Chapter Three Hundred Seven

Author's Word: Hey, fam, keeping this short and sweet as I await the hours leading to my earned luxury shower and power snooze. Happy birthday, lovey and cherished fam member, hugely generous and wise about so many things short of the importance of this day. You know who you are, madam. Please enjoy and review!

By the dim lamp lighting of the Mag Cave, the metal wielder resided on his sofa with legs stretched to the opposite arm. Though they lingered in his work space, Erik watched the Professor's austere posture. The Oxford alum greatly looked the part of the elder and quite dour headmaster. With the level of silence between them, Erik mused on the notion that Charles stood quietly to hear the telepathic instruction from his furious wife about what style and color of pike to mount Erik's head on.

When their sister rejoined them, the den's owner protested what she brought with her. "I told you it's fine. I've survived a number of rigorous urchin tantrums."

"And I told you to shut it." Though she handled his lower limbs gently, Raven spoke forcefully. She sat and positioned his left leg in her lap, rolling up his pants to uncover the mark. "This is going to swell and glow-in-the-dark by morning." She eased the ice bag onto the bruise and quirked her eyebrow his way. "If you want a second opinion, I'd be happy to wake up my husband and tell him you were manhandled by a twelve-year-old the size of an actual kitten."

Erik sent her a glare, though a weary one. "Your concern swells me, big girl." Still, he accepted the coolness applied to his skin.

Confounded as well as irritated, Charles finally verbalized with frustrated intrigue. "Please, brother, please explain in great detail how you believed viciously taunting Adrienne would somehow improve an already volatile situation?"

"Viciously taunting, Charles?" Erik replied glibly. "She and I have spat fiercer venom at the breakfast table alone."

"You slapped her across the face." Raven's accusatory statement gave him her attention. Her dull yellow eyes reflected her displeasure. "There have been plenty of times I've been convinced Adrienne Frost commutes by broomstick, but Victor storming off on her like that? She was crushed, Erik. And you just had to pour salt on the wound."

In undoubtable agreement with their sister, Charles vexed, "We all know you two have never seen eye to eye, but it's as if you have this incessant need to be at odds with my sister-in-law."

"That's a lie," Erik promptly denied. "You know I think the world of Cordy."

Stilling completely for a moment, Charles calmly requested, "Raven, I hate to bother you, but would you mind running upstairs for one of my belts?"

Erik clamped onto Raven's wrist before she could, unsurprisingly, attempt to rise. "Not the time for levity, noted."

"Not the time for you to be acting like Kid Alex," Raven corrected.

Removing the ice bag, Erik stood from the sofa, all nonsense absent from his features. "This may surprise you, but I'm not a hyperactive school boy pulling on a girl's hair for a good giggle." He zeroed in on Charles. "You believe I was the one taunting up there? Adrienne had to have taken leave of her senses to drag the Howlett-Creeds back to that time. She may have believed it to be a romantic gesture, but all she did was awaken spirits and re-infect wounds that will never completely heal."

"How can you talk like that?" Going to the desk, Raven picked up the photograph they had been admiring earlier. "All she wanted to do for Victor was exactly what Alex did for you."

"I know the experience was overwhelming, especially with telepathy being mostly foreign territory where the Howlett-Creeds are concerned," Charles said admittedly. "Regardless, they got to see with their own eyes how John Howlett felt. Any doubts Victor possessed about his stepfather are completely unfounded."

Hugging the frame to her chest, Raven added wistfully, "He loved him."

As if beholding his siblings anew, Erik stepped over to give Raven his right arm and kiss her head. He used his free hand to summon Charles, who wasted no time joining the metal wielder's fortified huddle. For more than a minute, Erik said and did nothing except to simultaneously rub the backs of the shorter pair.

"I never intended to add fuel to the fire," he eventually spoke. "I was not looking for a fight with Adrienne. You saw her face, but I only saw Victor's. It may sound like bliss to have those doubts relieved, but entirely new pain has taken their place." Erik inched back enough to fully view both of them. "After everything his natural father inflicted upon and took away from him, Victor now knows more than just his childhood was lost. Being there from the moment of Logan's birth, raised by his mother and a real father who would have accepted him with arms spread- all stolen."

Charles bowed his head a moment then lifted it with his voice softened. "I knew it would be difficult coming out of it. I felt a rush of everything they did. Logan's mind everywhere at once, Cody's glee, Victor… I wanted to help him through the aftermath."

Though a sympathetic expression remained in place, Erik informed morosely, "Victor has absolute respect and admiration for your position in this house and bringing us all together, but he will never reveal his deepest vulnerabilities for your counsel. Whatever you've gathered about him," he glanced at Raven next, "whatever Hank's told you doesn't even scratch the surface."

Charles exhaled pensively, no denial of those words to be seen.

Raven retrieved a Kleenex from the festive scarlet dispenser Becky kept stocked on Erik's desk. She wiped its glass front before returning the frame to its designated spot.

