Disclaimer: All the X-Men and the universe this fic is set in are owned by Marvel. No profit is being made from this work.

Chapter Six

He rolled onto his back and slipped into a nightmare.

"Bring one. I don't care which one."

Stryker strode out of the room, and everything happened at once. The soldiers drew their guns; Mac pushed Jimmy into a corner and put himself in front, teeth bared; Butcher unsheathed her blades ready to fight; and Logan realised what he would have to do. They wouldn't stop. There were too many of them, and they wouldn't stop until either he or Jimmy was captive. And it couldn't be Jimmy. He was still growing, it couldn't be him or he'd die. Logan turned to the others and saw his own sick dread in their faces. "Logan?" Jimmy whispered, eyes wide.

"See you, kid," he said, and let the soldiers cuff him. He wanted to say more, say goodbye, but they were dragging him backwards and already the door had closed. Now he fought them, kicking and biting until a rifle butt sent him into blackness.

Sophie sat on her windowsill, breathing the night air and remembering.

Remembering the last time she'd seen Logan, letting them take him so that Jimmy would have a few more years grace before they took him, too, and the sounds of his hopeless struggle coming through the door.

And the first time she'd seen him, her earliest memory, when he was still a child himself but had seemed so tall to her, and had carried her across the courtyard to save her bare feet from the snow.

And all the times in between, fighting with him in training, lessons that she'd loved and he'd just found dull, hearing his crying when they had taken Mac and his laughter when he had returned alive, the awful look in his eyes when she'd been taken because he knew now what they were going to do and hated it, and how hard it had been to look at him when she came back because he looked so joyous to have her back and at the same time there was horror in his eyes.

And now here he was again, the fourth side of the square, the final part of a machine that didn't work without him. He was older, true; sixteen years alone had changed him, true; but he was still Logan, and neither pain nor time could break the ties that held them together.

She woke the next day to see Logan's head around her door. "Wake up, sleepyhead," he teased. "You'll miss breakfast."

She pulled the blankets over her head. "Don't care. Need sleep."

"Need breakfast so you can teach math to sleepy teenagers. I thought you should never volunteer?"

"Had to. Clear off. Save me bacon."

He shut the door obediently, and she threw on some clothes and followed him downstairs.

By the time nine o'clock came around, she was just about awake. The same could not be said of some of her students, who had apparently become zombies overnight. She was so nervous her knees were wobbly, but she carried on. None of them were mathematical geniuses, of course, but they were at least willing to learn. She did have to stop herself snapping at them a couple of times – these children, she reminded herself, could not be expected to have either her brains, or the discipline she had had at their age. They hadn't grown up on a military base.

Miles away, the man now known only as Erik struggled to keep three quarters in the air. He was juggling with them, trying to speed up the return of his abilities, but it didn't seem to be helping. He gritted his teeth as the coins slipped from his grasp, leaving him with nothing but a headache for his trouble. Soon, he was sure, he'd be back to full power again – and then the X-Men would pay!

Closer to the mansion, but still far away, the woman now known as Raven Darkholme fought to use her own power, and smiled in triumph as a barely perceptible pink flush crept over her blue fingers. Soon, she promised herself, soon she would be at full strength, change her appearance as easily as she breathed – and then Erik would pay!

In the school itself, Wolverine was arguing with Storm. "She must know about the Danger Room by now, the kids will have told her."

"I still don't want her wandering about downstairs."

"She won't be. Look, I'll take her down, we'll do the Danger Room session, I'll bring her back up. There won't be any wandering."

Storm sighed. "Alright. But keep an eye on her."

The Danger Room, Butcher thought, was possibly the greatest invention of the century. She itched to see the schematics and figure out how it worked. More than that, though, she wanted to fight, and that wish was swiftly granted as Wolverine split them into pairs and had them battle each other. She obeyed with glee, eyes alight with battle-fever. Wolverine was using his weight to hold Colossus off and trying to keep his balance as old skills returned. Distracted, Butcher forgot herself and punched Rogue harder than she should have, and the girl staggered backwards clutching her bruised rib. "It's not broken," Butcher told her cheerfully. "Little bruise like that gonna stop you saving the world?" Rogue shook her head and attacked again, concentrating so hard that she didn't notice Butcher healing the injury when their skin touched.

When the class had finished and the children had returned breathless to the common room, the adults did not follow. Storm gritted her teeth and went downstairs, certain that Logan had forgotten his promise and was showing his new friend around. Honestly, you'd think he was a kid. I'll wring his neck if he's told her about the X-Men. Her anger was lessened slightly when she realised that her missing colleagues were still inside the Danger Room. What are they doing in there? He's surely not fighting her? He was, barehanded, with surprising lack of restraint. Storm winced at the force of the blows. What did she do, call him names? He'll hurt her.

"Watch out!"

Logan sheathed his claws at Storm's shout, but not before she had seen how Butcher parried the attack. There was a gleaming blade jutting outwards from each of her wrists. I'm going to kill him for this.

A/N Thanks for all the lovely reviews. More, please!