Author's note: Thank you to kmj1989 for the review! I forgot to mention previously, but my version of Logan is basically the comic book version, but with hazel eyes like Hugh Jackman. So short, burly, and hairy, not a tall leading man. It's going to come into play more as we see more of him, and I wanted to make sure we were all on the same page.

Again, thank you to everyone who gives this a read, and special thanks to those who leave reviews!

Scar Tissue

"Hey, Chuck, are you busy?"

Charles gives the feral man who just barged into his office without knocking a rather exasperated look from behind his giant executive desk. A redheaded young woman- Jean, Logan's heard her called- sitting opposite the Professor also turns towards the door with rather wary green eyes.

"As a matter of fact, I was in the middle of something," Charles replies primly. "I know you have amnesia, but surely you haven't forgotten that it's polite to knock?"

"Politeness isn't exactly my strong suit," Logan retorts. He folds his arms over his chest and leans casually against the door frame, noting the way Jean is now watching him. There's an interest in her gaze, one he thinks he recognizes. He smirks at her. "I don't think we've been introduced. I'm-"

"-Logan," the redhead finishes for him. Her eyebrows raise, a silent challenge.

His pleased grin gets wider. "You know my name?"

"We've met before," she explains.

"You sure?" Logan asks. "Pretty sure I'd remember meeting a looker like you."

Jean blushes and opens her mouth to reply, but Charles chooses that moment to intervene. "Jean, let's continue our discussion later," he interjects, giving Logan a disapproving frown.

She nods and rises to her feet, giving Logan another challenging look as she passes by him.

"Logan, Jean is only seventeen," Charles scolds as soon as she's gone.

Oh shit.

"I'll not have you making eyes at my underage students. I-"

"I wasn't 'making eyes' at anyone," Logan argues, though that's clearly not entirely truthful. He quickly tries to change the subject. "What did she mean, we've met before?"

The Professor seems to debate for a moment whether or not he's willing to allow the issue to drop before he finally relents. "Jean, Scott, and Kurt found you at a secret military facility at Alkali Lake last year. You were out of your mind, in a completely feral state. She was able to get close enough to look into your mind and find your name."

Logan grunts. "I don't remember that happening," he mutters. For whatever reason that unsettles him greatly.

Charles makes a sympathetic sound. "I can't say I'm surprised. Don't let it concern you overly much, Logan," the telepath assures him. "As I said, you were in a feral state. I doubt anyone would be capable of retaining much information in similar circumstances." His tone now becomes brisk. "Now, why exactly did you feel the need to come in here and interrupt a session with one of my students?"

"I need you to read my mind, Professor," Logan explains bluntly. He's never been one to beat around the bush- that he can remember, anyway.

The telepath purses his lips. "May I inquire as to what exactly I would be looking for?" he asks, as though he's dreading the answer.

"How old I am. Who this Remus Volpe woman was to me. How I ended up with my adamantium claws. I dunno, Chuck, pretty much anything you can tell me," the feral replies. "I don't have any memories before waking up in a forest a year ago, and I want to know how I ended up there. Tell me you wouldn't feel the same way."

"I'm sure I would," Charles agrees, nodding thoughtfully. His next words are ponderously slow. "However, I'm not sure if it would be entirely wise, Logan."

"Why not?" the feral demands. "You read minds all the time, dontcha? Ain't it your thing?"

"Yes, but most minds are, well, not as- damaged as yours is. After everything you've been through, I don't think your psyche processes traumas as it should. I'm afraid there's quite a bit of mental- for lack of a better term- scar tissue in your thoughts. I've tried to probe your mind a few times, and each time I try to go further than surface level it's as if I come up against a wall," the bald man explains.

Logan swallows down his indignation towards the telepath for reading his thoughts. After all, isn't that exactly what he's here asking for? "Why can't you push against it then?" he asks. "Or find a way around it?"

He's grasping at straws, since he obviously has no idea how this telepathy shit works.

Charles shakes his head. "I don't think that would be wise. Think about it, Logan," he murmurs. "Perhaps that wall, that scar tissue, is there for a reason. It's trying to protect you from some sort of trauma you've experienced. I fear that trying to remove it or see beyond it may result in much more trouble than it's worth."

"M-more trouble than it's worth?" Logan sputters. "Xavier, I don't know who the fuck I really am." His rising anger gives voice to the fear that's been preying on his mind since he discovered Roxanne is his daughter. "How did my kids end up left to die in the cold? Why wasn't I around to stop it? How did their mother and I end up separated?"

The telepath sighs. "While I understand your concerns, I think you should try to put them behind you," he tells the other man. "You have no memories of anything that happened before last year, and no information to go on except what I can tell you about what your future self did with Hank and I in 1973. You're essentially a blank slate- use it to your advantage."

A blank slate. Use it to your advantage.

Xavier isn't wrong, but Logan still feels unsatisfied with that answer. Especially when it's coming from a man who could uncover the truth of his past, if he so chose. It probably wouldn't even be that difficult for him. But he's not even going to bother trying.

"That's bullshit," Logan says bluntly. He rises to his feet and glares at the Professor. "You said the kids found me at Alkali Lake? Guess I'll try to find answers there."

And without further ado, he turns to walk out the office door.

"What about Roxanne?" Xavier blurts out.

The feral freezes, mid-turn. "What about her?" he asks warily.

Charles gives him a reproving look. "She's your daughter, Logan," he chides, "and she just lost the only father figure she's ever known. You're just starting to connect with one another. It would be- incredibly unkind- to leave her now."