IIIIIII

While the multiple monitors reported tranquility around his homestead, the same could not be said of the mutant elder's head and chest. His foggy blue irises aimed the direction of the control panel, but completely different images flashed through his mind's eye. The thick black hair, summer tan, elegantly attired figure executed jumps on his horse, maneuvered about his study reciting from the novel that captivated him so, and yanked his son up when the excited toddler attempted to chase a frog right into a murky pond. Yet the former pictures lingered. The sweat dripping body went down with a heavy thud, the night clothes outlined his rib cage as if the bones could cut right through the material, able to do little more than blink, whatever bits of nourishment he did not throw up wound up as waste every time he involuntarily relieved himself. The head lifted with eyes sunken in, only to swap out for the attractive face cordially bobbing his chin.

Logan's return to the present came with the exhilaration of the sleek warm body caressing his right ankle. Without having to gaze down, he hoisted the cat at his furry belly and brought him into a cradling position. While Midnight purred, Logan nosed his stomach and sides. The ebony fur going up his nostrils irritated him not in the least. Standing with the devoted creature, Logan left the security room for the first time in nearly an hour.

When they made it to the second floor, both zeroed in on the lass in cotton candy pink nightclothes. Though a resident of the Xavier Mansion since the previous year, she peered around her surroundings almost like a lost, anxious traveler. Logan witnessed the spark in her eyes that only brightened as the canine and feline males neared her.

"Midnight." Samantha took him to hold against her shoulder.

"You know he can't stray too far from you. Just remindin' the rest of us he runs the place." Logan tugged her forward to leave a kiss at the top of her hairline. "Get on back to bed, baby."

"Kay. Night, Uncle Logan." Samantha carried Midnight into their quarters and ensured the door fully closed this time.

Instead of trekking downstairs immediately, Logan stopped outside of the half-open door with tiny light aglow. Dressed for slumber, Maya did so with her face planted on her desk. Wondering what wedding details inspired her inner researcher now, Logan gently eased the papers out from under the literal sleepyhead. At the comparison price charts of various gas stations in and around the Syracuse area, Logan kept a snort contained. He regarded the girl in appreciation over letting him experience anything resembling humor that night. Handling her thin form with the caution of exporting glass figurines, he placed her in bed and situated her Cat in the Hat plush in her arms. It along with the Grinch had yet to be packed away. Logan switched off the lamp as he headed out again.

Due to that evening's highly unanticipated event, it took Kayla sometime to help soothe her enthused Cody back into a peaceful sleep state. Though she had not gone with them on the short venture into the past, she greatly sensed the awe exploding from her son. A true shame that such positivity could not be said of the other men in her life. As if on cue, she peered up at her husband entering the room.

Going to lay on the opposite side of Cody, Logan brushed lips across his boy's temple. He lingered with his arms around him that way. After a few minutes went by, he finally stood and reached for his wife. Kayla brushed back part of Cody's hair before taking the waiting hand. In their suite, they peered into each crib. Todd wriggled in his sleep and Logan massaged his midsection to relax him. His youngest son could be too well aware of upheaval at times. Mira laid in tranquility among her stuffed animals. When they reached their balcony, Kayla reclined in an outdoor chair. She watched her husband pace back and forth at a steady rate near the ledge.

After a few moments, Kayla urged, "Tell me. Whatever it is."

Going still finally, Logan spoke while staring to his right. "All these years, Fox. All these years… Dad tried to find Vic; bring him home. Even before he and Ma tied the knot. And all I've done is try to bury his memory."

Listening closely, Kayla reminded strongly, "You didn't know, lover. No one did."

"Doesn't change what's goin' on in my gut." Logan walked to the balcony's railing, gripping it nearly hard enough to bend the iron. "It's like I resented him, Fox. Dad was that one dividing line between me and Vic. Every whispered word, everybody who ever called us ha…" Kayla fully comprehended the term he could not dignify by voicing. "My old man didn't get me- and I ain't make it easy to- but he provided for his family. Risked himself to help total strangers; taught me to do the same. And he and Ma are the ones who got cheated."

Leaving her seat, Kayla sent arms around him from behind. "How can you say that? You've gone above and beyond for the Howlett name."

"Fox," Logan breathed in strained despair, "don't you get it?" He pounded on the ledge with both fists. "Vic is the son they deserved. He's come back from way more than I have. He clawed his way out of hell to find Ma after wastin' the son of a bitch that tore 'em apart in the first place. He's got the looks, the drive, the brains, but I'm the one who got to go school while he worked his ass off. School was just another chore for me. I can hear him and Dad now, talkin' from dawn and dusk about those old books."

Initially indignant at his self-flagellation, Kayla sputtered, "Logan, how can—"

"It's true, Fox," he insisted, turning to her with melancholy blue eyes. "I'm constantly hearin' how tic-for-tat me and Cody are. But that kid's got too good a head on his shoulders. It's not me he takes after. It's you and Victor."

The woman's declaration of, "Bull shit," shocked him into silence for her to continue. "If that really were true, Cody would have withered and died right after Jaycee, exactly like I wanted to. How do you not see your strength inside of him?"

