Yay! Two chapters in one day! Aren't you lucky. I'm excited to get back into the story line and back into Logan's point of view. I missed him. Anyway, enjoy!

Chapter 9- Back on the Road

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The morning after the Renaissance Fair, Logan woke up early as usual. Outside the sun had just started to peek over the mountain tops. Quietly, so as not to wake up his new ward, he pulled on his boots, grabbed his hat and slipped out. Once outside, he took a deep breath of the fresh, pine-scented air. Without a sound, the mutant made a bee-line for the trees disappearing into the forest surrounding the little hotel. There were more people here than the last time he'd been through the area, but he avoided the houses without too much trouble until he reached an area that had not been claimed yet. He ghosted through the trees, just enjoying the wild feel of the mountains. This wasn't his beloved Canadian Wilderness, but the Colorado Rockies were close enough to make him feel at home. He found a little creek and sat down, heedless of the dew soaking through his jeans, and listened to the burble of the water.

Yesterday had been a bit of a revelation, Logan reflected. Clint had certainly had fun and after a while, so had Logan. Clint probably hadn't gotten a chance to enjoy himself so innocently in much too long, if he ever had. The boy's excitement was infectious and Logan had helped it along where he could; getting the kid to try different foods and buying him things. The hat was a joke, but the rest of the gear that Logan splurged on was functional. The kid just looked happiest in purple and once he was fully outfitted he looked like one of the kids from the school, a hero in the making. The young archer's exuberance wasn't the surprise, however. That happened while Logan had been talking with Fury and he realized how little he knew about Clint Barton, aka Hawkeye. For all of the talking the kid did, it seemed like he hadn't said anything.

That is not to say Logan was completely in the dark about his new ward. He knew Clint had perfect aim; that he liked dogs of any shape and size; that he loved almost any shade of purple. Logan knew the archer was brave, strong and unusually kind. Clint hated mornings and green vegetables, though he always cleaned his plate. Logan knew what kind of person Clint was and that was enough for him. It's not like Wolverine could judge someone on their past when he could barely remember his own.

Still, while Logan knew Clint had been abused, he didn't know by whom (though he did have his suspicions). He didn't know how Clint joined the circus. He knew a little about the kid's older brother but nothing about the rest of his family. The boy was only 14, there should not be this many holes in his history. Agent Coulson had not been amused by the number of questions that Logan couldn't answer. Every time Logan said, "I don't know," or "Never asked", the straight laced agent had let out a little disappointed sigh as he made a note in the file. The man should have been a principal. He'd guilt every student into passing with that damn sigh.

The questions had been endless, too. Logan tensed at the memory, clenching his fists hard enough to almost send out his claws. How old is the boy? Where was he born? What happened to his parents? Where is his brother now? Why did Clint and his brother run away from the system? How did they join the circus? Who were his mentors? What did they teach him? What formal schooling did Clint have?

That last one made Logan pause in his recollections. Clint would need an education. Logan knew he wasn't the best teacher for the basics like reading and math, but he did have connections. Connections who were probably wondering where he was. He hadn't checked in with the school since before Montana almost two weeks ago. Summers probably had his panties in a twist, which wasn't an incentive to call, really, but others would be worried. Maybe the professor would have an idea about how to get the kid up to date on his education without sending him to school. Settling down and enrolling Clint in school was not an option right now. Fury never said it, but he was worried about his people harassing Logan and hunting Clint. Something was rotten in SHIELD and until Fury could find it, Clint was not safe.

Logan groaned and threw his head back, startling a doe and her fawn that had come to drink from his creek. He smiled as they bounded away, tails held high is alarm. That was another issue to address. SHIELD had a conditional hands-off policy for mutants because Fury didn't want to get mired down in the politics of it. It was kind of a "don't bother me, I won't bother you" thing. Taking Clint to Professor Xavier while SHIELD is hunting the boy could disrupt that and bring unwanted attention to the school. Besides, while he'd given Clint the bare bones about himself, he had not mentioned that he was a member of the X-men. He should probably do that.

"What did I get myself into?" Logan growled to himself. He rolled to his feet, a plan already forming.

Back at the hotel, Clint hadn't moved. The boy liked curling up in a pile of blankets like he was nesting when he had the opportunity. He'd even stolen the comforter from Logan's bed. Only the very top of the archer's head was visible and Logan reached over the ruffle the messy blond hair to start waking the kid up.

