Disclaimer: I own nothing but a broken foot...at least I think it's broken, anyway. Hurts like all get out. Anyway, enjoy!

My stomach growled as I flipped through the channels on the TV. It had been four days since my meeting with my mother. I hadn't left my motel room since. I only got up to eat, go to the bathroom and shower. At that point, I didn't even want to get up to eat.

As I flipped through the channels, I landed on a 'Three Stooges' movie and lost all interest in the TV. I turned it off and dropped the remote to the floor. I rolled over to my side and started crying. I didn't know who for, or what about, but I couldn't help from it.

There was a knock on my door and I ignored it. Mark had come by once and May and Barbara had both called. I finally understood why people hated small towns; once you were there, you were part of everyone's business. At least they thought so, anyway. They knocked again. Just go away, I thought. But they wouldn't, they just kept knocking. Then they finally opened the door.

"What are you doin' here by yourself with the door unlocked?" It was Logan. "Someone could just walk in and kill you, kid."

"Maybe I want someone to."

"Well you're sure actin' like it."

"How nice of you to come back and start telling me what to do," I sniffled. "What do you want? Your money back? I've only got about seventy-five or eighty dollars left, but you can have it."

He walked over and stood in front of me. "I don't want your money. Move over."

"Why?"

"So I can sit down."

"No, why are you here if you don't want my money?" I asked, sitting up in bed. I wiped at my tears with the sleeve of my shirt.

He sat down at the foot of my bed. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I lied. "Why?"

"You're cryin'."

I pulled my legs up to my chest and hugged them, resting my chin on my knees. "You were right."

"About what?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow at me.

"My mother. She didn't want me."

"You found her?"

"Yeah, she lives here in town. She resented me because I looked like my father. Some man that I never met because I was the result of a one night stand that she considered a mistake. I was just a mistake to her."

"She said that?"

I shrugged. "Some of it. But I saw most of it. While I was sitting there talking to her."

"I'm sorry, kid."

"I'm the one who should be apologizing; you were right."

He swore and shook his head. "I was bein' a jackass that day."

I cocked my own eyebrow at him. "And you're not everyday?"

"I'm tryin' to apologize kid, would you shut up and let me do it?"

"Why are you apologizing?"

"'Cause I yelled at you and left you out in the middle of no where."

"While it was raining."

"Well, that's pretty much a given with this weather."

"How did you know I was here?"

"You ain't the only one that sees things."

"Why are you here?"

He looked away and let out a deep breath. "I don't know."

"You came all the way back here, but you don't know why?"

"Do you know why you see me? Why you had to find me?"

"No."

"And I don't know why I came back, either," he said. "Look, I'm sorry that I left you, I said I wouldn't and I did."

"So you don't want me money?"

He shook his head and cracked a small smile. "No."

"Good, because I forgot to mention that I still have to pay for staying here tonight."

"You still lookin' for a ride?"

"I don't know; are you going to snap on me and freak out so you can leave me in the freezing rain again?"

"You're not gonna' let me live that down, are you?"

"Nope."

He smirked at me. "I won't do it if you tell me the name of the sixth stooge?"

I found myself smiling despite my best efforts not to. "No, you're going to have to really make it up to me before I even come close to talking about that subject again."

"How 'bout I start with gettin' us outta' this hell hole first thing in the mornin'? You tired of bein' here yet?"

"You have no idea. This is the longest I've stayed in one place since meeting you. I think I know why you move so much now," I said. "And this is the one place that I didn't want to be stuck in for very long."

He took a deep breath. "Yeah, listen to me kid, you gotta' promise me something, alright?"

"What?"

"When you decide to leave, you gotta' go back home to your family, alright?"

"Why?"

"It doesn't matter why; I just need to know you'll do it."

"I can't promise you that."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know if I can or not. I ran away from home, Logan, I stole money from my parents. They think I'm…psycho-"

"Which I'm beginning to understand," he muttered. I shot him a look. "Sorry, go on."

"Well I was going to say that it's…nice to actually have someone know that I'm a mutant and not have to worry about if they're going to hate me for it."

He let out a deep breath. "I need you to promise me that you'll try, alright?"

I stared at him intently for a moment. Something was trying to form in my mind. A vision. A mental picture. A sound. Something. But it wouldn't. There was a reason for why he was there, for why he cared whether or not I ever went back to my family. It was right there, at the edge of my mind, but I couldn't quite see it. If I could get it to form in my mind, I just knew that it would also answer why I couldn't go to sleep without seeing him.

