Disclaimer: Again, I own no rights to Marvel, but if I did, I would buy me a Wolverine and put him in my room. I would like to say thank you to Chrizz who has reviewed every one of my stories, I believe, and has nothing but good things to say to me. It always great to get a nice review and I can always count on yours. Thank you and I hope ya'll enjoy!

The rest of the morning was rather uneventful. I spent the time between breakfast and lunch pretty much in my room. After lunch, I decided to paint my finger and toenails, alternation between the colors pink, blue and green. When they were done drying, my head was aching from the fumes from the paint. I decided to go outside to get some fresh air. I pulled on my pink ski cap and blue, knee length coat. After putting on my pink rain boots, which had blue, yellow and white polka dots on them, I tucked my blue jeans into them. And once I had tied my scarf around my neck and pulled on my gloves, I headed out to the school's garden.

The weather had changed since that morning. A dense fog had settled in and it felt as if I were walking out into nothingness. I had been to the garden quite a few times since I had arrived, but I felt completely lost as soon as I walked out the door. The fog reached up to the sky, which was white from the winter clouds covering it like a thick blanket, all the way down to the ground, which was also white from being covered in three plus inches of newly fallen snow.

I could see nothing except for the door from which I had come. Everything was covered and hidden by one thing or another. I felt as if I was in a cloud and I suppose, in some ways, I was. Nothing was visible to me. It all sank underneath the thickness of the fog, which seemed to fill the air with a heaviness that made it seem hard to breathe. And there I was, back to the breathing thing for the second time that day.

The world was lost in white and I wondered if it would let me get lost in it, too.

I wandered about the garden until I found the general direction of one of the benches inside it and began towards where I was sure it was. I knew that I had found it when I ran one of my shins into it.

"Banana cookies!" I screamed, my attempt to express anger without swearing.

"You alright?" I heard a gruff voice ask from somewhere in the fog.

The surprise of another person being outside with me made me jump back, causing me to trip over a hidden object in the snow or fog, or both. I tripped and fell, landing back into the cold, wet snow and feeling my head hit the hard ground.

"Hey, you alright?" came the new voice once again. I could hear him moving and soon a hand was in my sight, reaching out to help me up.

I took the hand and felt the body it was attached to help pull me up with what felt like little effort. Once I was on my own feet, I dusted the snow from me the best that I could.

"Thank you," I said. "You startled me; I didn't realize that anyone else was out here."

Not able to see whom I was speaking with, I felt as though I were talking to myself rather than attempting to hold a conversation with a person. Or start one, for that matter.

"Yeah, Chuck doesn't like me to smoke in the house," he said, his voice low and gravely.

"Oh…Chuck?" I said dumbly.

I heard him let out a small chuckle. "The Professor."

"Oh…oh, right, sorry. Slow day for me, I think the fog's settled into my brain." He laughed. "I apologize, I'm Delia," I said, introducing myself to the unnamed voice.

"Delia," he repeated. I liked the sound of it on his voice. "Like the song?"

"Yeah, only I would prefer it if you didn't shoot me," I joked.

"Twice."

"I beg your pardon?"

"He shoots her twice in the song. The first time doesn't kill her, so he shoots her again."

"Yes, but I'm thinking that I don't want to be shot the first time, so I most definitely don't want to be shot the second time. Just personally, though."

"Well he shots 'cause she's devilish. You got any demons in you?"

The question was meant to be a joke; I think. But the truth was; I did. Or it felt like it anyway. I had emotions bottled up that ate away at my insides. My life. My relationships. I was lost in a sea of hate and guilt that only swelled greater and greater each day. There were definitely things inside of me that weren't innocent. Perhaps those were my demons.

"Not that I know of."

"I guess you're alright, then."

I smiled, though I was sure he couldn't see it. "Well, I'm glad. I was quite nervous about that but now I have one less thing to worry about. Thank you," I joked.

"No problem."

I tucked my hair behind my ears and tried my hardest to keep myself from reaching out and pulling the man closer, to see what he looked like.

"Well, like I said; I'm Delia. Who might you be?"

There was a small pause where I could hear him exhale, blowing out what smelled like cigar smoke. I was momentarily amused by how much better my hearing seemed to be when I couldn't really see anything.