"Because all I see inside of me is Old Man Howlett," Logan claimed.

"Because you're another stalwart for the oppressed," Kayla countered.

"Because I'm a crotchety bastard, mad at the world," he retorted. "He was so hardened he tried to get Dad to quit lookin' for Vic."

"Then you and John are galaxies away from him," asserted Kayla. "If Vic hadn't have found his way home, you would have gone to him. I know you would have. I've seen the depths you've already faced for one another, blood or otherwise." She took him by both sides of his face, burrowing heavy brown irises into his darkened blue. "It's why I didn't just fall in love with you. I wanted you in ways I never remotely desired of any other man. I wanted you to have all of me, parts revealed to no one else."

Logan bowed his head remorsefully, the tip of his nose touching hers. "Fox…"

Winding her arms around his neck, Kayla offered him an extensive kiss. "I feel John and Liz's loss. I know it too well. But I also know the blessing they received in you." She fondled his cheek again. "If only you could see what I do in you every day since I found you cleansing under that waterfall."

Logan held onto her in a close embrace, clinging in weary despondency. Kayla kissed his jaw then lips again as she did her best to keep him upright.

IIIIIII

Unsure- at least for the most part- as to what caused her slumber departure, the thin frame detached from her pillows. She stepped into her slippers as she left her bed. Finding herself pulled in every direction, Becky made a path for down the hall and around the corridor. She maneuvered through the lab and headed up to the McCoy wing. At the top, she discovered another and significantly smaller pajama clad girl seemingly awaiting her. Trav laid comfortably in his parents' bed.

"Kiki, what are you doing up?"

I'm the culprit, Hank piped up, roosted at his wide window. My sleep troubles too often become her sleep troubles. Lifting Kiki, Becky brought her over. Now, he accepted his little lass from her, answer your own question.

Something woke me up. This weird feeling from most of the adults. She glanced at the window. Knight Victor's out there, isn't he?

Hank nodded, also facing the direction of the mutant elder. Adrienne needed Charles and Emma to show him and Logan something from the past. What, I don't know.

Stepping closer to the pane, Becky pressed her palm to the glass. So, why is he alone?

Hank then determined, he isn't. "Stay with them for me." He handed Kiki back to her.

Cradling the lethargic four-year-old, Becky looked on as Hank took his leave of them by opening and bounding out of the window.

In a squatting position atop the red maple, cloudy brown eyes matched the sky presently blocking half the moon. Though his keen senses aided his vision under such minimal lighting, it seemed as if his abilities to see and hear had been revoked. Hair flapping against the night breeze, he remained pensively rigid.

Pulling himself up, Hank now propped on a thick limb in the tree directly behind his. The young scientist's concern only increased when the older male did not notice his presence in the slightest. Hank knew well that Victor very easily contained most reactions, but he felt then and there to not be the case. He parted lips to speak, but instead played out his secondary notion and eased forward. When he got in better proximity of the blonde, Hank greeted him with a nuzzle to his shoulder blade. Instantly shifting with claws extended, fangs protruded, and eyes blackened, Victor lowered his hand even quicker on realization.

"Sabretooth," Hank addressed, his posture cordial.

"Beast." Eyes closing, Victor accepted the affectionate head bumps against his chest and even purred at the contact. "Wh- you need me?"

"I still haven't made that evident?" Hank answered with a little smile. He became solemn next. "Adrienne… what happened? What did you see?"

Victor slowly opened his mouth, his every thought swirling. "I… I don't… I was right there and I can't believe it."

"Was it…?" Hank grew hesitant. "Was it Gail? Your girls?"

Victor shook his head absently. "Way further back. To John Howlett."

Hank's eyebrows ascended as his pupils enlarged. "Wolverine's father?" Victor nodded now. "What happened? Please, tell me."

"He was… he was tryin' to find me." Victor said the words as if taste testing them. "At the church my ma brought me to. I was four. Logan wasn't even born yet."

Hank's positivity returned in abundance. "Vic, that's fantastic. I couldn't imagine what Adrienne had to show you, but this exceeds the best-case scenario ten times over."

Victor stayed rigid as he refuted, "The best part is he never managed to track me down."

Confusion dominated over Hank's expression of exultation. "What?"

"I showed up on our ma's doorstep the same year they lost John. Don't buy into coincidence, kid," Victor advised gravely. "When I was a teenager, I never thought I'd be able to give a damn about anybody. Then, I found Ma and met Lo' and actually managed to prove myself wrong. The catch? I infect the lives of anybody who cares so much as a lick about me."

Hank acted swiftly to protest. "Vic—"

"John," Victor cut in sharply, "my mother, my wife, my daughters, my niece. Oh, and here's another little gem we dug up. Turns out a couple from the church wanted to adopt me. Until they up and vanished. Around the time my old man showed up to reclaim me. Still want to wager on coincidence?"