I nodded my head slowly. "Okay, I promise that I'll try."

"And if you can't go back, then you gotta' do something besides hitchin' rides with strangers. You gotta' find somewhere safe to live."

"Like where?"

He looked away from me. "There's a school in New York. It's in Westchester and if you need to, you can stay there."

I thought for a moment. "The same school where you live?"

"Yeah, sort of."

There was definitely something he wasn't telling me.

"Okay, I can go that."

He looked back to me, into my eyes. "Good," he said. "You hungry?"

I let out a small laugh. "I'm starving."

"Let's go get something to eat."

I can't explain why, but for some reason, I just couldn't stay mad at him. When everyone else had given up or left me, he had come back. No one else had ever come back for me. Not until him.

"Do you actually know what you're doin'?" Logan asked.

I had talked him into going to the store to buy food for dinner rather than going out. The only restaurant in town was the one where Barbara and May worked. The last thing I wanted was to be around any nosey people. I enjoyed my privacy with Logan and for that I was having to pay. I was trying my hand at cooking.

"Not really," I said with a laugh. I was attempting to cook chili, but it wanted to remain soup instead.

"I don't know why you wouldn't just let me buy some cans of it. We could've been done eatin' by now."

"Because as soon as this stuff cooperates, it's going to be really good. Besides, there's no a can opener in here."

He took a beer from the refrigerator and popped it open, taking a long drink from it. "I am a can opener, kid. You ain't already forgot about my claws have you?"

I smiled at him. "No. This is going to be good, though, so just chill out."

He peered into the small pot on the stove in front of me and cocked and eyebrow. "Yeah, it looks great," he said dry and sarcastically.

"Shut up. This is my first time cooking."

"I think you need to stir it more."

"I think you need to let me cook however I want, and I think it needs to sit so it can thicken more. Besides, you know what they say; too many cooks spoil the broth…even though I'm making chili."

He looked at it again. "You sure it ain't already spoiled?"

I pointed to the couch. "Go!" I said laughed. "Leave me alone!" He went to the couch and sat down, before turning on the TV. "I have to go to the bathroom, if this stuff starts smelling like it's burning or boils over or something, just turn it off."

"Or throw it out the window."

"Yeah, if it starts burning you can throw it out the window, if that makes you happy," I said rushing to the bathroom.

When I was through and done washing my hands, I shut off the water. I could hear voices talking in the other room. I assumed it was only the TV and decided to pull up my hair to get it out of my face, but then I realized that one of the voices was Logan's. I strained to listen to his, pressing my ear against the door. Who is he talking to, I wondered.

"Who are you?" I heard Logan ask, I could tell he was holding back a growl.

"My name is Mark Joan. I'm sorry; I didn't mean to bother you, sir. I was looking for the girl who was staying here before you."

"Who are you lookin' for?"

"Her name's Jayden, but I guess she checked out already. I apologize for the confusion."

I let out a deep breath and rested my forehead on the door, waiting for him to go away. I was looking forward to getting out of that place. I waited to hear for him to leave, but instead of the sound of the door closing, I heard something smack up against the wall. Then Logan growled.

"Why are you lookin' for her?"

I opened the door to see Logan pinning Mark against the wall by the front door. Fantastic, I thought. My mother sends her lackey husband over to check on me when it should be her, and now he's going to get the crap beat out of him.

"Logan, stop. He's married to my mother," I said, emerging from the bathroom.

"Well what's he doin' here?"

"I don't know," I said. "If you haven't shut off his windpipe completely, you could try asking."

"What do you want?" he growled low at Mark.

"I was just checking to make sure that she was okay. Brie said she was pretty upset when she left the house the other day."

"So she sent you over here so she wouldn't have to feel guilty?"

"What? No, she didn't send me over here. I was on my way home from work and I wanted to make sure that you were okay."

"She didn't send you?"

"No, she doesn't know I'm here."

"Why not?"

"She didn't want me to bother you. She told me that you were upset with the girls and me and how we treated you while you were there. I wanted to apologize. I know that you've wanted to see her for nearly fifteen years. I don't want to keep the two of you apart, you mean a lot to her and we would love to have you as part of our family," he said, looking uncomfortable. Logan still had him trapped between him and the wall.

"She told you that it was your fault that I was mad and left?"

"Yeah. She said you thought we were rude and cold. We never meant to come off that way, and I'm sorry if we did."

I shook my head in disbelief. "Your daughters are brats, yeah, but they're not why I left. Or you for that matter. I left because of her. She was why I was pissed."

