All previous disclaimers apply.
Author's Note: There was a good deal of response to this and I like the premise enough to continue. I'm not too certain about this chapter, so any constructive criticism would be much appreciated. Also any ideas of where to take it. I have some pretty certain scenes in mind, but so far, no real story line. I hope you enjoy.
The moment Logan's mind released the stranglehold that it had been keeping on his memories as a physical manifestation of self-preservation Charles felt it like a powerful psychic attack on his mind. It was such a vast, potent release that he felt it almost as if it were a physical attack. The brilliant flash of white light made him seize back in his chair, and momentarily blinded him. He could feel the tension in his body, the tremors that ran through it as he fought to keep himself if control of his own powers under the physic onslaught of a mind much older and much more experienced than he could have ever comprehended. Before the light had fully dissipated, giving him back his vision, the tidal wave of memories hit his mind full force, flooding it and making him cry out in pain at the sheer overwhelming force of it all. He closed his eyes tightly, pressing the heels of his hands to them harshly and breathing shallowly though his nose, attempting deeper breaths to help oxygenate his brain and give him a chance to catch up and make sense of what he was receiving and seeing in his mind's eye.
He felt the tears come into his closed eyes unbidden and began rubbing his temples, forcing down the sob that tried to build in his throat as his breath hitched in his chest. Such a long life his Wolverine had had, full of so much pain, so much war and violence. He could see it all like watching a film, losing so many people who were important to him. Mother, the man he thought of and loved as a father. His first kill, accidental…the man who mostly likely was his actual father. Being raised by a man who was most likely his brother, but who never had his compassion, his sanity even. Lovers lost along the way, more than any man should have to lose. A wife, but only the one, lost with his only child in an influenza outbreak that he couldn't die from no matter how much he wanted to. War after war, battle after battle, allowing himself to become something less than human just to feel something. Even a berserker rage was better than feeling nothing when confronted with the worst the humanity had to offer over and over again.
And then in the midst of so very many long years, a brief, shining moment of peace, love, and the joy of complete acceptance and companionship. Also, right in the middle of a war, and yet…And yet through the lens of Logan's memories most of his participation in World War II was bathed in a golden light. And nothing, no one, shone more brightly than Steven Rogers, Captain America himself. It was these memories of Steven Rogers that Charles could almost feel, they were so strong. The simple, sweet contentment that Logan had found in the middle of some of the worst atrocities that man had ever committed against man. In some ways, knowing what he did about the time, knowing what he did about the way the Jewish people, Erik, had been treated, murdered by the millions, he wanted to resent Logan. Why should he have had so much in the middle of such brutality?
But, he could not. How could he feel resentment when such peace, in a lifetime of war, had been one of his children's? A peace that he'd never felt in Logan, in his time with him or in any of the memories they had been able to uncover. And the strongest memory…Charles felt a swell of bittersweet happiness for his Wolverine when it was so simple a thing. A leave in the French countryside. A farmhouse that had long been abandoned but was perfect for The Howling Commandos. So many empty rooms. Fireplaces that they could chop wood for to keep warm and a well that they could draw water from to wash their uniforms and have a real bath for the first time in weeks. Logan hadn't been with them long. He and Victor had been separated by orders for a couple of weeks and he had stumbled into saving the good Captain's life. He'd been drawn to Steve's goodness, his light. Steve had offered him a place with The Commandoes and he'd taken it, wanting to see how other teams operated, desperate for something that was different than what he'd always experienced with Victor. He didn't recognize it until years later, but he'd been looking for a cause, needing to know there was more to war, more meaning, than simple and utter violence. He was no stranger to sex with both genders, but falling into bed with Steven a week after he'd joined the team, both of them needing release after the successful mission they'd run, had been a revelation. A simple man, a young man, an extraordinary man. Steve had changed everything that night. And in the few weeks between that first time and their leave passion had turned to respect, had turned to devotion, had turned to love. A love he'd never known before Captain America.
And that morning in the farmhouse…Captain America had been stripped bare, in more ways that one, until he was simply Steve. Neither if them had ever had any problems with modesty. At least not with each other. After making love Steve had fallen asleep nude and as the sun rose he was still so, on his stomach on the bed with its elaborate wire frame. He always took too much of the bed and he was in the exact center, a pillow clutched to in his arms, his tanned skin a stark contrast against the light blue sheets, especially when the sun slanted just so over him. He'd looked like a Greek Adonis. There'd been a small smile on his face until he'd opened sleepy blue eyes and spotted Logan. Then the smile had bloomed into something brilliant and Logan's knees had gone weak with the knowledge that this beautiful, absolutely good, impossibly young man seemed to love him just as much as he loved Steve. His disbelief and wonderment forced the sob Charles had been holding in out of his throat.