"I might be Logan," he said and I swore that I could hear the sound of a smirk in his voice.

So this was Logan, I thought. The man my uncle had specifically told me to stay away from because he was a jerk had just helped me up from the snow. I could be wrong, but that didn't seem like something someone as rude as he had been described would do.

"So you were the one on the motorcycle last night." I smiled.

"Yeah, I didn't think anyone else was up."

"Well, I wasn't until I heard you go by under my window. It didn't bother me, though. My daddy owned a Harley so it was actually quite nice. I hadn't heard one in a while."

"Under your window? I didn't go by the student's section."

"Which is why I heard you; I'm not a student. I live on the teacher's hall."

"So what did Chuck rope you into teachin'?"

"I don't teach; I just live here."

"Fair enough. How long you been here?"

"Just over two weeks, I guess. Not too long."

He made a small grunting noise to acknowledge what I had said.

I still felt slightly awkward in the fog. Not being able to see the person you're talking to can also be odd and just add to the whole awkwardness of the situation.

"Right, well, I just stepped out for a bit of air. I'll let you get back to whatever you were doing. Perhaps I'll see you again at dinner?"

"Well, you ain't really seein' me now to see me again," he pointed out.

I pursed my lips in though. "Good point. Then perhaps we can see each for the first time at dinner?"

"Perhaps," he said with a slight sarcastic tone, taking a light jab at my vocabulary. "Can you find the house in this stuff?"

"Uh," I said, looking around me. I could barely a foot in front of me. However, I had managed to find a four-foot long bench in the worst weather I had ever been in, so I figured that I could find the house. "Yeah, I think I'm good."

"Not gonna' run into anything again are you?"

I laughed. "I hope not. If I trip over anything else on my way back, I'll just have to wait until this stuff clears up or I'll be lost," I joked.

"All right."

"Yeah, all right. See you at dinner."

I found the house relatively easy. The advantage I had going back was the fact that nearly all of the house lights were on. The Professor or Jean must have known that some was out in the garden, because about half way there, the fog lights came on. I turned to try to catch a glimpse of Logan, but even with all of the lights, I couldn't see him.

Once I made it to the school, I went straight up to my room. Aside from there being nowhere else for me to go, my clothes were wet from falling into the snow.

Why did I have to be such a klutz?

I looked through my brightly colored wardrobe, wondering what to change into. I saw my white polo shirt that had red paint splatters on it and a red, felt, broken heart stitched to the front. I remember Scott saying that Logan was Canadian and since red and white are Canadian colors, I decided to wear it. I changed into it, a knee length, deconstructed, blue jean skirt and my black pair of sweater boots that came just under my knee. I hope that I looked somewhat patriotic, though I wasn't sure why I actually cared. I had met him for all of five minutes. What was it about this man that made me want him to pay attention to me? Why did I give two cares about him noticing that I was wearing his country's national colors? It was one of those things where I couldn't quite put my finger on it. There was just something about him that as dinner drew closer, I no longer wanted to see him; I needed to.

I needed to know that he was real, not just a person that I had created in my mind. But like before, the fog seemed to have settled into my brain and clouded my memory.

Was his voice really that deep?

Were his hands really that strong?

Or had I turned it over in my head until his jokes and remarks were made to be more humorous than they actually were?

I couldn't make heads or tails of the whole situation. I had never really felt the way that I was at that time and so I didn't know how to identify it. I couldn't even find anything in all of my past experiences to which to compare it. All I could get out of myself at that moment was that I was, in a very unusual way, excited about that particular member of the house returning in time for me to possibly get to know him. Although our meeting had been once and brief, it seemed to me that Scott had gotten him completely wrong.

There was a knock on my door before Scott's voice came from behind it. "Time for dinner; you coming down?"

It was dinner already?

"Uh, yeah, I'll be down in a bit," I called from my bathroom. I had gotten bored waiting around and so I had decided to curl my hair.

Living at the school was nice. Although I worried about my mother constantly, I was sure that she was being taken care of. I didn't have a job and for once, since I was eighteen, I could just relax and not work. However, after a few days of lying about, doing nothing, I got bored. Hence the reasoning behind why I was in my bathroom with Velcro and hot rollers twisted in my hair while I curled what was left down with a curling iron. I had found various ways to amuse myself and this was just one of them.