"What?" he asked confused. "Why would she say that it was because of us if it wasn't?"

"Because she's a liar. She lied to you and me about why she gave me up for adoption. She lied to you about my father. And I don't even know what else."

"What do you mean she lied to me about your father?"

"They didn't grow up together; they didn't even go to high school together. She met him at the diner here in town when she worked there. She slept with him, they had a one-night stand and that was it. She gave me away because I apparently look like him and I only served as a reminder of her mistake."

"Why would she lie, though?"

"I don't know. I don't know the woman."

"Well, I'm sure that there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this. Why don't you just come back to the house and we can talk about it."

"And let her know that you've come over here when she told you not to?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest and quirking an eyebrow.

"I don't mind, I just don't want to keep the two of you apart."

"Why are you being so nice? Your wife has lied to you about being married, about me, and about why I left. You should be furious! Not only that, but you're not keeping us apart. I like you, at least what I've seen of you so far, it's all her. It's her fault. She didn't want me, so she gave me away. That's fine. But I've spent years thinking that it was all because she couldn't take care of me, not because she didn't want to. I've wasted years of my life on her and I don't plan on wasting anymore. You seem like a really nice guy and I really appreciate you trying to fix this, but it's not going to be. In all honestly, I don't want to be part of her life and I really don't want her to be part of mine."

"I think you can work this out."

"I don't think we can. This is more than just having a bad reunion. This is finally realizing what I was, and still am, to her; a mistake."

"I think-"

"No, Mark, it's not going to work," I said, interrupting him.

"No, I think something's on fire," he said, pointing.

I looked over my shoulder and saw that the pot with the chili in it was smoking. "Crap!" I yelled, running to it.

I pulled it off the stove and the movement caused it to catch fire. I ran it to the sink and turned on the faucet, running water over it. However, that didn't quite have the effect I was going for. Although it put the fire out, the smoke that came rolling off it when right into my face. Also, the sauce and beans in the pot were so hot that they popped out, burning my hand that was still holding the handle of it. I yanked my hand away and attempted to scream from the pain, but the smoke that I had inhaled caused me to choke instead.

"Move kid," Logan said, nearly pushing me away from the sink. He opened the window above it and slung the pot with the burnt chili in it out into the ally behind the motel. Just as he did, the smoke alarm went off. He swore. "Great," he muttered, reaching up and snatching it off the wall. He turned it off and took it over to the open window, trying to get it away from the smoke, which he was trying to fan out. "Sorry darlin', but you're never cookin' again." I coughed out a reply of agreement. "How's your hand?"

"It got popped, but I think I'll be alright."

He sat the smoke alarm down and walked to me. "Yeah, let me see it," he said, taking my hand. He swore again. "You burnt it."

"It'll be fine, don't worry about it."

"Go put some toothpaste on it." I looked at him and cocked an eyebrow. "It takes the sting out. Now go put some on it."

I went into the bathroom and found my toothpaste. Then I squirted some out and spread it over the parts of my skin that had gotten hi. Immediately it began to sting.

"Is this a freakin' joke, dude?" I yelled out. "This stings like a mug!"

"It's taken the burn out, leave it on there," he called back.

"If this doesn't really work, I'm slitting your throat while you sleep, just so you know."

"Hey, from what I've heard, it works. I ain't ever had any use for it, though."

I left the bathroom, carefully holding my hand so as not to get any toothpaste on my clothes. "I'm sorry Mark, but I think it would probably be better if you just left. We have to clean this mess up, find something else to eat and really, I just think this is a waste of your time. I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry that this had to turn out the way that it did for you. If you ever need anything, don't be afraid to ask. Even if you don't want to talk to Brie, I'll do what I can."

"She's fine, I'm takin' care of her," Logan said.

"Just be careful. Bye Jayden," he said, walking out the door.

"Bye." I watched as he left, closing the door behind him as he went, and I couldn't help but think that that would probably be the last time I ever saw him. I heard Logan make a noise and I turned to him. "What?"

"His last name is Joan?"

"So, what's wrong with that?"

"Look, I'll give you a little bit of advice kid; don't ever trust anyone that has a first name for a last name, alright?"

"Is that why you're having a hard time with me, because he told you not to trust someone with a last name like mine?" Dr. Lewis asked, interrupting me.

I shrugged. "It's on a long list of many. Can I get back to the story?"

"Yes, please continue."

I walked over to wear Logan was standing and pulled myself up on the counter by the sink. "So," I said, smiling at him sheepishly. "What's for dinner?"