Clint groaned as he picked his head up and made a betrayed sound at the bright light streaming through the window. "Aw, morning, no," he whined before trying to burying himself back in his nest.

If the kid wasn't so cute, Logan would have gotten annoyed with this routine ages ago. "Come on, bub," Logan pressed, pulling a layer of blanket off the heap. It uncovered Clint's head and one foot. "Time to get up. Remember, this place has a decent complimentary breakfast, but we have to get it now." He leaned over and whispered, "They have coffee."

Clint groaned but started to untangle himself from his nest. "Fine," he grumbled. "But it better be," he yawned loudly, "better be worth it."

They went over to the main office where management had laid out a continental breakfast of fruit, pastries, and cereal. Juice and milk were cooling in a mini fridge while a coffeemaker happily dripped the dark liquid. Clint made straight for the coffee, filling a big travel cup before adding his usual milk and sugar. He took a long sip before looking up and grinning at Logan. Now, the brat was awake. Logan shook his head and moved to make his own cup and snag a bowl of fruit. He preferred protein for breakfast, but his body wasn't picky about what he put in it.

Clint grabbed a bowl of sugary cereal, a bowl of fruit, two pastries and a glass of juice. Somehow he balanced the whole lot and made it to the table Logan claimed in the corner without mishap. But he forgot a spoon so he rushed to get one and tripped over a chair and face-planted.

Logan ran a hand over his face. This kid was going to be the death of him. He got up and helped the kid to his feet while Clint glared at the chair like it had insulted him. "Slow down, Hawk," Logan admonished. "Ya don't have to do everything at breakneck speed or you're liable to really break your neck. Now come sit down."

Logan snagged a copy of the local paper and started reading through it while Clint got his spoon and dug into his breakfast. Experience had taught Logan to wait until the boy was at least half way through breakfast before attempting conversation, which suited him because he preferred reading the paper.

After several minutes, Clint finally came up for air. "So where were you this morning?" he asked around a bite of cantaloupe.

"I went for a walk," Logan answered, turning the page of the paper. The local tourist trade was on the rise, but it was driving the housing market up. No mention of mutants, which was nice. "I wanted to clear my head and think about a few things."

"Like what?" Clint said around a bite of watermelon.

Logan lowered his paper to glare at the boy. "Stop talkin' with your mouth full," he chided. He winced at how that made him sound, but didn't let it show. The kid needed to learn some manners and Logan was responsible for him. "About us, our situation."

Clint stilled, suddenly nervous. He had a tendency to do that, switch from eager to nervous at the drop of a hat. The teen poked at his last piece of watermelon. "Second thoughts?" he asked carefully, avoiding Logan's eyes.

The mutant sighed and folded his paper. "No, Clint, I was not having second thoughts. I was thinking of our next move and how to get to know each other better." Clint perked up hopefully. Logan felt the corner of his mouth twitch up. "We need to share more, which isn't really my forte, but if you're willin' we can try."

Clint nodded eagerly. "I was thinking about that too. Fury made me tell him about my history and I remembered that I haven't told you that much. I figured you deserve it more than he does."

Logan nodded. "That'd be good start. We don't have to do it now, but when you're ready I'd like to hear all of it. I was also thinking of checking in with my team."

"Your new team?" Clint asked. This time he made a point of finishing his bite of pastry before speaking. "You haven't talked about them."

"That's my side of the sharing," Logan said with a nod. "They need to know what's going on and I was hoping they might be able to help with your schooling."

"Aw, school?" Clint groaned.

"Yes," Logan nodded seriously. "Education is important. I don't care about high school diplomas or that nonsense but you should never refuse to learn."

Clint crossed his arms and slouched in his chair to glare at his mutant guardian, but he didn't argue so Logan counted it as a win. They finished breakfast and went back to their room.

Clint sat on his bed, in the middle of the tangle of blankets, and looked expectantly at Logan. "So…" he said archly.

Logan kicked off his boots and sat on his own bed. "So, I guess I'll start."

Clint bounced in place. "Yep."