I quickly unrolled the rollers from my hair and then turned my head over and shook it out. When I looked up at myself in the mirror, I realized that my hair looked more slept on than curly. But the style helped to soften the harsh contrast between my dark hair and pale skin.

Looking in the mirror, I knew that I resembled my father, but I had long since forgotten what he looked like and it hurt not to remember just how much I looked like him.

I left for dinner right after I tidied up my bathroom, making my way down the already empty hall. Growing up as an only child, I wasn't used to the noise and I had been quite shocked when I had first moved into the school. I still hadn't quite adjusted to it just yet, but as I entered the dining hall, I was prepared for the noise that I heard.

"Did you have a good day?" Scott asked as I sat at the table across from him and Jean.

"Yeah, it was pretty good," I said, taking a plate and filling it with the lasagna in front of me. "How about you?"

He let out a sigh. "It was good," he said. He looked at me and then tilted his head to one side. "You have paint on your shirt."

I laughed. "Yeah, I bought it like that."

"Oh."

And that's about as far as I dinnertime conversations ever went. I just ate and listened to everyone else talk about their days, what they had done and about their classes. I had finished eating and was waiting to get dessert when the buzz of noise that was teenagers talking died down and quickly quieted. I wondered what had happened when I saw Jean smile up at someone while Uncle Scott grimaced.

"Well look who the cat drug in," Rogue said with a smile.

I turned my head to look over my shoulder and my own eyes locked with the most gorgeous pair of hazel eyes that I had ever seen. He didn't look away, I couldn't, and he held my gaze for about ten seconds, staring right back at me. I only looked away when I heard Scott clear his throat in order to get our attention.

"Delia, this is Logan. Logan, this is Delia-" Scott began as he tried to introduce us.

"Delia," Logan repeated, interrupting my uncle. "Like the song?"

I smiled and a small blush pinched my cheeks. "Yes, like the song," I said as he kept his eyes on my instead of Scott.

"Yeah, this is Delia, like the song… She's going to be staying with us until the summer… Logan! Stop staring at my niece!" he finally snapped, grabbing both of our attentions.

Logan looked from Scott, to me and then back to Scott again. Smirking, he shrugged his shoulders. "Good think you don't look like Scooter; you'd be ugly," he said, pulling out the empty chair beside me and sat down. He looked at me and winked. My blush deepened.

"Logan, you are not allowed to flirt, touch, or attempt to corrupt her in anyway. Basically, stay away from her. Far away. She's my niece and if I find out that you've been hitting on her or teaching her any of your bad habits, I won't hesitate to kick you're a-"

"Uncle Scott, we've just met, why are you threatening him already?"

"Because he's Logan and I know him, so I'm giving him a fair warning."

"You wanna' let me be here for a day before you start accusin' me of corruptin' people?"

"I didn't say you had, I just said that you better not."

"Well maybe you should keep a better eye on her if she's that easily influenced," he shot back, staring at Scott with an evident smirk.

I raised my hand timidly and they both turned to look at me. "Yeah, I'm not only in the room, but I'm actually sitting at the same table. So is there any way that we can not discus me as though I'm not here?" I asked.

"I agree, let's not have anymore discussion of this at the table," said the Professor. "Logan how was your trip?"

He gave a grunt as he sloppily spooned a large serving of lasagna onto his plate. I sat quietly, watching him, doing my best to look interested in what he was about to say rather than just blatantly staring.

When Scott had told me to stay away from him, he didn't bother to mention why I would be drawn to him. Sitting there, with a little less than a foot between us, waiting to hear how he was going to answer, I found out why: He was attractive. That was the least you could say of him. I mean, I know that Rogue had said that he was hot as Hell, but I thought perhaps that she was exaggerating. She wasn't. While the sound of his voice was fascinating, it didn't do his looks justice.

He was wearing a white wife beater tucked into a pair of blue jeans and a maroon, button up shirt, unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled and then pushed to just below his elbows, along with the biggest belt buckle I'd ever seen.

He was hairy and looked like he was in need of a good shave. I had never been keen on the whole hairy guy thing; it just wasn't for me. He, however, was my only exception and had changed my mind. It totally worked for him.

