots me out of the kitchen. I have fun juggling the plate and the mug so I can slap my right hand flat on the security scanner allowing access to the lift down to the sub-basement and curse roundly as I manage to scald myself in the process. The door slides smoothly aside and I enter, taking care not to spill more coffee as the lift sets in motion.

The Danger Room door has been rehung on its hinges as a temporary measure but it's still buckled all to fuck. That's some punch Summers' optic nerves can pack. Speak of the Devil. I can hear his voice filtering through a door up ahead.

"…but what the hell has a wildcard like him have to offer, apart from his scattergun effect? How do we know that any so called military expertise he brings to the table is for real?"

Nice. Great to know the Fearless Leader has so much confidence in me. He's set the tone of the meeting and I ain't even fucking arrived yet. Think growly, Maggie said. Not a problem.

My proximity to the Strategy Rooms triggers the door mechanism and any response to Summers' question is silenced as I walk through the door. They're all there; Xavier, Summers, 'Ro and Stinky the Elf. The door closes behind me with a hiss of hydraulics and I head for an empty chair. The room fills with the satisfying aromas of coffee and bacon and I can hear at least one stomach grumbling. Guess 'Ro ain't had her chow yet.

"Good morning, Logan."

"Charlie," I grunt in response. He's got that passive smile on his face I loathe. For some reason he thinks I find it reassuring but it makes me want to take out my wallet and check all the bills are still there.

Summers is propping up a metal cabinet, arms folded across his chest, looking and smelling completely pissed off. The expression on his face is so stony it could crack nuts. He knows I heard what he said and ain't hypocritical enough to offer a greeting. Instead he just stares at me as I make my way across the room. Xavier, 'Ro and Stinky are seated around the holo-map table and I take the empty seat on 'Ro's left so I'm facing both Xavier and Summers across the table. 'Ro nods her head in greeting and I follow suit. Stinky, seated on 'Ro's right, bobs nervously and I ain't sure whether he's trying to lay an egg or say hello so I ignore him.

Stretching my legs out straight I rest my booted feet on the edge of the table. This is gonna be a rough ride so I might as well make myself comfortable. Plate balanced on my lap, mug of coffee steaming aromatically on the floor at the side of my chair, I pick up a sandwich and take a monster bite out of it. I need the sustenance because the combination of healing major organs, making love to Jessie plus a chronic lack of sleep is taking its toll on my physical endurance. Gonna make up for that just as soon as this fucking circus is over.

"I know we can't compete with Fat Joe's Diner, Logan, but feel free to make yourself comfortable why don't you." Summers is on form.

"Thanks," I reply, taking him at his word by munching slowly and settling deeper into the chair. "I'll do just that." One-eye is seething silently, tainting the atmosphere with a anger so thick ya can cut it with a knife.

"Let's get straight down to business shall we?" Xavier says briskly. "Following the team's temporary hiatus…"

Oh no ya don't, Cue-ball. I got zero tolerance for yer bullshit, particularly after yesterday and I want out of this pissing match ASAP so I can get stack some zees.

"Stuff your semantics Charlie. Jean died and the fucking team fell apart. So far you ain't found an intellectual Band-aid big enough to plaster over this mess and half-assed rationalisation like that ain't gonna help none."

I manage to get the words Jean died out without choking on them. They elicit a swift spasm of pain on Fearless Leader's face but it's gone so fast I'm sure I'm the only one that witnessed it.

"Logan…" Summers warns, his lips twisted into a grimace, his tone harsh and heavy with resentment.

Xavier raises his hand, his gesture for silence revealing a pristine white cuff beneath his pale grey jacket sleeve. Summers obeys the tacit order and clamps his mouth shut. He don't like it. Wait 'til I apply verbal electrodes to that steel rod he has permanently wedged up his ass. He's gonna like that even less.

"Logan is quite correct. Jean's demise has adversely affected the team's operational capacity and this is a situation that cannot be allowed to continue."

Summers shakes his head impatiently. "Jean's…loss has altered the team's structure for sure, but not irrevocably. You yourself approved the new training schedules that optimise the skills dynamic of the new team. We've been primed at mission ready for weeks, Professor. We're just waiting on the call."

"So, whose on this wonderful team," I ask. Summers looks at me like I've just pissed on his boots. In a way, that's precisely what I've done.

"What the hell do you mean by that?"

"It's a simple enough question, Beam Boy. Humour me and tell me who's on the fucking team."

Xavier nods at the Fearless Leader encouragingly. Lips thin and puckered like the man who's just sucked a thousand lemons, Summers does as requested. "Me, Storm, Nightcrawler and you."