Hank pushed past his initial horror and insisted, "You are not responsible for his crimes. He started this wicked chain that resulted in his own deserving demise. Illness took your parents. Hate and fear took your family as well as the fact that like Jaycee, your daughters didn't inherit our X gene. All of those circumstances were beyond your control. You're not your own personal plague of destruction, Vic. You've been the best person to come into Logan's life alone."

Victor let off a dry chuckle. "Best part of his life… as bright a kid as you are, you're way off base. Logan's the only reason I have any worth at all. I spent years thinkin' this," raising his right hand, Victor studied his claws, "meant I came straight from the hellfire. Then I found out we were the same; our mother's sons. But he was all she needed. As nerve-wrecking as he knows to be, that runt is my legit proof that there's any good in me."

"I suggest you conduct a poll," Hank said with some minimal attempt at humor. "There are a few around here who would argue it's the other way around. I'm not discounting Logan, nor do I wish to, but your tolerance for him alone qualifies you for sainthood."

Countenance unreadable, Victor challenged, "You sure about that?"

XXXXX

Somewhere between midnight's madness and dawn's glory, smoke waved throughout the establishment thicker than fog. The allure of spirits drowned every nose with their overwhelming scents and released every inhibition of the patrons bathing in them. The skilled piano player kept the environment buoyant. However, he only served as the background music for the true talent on stage. Long flowing hair poured down the backs of the dancing trio; golden blonde, chocolate brown, and rich ebony. Their curve-accentuating costumes consisted of boas, feathers, ribbons, and little else.

The only other attraction to receive attention outside of theirs came from the large circular table at the center of the floor. The twelve poker players gnawing on cigars filled it while gulping out of their seemingly bottomless beer mugs. Most of them were broad-shouldered railroad workers or quarrymen, finding solace in bemoaning about their unjust employers. Though he piped into the conversation every so often, the youngest and thinnest present paid more obvious attention to keeping his mug from going dry. He did not miss the headshakes and smirks from the other males, under the belief he would empty his pockets to them at the same rate he refilled his drinks.

Unknown to them, he kept senses set on each and every one of them individually. Despite the constant boasting, he picked up on the fluctuations in heartrate and breathing, the growing stench of sweaty palms, and the subtle hints betrayed by their own eyes.

When most of the hands folded, one of the members of the railroad gaped at the paper money his co-worker raised. "You sick in the head? You're gambling your full week's wage?"

The other man swanked, "Who's gambling?" Eying the loner, he nudged, "In or out, kid?" The rest of the table gawked when the wordless competitor upped his ante. "Big mistake, boy." The railroad worker presented his cards. "Full house- my house."

Blocking his attempt to claim the wealth, "And you just got foreclosed on," the blue-eyed opponent flashed his straight flush.

While incredulous awe and whistling took place among the other players, the dumbfounded rail-hand looked ready to suffer cardiac failure. "No, no, no, no, ah shit! Another round."

"What do you plan to raise?" The nonchalant victor busily lined his pockets as he spoke flippantly. "I don't play for lint."

"I'll spot you the coins," the other railroad worker promised his co-worker then looked to the winner. "Have a heart, boy. Give him a chance to win some of his money back."

"No chance. That's the gamble." Getting to his feet, the young one stated, "Might want to steer clear of a man's game from here on out," he tipped his hat contemptuously, "boy."

As soon as he turned to go, the livid loser attempted to snatch him by the arm. The instant the fingers connected, he found his wrist seized followed by his entire form being flipped. He made violent contact with another table. The seated patrons managed to back away as he smashed the wood into jagged pieces. All music, dancing, and conversation stopped in a simultaneous feat.

Unfazed as well as unsurprised when the horde of other poker players encroached on him, he caught a fist from the first of the fallen's railroad comrade. With a swift jerk, an audible crack exploded throughout the establishment. The wrist bone disconnecting from the rest of the limb became drowned out by the excruciating scream that followed. The smug winner flung him unceremoniously into another shell-shocked card player. In a unison effort, two of the stout males managed to tackle him. With twin self-satisfied gazes about them, they pinned his arms to the floor. However, their mutual contemptuous countenances morphed into disturbed and quickly paling faces. Choking with pain, neither could muster an utterance, but the terrified reactions of those around them spoke volumes. They looked on at the bone claws stabbing the men's bellies and pricking out of their backs. Retracting his built-in weaponry, he tossed the somehow still breathing duo off of him.

Back on his own feet in an instant, he mounted the nearest table to tower over everyone present. "What do you say, folks?" His tone carried a slither to it. "Double or nothin' with the demon?" At the group practically nauseated with terror, he shrugged. "Some other time." He performed multiple backflips until he made his exit through a window's plantation shutters.

X

Maneuvering beneath the barren branches, the late evening air gave away a hint of precipitation coming before long. Boots crunching on the damp leaves and twigs under his boots, Logan flirted with recollection. He remembered what the promise of snow once did for him. The white blanket of moisture and magnificent playmate. It had the multifaceted abilities to act as building material, slick terrain below a sled, and deliverer from school for days at a time. He shook his head with a bitter growl of rebuke at himself for musing such imbecilic childish fancies. Now, be it snow, sleet, or sun, it all left him ice cold from the inside out.