"It was alright, didn't find much," he answered vaguely. Didn't find much about what? What were you looking for? I wanted to ask, but felt it rude. "That army base was empty. Not disserted, cleaned out. I tried to track down what I could, but they did a good job cleanin' it and there wasn't anything left."

The Professor nodded and seemed to be focusing hard on something. "Delia, I think you should call home. Officer Johnson is trying to get in touch with you," he said to me.

I stood from the table without hesitating. "Is everything okay?"

"I'm not sure, I think you're mother may have gone missing."

"Fantastic," I said dry and sarcastically.

"How could she go missing? I thought they were supposed to have professionals taking care of her. They can't even keep up with a middle aged woman?" Scott said, standing. "Is she safe?"

"Don't worry about it Uncle Scott, I'm sure she's fine. This isn't the first time she's gone off. I think I know where she might be," I said, irritably. Unfortunately, it was true; she had gone off plenty of times. This was the second time while during a rehabilitation clinic. Couldn't she have waited until after I had gotten my brownie? "Please excuse me; I'll be back in a little bit."

I left and went to the Professor's office. I needed to talk to Officer Johnson, but when I called his phone at the station, one of the other cops said that he was out. He was looking for me mother, I knew it. She was going to cause him to lose his job. I then dialed his cell phone number and it took a few rings before he answered.

"Hello?"

"Bobby, it's Delia-"

"Delia, I've been trying to get in touch with you-"

"I know, I'm sorry, I was in the dining hall with everyone. How's mother?"

"She's missing."

I let out a sigh. "Yeah, I thought so. Do you know where she might be?"

"No, I've been driving around for about forty-five or fifty minutes and I haven't seen her."

"Have you tried any of the bars?"

"Yeah, about four different ones. No one's seen her."

"Have you tried Bud's?"

"The pub?"

"Yeah."

"No."

"Go there, that's where she is."

"How do you know?"

"Because she knows the owner. Unless she pulled out a pistol and gunned down more that five people, he wouldn't even call the police. If she wants to go somewhere that she can get hammered and strung out on crack, that's the place she would go…that's the place she has gone. Are you in uniform?"

"No."

"Alright, just go in and ask to speak with Ryan. When you talk to him, tell him that you're a friend of mother's and mine and that you wanted to pick her up and take her back to your house to wind down. Don't mention anything about being an officer or they'll freak out. If he asks about me; I'm still at home, I just had to work and couldn't do it myself. If he asks where I'm working, tell him someplace like the mall or something, just somewhere non-seedy or he's going to know you're lying."

"How bad is this place?"

"Pretty bad. But listen; you can't do anything about it. Once you leave the back rooms, you didn't see one single thing out of order. It's all beer coolers and storage boxes as far as you're concerned. Just go in there and get her, okay?"

"Okay," he said, pausing. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let her get out like that. I didn't realize that she could get past the hospital security."

"Don't even worry about it, she's done this dozens of times, it's not your fault. Just make sure she's okay and take care of her for me, yeah?"

"Yeah, I will. I'm headed that way so I'll let you get back to eating."

"If there's anything wrong or if she's not there, call me back, okay?"

"Do I just need to call the number you gave me before you left or do you have one for me to get touch with just you?"

"No, I don't have my own phone, just call the school."

"Alright, I'm going to take care of her," he said just as the Professor, Scott, Jean, Storm, Rogue, Bobby and Logan began walking through the door.

"Okay, be carefully and I'll talk to you later," I said and then hung up the phone.

"Sorry to interrupt your phone call, but there's been a mutant attack in the Bronx area and we need to act on it fast," the Professor apologized to me.

"It's fine," I said, moving over to give Scott and Jean room on the couch. Bobby and Rogue took the other couch along with Storm and Logan sat on the arm beside me. "Is everyone okay? Is it serious or anything?"

"I'm not sure yet. But before we're started, how's your mother?"

"Someone's going to get her; she's going to be fine."

"Where is she?" Scott asked.

"Bud's, I think."

"Who's that?"