"Well, we have a problem right there. Ya see, I ain't been formally asked to join yer team." Although I can't see 'em I'm certain his eyes are bulging beneath that damn visor. I take a bite of my sandwich and munch with exaggerated relish.

"Your presence on the team was a given, Logan. You telling me you're feeling insulted because you weren't asked?"

Taking time to swallow, I reply, "Nah, I'm pissed 'coz you assumed I wanted to be part of the team."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean? You saying you want out? You got your wish mister."

Rising to the bait just like a Hollywood shark. This asshole is still a fucking liability and there's no way I'm putting my butt in harm's way if a pivotal member of the team ain't firing on all cylinders. Unless Summers can get beyond Jean's death he's through as a competent leader.

"That's it. I'm outta here, Charlie. There's no fucking way I can work with an amateur outfit like this. You're on yer own."

Summers goes ballistic. Uncrossing his arms he takes a menacing step forward, bracing himself on the holo-map table. "Fuck you, Logan," he rasps, "The team doesn't need a backwoods animal like you muddying the waters. While you've been hauling your sorry ass all over Canada and beating up on unsuspecting rednecks, the X Men have been making a difference to…

"Enough!" Xavier thunders.

It's the first time I've ever heard him raise his voice above conversational and, judging by the stunned look on Summers' face, it's a first for him too. Beside me, 'Ro draws in a sharp breath, her body tense as witnessed by the creamy white knuckles of her hands gripping the arms of her chair. Stinky's ceased his bobbing, preferring to sit hunched, his eyes downcast like a chastised kid.

"What on earth are you doing, Logan?" 'Ro whispers, her voiced strained. I ignore her, choosing instead to take another bite of the sandwich while eyeing Summers challengingly. Summers, his face stricken and pale, has his attention fixed on Xavier.

Xavier closes his eyes, bowing his head slightly as he pinches the bridge of his nose. Composure recovered he turns his steely, narrow eyed gaze on his protégé.

"Those remarks are irrational and unworthy of you Scott and are symptomatic of the reason the team has remained non-operational since Alkali Lake."

Summers looks defeated as he slumps into a nearby chair. "I'm sorry, Professor. I…since Jean died it's been difficult to think straight."

"It's called battle fatigue, kid. Seen it more times'n I wanna count." Summers throws me a what-the-hell-do-you-know look but says nothing more.

"Logan is correct. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, even in a mild form, can be very debilitating."

"I do not have Post Traumatic…"

"Stand down, Mister Summers." Xavier's command has a distinct military clip and I wonder if he got measured for his wheelchair somewhere like 'Nam. Summers is a natural leader but he must have received his training from someone. Who'da guessed it was from the pansy-assed head pacifist himself? My respect for Cue-ball has just crawled out of the root cellar.

"There any point in this meeting carrying on?" I enquire, trying not to sound hopeful.

"Scott?" Xavier is giving his Head Boy the choice of continuing or calling a halt.

"If I'm the reason the team has been compromised then it's my duty to stand aside as leader…"

"I ain't disputing yer leadership, kid. Just ya current state of mind." Hell, I'm only just getting warmed up.

Remaining tight lipped, Summers nods, acknowledging what I just said. Finally, "I'm sorry, Logan. I had no right saying those things."

"No offence taken," I grin. "It was a damn accurate description of the last fifteen years of my life."

Mixed emotions pour off of him, the most prominent being a sense of puzzlement. I'd've beaten the crap outta anyone else for saying what he did and he knows it.

"Jean's death has affected us all deeply, some more than others." Xavier looks directly at me. I feign nonchalance and take another bite of the sandwich. "I thought it prudent to allow us all time to grieve. However that time is now past. Even as I speak, Erik is free and I have no reason to assume that his stay in prison has brought about a fundamental change in his ambition to wage war against humanity. We must be prepared to deal with him."

What's this? Has Xavier undergone a Damascene conversion over his old buddy? Probably not. He's still hoping for a peaceful solution but there's only one language Magneto understands and I'm fluent in it.

'Ro enters the debate with, "And we will be, Professor."

"Are you with us in this?" It takes a few moments to realise Summer's has aimed his question at me.

I shrug. "Depends."

Sounding resigned Summers asks, "On what?"

"One whether or not you intend to take measures that'll prevent the team getting its collective butt kicked by the likes of that slimy-ass Toad creep." I take another deliberate bite of my sandwich and study him as I chew and swallow.