I had a hard time getting to sleep that night, as I had with the past few nights before it. I refused to hum or rock myself, and so I tossed and turned for hours.

"Lay still," Logan mumbled from where he was lying face down on the couch.

"I can't."

"Why?"

"I can't sleep."

"Well, sing some of 'I'll Be Seein' You' and then go to sleep."

"Why? Does that song help you when you can't sleep? I don't think I've ever heard it before."

"You sang it when you were with me."

"No I didn't."

"I'm not arguin' with you, kid. You would hum it every single night right before you went to sleep."

I sat up in bed. "That's what the name of the song is; 'I'll Be Seeing You?"

"You didn't know what it was called?"

"No, I don't even know the words to it. My mother sang it to me when I was little; to help put me to sleep."

"She did?" he asked, lifting his head from the couch to look at me. Even though it was dark, I could see the outline of his raised eyebrow.

"Yeah."

"So that's why you're not hummin' it?"

I nodded. "I don't want anything that has to do with her anymore."

"Why does it have to be about her?"

"Because she's the one who sang it to me."

"You didn't even know the name of it until I told you."

"So?"

"So, how long you been singin' it to get yourself to go to sleep."

"Hum," I corrected. "I don't sing. At least not well."

"Whatever, how long?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, for as long as I can remember. But no one's ever known what it was before."

"Well outta' all of these years, ain't there been one good thing about it that didn't involve your mother?"

I smiled at him in the dark. "You're desperate to get me to go to sleep, aren't you?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know…how does the song go, maybe that'll help me?"

"Uh…" he said sleepily, shaking his head. "Um…I'll be seein' you, in all your old familiar places. I'll be seein' you, something, something, something, I'll be lookin' at the moon, but I'll be seein' you, or something."

"It sounds depressing."

"It's supposed to be."

"How do you know it?"

"'Cause I'm old. Now go to sleep."

"Well does it remind you of anyone?"

"Yeah."

"Who?"

He let out a deep breath. "What, you don't already know?" he asked sarcastically, trying to avoid the question.

"I don't read minds, I just see things." He grunted, shifting around on the couch as he tried to get me to forget what I had asked him. "Jean or Marie?"

His eyes snapped up and met with mine. There was a connection between us. There had been since we had first met. I didn't understand how I could have such a strong connection with someone who was nearly still a stranger to me and yet have none whatsoever with my own mother. I kept my eyes locked with his. I never wanted to lose that connection or closeness with him.

"Both," he admitted quietly.

"How long did you know Jean before she did?"

"I don't know, a few months."

"I saw the two of you again the other night and I just…" I paused and shook my head.

"You just what?" he asked.

"I just can't imagine loving someone that much. I don't think I ever could. It's crazy, but I think I would be too scared to."

"Why?"

"Because all the people that I've ever cared about have ended up hurting me. If I let myself actually love someone that strongly, how badly would it hurt when they end up disappointing me?"

"How do you know everyone's gonna' disappoint you?"

I smiled a little. "You know as well as I do that everyone does at some point. I've seen and felt your disappointment in people. I don't mind it so much though, because I get to learn from it."

He shook his head. ""Whatever you've seen or felt from me, don't pay attention to it, all right? I'm old, I've lived a long time and I've earned the right to not trust people. You're barely eighteen, you ain't earned that yet."

"But you do trust people; Jean, Marie-"

"You?" he asked, interrupting me with a cocked eyebrow.

"I hope, but I wouldn't blame you if you didn't."

"Do you trust me?"

I thought for a moment, then shrugged, letting out a deep sigh. "Yeah, I think I do."

"You might really be crazy then, kid," he joked.

"Here lately I've been thinking that that's a real possibility," I said seriously.

"Don't. You're not crazy. You got a lotta' gut doin' what you did. There ain't n other eighteen year old girl that I know that could've made their way to Canada and found me on their own."

I raised an eyebrow. "And how many eighteen year old girls do you know?"

"Well I do live at a school, you know."

I laughed as I lay back down and pulled the blankets up around me and tucked myself in. "So you don't think I'm crazy?"

"No."

"Good."

"Go to sleep."

"Okay, night."

"Night."

I went to sleep that night humming and rocking myself to sleep. I decided right then that the song no longer belonged to my mother, it belonged to Logan.

"So even though he was more of a father figure, he was really a replacement for your biological mother. Is that true?" Dr. Lewis asked.

I cracked a grin that he couldn't see from where I was standing. "Out of all that, that's what you chose to ask me about? Wow," I said with a laugh, shaking my head. "Logan wasn't a replacement or a figure of anyone. He was just…him."