"After the drama in Canada, I was recruited by a bald man in a wheelchair," Logan began. "His name was Professor Charles Xavier and he promised to help me if I joined his school. That is how I became a member of the X-men." He was skimming over a lot with those few words, put it got the point across. Story telling wasn't his thing.
"What?" Clint exclaimed. "Even I've heard of them. They are so cool! Which one are you?"

Logan huffed a laugh. The kid kept surprising him. "I'm the Wolverine."

Clint laughed until he fell over. Before Logan could be insulted, Clint spoke up with a grin. "No way! The papers do not do you justice! The last article I read called the Wolverine a short feral animal who's only use to the team was as a projectile." Logan growled softly, remembering that hack piece. "I knew it was junk anyway, but because I know my projectiles I figured you had to be really cool. It's hard to throw a living person. It takes skill on both sides. I mean, the Human Cannonball is a tough job. I did it once on a dare."

"It's called the fast ball special," Logan admitted, impressed that the kid understood.

"Awesome," Clint repeated. "Anyway, continue." He waved his hand dramatically in Logan's direction.

"I'm going to call them and tell them were we are and a little about you. We can't go to the school right now because of SHIELD and whoever is after you, but I should keep them informed," Logan explained as succinctly as possible. "We'll do what we did with Fury. I'll talk to them and you can listen. Though you might hear me getting my ass chewed because our team leader is," he thought about how best to describe Summers, "Uptight. He doesn't appreciate me disappearing."

Clint grinned but stayed quiet as he moved to sit behind Logan on the man's bed so he could hear. When he was settled, he tilted his head expectantly.

Logan hadn't planned to call right this minute, but he gave in and dialed the number. The phone rang a few times before a man answered; his voice calming and educated. "Logan, it's good to hear from you."

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. He had forgotten Chuck's trick of knowing who was on the phone. "Hey, Professor," he said politely, waving off Clint's curious look. "How's the school?"

"We're flourishing, I'm pleased to say. The students are coming along wonderfully."

"And the team?" Logan pressed.

There was a pause as the telepath considered his answer. "We've missed you, Logan. I was hoping that this call would be about your return."

"Something came up," Logan answered. He looked at Clint who was watching him closely. There was no question of how the boy got the name Hawkeye. "I picked up a stray," he said, winking at Clint when the boy bristled.

"Really," Charles said with polite interest. "Tell me more."

Logan smiled. He had also forgotten how easy it was to talk to the other man. "I found this kid at a circus. He's being hunted by SHIELD, though Director Fury had no idea about it. I talked to Nick, and he's lookin' into the situation, but in the meantime I need to keep the kid safe."

"By all means, bring him here," Charles insisted. "We will always welcome new students."

"That's the thing, Chuck," Logan said. "I don't want to bring the heat down on you, so we should stay away. And," he paused, uncertain. "And he's human. No powers."

"Oh, I see," Charles acknowledged. "If he is in trouble, he would still be welcome here, Logan. We will not discriminate against a child in need," he chided gently.

Behind him, Clint scoffed but Logan shook his head to quiet him. "I know, Chuck, but the bigger issue is SHIELD. I don't like it and I'm not going to put the school at risk, so we're going to stay away. The problem is that Clint is 14 with almost no formal schooling. That is what I could use some help with."

"Is that so," Charles said. "Well, I'm certain we can come up with something, but I can't make any arrangements over the phone."

Logan sighed. "I figured. So what do you suggest?"

"The perfect solution would be to meet the boy in person, but since you will not return here and I cannot leave at the moment, I'll have to send an intermediary to you." Logan waited for him to continue, letting the silence build until Charles gave in. "I think I'll send Storm. She can make an accurate assessment of the boy's abilities and we will derive a teaching plan from there. You will need to work with him, as well Logan." Logan grunted in agreement, and Charles laughed. "I know that you would prefer to hand off that particular burden, but if you are serious about taking care of this boy, you need to take responsibility."

It was amazing how Chuck could make him feel like a child, despite how much older Logan was than the professor. "I'm workin' on it, Chuck. Fury is helping me put through the paperwork to be his legal guardian, so I'm committed now."

"Very good," Charles said approvingly. "What are your plans, moving forward? If you turn on your com device and locator, I can send Storm to you in the next few days."