Watching Summers' reactions is very telling. Jaw muscles spasm with the high wattage anger he's giving off and his lips form thin, rigid lines. For a moment I think he's gonna throw another mad. Instead he drops his head forward slightly as if deep in thought. He ain't though. I can feel him controlling the emotions that have prevented him from functioning as an effective field commander. He's thrusting personal animosity and the mind numbing grief aside and now he's thinking like a leader, assimilating what I've said.

"Toad took us by surprise." 'Ro tucks a strand of her long white hair behind an ear. She has the decency to sound embarrassed.

"All three of you?" I snort incredulously. "What did ya do, stand in line while Frog Boy dished it out?"

"Of course not." Her turn to be angry now. She's bristling with it.

"Then why didn't you zap the bastard while he was busy with your team mates? Why did you hesitate 'Ro? Did ya panic or were ya afraid to hurt the asshole?"

I read the debriefing report when I got out of med-bay. It made for grim reading. Bad enough Toad took down both Jeannie and Summers in a matter of seconds. But how come 'Ro didn't get any licks in before being chucked down the lift shaft on the upper mezzanine floor? Jeannie almost suffocated in goop because 'Ro hesitated.

"I didn't panic. I…"

"Put an enemy's life before that of a team mate," I finished for her. I turn to Xavier. "See what I mean, Charlie? Yer pacifist bullshit screws the team's priorities all to fuck. Worrying about giving murdering scum a boo-boo when fighting for their lives is gonna get 'em killed."

'Ro leaps to Xavier's defence. "We are not murderers, Logan. With the Professor's guidance and Scott's leadership we have managed to avoid many fatalities."

Xavier inclines his bald head, his expression grim. We've had this argument before. Looks like we're about to have it again.

"Ororo is quite correct. Killing makes us no better than those who seek to kill us. We are better than that."

And look where it's gonna get ya, Charlie. "Better than what? You saying it's better to die than inflict a little righteous pain?"

"What the hell do you know about it, Logan? You don't even know your own damn name," Summers retorts. His ass hairs are twitching again. "Shit!" he snarls in a plaintive voice. As quickly as his temper flares, it dies. "Sorry."

"You've been lucky so far, kid, but luck don't last."

"Losing Jean was lucky?" Bitterness now. This kid is on the mother of all emotional roller coasters. Xavier's got his work cut out pulling him back from the edge.

"That ain't what I said and you fucking know it."

"That is quite enough, Logan," 'Ro opines.

The gorgeous lightning queen is leaping to the defence of her team leader. An admirable trait but in this instance a misguided one. She should be questioning the reason the team's gone all to shit, not defending it. This is the precise kind of navel gazing bull that's caused this cluster-fuck. Behind me I can hear Stinky's tail beating the air nervously. Not certain of his status, he's hesitant to speak; an outsider like me; possibly objective like me if he ain't too taken with 'Ro. He may be of some use after all. Just so long as it doesn't involve prayer beads and a Hail Mary.

"Ya think? Then let's hope a pretty please'll persuade Magneto to shelve his latest mutant supremacy plot while you pansies take time out for your pity party."

She looks at me sidelong, her breathing deepening perceptibly as strong emotions raise her pulse. I gotta love the way it effects the white camisole top she's wearing. Just as well she can't read my thoughts otherwise my ass would be toast.

Xavier hasn't missed a trick either. He intervenes quickly, diverting attention back to the matter in hand.

"Logan has raised a valid point. While preserving life must be an important factor, it is clear to me that an accommodation must be reached to ensure the ability to defend oneself is not diminished. We must also put aside issues that are pulling the team apart. Until such a time we cannot function either optimally or cohesively."

"We've done okay so far," Summers says defensively.

Ya think so, Beam Boy? "You've done San Ferry Ann since Alkali Lake. If that's your idea of okay then we're fucked before we start."

Summers glares at me. "San Ferry Ann? What the hell's a song by Paul McCartney got to do with anything?"

Xavier raises a questioning eyebrow in my direction. "San Ferry Ann is an obscure expression the English Tommies used in World War One. Basically it means…"

"Sweet fuck all," I interrupt.

"Amongst other things," Xavier finishes. "Could you please dispense with the profanities, Logan? There's little need for such contentious language here."

Oh, there's no way in hell, Charlie. This is one bitter pill that don't deserve sugar coating. "There's every need of it if it wakes you pussies up so ya can see what's creeping up on ya." Damn, the sandwich is going cold. I take another bite.

"We are very aware of what is creeping up on us, Logan," Xavier says. There's a lot of ice attached to them words.

"This is getting us nowhere." 'Ro's deep brown eyes flash her exasperation and my scalp begins to itch. She's getting riled up and inadvertently charging the air with ions. I hope the lady ain't about to loose her cool 'coz I don't relish the idea of getting flash fried. "Perhaps Logan should simply tell us precisely what he has observed so we can take things from there."