By moonlight and sharp eyes, he made out his present dwelling. Every square inch constructed by his own hands, the young man regarded the cabin with no greater sentiment than a whittled toothpick. Working the series of locks, he got the door open, entered, and re-latched it from inside. Allowing for only a single small window in the living/kitchen space, he lit the oil lamp on the short table.

"Vic," igniting a lantern next, he started for the only separate room within the cabin, "Vic, I'm back." Going through another multitude of locks at the iron enforced door, he peered in light first. "Brother?" Stepping in all the way, he made out the large lump huddled against a wall like a panicky stray.

When the sudden illumination fell on him, a snarl of blood-curdling intensity resulted. The head raised, showing eyes of coal that only blended among the filth that coated his face and hair. Those sights and sounds rapidly lost prominence to the gag-inducing odors. Logan did not have to come much closer to zero in on the bodily liquids and leavings at his brother's lower body. Putting the lantern on the floor, he walked to him. Victor's fangs bared, but the remainder of his frame used what minute strength it had to maintain the defensive pretense.

Cocking his head to one side, Logan reminded plainly, "You know how this is goin' down. What's it gonna be tonight, Vic? Easy or—" He received a growl and exhaled in exasperation. "Fuck me…"

First going into the tiny closet to tuck away his 'earnings' for that evening, Logan also retrieved an assortment of chains. He had to miss several swipes and attempted chomps from Victor's claws and teeth, but he managed to bind his arms and legs. After much pumping and heating from the little stove, Logan got the basin in the center of the room filled. Returning to their bedroom, he used the rope attached to the arm chain to pry Victor out towards it. Getting what remained of his tattered clothes off next, Logan used all the might he could to lift and dunk him into the makeshift tub.

Bar of soap handy, he worked vigorously to remove every bit of grime he could from the tall body. Though he wound up thoroughly drenched himself, he got the job done for the most part. Victor's growling continuous but his struggle in vain, Logan dried and dressed him in a long night shirt. He had to grip Victor by the hair for him to drink a muscle relaxer. Letting the liquid fulfill its purpose, Logan got the bedroom corner scrubbed and a pot of soup warmed. He helped Victor into his bed before presenting him with a bowlful.

Starting by placing a bit of bread in his mouth, Logan ordered, "Swallow it." When the noncompliance took place, he used one free hand to go after his brother's neck. "Swallow, dammit!" The bread at last rolled down his throat. A mildly relieved Logan fed him a little more of it before scooping some soup with a spoon. "Easy now."

Almost as soon as the broth hit his tongue, Logan experienced the saliva backlash all over his face. Exhaling deeply through his nostrils, he calmly delivered backhanded slaps to both sides of Victor's face until the severe contact wore him out enough. With a little maneuvering, Logan poured the rest of the broth along with some water into him. He reached behind to pat and rub his back to help the nourishment intake along. Placing the bowl and mug to the side, Logan went into the wooden cabinet kept in the closet to splice doses of morphine with sleep tonic. Such a level and mixture would instantaneously stop the heart of any ordinary man. Even if ordinariness applied to them, Logan doubted if either of them possessed a heart to halt. He gave the concoction to Victor, blanketed him, and used the thick straps attached to his bedframe to latch him in for the night.

While listening to his brother taper off, Logan went through the medical aides. With Victor's frequent spells causing him to develop an immunity to the drugs, the need to increase the dosages had dwindled their supply much sooner than usual. Blue eyes taking in Victor's slumber, Logan determined a shopping trip to be in order.

X

With a small, discreet yawn the worn physician made his way into the exam room of the dark suit adorned elderly gentleman.

"Mr. Perlstein," he took a moment to shake with him, "how are things with that boy of yours and my future colleague?"

"Gone a month and my wife and I can still hardly believe it," he beamed. "Our Julius attending medical school in New York City. You know, we—"

Both men faced the direction of the shrieking chorus.

"Stay here," the doctor directed before rushing out to the hospital's waiting area.

The sight left him nearly petrified. Patients took to the floor, the other morning physicians stood in equal frightened disbelief, two nurses wept with terror over the one with a gun aimed at her temple. The pistol-wielder with only heavy blue eyes visible due to the scarf that masked most of his face, kept an arm around her middle, blocking the entrance.

"What in God's name-," the newly arriving doctor stammered. "What do you want?"

"God?" Logan went into a hearty guffaw. "Ain't ya heard, doc? Accordin' to your kind, I I shot bone and blood straight outta the devil's shit hole. As for what I want, just about the only thing your uppity little clinic here can provide." He kicked the leather bag in front of his boot across the room and rattled off the drugs he sought. "Soon as the good doctor fills my order, I'll be on my way. And don't be fool enough to try lacin' or swappin' 'em out. I'll smell the difference and if I have to make a return trip so soon," he kept the barrel at the nurse's head and his finger near the trigger, "'Fraid I'll have to shut down this practice- permanently. We clear, doc?"