"Why did you still feel so strongly about him even after he abandoned you in the middle of a road? You say you don't trust people very easily, but I would think that the most trusting of people would have a hard time forgiving that."

"Ah, but forgiveness and trust are two completely different things. I've forgiven my mother for what she did, otherwise I would constantly be full of hate, and that's no fun for anyone. But to trust her…I wouldn't trust her as far as I could throw her."

"But you trusted him?"

"I still do. He yelled at me, he left me, but he came back. He apologized. Do you know how rare a thing that is for someone like him? He doesn't get attached to people, and he certainly doesn't care about what other people think of him. But for me, he did."

"You wanted someone who was willing to…forfeit something for you?"

"In a way, yeah. I wanted something that was mine. As I said before, there was a connection between us that I had never felt before. I had never felt like a part of anything before, but with him-"

"At the beginning of our session, you said that he didn't make you feel that way."

I turned around to face him and let out a sigh. I leaned back against the windowsill. "It's hard to explain-"

"Yes Miss Rivers, you keep telling me that. But I don't think it is."

"I'm not doing this on purpose. I'm telling you what you asked me to. I'm sorry if I find it difficult to find the right words to describe what I went through. It was very personal to me and to be quite honest, I don't really want to be telling you or anyone else about it. This is something that I should be able to keep. It's mine. But you, you're sitting there, analyzing everything I say and do. You're trying to figure out if what I'm telling you is even true. You think I'm making it up just to give you a story. You think that I just ran away, lived with some stranger for nearly two months and when I ran out of money, I came running home to my parents. You think that I've created all of this is my mind as a means to make me feel better about what you think really happened. And that is why this is so hard and difficult and complicated. Because you don't believe me. I can't just simply say it and you take my word for it. You need me to explain it; you need it to be logical and reasonable. And I don't know how to make it seem that way, because none of it probably way. So stop trying to figure out what meaning I'm hiding behind the words I use, I'm just telling you a story. You can chose to believe it or not, but don't pick it apart, not in front of me."

He took the glasses from the end of his nose and stared at me. "Is that what you think I'm thinking?"

"It's what I know you're thinking."

"And how do you know that?"

"Because when I turned around I could hear it. I could feel it. As a professional, aren't you supposed to give me the benefit of the doubt?"

He continued staring at me for a moment longer before putting his glasses back on. Then he smiled at me. "You know, you would be very good in the field; you read people very well."

"You don't believe me?"

"There's a number of ways you could have known what I was thinking. Facial expressions, body language-"

"I've been facing away from you until just now, Dr. Lewis. I haven't seen any of your facial expressions or body language."

"Tone of voice, then."

"So you're saying that either I'm fantastic at reading people, that I got all of that from the sound of your voice, or that you're just a shoddy doctor who's letting his own emotion show through," I said, turning back to the window. I placed a finger to the glass and followed a raindrop down, tracing after its trail. "And while we're off topic; how's your wife? Today's her birthday, isn't it?"

"How did you know that?"

"Because although you're supposed to be listening to me, you're really just hoping that I'll hurry up and get this finished so that you can go home and see her."

He let out a small laugh. "Very good Jayden, it seems you've done your homework. I almost forgot that I printed happy birthday to her in the newspaper."

I turned around to face him once again. I raised an eyebrow in question. "You paid to have 'happy birthday' written to her in the newspaper, but you haven't even bought her a present yet? That's thoughtful." His eyes went wide. "You're a doctor; you can do better than flowers and dinner. Besides, roses are so over done."

"But I was…I hadn't thought about that since-"

"Since I was blabbing away about how hurt I was that my mother was ashamed of me. I know, so professional," I said with a wink.

"But how did you know?"

"Look, if you believe nothing else, believe that I am a mutant, I do see things. I heard them, and I feel them. Whether or not you truly believe that any of the things that I told you actually happened or not, I don't care. But this, this is real."

He stared at me for a moment, and then shook his head. "So, uh…" he said, flipping through his notes. "What happened next?"

I shook my own head and smiled.

After I got myself to sleep that night, I slept well. But that morning, while I was in the middle of a dream, a vision came to me. For the first time in my life, I questioned my ability to tell the difference between the two. When what I was seeing was too absurd, I refused to believe that it was true. But then it clicked. It made sense. Everything was explained. I woke up with a gasp. I sat up and looked at Logan, still sleeping on the couch. I finally understood why I could get him out of my head.