"Ororo's right, Logan," Summers grates. "Please endow us with the benefit of your expansive tactical knowledge."

Fine but first I'm gonna finish this sandwich. I take another bite.

"In your own time, Logan. Saving the world from monstrous tyranny can wait."

Fucking comedian. Ignoring Summers' jibe I continue to eat, finally washing down the sandwich with a few gulps of coffee. The other sandwich will have to wait. Regrettable but sacrifices have to be made occasionally. Whatever happened to patience is a virtue? Have these people no idea how important that first meal of the day is?

Sufficiently fortified, I begin. "For starters yer all one trick ponies. No opportunity to use powers gets you yer asses handed to ya on a plate by people who shouldn'ta been able to outmatch ya." The irony of the situation is, so have I. An awkward fact they don't need to know.

"But surely our talents and skills make up for zis lack." Wagner's tail is still twitching nervously. Guess he ain't gonna be much fucking help after all. Has no one noticed that with his yellow eyes and blue skin he is eerily reminiscent of that über bitch, Mystique?

"What d'ya suppose'll happen when ya can't use yer talent, Elf? Ya think the bastard trying to kill ya is gonna come over all noble and back off like a gentleman? Is that what ya think?"

That really gets his tail twitching. "My name is Kurt Wagner, not Elf."

"Like that's gonna save yer blue ass if ya can't bamf outta trouble."

'Ro raises a delicate white eyebrow. "Bamf?"

"You gotta better description for it, darlin'?"

She nods. She seems to have regained her poise which indicates she's paying attention, assimilating what I've said so far. "It's appropriate. Very onomatopoeic."

"You're saying we need to improve our hand to hand combat skills to defend ourselves against mutants who get up close and personal," Summers says, putting the conversation back on track. I can almost hear the cogs whirring in his head. "I'll go along with that."

Give the man a cee-gar!

Xavier steeples his fingers thoughtfully. "That should not pose a problem. Comprehensive, full spectrum martial arts protocols can be programmed into the Danger Room computer to improve the efficiency of generated avatars."

What is it with Xavier and his fucking gizmos? "Ain't good enough Charlie. This kinda stuff is best learned mano a mano. Ya need a flesh and blood instructor and live practice partners."

"And you're just the man for the job are you?" Summers enquires.

"Nope, but I might know someone who is. I'll have to get back to ya on that one."

And pray this long shot don't recoil and punch me in the face. While driving to Jessie's place last night we talked about the fight and she told me she was a fifth dan karate black belt. I'm hoping the prospect of teaching mutant gooders to fight up close and personal has got to be way more appealing than tending bar in a sleaze-pit. Pay'll be better too 'coz Xavier's worth a buck or two. Of course, first I gotta break the news that I'm a mutant and if she's okay with that Charlie will want to satisfy himself she ain't a security risk.

"Do not be too hasty to dismiss programmed avatars as unsuitable for training, Logan." Xavier defending his cyber pets here? "They will be useful to help hone acquired fighting techniques and, as you know only too well, they can be programmed to respond progressively."

Like I need reminding of that? I shrug. "Yeah, whatever. You're the ringmaster."

"Okay," Summers concedes. "You've identified a weakness and what you've said so far makes sense."

Hell, is that a compliment? Best nail the sucker to the wall and bash its head in before it cripples my rep.

"That was the easy part. I can guarantee you ain't gonna like the follow up."

"You have something more to add?" Summers don't look too happy. He's gonna have to get used to it.

"There ain't enough of ya. Ya need to add some complimentary talents to the mix."

This announcement puts a deeper frown on Summers' brow. "What do you mean?"

He knows exactly what I mean. He ain't stupid.

"Ya got a pool of untapped talent right under yer noses but ya don't capitalise on the potential."

"Untapped talent? You can't be serious. They're children." Guess that was expected. Judging by the expression on everyone else's face they're in agreement with old One-eye.

"Some of 'em ain't. Pyro took down a whole squad of Boston's finest like a fucking pro and Rogue neutralised him after he went too far. Do I need to mention how she also saved our collective asses in Canada? The steel guy built like a brick shithouse cleaned house real good and kept his cool. He took the kids to safety while I went after Stryker's goons. And talking about cool, Bobby Drake knows how to handle himself in a tight situation and is a steadying influence on the other kids. The kid that does the Casper thing…"

"Kitty Pryde," Xavier adds helpfully.