Logan thought about it. He had the locator in his bag, but he had his reasons why he kept it turned off and only one of them was to annoy the team leader. "I'm not so sure that's a good idea," he admitted. "Shield is compromised and who knows what other skeletons are hiding in their closets. We're going to keep moving, but how about I call ya when we settle in someplace for a few days."

"I'll bow to your superior experience in this case, Logan," Charles agreed. "You know you can call anytime."

"Thanks," Logan said honestly.

"I'll leave you to it then," Charles said, humor evident in his tone. "Farewell until another time, my friend."

"Good bye, Chuck," Logan chuckled and gently hung up the phone. He leaned back, almost bumping against Clint who had been hovering over his shoulder for the whole conversation.

"Well?" the boy asked, backing off to give the man his space. "On a scale of shit to yippee, how did that go?"

Logan shot a look at the kid for his ranking scale, but answered anyway. "Well, it went better than I expected."

"What were you expecting?" Clint said, tilting his head like a dog.

"Confrontation, maybe," Logan said reaching over to ruffle the kid's hair. Someday, he'd get the kid to stop flinching from friendly gestures. "More questions, definitely. We're lucky we got the Professor. Even when he's not reading your mind, he seems to know more than you tell him. Summers would have kept me on the phone for hours."

Clint made a face. "So what's next?"

"We get moving," Logan said, getting up and starting to put his gear in order. It didn't take much. "There is a SHIELD base in Oklahoma that we need to stop by, and then we keep moving east."

"Why go to the base?" Clint asked. He followed Logan's lead and started stuffing his clothes into his new bags.

Logan snatched the bag out of Clint's hand and dumped it on the bed. "If you fold or roll them, you can fit more," he growled before answering the question in a calmer voice. "Fury promised me a truck and trailer, but we have to pick the damn thing up."

"And we have to go to a base in Oklahoma for it?" Clint asked, incredulous.

"Don't underestimate Fury, bub," Logan said as he checked under the bed. He found Clint's boots, two different socks, a t-shirt, a throwing knife, and several granola bars. He grabbed it all, ignoring Clint's blush at him finding the kid's food stash. "He probably has more than one or even two reasons to send us to that particular base. We have a week before we're expected, though, so we'll take our time."

"It's not that far right?" Clint asked, face screwed up as he tried to remember his geography. "It's not going to take a week to get there, right?"

"Nah," Logan agreed. "But we're not heading straight there. We'll circle around Kansas for a few days to throw anyone off."

Clint made another face, like he smelled something rotten. "Why Kansas?" he asked as he finished shoving the rest of his stuff in his bags. They bulged a little and he had to sit on one to get it to zip.

Logan laughed. "It's not my first choice either, bub, but that's the point. Plus it's easy to see someone coming up on ya."

Clint double checked the case that held both of his bows. It was a tight fit and he shoved a couple shirts between them to keep them apart, but it would work. "If you say so," he grouched. "Still not excited to see Kansas."

Logan walked around the bed to ruffle the boy's blond hair. "Don't worry. We've got nothing but time, so we'll stop whenever we feel like it. Just try to enjoy the ride."

Clint brushed his guardian's hand off, but he was smiling again and even bumped against Logan's shoulder affectionately as he carried his bags outside. Logan watched as the boy balanced bags on one shoulder so he could open the door. They had a long road ahead, but Logan was feeling more confident about their success.

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Getting back on the road was like a breath of fresh air to Logan. He never liked staying in one place too long. It made him feel exposed and vulnerable. The open road was second only to being lost in the wilderness. Logan usually traveled alone, taking the lone wolf thing to a whole new level. Having a teenager along for the ride was turning out to be a learning experience.

First thing Logan learned on the road with Clint was that the boy was always hungry. This hadn't been a problem at first, when they met. Clint was too shy to ask for anything and he was still a little freaked out with the whole running from a secret spy agency thing. Now, Clint was more comfortable with Logan and trusted him enough to ask for things, like stopping for a snack at almost every town they passed through. It turns out that teenage boys had black holes for stomachs, who knew?

The next thing Logan learned, which he should have suspected from the beginning was that Clint loved dogs. The kid loved all dogs, regardless of size or temperament. And he wanted to pet every dang one he saw. The strays in back alleys were lured closer with hamburgers and hot dogs. The territorial farm dogs were lured with kissy noises until they gave into the kid's patience and accepted a scratch behind the ear. Even the pampered purse dogs of rich old ladies were cooed over while the owner watched proudly. That wasn't the worse part, though. The worst part was the brat wanted Logan to pet the dogs too. Logan liked animals, and most animals like him, but after the second little toy dog bit him, Logan put his foot down.

