Logan had lived many lifetimes, fought in many wars, hidden, stalked, battled and slaughtered across the whole planet. He particularly hated the jungles of South Asia where the smells and the vibrations irritated his senses. He could not recall smiling once in any of those horrible conflicts.

But this corridor, here in the Mansion, on the second floor, was filling him with dread.

Here were the dorms and the separate rooms for the staff and the educators. They were quiet at this time. Apart from one.

He stepped silently along the heavy duty linoleum floor, feeling the pressure of the thick textile as it compressed below his boots.

"Logan?"

He tried to keep his breathing regular then dipped back to look in the doorway of one of the grander suites.

"Hey," he whispered. "Jean. You're back."

She was sitting up in her bed, a plain mattress in a wooden fresh with many layers of fresh white sheets. Most of her hair was in the big braids she favored for offworld missions, but enough of it was wild and loose to show how tired she was. Her eyes were closed and she seemed relaxed over-all.

"It was a long trip," she whispered back. "I need to get some rest. And lots of this fresh Earth air."

He held the door-frame, reluctant to walk in. "Yeah. Tell me about it later. You want me to open a window?"

She smiled to herself and twitched her cheek toward the larger bay window. Her mind effortlessly lifted the upper half of the window and a cool, light breeze drifted in.

Logan laughed a little. "I was just being polite," he joked.

"Sorry," she giggled and settled back to sleep. "Everything okay here?" she added politely.

He breathed in heavily. "Oh, a picnic with the X-boss. And Jubilee is roughing up some students in the basement."

Jean rubbed her face, seeming to concentrate. "Yes." She laughed very lightly. "I can feel the vibrations." Her head drifted to the side as if she was falling asleep. "No drama then?"

Logan clasped his fingers together then bumped his knuckles nervously. "We can catch up later. There's always work to do." His top lip curled over his teeth. He knew he should talk to her now, but he was already focused on too many things. "You can tell me about space later on. I'll fill you in on this corner of the galaxy."

He watched her start to snooze, then turned as quietly as he could to continue down the hall.

"Logan?" He stopped, trying not to curse. It took him a second to resolve the voice. Jean was speaking in his head, probably still asleep. He never shared his thoughts with anyone vocally or telepathically. But Jean had a way of politely 'tapping on the door'. He rarely indulged her, but he had to cover his guilt with a positive response.

"Just sleep," he replied.

"Space is very dry. And lifeless."

"I try to avoid it as much as I can." He continued walking past the other dorms, his steps feeling awkward and heavy.

"I miss the flavors. Of Earth." So, he was relieved, she was only musing.

"You want a chilli dog? Hell yeah. Now I want a chilli dog too."

"Gross. I want something sweet. Bring me cookies."

"Sure. The Mansion has the best cookies upstate."

"Bring me a plateful."

"Get some rest. I'll bring a box full."

He plodded to the fire door halfway along the first floor. He felt his mind clear and he focused again on his limbs, gripping the metal door handle firmly, briefly catching his reflection in the surfaces and pulling it open firmly. A warmer rush of air and the pleasant fumes of baking day in the kitchens struck him.

A few of the students who were not back home or with friends for the term break were hanging out in the corridor chatting in low tones. Logan was not good at socializing with the newer mutants. Sometimes they were talkative, asking fangirl questions about who wore what on missions in the Pacific or who would win in a fight between Juggernaut and a triceratops? Logan had a set of lame answers for most of those occasions. But he mostly pretended to be busy if he could.

"Hey, Wolverine." A young man's voice piped up from near the door to the main kitchen. His initial bravado seemed to fade mid-sentence. "Um, Professor Logan. Hi, over here."

"Shit," thought Logan. "Small talk." He worked on his educator persona and smiled stoically. "Tyrell! Are you not on your way home?"

Tyrell nodded awkwardly, then eagerly. "Uh, yeah. Just making use of the facilities before I visit the folks next week."

Logan continued to the kitchen door, pausing in a way that showed he was not stopping to talk. "Get your folks to email me. Some of your paintings could go in that traveling exhibition we were talking about".

Tyrell nodded vigorously. "Sure. Thanks Logan. Eh, Professor Logan." He shifted his shoulders awkwardly again. "Are you free at the weekend? A couple of the guys are going to the Yankees nightcap on Friday. You'd be welcome."

Logan turned. It had been a long time since he had been to a ball game. Crowds were usually a problem for him, but the math and the controlled peril of baseball worked for him, although nowadays it was usually limited to a TV screen or the radio in a car.

"Uh," Logan rolled his eyes. "What can I say? That sounds great. But…" He shrugged. "You know, always on call." He thought carefully. There was no point in promising, no matter what he felt. The number of uneaten sandwiches, routinely discarded during emergency alerts, was proof enough.

Tyrell waved his hand calmly. "It's not a big deal, Professor. We just thought you'd be interested." He smiled and turned back to his earlier conversation.

Logan continued toward the kitchen. He had a side-thought. "If you've got a group message going, Tyrell, you could add me. Then, if I'm passing, I can look in."

Tyrell smiled, nodding. Logan finally got into the small self-help kitchen.

"What kept you?" asked Jubilee.