"Yeah, her. You didn't have any compunction about her infiltrating the Pentagon with Summers and me and have her sneak hardcopy and encrypted computer files from Stryker's office so where d'ya come off being holier than thou when I suggest you utilise the talents these kids can bring to the table?"

"This is an outrageous suggestion. Those children come to us for safety…"

Summers is gonna be a real pain in the ass over this. Maybe if his nose wasn't so firmly jammed up it…

"No they don't. They come here to learn how to survive in a world that mostly wants to see 'em dead. In Boston, when I was shot in the head by that numbnuts cop, they took care of themselves. Those kids fought for survival against trigger happy, heavily armed police who didn't care how they took us down and they fucking won."

Xavier's trying hard to looked pained but ain't succeeding. He wants to protect them but knows I'm right. I got a feeling we're all running out of time and it's a feeling Xavier shares. "That is stating the case somewhat dramatically, Logan." What's this? An attempt to pacify the dissenters?

"That's stating the facts, Charlie. I know they're young but would it hurt to train 'em how to fight? Thanks to Stryker, people know what we are and where we are. There's uglier motherfuckers out there who want us dead. Don't let your over protective gooder philosophy get in the way of common sense."

"This issue needs further discussion, Logan." Xavier falls silent, cradling his chin in his hand, looking at me thoughtfully.

"Point made, Logan, but I'll take it under advisement," Summers announces. "Do you have any more words of wisdom for us?"

Condescension. Does Summers never get tired of being Head Boy?

"Yeah. Ya can't polish a turd and the fuck-up fairy never sleeps."

Summers snorts, annoyed 'coz he thinks I'm taking the piss. "Very eloquent. Very succinct. Do these little pearls translate into English?"

"If ya need me to spell it out…"

"No need," 'Ro interrupts. "We understand you plainly enough. You can't make a butterfly out of a blowfly and even the most carefully prepared plans can go wrong."

"Dunno about the insects, darlin' but ya got the message loud and clear. Gilding stupid ideas is something of a cottage industry around here."

I fix my gaze on Xavier. He keeps his expression bland, neutral. "I agree that there is room for improvement, Logan. Together we can work something out. But we are not savages. Taking a human life must be the very last resort and only if circumstances are extreme enough to warrant it."

"Fair enough," I accept. "But I maintain the best defence is still a good offence.

"Isn't that an overly aggressive policy?" A frown creases Xavier's brow.

"Nope. You wanted my input, my assessment of the teams failings and how they might be improved. Ya got it. What ya do with it is up to you."

Reaching for the now cold sandwich I begin to snarf it down.

-o0o-

The meeting broke up pretty quickly after I had my say. Xavier and Summers stayed behind in the Strategy Room talking quietly while 'Ro, Stinky and I made our way to the first floor.

'Ro breaks the uneasy silence. "You do not take any prisoners do you Logan?"

"I tell it like it is, darlin'. You got a problem with that?"

"Actually, no I do not."

"Thought not," I grunt.

"You are very sure of yourself."

I tap the side of my nose. "I can smell when people are shitting me, 'Ro. Body chemistry is a dead giveaway."

"You are quite possibly the rudest man I've ever met." She smiles as she says that.

Raising a quizzical eyebrow I reply, "Only possibly? My standards must be slipping."

"You are also incorrigible."

I laugh. I've been called far worse names.

Stinky is trailing us quietly, like he's trying to pretend he isn't there. I can sense his unease. I can also detect a faint but acrid, sulphurous odour clinging to him, the residue of his last bamf. He smells like a box of matches.

"The Lord teaches that ve should turn the other cheek," he mutters unhappily.

"And what would ya do if someone rips that cheek clean off of ya face, Elf? Or were in the process of doing the same to 'Ro? Sing the bastards a hymn and hope they'll repent maybe?"

"It vould be a sin to take a life." He delivers that like a sermon, his weird yellow eyes full of sorrow.

"And letting them take yours would be better? Are you for fucking real?"

He hauls himself straight with indignation. "Der Professor feels I haf something important to contribute to der team."

Fuck indignation. I'm more interested in survival. "The Professor ain't gotta worry about you covering his ass in a scrap. You wanna be a martyr then fuck off and go do it somewhere else. I don't wanna too-dumb-to-live liability watching my back or anyone else's when things go tits up."

"No one is asking you to take a life, Kurt," 'Ro says soothingly. "It is possible to incapacitate without killing."

"That why ya chucked Frog Boy into the river?"

Her nostrils flair. This really is a sticking point between us. "Yes. I stunned him into insensibility. Effectively the fight was over for him."

"Hope ya remind him of that next time he comes gunning for ya."