The lead physician nodded with tremors traveling through his entire body. "We're clear, whatever you want." With shaky hands, he grabbed the bag and hastened to get the wide supply cabinet unlocked.

At the sharp but quiet intakes of air, Logan peered down to where a couple crouched on either side of their auburn-haired daughter. "What's wrong with her?"

Clutching the girl, her father explained, "She's been having wretched coughing spells at night. She's been over a cold for weeks, but the breathing troubles keep coming back."

Logan next asked, "What's her name?"

Head bowed and cheek touching her daughter's, the woman answer, "Christine. Please, she's only seven years old."

"Seven years old." Traces of a smile could be heard in Logan's voice. "My little niece Esther made seven just a couple months back. Key to my heart, that girl. Even picked her name; straight from the queen herself. First birthday ever I didn't get to spend with her." He then reassured with delicacy, "You're gonna be okay, Christine, promise."

Gripping her father's arm, the child gazed up with silent curiosity.

When it reached capacity, the doctor turned to show the packed contents. "I can find another bag if you like. Please, anything."

"Cut your grovelin'." Removing his arm from around the nurse, Logan requested, "Bring that to me, would you, darlin'?"

With posture stiff, she managed to walk forward and return to his presence with bag in tow. "H-here you go."

"Much obliged, ma'am." Logan addressed the rest with, "I suggest you all go about your day and let the sheriff do the same. I really don't want to come back here," his amicability shifted to menace, "but I will." He walked backwards with pistol aimed before darting out through the door.

X

Despite the sweat and gruel that went into the addition, Logan experienced the long-forgotten sensation of gratitude for the fireplace. Though diminutive in size, it provided their sleeping quarters with necessary radiation. Even though winter had made its chilling debut two weeks prior, he kept the window cracked to prevent stuffiness.

Poking at the glowing flame, Logan reacted straightaway to the moaning coming from the left side bed. He rushed up and over to see about his brother. Sweat penetrated through his clothes and Logan removed a couple layers of blankets. He had not bothered to strap him in due to Victor possessing only might enough to rock his head side to side in anguish. Still, he lay rigidly bound within his own flesh. While illness normally proved impermeable for either Howlett-Creed, when it did manage to invade, it always resulted in violent bodily retaliation. Their unique abilities kept death behind barricades, but also left them to the torment of zealous symptoms.

Logan rushed to the pump to refill the water pitcher. He returned to Victor's side just as swiftly and gave him two ladles worth to drink. After getting his wet night shirt off, Logan used the rest to cool his furry chest and apply a compress to his forehead. With the older male something resembling appeased for the moment, Logan used his stored dry herbs and diced vegetables to fix soup. He indulged his nostrils in the aroma of their mother's recipe, later passed on to his sister-in-law. Logan's weighed chest received some reprieve when Victor consumed it with little protest. He suspected the familiarity ignited his brother's long-lost on some precious level.

The night continued in a repetitive loop. Logan stayed on the stool beside Victor's bed in-between cleansing him of perspiration, combating the vicious fever, massaging his ankles, and keeping him hydrated. Once in a while, Logan remembered to replenish his own insides with broth and water, but only the bare minimum demanded by his enhanced capabilities. When Victor entered a deeper sleep state, a cross-armed Logan bowed his head and dared lower his eyelids.

Unsure as to whether a few minutes or a full hour passed by, the brief dozing ended with cutting abruptness. Logan tore from the stool to reach the one convulsing in bed. Victor's body jerked in every direction and he roared not in fury but desperate distress.

"Vic!" Trying to hold him down by his arms, Logan had no need to touch his chest with his brother's heart pounding so heavily in his ear he almost confused the muscle for his own. "Brother, it's alright. I'm here. I—" Logan flew back with a growl as Victor caused them both to launch off the mattress.

Logan landed on his back for hardly a second before somersaulting to the closet. He worked his fastest to fill the lengthy vials. Crawling over, he struggled to keep Victor face down long enough to apply the injections. When the first doses subdued him in the slightest, Logan went at his arm again to provide extra morphine. At the last retraction of the needle, he sat inhaling and exhaling repeatedly. Rising, Logan guided his thoroughly lax sibling back into bed. With his own chest seemingly ready to explode, he stood entirely stiff until he suddenly took off at top speed.

Not bothering with his coat, Logan did not lose momentum until he made it outside. His boots still in place, he waded through the two feet of snow. A yard from the cabin, Logan allowed himself to go limp and promptly collapse. Arms and legs sprawled, he remained face deep that way. When the exterior numbness set in, he slowly left the white moisture to go back in with a limp in his every step.

After securing every lock in the small wooden house, Logan changed into dry night clothes in front of the fireplace. He put everything back into its correct position in the closet. On the second shelf, his fingers dragged along the spines of what remained of their literature collection. When he made his selection, he trekked to Victor's bed to join him in it. He combed fingers through the glistening hair of honey wheat then opened the book.