I laughed. Despite his being concerned, it was quite amusing that he knew so little about our lives to not know that Bud's was a pub instead of a person. "No, it's a place, a bar, pub type a few miles from our old house." I felt awkward discussing my mother in front of everyone. "Right, I'll leave and let you guys get to your…meeting, or whatever."

"You can feel free to stay, if you like?" the Professor said.

"Perhaps another time, but thank you," I said as I stood. "It was nice meeting you Logan," I told him, standing in front of him.

"Yeah, you too," he said with a small smirk as he slid down into my empty seat beside Scott.

"Bye guys," I said, walking to the door. "Be careful."

This was my first real experience with an X-Men mission. I had been filled in on everything about them so that I wouldn't panic if something were to happen and they had to leave, but it was still new to me and I couldn't help but worry some. I knew that they were all well trained in what they did, but the thought of the possibility that my uncle, aunt, or any of the others might not only get hurt but also possibly die, that got me just a little freaked out.

I couldn't sleep. Uncle Scott, Storm and Bobby had left at around eight o'clock to go take care of the situation in the Bronx. It was after one in the morning and they weren't back yet.

Was this normal?

Should it be taking them this long?

What if something happened to them, would anyone know?

My mind was racing and wondering and worrying to the point I couldn't rest. Not only that, but Officer Johnson hadn't called me back to say whether he had found my mother or not. I couldn't sleep.

I stood from my bed and slipped on my slippers that looked like monkeys. My pink pajama pants with pictures of cartoon frogs were baggy and puddle around my ankles as I walked. I took a ponytail holder from the top of my dresser and pulled my still semi-curly hair into a half ponytail. My bangs fell across my face, swaying in front of my left eye. I pushed them away, but they only fell right back. I took the old, worn out sweater from the back of my chair and pulled it on over my green T-shirt. I was sure that I looked like a six-year-old psycho-ward escapee. I didn't care, though. I was only going for a walk and it was after one in the morning. I wasn't really expecting to see anyone.

I left my room and went downstairs. I could be clumsy at times and I was afraid that if I fell in the hall, I would wake someone up. The better to fall where no one can hear me, I thought. The first floor of the school was dark, empty and quiet. There were a few lamps here and there so that I could see and I was thankful for it.

I walked to the back of the school and stopped in front of the double glass doors that led outside to the garden. I could see that the fog had thinned out and lifted some, but it still wasn't something I would want to be out in and prayed that Uncle Scott and everyone with him would come home safe.

"How's it lookin' out there?" asked a gruff voice from behind me. I spun around to see Logan. Despite it being quite and not expecting to meet anyone else down there, surprisingly, his voice didn't scare me.

"It's cleared up some, but it's still pretty bad," I said, my hand resting on a pane of glass in the door. "I'm worried about Uncle Scott being out in it."

"Don't worry 'bout Scooter. Don't much like the kid, but he knows how to handle the jet. I'll give him that," he said, walking closer to me.

I turned back to face the outside as he stopped beside me. "I've not seen him fly it yet."

"Did you ever find anything out about your mother?"

I looked back at him. Where was the crude man Scott had described? "No, that's why I'm up. I'm worried about Uncle Scott, her, too much for my mind to rest. I thought a walk might help."

"I'm sure she's fine. Someone would've called if anything was wrong, right?"

"I don't know." I let out a sigh and closed my eyes, shaking my head slightly. "I shouldn't have left her. I should be taking care of her."

"What's wrong with her?"

I opened my eyes and sighed once again. I saw him look me over and I did the same. He was wearing a white wife beater with a pair of navy blue sweatpants and he was a good five inches taller than I was. He stuck his hands into his pockets, I could see the muscles in his arms and on his chest through the fabric in his shirt, and I was quite impressed.

"She has some…problems."

"What kind of problems?"

I looked into his eyes. Could I tell him? Could I trust him with something so personal? I barely knew him and yet I felt comfortable with him. "She uh, she's addicted to alcohol and drugs. It started getting out of control right after my father died."

"When was that?"

"When I was eight, so seventeen years ago, I guess, or nearly. I'm not really great with the math." I smiled.

He smiled back at me lightly. "What happened to him?"

I pulled my hand from the glass door and folded my arms across my chest. "He died…and took my mother along with him when he did," I said, turning to face him. "That's my excuse, why are you up?"