"You believe I should have killed him?" she asks, obviously troubled by my persistence.

"Dead people have a tendency to not return the favour."

"Unless they're called Logan." 'Ro treats me to one of her wonderful smiles. "Why did you become so cynical?"

"Survival trait. Some bastard tries to off me then all fucking bets are off. There ain't no second chances."

"You didn't kill Mystique," she reminds me.

Not for want of trying. "Thought I had but she's tougher than most. I won't make that mistake again."

"Even though your mistake allowed her to play a vital role at Alkali Lake?"

I snort, remembering how Mystique wanted to expand on that role in the tent. "Ever heard of improvisation?"

"Yes. Moira was impressed by your improvisation yesterday. It is not the sort of thing one would expect from a member of the faculty but throwing Rahne in the fountain proved most effective."

What the fuck? "I ain't a member of the faculty."

'Ro rolls her eyes, her amusement plain. "Really? Then what are you?"

"I'm a fucked in the head feral berserker trying to get by. Thought ya knew that."

'Ro looks over her shoulder at Stinky. "Kurt, can you give me a few minutes with Logan please? I'll join you for breakfast presently."

Elf don't look too happy about it. Too bad. "Ja, Ororo. I vill vait for you in the dining room." And then, without warning, the bastard bamfs and I get a lungful of his toxic fumes.

"Fuck!" Too late I slap a hand over my nose and mouth and distance myself as fast as I can from the dispersing blue cloud.

"Logan, are you all right?" she enquires, concerned by my actions.

"The little shit did that on purpose," I choke out, trying hard not to breathe in any more fumes. My nose and throat are on fire, my eyes watering like crazy, making my vision swim. Worse, my stomach is trying its utmost to eject my breakfast.

"Could it be the big, bad Wolverine is bothered by a nasty smell?"

Har fucking har. "You ever tried breathing in weapons grade mace when you've got senses keener than an animal?" I snarl as I rub my eyes and wipe away snot. The burning quickly diminishes to an annoying sting as the healing factor goes to work.

"I'm sorry. I'm sure it was unintentional, Logan. You were hard on Kurt, although you believe it was for his own good but he bears no malice. He doesn't have it in him. It obviously hasn't occurred to him bamfing produces an adverse reaction in you." She pauses, a frown rippling her brow. "How come you seem to cope when you are in the Danger Room together."

"It's not so bad if I know he's gonna bamf within a few feet of me. I can hold my breath. Sucking in the undiluted shit is the real killer. Dispersed in the air, it's unpleasant but otherwise harmless. The good news is, the stuff disperses fast."

"This could have serious repercussions. I'll mention it to him."

"You do that." I wipe my eyes with the heel of my hand.

"With Kurt on the team the two of you will have to work something out, some sort of early warning system. We can't have you wheezing like an asthmatic in the middle of an affray. And we do not want to give the opposition any nasty ideas do we?"

"Won't be a problem." She's got the instincts of a fighter. 'Ro might not be prepared to kill but I know she's a formidable force to reckon with. "Nice to know ya not just a pretty face, 'Ro."

She grins. "Coming from you, that is a compliment. However, discussing battle tactics is not why I wish to talk to you privately."

"Oh?"

"I am very concerned about Rahne."

Aw shit. Not you too. "You should be."

She nods. "I'm as equally concerned about Moira."

"Why? Moira ain't gonna wolf out on ya."

Crossing her arms across her chest, she asks, "What do you know about her, Logan?"

I shrug. "She's Scottish, she's shrewd and she's a sucker for hopeless cases."

"She is also a long standing friend of Charles."

"Like I said, she's a sucker for hopeless cases."

My attempt at levity misses wide of the mark. "Are you aware she has a son?"

"Nope."

"He's been kept in a stasis chamber at her research facility on Muir Island since he was thirteen years old. That is eleven years of his life spent in the scientific equivalent of a meat locker. His mutation is so lethal, both to himself and others, Moira had no choice other than to neutralise him in the only way possible without killing him. Not for nothing has Moira, a renowned biochemist, become the world's foremost expert on the X gene. She is desperate to discover the means for her son to lead a normal life and to help others seriously afflicted by their mutations."

I didn't know that. "That's a tough break. Moira's a real nice lady."

'Ro looks me in the eye in a way that makes me feel uncomfortable. "Are you going to help Rahne?"

"I don't think it's a good idea," I reply, going on the defensive. "The kid needs specialist help."

"Numbskull! You are the specialist help. Throwing Rahne in the fountain was unconventional but it worked like a charm. Moira told me it normally takes hours for Rahne to snap herself out of a feral episode." She stoops slightly, lowering her head and trying to hide her exasperation. With a nose like mine a ploy like that it ain't never gonna work.