"The Time Traveler- for so it will be convenient to speak of him- was expounding a recondite matter to us. His grey eyes shone and twinkled, and his usually pale face was flushed and animated. The fire burned brightly, and the soft radiance of the incandescent lights in the lilies of silver caught the bubbles that flashed and passed in our glasses…"

XXXXX

Both having taken to reclining under the tree, Hank listened until the silence of completion trickled in. They sat with backs to the trunk, only inches apart but with gazes in different directions.

"You lost your family to unspeakable brutality," Hank finally responded, eyes able to make out very little without the aide of his other senses. "Any other man—"

"I wasn't a man." Victor watched the veil of misty clouds overhead. "I was a pile of weak, trembling pussy. A man grieves, a man hurts, but he always pulls himself up and dusts his hands off. A man doesn't fail his mother, wife, children, and devolve into an invalid who can't so much as wipe his ass without his kid brother."

"And a failure doesn't rescue children from rabid animals, only to devote himself to safeguarding them every single night," Hank retorted without pause for additional thought. "Vic, you have touched everyone here. All of our lives are fuller with you in them."

"Classic story." Victor flicked a blade of grass. "Folks put me on a pedestal; get this image of me in their heads. Until who I really am and what their expectations are don't match up so well."

"Left in constant fear or being anything but the picture-perfect number one son," Hank tacked on pensively. "Incompetence, fear, sadness, anything but total fortitude? Absolutely forbidden."
"They took your old man right in front of you, put a bullet in you next, tried to dissect you, and you turned right around and became a father for those two kids."

"I had a job to do." Hank jumped to his feet and Victor followed his movements. "I didn't get that from my father. He and Gavin Douglas only ever taught me the art of cover-up. Charles wanted to coddle me. I made it through that time because of your example, Vic; your strength and courage. You think hearing that you once went through and clearly overcame the lowest point in your life makes me see you as lesser? After all this time," Hank developed a strained smile, "you still can't see that we're the same."

Wind giving his hair flight again, Victor stayed eying him a moment. "Hard to believe, but this old cat's still got a thing or two to learn."

"You are prehistoric," Hank quipped, delighting in the elder's ensuing expression. "You know, Becca has gained a lot from studying Judaism and keeping up with as many of her adoptive grandmother's traditions as she can. You can keep your dad alive the same way. Though, I think you and Logan do a pretty good job there already on any given day." At Victor's quiet head bob, Hank started to turn. "I better get back before Kiki gets too restless."

Glancing to one side, Victor stilled him with, "Hank? We are the same and I've known it since Canada. Just never wanted you to be me."

Hank gave off a shrug, "Tough," and made his slinking departure through the blackness.

IIIIIII

By whatever wayward will, the Professor fought against any desire possessed by his eyes to take in the glorious light of morning. However, when his combination mattress/pillow stirred, he found himself having to inch further down the couch. Allowing the metal wielder to sit up, the telepath experienced more urchin musings when he told himself Erik made for too bony a sleep surface, anyway. Somehow, that did not stop Charles from laying his head in his lap.

Unbothered by the extra weight on his legs, Erik better adjusted the blanket over Charles and released a massive yawn. "When did we?..." He used one wrist to help clear his eyes. "Did we fall asleep?"

"No, Erik." Charles tried to cocoon himself within the cover. "We simply underwent a simultaneous blackout from you slipping a Mickey into our cocoa milk." He considered that in full. "Wait, did you?"

"Perhaps." Erik's shark grin penetrated his voice. He then wondered, "Did Raven go upstairs?"

"You lost her," Charles accused glibly, staying in comfortable place. "You're in trouble."

"Here," the feminine voice piped up.

Spotting her staring at the parlor wall to the right of the French doors, Erik moved to head her way. He kept an arm around Charles as the younger man leaned on him tiredly.

Raven glided her finger along the "Men Who Molded Us" plaque. "Which one's our daddy?"

Charles' eyes opened fully. "What in the world are you talking about, baby blue?" He took her hand to point out the Brian Xavier part. "As if you've forgotten your own father's name."

"I know which one ours is," Raven told him then faced Erik. "I mean all of ours. Is it Brian or Jakob? We're supposed to share the same parents."

Erik replied in good-humor, "Did you join this family only yesterday, big girl? Mutual parentage has never been a requirement for any of us as brothers and sisters. Your own twin is a year younger than you are."

"… I'm jealous," Raven admitted, her voice infantile and distant. She lowered to sit on the arm of the nearest chair. "Victor knows his dad wanted him… what do I know?"

Awake entirely now, Charles quickly went around to give her both his arms. "Oh, baby blue, you do know. You know Daddy would have adored you. Mummy certainly did. I may have been able to push my powers far enough to fabricate their memories, but no influence on my part forced her to love you."

Raven dipped her chin, touching foreheads with Charles.

Watching the pair, Erik put forth, "I know such envy well." They both placed attention on him. "One of my more irrational regrets is not getting the chance to grow up with the two of you. What Adrienne showed Victor and Logan hit me in the crossfire. Were I to learn I came so close to having you at an earlier time in my life… the brothers Howlett-Creed displayed greater dignity than I would have."