Yes, Logan has to agree that he's starting to connect with his newly discovered daughter. Roxanne is mature beyond her years, but still a fiery young woman with moments of self-doubt. It felt nice to help her out of her funk the other night, to watch her wheedle a nice bottle of whiskey out of her nerdy boyfriend for him.

But that's still not enough for Logan. There's too much he needs to know about himself, and his past.

He shakes his head. "Roxanne's a big girl," he says brusquely. "And she's got Hank. She'll be just fine without me."

And he turns to leave again.

Before he reaches the door he hears Xavier give a bone-weary sigh. "Very well," the telepath finally concedes. "Let's go to the infirmary. I want Hank there, just in case."

"Just in case?" Logan repeats. "Just in case of what?"

"Just in case I- how would Peter phrase it?- scramble your brain?" Charles replies grimly. "I told you, in pursuing this we may be going beyond the bounds of what your mind can endure."

"I can take it," Logan retorts, but the protest is automatic, all bravado. Can he? What exactly is this going to involve?

It doesn't matter, he tells himself. It's worth a try, to find out what I'm missing.

He follows Xavier down to the school's basement laboratory, where they find Hank in a lab coat doing something scientific. It's not really a surprise that Roxanne is with him, in similar attire.

"Hank, if you could please assist us in the infirmary?" Charles inquires.

The young feral looks faintly puzzled, but still says, "no problem," and removes his lab coat. He follows them into the infirmary, with Roxanne trailing behind curiously after removing her own coat.

"What's going on?" she asks, since Hank doesn't seem to need an explanation for abandoning their work and assisting them.

Logan wordlessly sits down on the examination table the telepath indicates for him.

"Logan has requested that I probe his mind," Charles explains warily, getting into position behind the feral's head. "He thinks that if I push hard enough I may be able to uncover some of his past, as I haven't been able to with a normal amount of effort."

Roxanne seems to catch the reluctance in the telepath's voice. "And what do you think, Professor?"

Shit, Logan thinks.

Despite Logan's pointed glare, Charles replies honestly. "I think Logan's amnesia may be due to his brain forming a defensive mechanism protecting him from some sort of trauma," he replies, "and trying to delve into any of those wounds may cause even more damage to his mind."

Roxanne shoots a horrified glance at Hank, prompting him to ask, "Charles, is this truly a good idea-?"

"If this messes up my brain it's because it was my choice, kid," Logan cuts in, glowering at the younger male.

"Is it truly though, Logan?" Hank retorts calmly. "There's a difference between you shooting yourself with a gun and asking Charles to pull the trigger for you."

Logan is secretly a little impressed that the kid has the balls to stand up to him a bit- his daughter shouldn't be with some pushover- but mostly he's just pissed the younger feral is arguing with him. Especially in such a reasonable, measured fashion. How annoying.

"Listen, Fur Ball-"

"You're one to talk. Have you looked in a mirror lately?" Roxanne snaps, gesturing towards her father's hairy arms and well- everything, really. She then clutches her boyfriend's arm protectively.

"Hey," Logan says, genuinely offended.

"Let's just get this over with," Charles interjects, trying to be the peacemaker before father and daughter can possibly trade more insults. Logan can't resist giving the pair a rather triumphant smirk as he lays down into position. "Hank, if you would with the monitors-?"

Hank moves with quiet efficiency to gather up a few little sticky pads that he then gently places on Logan's forehead. But then he hesitates with a couple more still in his hand. "Um, these should go on your chest, Logan, but your chest hair is too thick."

Roxanne snorts.

"I could shave-?"

"Don't you dare," Logan warns.

"Never mind that part, Hank," Charles assures the scientist, rather exasperated by the older feral's recalcitrance. "Now, Logan, close your eyes, and try to calm your mind."

The feral tries to do as requested, though it's admittedly very difficult to relax when his thoughts are racing.

He concentrates on the steady beeps of the monitors he's now hooked up to, the sound of quiet breathing and beating hearts of the mutants around him. This finally allows him to relax enough for Charles to proceed, as evidenced by the feeling of pressure at his temples from the telepath's hands gently resting there.

The pressure increases more and more, until it finally becomes outright pain. He grits his teeth to keep from crying out against an agony that feels as if it may split his skull.

And then the images come.

"Jimmy, I have something to tell you," a redheaded woman says, and she looks serious. She's taller than he is, and drop dead gorgeous, with a black tattoo mask around her eyes. He feels like he should know her, but he can't remember her name.

"Who are you?"

She frowns. "Don't be ridiculous, Jimmy," she scolds. But then her eyes search his face, and she must see the truth there. "James. You don't recognize me?"

He shakes his head.

"Romulus," she snarls. And then the woman hisses in a language he doesn't understand- though judging from her tone, he's guessing she's cussing out Romulus.

"You know Romulus Volpe?" he asks.

She laughs bitterly. "Oh, yes," she replies. "Romulus and I go way back. To the womb, in fact," She then grabs his hands, desperately imploring. "Jimmy, please. Try to remember me. It's important. Please. It's me, Jimmy. It's Remus. I'm-"

The sounds of footsteps approaching carry to them down the hall.

Remus squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, and when she opens them they appear almost over-bright. "Goodbye, Jimmy," she whispers, leaning into him.

The feeling of her lips on his almost seems like it should be familiar to him for some reason-

And then she's gone...