"Me too. Unless I get my ass royally kicked by a weather goddess."

Eyes narrowed, lips pursed, 'Ro glares at me, waiting for a particular response.

"I got lucky, okay." I also got a kick in the balls for my trouble. "Besides, what the fuck do I know about kids?"

"Enough to kill to protect them, or sacrifice your own life if necessary," she points out. "But Moira isn't asking you to do either of those things. She's asking that you help keep Rahne from being penned up for life like a dangerous animal. Or worse, permanently dosed up on pacifying drugs. Will you at least think about it?"

"Did Xavier put you up to this?"

"Charles? No. Why would he?"

I can't smell the lie on her. She's talking to me on her own account. "Moira sure has a lot of friends in Westchester."

"So do you. Please tell me you will at least think about it."

"Okay, I'll think about it."

"You promise?"

"Don't push it 'Ro."

"This is very important."

"I know. We through?"

She sighs. "For now. I have those toiletries you asked for. I'll drop them by later if that is convenient."

"Thanks."

"You're a good man, Logan. Don't let anyone tell you differently."

Yeah, right.

-o0o-

A light tap on the door drags me out of a deep, dreamless sleep. 'Ro's fresh scent carries on the draft squeezing under the door.

"Logan, are you there?"

"Yeah," I reply blearily, dragging myself off the bed. "Just hold on a second will ya?"

Decorum demands I make myself decent so I slide on a pair of sweats before opening the door. I know I look dishevelled from sleep but 'Ro's a big girl. I'm pretty certain she can handle half naked and dishevelled. She's cradling a bag in her arms. From the smell, she's decided to get me a bit of everything again. Why not? Variety is the spice of life ain't it?

"I'm sorry. I didn't realise you were sleeping." She's staring at my chest and shoulders, giving them and appraisal. Wonder if she likes what she sees?

"'S'okay. How much do I owe you?"

"Nothing I've put it on the grocery bill." She hands me the bag.

"Thanks," I say, taking it. It's blood temperature from her body heat.

She turns to go and then stops. "Kurt and I were planning to rent a film and order pizza this evening. You're welcome to join us if you like."

I look at her, trying not to imagine playing gooseberry to a hot goddess and a giant Smurf. Managing a smile I hope don't look too feeble I say, "Thanks but I got plans for tonight. Maybe another time." Around about the time Hell freezes over.

"Sure Logan." Her own lips stretch into a warm smile and then turns away and leaves. I watch her hips sway as she walks down the hall. Classy. Real classy.

The clock tells me it's a little after three so I have some time on my hands. Bag tucked under my arm I head for the bathroom. I wanna smell good for Jessie.

Exiting the bathroom a short time later I accidentally dislodge my jacket from the chair's backrest while vigorously towelling myself dry. The cell phone slips from the pocket and hits the floor with a muffled thump. I'd forgotten I still had it.

Flicking it open I key in Jessie's number. No need to look at the card she gave me, I got the number memorised already.

"Hello? This is Jessica Commeau speaking." Her voice sounds distant (well duh!) and stretched thin.

"Jessie? It's me, Logan."

"Hey, Logan. I wondered if you were going to give me a call."

"We still okay for later?" Hell, that makes me sound so fucking desperate.

"Sure. Been looking forward to it all day."

"I got a proposal for ya."

There's a sudden silence on the other end. "Isn't this a bit sudden? We've only just met."

She's joking, right? "Uh…" What the fuck do I say for Chrissake?

I can hear her giggling. "Relax, Wild Man. Just a bit of gallows humour."

Wild Man? "Uh, yeah. Okay." Shit! How dumb do I sound?

"So, a proposal, huh?"

"Yeah. But there's some things ya need to know first."

"Whoa! This sounds serious. Wanna lay it on me?" Ain't the only thing I wanna lay on ya sweetheart.

"I don't wanna discuss it on the phone, darlin'." Don't wanna risk ya slamming yer handset down on me when I tell you what I am.

"Has this got to do with the Bayou Lady?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"Then I suppose this intriguing proposal of yours will just have to keep until later." I can hear her breathing, hear the slight breathlessness in her voice. She's pleased I'm calling. And relieved too. Perhaps she thought I wouldn't.

I hate phones. Fucking things are so impersonal. "Gotta go now. See ya in a couple of hours 'kay?"

"Looking forward to it, Logan."

I hear the click as she disconnects. She wants to see me again. She really, honest to God, wants to see me again.