Raven stretched her arm his way. "We're all home now."

Erik laced fingers with his sister and stepped closer to give his brother a side hug.

II

Another designer garment folded, the scarlet-haired woman walked back to her bed to tuck it away with the rest. Hearing the cooing right as they arrived at her threshold, she invited the blonde duo in without looking back. Emma re-entered the space with Brian in her soft yet impermeable grasp, his cheek nestled into the material of her silk robe. Between her sister's black Chanel dress with quarter-length sleeve and the open suitcase on the bed, Emma drew her own conclusion.

"I take half an hour to tend to my son and already I find you ready to go over the wall?"

"Of course not." Adrienne went to the chest of drawers to peer into its mirror. "I told the girls we'd spend the afternoon. But I will be departing first thing in the morning."

Emma could hardly conceal her disapproval. "And devil may care for Victor, yes?"

Adrienne picked a ruby red stick to touchup her lips. "He'll have more notice than I did when he stormed off on me."

"Naturally," remarked Emma with a shake of her head. "If a single thread is out of place, you throw the full ensemble in the thrift store dumpster. I'd hoped your relationship with Victor carried more value for you than a discarded handbag."

Veering to face her, Adrienne stood in staunch aggravation. "The entire weekend was about him. Witnessing the last game of the season, celebrating, opening myself up that way so that he could enjoy information I thought he'd actually appreciate. Or, God forbid, want to share with me. And you believe he's the one being discarded in this scenario?"

Completely processing the heated words, Emma could only answer, "No." She rocked Brian. "What I believe is there is no way in the world you would pry us out of bed with the desire to merge minds without supremely valid reasoning. You are not wrong here, Dri. I just don't want you associating Victor's confusion with my thoughtless brother-in-law's callous."

What resembled a smile slowly formed on the redhead's face. "You dare speak against the esteemed Headmaster Lehnsherr in the presence of his greatest ally?"

"Only in the hopes that he will repeat every word back to him." Emma pressed a kiss to her baby's head.

Adrienne sat on the edge of the bed. "Thanks for last night, Em."

Passing her Brian before taking the spot beside her, Emma returned, "Thanks for coming to us."

Adrienne started to speak until Brian's choice of nestling spots got a reaction from her instead. "For goodness sake…" She hoisted him to remove his head from between her bosom. "Those are not throw pillows." She could hardly help softening when he reached to play in her loose, wavy strands. "Who do you think you're fooling, little charmer?" She glanced at Emma. "Give him time. He's going to best Christian's reputation."

Emma replied coyly, "Or his father's…"

At the sisters' enigmatic giggles, Brian eyed them curiously until he deemed chomping on Adrienne's hair the more interesting activity.

Even with the door partially open, small knuckles still sought to gain entry by rapping on the wood. "Aunt Dri?"

"Cody," the addressed woman acknowledged pleasantly. "Come in, dreamer. Isn't it a little early for you?"

"Nah, I get up to morning meditate with my dad sometimes. He helped me arrange these for you." When the brown-eyed boy approached them, he revealed the vibrant bouquet inside equally colorful clay jar. "I turned the fan on the vase so it'd dry faster. I'm not near as good with paints and stuff as Joey."

With Adrienne holding Brian, she and Emma each gripped one of the jar's miniature handles. It contained orchids, white chrysanthemums, and magenta zinnias.

Inhaling one bud's aroma, Emma commented, "Just exquisite. No surprise under the green thumb of Logan Howlett."

Clearly taken, Adrienne voiced genuinely, "Cody, thank you. And your father."

"I'm sorry everything went so nuts last night," the child vexed. "Even though I couldn't touch them, seein' my grandpa and Old Man Howlett, hearin' their voices… I wish I had somethin' better for you than a few posies."

When Emma tugged Brian over onto her lap, Adrienne situated the bouquet on the night table then informed Cody, "You do," she cupped his chin, "and you better know it."

Cody smiled into her touch until he caught sight of the suitcase. "You're not headin' out already, are you? Don't worry about Uncle Vic. He always goes off to think about heavy stuff." He frowned slightly. "It's not Erik, is it? Forget about him, Aunt Dri."

"I already have," Adrienne replied matter-of-factly. "Trust me, dear, it will take far more than a mutated metal detector to give me chase. I only wanted to," she shared a quick look with Emma, "clear out a little clutter."

"Okay, good," Cody said with relief then asked Emma, "By the way, did Charles say anythin' about wantin' to talk to me?"

Emma told him, "Not to my knowledge. We both had impromptu sibling sleepovers last night. He's awake now if you need to see him."

"Oh, no, no, I'm good. Just wonderin'." Cody started backing up to go. "I'm doin' stuff with the guys today. I'll just catch him later. Charles is too busy first thing in the mornin', anyway."

Though used to the youth's energetic tendencies, Emma received a fleeing refuge vibe when he hastily exited.