"Couldn't sleep," he answered vaguely.

"Well, something tells me you don't care too much for Scott, so that rules out you being worried about him. So what's wrong with you? Why can't you sleep?"

"Just gettin' used to bein' back. Thought I'd walk around a bit and make sure everything's alright."

I nodded my head. "Mind if I walk with you?"

He cocked and eyebrow at me. "Scooter said he didn't want me around you."

"Well dash what Scott said, he's one of the reasons I'm awake." He laughed. "If you won't tell, neither will I. And it's just a walk, if you can manage to corrupt me in that little time; I deserve it. Besides, you don't seem that bad."

"Wait 'til you know me, darlin'," he said as he began walking down the hall from which I had just come. I followed, walking beside him. "You and Summers close?"

"No, sadly, not really. I think this is the most time I've ever spent with him. Mother isn't exactly…a supporter of mutants, I guess you could say. When Scott told the family he was one, I was only three. They shipped him off to here and I only saw him a few times after that."

"Why didn't you see him after you got older?"

"I had to take care of mother, she needs me."

"So why are you here now?"

"Because she was doing well and I was gullible enough to give her the money for our bills and rent. She blew it all on beer and coke. She then proceeded to get me fired and she was also arrested, all in the same night. Talented woman, my mother. Anyway, the man who arrested her was a friend of my family and he agreed to take care of her while I went away for a while. I just feel guilty for leaving her, though."

"Why?"

"Because she needs me."

"Are you sure she needs you, or do you need her?"

"Why would you think that I need her?"

"I don't know. Your father's dead, your uncle's up here, maybe you need her to need you as badly as a hit or a shot."

I opened my mouth to protest, but I didn't know how. Perhaps somewhere in my mind I always knew that's what it was, but I had never let myself believe it. I always said that she was the one who needed me, that she needed someone to take care of her and I was the only one who knew how to do it right. But the truth was, I wanted her to want me more than her drugs. I needed it and every time she chose them over me, I was let down once again.

I looked at the stranger beside me and wondered how he could see something that I had hidden so deeply inside that I didn't even admit it to myself? He saw it as though it were written on my face. Was it?

"How long have you been here?" I asked.

"Since yesterday," he said with a smirk.

"Ha-ha," I said dryly. "That's not what I meant."

"About four years."

"And you still don't like Uncle Scott?"

He made a low growling sound. "No."

That made me smile. "Why?"

"'Cause he's an uptight, self righteous pri-"

"Right, I get it," I said, interrupting him with a small laugh. "I do suppose he can be a bit uptight at times." He cocked an eyebrow at me. "Okay, so perhaps more than at times, but that's just Uncle Scott. That's how he was raised. He saw how my mother turned out from not following the family's rules and he didn't want to be like her. I suppose that he thinks it's better to perhaps be severe and uptight rather than being free spirited and non-caring."

"Perhaps," he said with a smirk.

"You know, you're not the first person to make fun of me for how I talk."

"Probably won't be the last."

For the next twenty minutes, we walked around the school in silence. It wasn't an uncomfortable one, it wasn't that we didn't have anything to say, we just walked and allowed the quietness of the school to move us along.

"Would you rather; be stuck with Scott on a large, disserted island with no chance of being rescued, or in a small, confined space until you were both found?" I asked, breaking the silence.

He looked at me hard for a moment, not speaking and I wondered if he was thinking or refusing to answer. "A small space. Then I'd kill him and let them find me," he said with a bit of a smirk.

"Resourceful, but against the rules. You're not allowed to kill him."

"Why not?"

"Because the point is which is worse; living your life on a disserted island big enough for you to not have to be around Scott, but you never get to go home again or see any other people. Or being in a close space with him for a long time and possibly going out of your mind waiting to be rescued."

He grunted. "Could I knock him out?"

"No, you have to leave him as he is and listen to him talk the whole time, non-stop."

"I'd take the island." I laughed. "What about you?"

"I'd take the confined space," I told him as we came to the entrance of the lower levels.

"You should take the island, then you could keep me company."

I blushed. "Perhaps I will, then."

"Logan, I thought I made it clear that I didn't want you around my niece?"

I turned to see an obviously upset Scott came from the door to the lower levels, followed by a tired looking Bobby and Storm.