I need a smoke so I head for the terrace facing the basketball court. It's another lovely day so, stogie in hand, I sprawl on a bench, basking in the warm spring sunshine spilling across the terrace. Some of the kids are playing basketball and I witness some very creative fouls. I guess Charlie's sense of fair play doesn't rub off too well on them. Can't say that ain't a good thing. You need an edge to survive in this crappy world.

Moira approaches along the terrace. She's dressed in jeans, a white blouse and loafers. The sun gleams off her coppery hair and lends a complimentary glow to her smiling face. She's a good person and one that don't take any shit. I've known her less than thirty six hours and already I have respect for her. That don't come easily. And now I understand why she is fighting so hard to give Rahne a chance.

She's a woman with fire in her heart. Jeannie had that same fire.

"D'yeh mind if I join yeh?"

I edge along the bench making room for Moira to sit down.

She sinks down gracefully, crossing her feet. "I wannae apologise fer yesterday…" she began.

"Why? Ya ain't done anything to be sorry for." I suck in lungful of cigar smoke and exhale slowly. On the basketball court one of the kids has just morphed his team's hoop into a giant Ronald McDonald and stymied a goal. I chuckle at the sounds of heated protest.

"Rahne enjoyed hersel' yesterday afternoon."

I'll bet she did. "I hope that was after she kicked me in the balls and cooled off in the fountain."

"Aye. Rogue an' yersel' taught her how to relax an' play a game despite what the bairn did and I respect that."

"Rahne's a good kid." Just like Rogue. Fuck, where did that come from?

"Is that a generalisation or a personal observation?"

"Both."

The light breeze ruffles Moira's hair and she brushes it from her face. "Has it made a difference to yer earlier decision?."

"Maybe."

Moira lets out a sigh. "At least that nae a no."

I take a final drag of the cigar and grind the butt into the stone beneath my foot. In a moment of madness that I'm sure I'm gonna regret, I decide to help her.

"I'm willing to give it a shot but I got to do it my way. No damn curriculum. Just take it one day at a time, deal with her episodes as they arise. I'll talk to the kid. I'll show her what her enhanced senses can do. If she can hack taking on and taming the wolf, I'll teach her how. If she wants to train her senses but keep her human side in overall control, something I'm familiar with, I'll take it as far as it can go. If she can't or won't handle it then it's over."

Moira smiles and nods her head. "Thank yeh Logan. Thank yeh for giving her the chance."

"Don't thank me yet," I mutter darkly.

The smile lighting up Moira's face has more output than the sun. I can almost taste the relief emanating from her. I only hope I can live up to the responsibility she's placing in my hands.

"When would yeh like to begin her instruction?"

"Lemme see." I cast my gaze over the basketball court as if lost in thought. In truth, I'm watching the retaliation of the opposing team as a hoop wilts like melting plastic. Nothing like levelling the odds. "My appointments diary is pretty full but I guess I got a window during lunch tomorrow or maybe for an hour after dinner. Lunchtime is preferable." Wanna keep the evening open for Jessie I she still wants me after tonight.

"Yeh don't waste time do yeh laddie."

I laugh. "You're the second person to accuse me of that today. If Rahne's comfortable with my company I'll take her out on the estate on Sunday morning. Make sure she's dressed for the outdoors."

"I will. Where d'yeh want the bairn tae wait fer yeh tomorrow?"

"The library. There'll be other kids in there so she'll feel safe as we talk."

"I'll let her know." Moira falls silent. She looks lost in thought.

"It's gonna rain tonight." I observe.

Moira studies the flawless blue arch of the sky. Not a cloud in sight. "Rain? Are yeh sure? The weather report says it's gonnae to be fine until tomorrow."

"Storm's coming. I can smell it on the breeze."

"Ah."

She stands, leans over me, takes my face in her hands and plants a kiss on my forehead. Moira ain't hitting on me, her scent tells me that much.

"What's that for?"

"It's an old Scottish custom. It means we part as friends."

"We friends, Moira?"

"Beneath yer don't give a fuck exterior, Logan, lies a very remarkable and noble man. Charles senses it and I sense it too. Yes, we are friends."

Coming from Moira's mouth the expletive is unexpected. As for the remarkable and noble bullshit, I guess she needs to get to know me better. I'm a total bastard and the first to admit it. What's noble about a guy with a healing factor and adamantium laced skeleton beating cage fodder to a pulp?

I haul my carcass off the bench.

"Later."

I've made a friend. Looks like it's my day for good things. Without another word I turn and walk away.

Love it or loathe it, please leave a review. Believe it or not, what you think really does matter to me. :0)