"Aw, Logan, why?" Clint said sadly as he ran his fingers though a teacup poodle's hair. The owner was a sweet woman in her late forties who doted on the little animal more than most people doted on their children. She had been ecstatic that Clint had wanted to pet her baby.

"It's going to bite me," Logan said, glaring at the small dog. The thing had more perfume on than the woman.

"Oh, come on, Mr. Sniggums, is harmless," Clint cooed as he bumped noses with the thing.

Logan rolled his eyes and gave in, reaching one finger out to stroke the dog's ear.

Back on the road, Logan could feel Clint laughing behind his back as he leaned against Logan to cut down on the wind. Logan growled at the boy but it was lost in the sound of the bike. The mutant glared at the bright white bandage wrapped around his finger. Wolverine could run with wolves, but he couldn't pet a poodle the size of his hand without getting bitten. The thing's owner had been very apologetic claiming that "Mr. Sniggums" had never done something like that before. She was the one who tied the bandage while Clint watched, his face twitching with the attempt not to smile. Next time, Logan wouldn't give in and try to pet the damn thing. It wouldn't matter how big the kid's eyes got.

The third thing Logan learned while on the road with Clint was how dedicated the kid was to his chosen craft. Logan made a point of stopping once or even twice every day for Clint to practice. Abandoned barns, picnic areas, and in one case a silo provided targets and privacy for Clint to practice for an hour or two while Logan watched. Some of Clint's commitment was for show, trying to prove to Logan that he was worth keeping. That rankled but the rest of Clint's commitment was personal. He honestly wanted to stay at the top of his game, wanted to stay the best. Again, part of that was the kid's low self-esteem, but most of it was a drive that Logan recognized as rare and worth encouraging. He'd had teammates who drove themselves as hard as Clint did, but they were few and far between. As much as the man drove Logan to distractions, Scott Summers was one of those people. In the right circumstances, Cyclops and Hawkeye would probably get along great, maybe. If Clint could control his mouth and Summers got the stick out of his ass. Some of the mutant kids at the school had that drive, the desire to be the best they could be, but most didn't. It was Xavier and the other teachers' job to guide them in that direction.

As Logan watched Clint hit knot holes in the side of a dilapidated barn in the middle of a cornfield, which honestly didn't make sense but it was convenient, he wondered what drove the archer. The kid was only 14. What had he seen that made him push so hard to be perfect? What had been done to him? Logan puffed on his cigar in agitation. Three days on the road and Clint hadn't confided his past yet. Logan was patient, but until he knew what kind of demons the kid was hiding, he wouldn't know how to fix it.

The mutant finished his cigar and ground out the stub on his boot. "Come on circus boy, that's enough for today," he called out to Clint who was collecting his arrows. They had been here for an hour and half already. The kid's arms must have been hurting.

"Aw, already?" Clint groaned. "Let me go through one more set, please?"

Logan shook his head. "Nope, let's get movin'," he said, already walking back to the bike. "Daylight's a' wastin'."

Clint jogged to catch up, pulling off his new gloves with his teeth. "Why? Where are we going next?" he mumbled around the leather.

Logan shrugged. "Don't know," he admitted. "But I was thinking of finding someplace to stay a couple days. Let the X-men visit before we go down to pick up the truck."

Clint nodded. He rubbed the back of his neck, which he usually did when he was nervous. "What are they like, the X-men?"

"You know how crazy circus folk are?" Logan asked.

"Yeah."

"The X-men are worse."

"Oh, come on," Clint complained. "That doesn't tell me anything."

"It tells you everything you need to know," Logan argued as he helped Clint reattach the bow case to the back of the bike. "Think about it and we'll talk more tonight."

Clint groaned loudly. "Fine," he agreed reluctantly as he swung up on the bike. "At least it'll distract me from all the boring. I'm so sick of hay bales and corn fields I could puke."

Logan shook his head as he climbed in front of Clint. He turned to give the boy a raised eyebrow until the blond got the hint and put his helmet on with an eye roll. Then they were back on the open road, looking for the next stop.