"I was, uh, we were just… How did it go in the Bronx?" I stammered, forcing a smile.

"Don't change the subject, Delia. You know that I specifically told both of you that I didn't want him around you-"

"Well, technically, I'm with him as he was walking around first and I asked if I could join him-"

"And what are you doing up anyway? It's nearly two in the morning."

"I couldn't sleep, I was worried about you."

He looked to Storm and Bobby. "Why don't the two of you go on up to bed. I'll see you in the morning."

"Okay, good night guys," Bobby said. Storm agreed and they both left the hallway, leaving in the elevator.

"Uncle Scott, I appreciate you letting me live here with you-"

"This is Chuck's house, kid, if anyone's lettin' you live here, it's him, not Summers," Logan said.

"All due respect, to everyone her, but I'm twenty-five, alright? I'm not a little kid. I don't need a baby-sitter. I've been taking care of myself since I was eight; I think I can handle it for a few months. I'm only staying until the summer and then I'm going back home to take care of mother."

"I thought you were going to let professionals take care of her?"

"No, when the find her, they're going to take her back to rehab and then when she's through, I'm going to go back home, get a job and get a new apartment.

"She needs help, serious help, which you can't give her."

"What do you think I should do then? Just stay here and leave her down there by herself? I can't leave her all alone."

"She can live in one of those houses they have for people who are getting better."

"She's forty-six years old, those girls in those houses are my age or younger, they're kids! She cannot live in one of them. And if she did, what would I do?"

"You can stay here."

"And do what? You don't trust me around him," I said, pointing to Logan. "Who else don't you trust me with? At least with Mother I could walk around the house without her yelling at me."

"That's because she's not there half the time and when she is, she's too out of it to care."

"You know what? Screw you, Scott. You don't know enough about either one of us to talk. Just because she hates you, doesn't mean that you automatically get to judge her," I spat, turning and walking away.

She was my mother, it was my personally life and he had no right to say anything.

I couldn't stay there any longer, not with Scott being how he was. I would just go home early. I would figure something out; I would get a new job somewhere and my own house. I didn't need someone telling me what to do, I was an adult, whether I looked or acted like one all the time, it didn't matter. I was going to pack my things the next day and then go home…wherever that might be.

"Hey," I heard a voice come from behind me. I craned my neck over my shoulder and saw Logan following me.

"What?"

"You alright?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

He swore, a laugh getting caught in his throat. "You and Summers just got into a fight."

"Yeah, well," I said, pressing the button for the elevator, "I'll be fine. I'm leaving as soon as I can."

"Why?" he asked, as the door opened and I stepped inside. He followed me.

"Because I refuse to live in a house where I get yelled at for walking around with someone. I'm an adult; I'll decide who I can be with. If I wanted to move off to Canada and have fifteen babies with you, that's my decision, not his." He gave me a cocked eyebrow. "Not that I will, but I could if I wanted."

"He's just pissed 'cause I'm back and he's takin' it out on you. Let him get used to me bein' back here before you decide to leave. All right?"

I looked at him hard. "Why do you care?"

"I don't," he said. I cocked my own eyebrow at him. "Look, I've just met you, I don't care what you do, but don't pack up and leave just 'cause you're fightin' with Scooter."

"What do you suggest I do then?"

He looked at me and smirked. "Stay here and piss him off."

"How might I do that?"

"Keep hangin' around with me, that might do it." The elevator stopped and the doors opened. He stepped out and looked back at me. "Think about it, kid," he said with a wink.

I stood there thinking until the elevator doors slid shut, pulling me from my thoughts. I pressed the button to open the doors again and stepped out. I walked down the hallway, trying to catch up with Logan.

"Hey," I called after him.

He turned around and let a small smile creep across his mouth. "Yeah?"

"You would hang out with me purely to annoy Scott?" I asked, propping my hands on my hips.

He raised his brow and scratched the back of his head as he rested his other hand at his waist. "I don't have anything else to do, so yeah."

I pursed my lips and twisted my mouth in thought. "All right, deal," I said, sticking out my hand for him to shake.

His small smile turned into a full on smirk. He took my hand and shook it. "Good, deal."

I slept well that night.