Another escaped when the next memory to slam into Charles' mind was the absolute and utter devastation of losing Steve to the ice. Not making it onto the plane with Steve. Saying goodbye to the man he loved over a radio, pretending that they would meet in the pub, trying to make it okay for the young man who was trying his hardest to be brave. The bravest man Logan had ever met. The physical pain that crushed Logan's heart when Steve said his goodbyes.
"James…There…I…"
"Don't even think about it, Steve. We'll figure something out."
"There's nothing to figure out, James. The fight…it destroyed the landing gear. If this thing goes down anywhere around a city a lot of people are going to die. There's too much fire power. Even if I managed to get it past the New York...I just…I can't take that chance. There's no one out here and maybe the water…Maybe the bombs won't…"
"Of course they won't, Steve. And you'll come have a victory drink with us at the pub. Hell, I'll even give you three days to get there."
"Good. I'll need it to trek through the snow. James?"
"Yeah, Steve?"
"I love you. You know that, right?"
"I know. I…I love you, too, bub."
"Don't call me b…"
Charles moaned and lowered his elbows to his knees to support his head. No wonder the man had gone feral and his mind closed off all of the memories. To know such peace and love after a lifetime of war only to have it taken away so suddenly, and without warning…it was enough to drive any person mad. There were more memories of course, but they seemed pale and dull in comparison.
"Professor…" Bobby's voice pulled him out of the loop Logan's memories had put him into, but the young man knew better than to touch him when he was so raw and he'd never been more grateful to the young man than when he handed him a glass of water and a damp cloth to wipe away tears and cool himself.
"Thank you, Bobby," he said after a moment, "Please, could both yourself and Kitty find all of the children with telepathic ability? Take them to Jean and Kurt in the Danger Room. We are going to treat this as a psychic attack and follow protocol. The children will be overwhelmed and scared. Some may have even collapsed in an effort to give their minds the time to process the information they were just given. Try not to touch them at all if you can help it. If it is unavoidable do not touch skin directly. Their shields will be down. Have Rogue help you."
"Of course, Professor," Kitty nodded and Charles could see her struggle not to reach out and touch him. The low level empathy she wasn't even aware of made her extremely tactile when those around her were in distress and it was difficult for her not to reach out for him. It was never something that he's thought they'd have to train up in her, but when she touched him at his encouraging nod and some of the pain automatically eased in his head, he realized that it was more than just a secondary mutation that didn't need training. They would have to address the talents as soon as possible. But, it was not something he wanted her actively attempting to use until it has been trained up a bit, so he patted and kissed the hand that had been set on his shoulder and sent his children on their way.
He took a moment to revel in the fact that they were growing so quickly and so very well, and then took a deep breath before following Logan's unique mental signature through the house. Maria, one of his youngest telepaths practically jumped into his lap, sobbing. He mentally called for Kurt and handed the little girl over as soon as his Nightcrawler appeared at his elbow.
"Oh, mein leibchen." Kurt murmured, letting the little one wrap her arms around his neck. Charles smiled at the man, so certain that he had no purpose just a year ago. He had found his place at the school, as guide, friend, and surrogate parent for the young ones. Charles was grateful to him. He gave Charles a gentle demon smile and was gone, taking Maria o the danger room where Jean would be waiting to help the children rebuild their shields. He would join them shortly, but first he had to find his Wolverine. He needed to make certain that what caused Logan's mind to release his memories was not going to be a danger to Logan or any of the others who lived in the mansion. It would not be unheard of for one of their enemies to use something one of them wanted against them. It had happened before.
But the joy he felt coming from Logan…It wasn't something that he thought could be fabricated. And the memories were real. He tried not to be a vain man, but he did know that he was the most powerful telepath on the planet. If he couldn't get the memories back for Logan than no one would have been able to do it. Logan would have to do it by himself. So, what could have possibly triggered it? It only took a moment more for Charles to locate Logan, out in front of the house. What he saw when he went through the open door made tears come anew into his eyes.
Logan knelt in the gravel, another man, a young man, knelt in front of him. They were running their fingertips gently over each other's faces as if they couldn't believe the other man was real. It only took a moment for Charles to realize who the young man in front of him was. This was Steven Rogers, Captain America himself, and the great love of Logan's life. Had he but known…had he but seen some little glimpse in Logan's memory of the man. Captain Rogers had been awake for three years. Judging from the thoughts coming off of him, he was just as in love with Logan as Logan was with him. They'd lost each other that day and they could have been together since the good Captain's awakening. Three years that Steven had suffered. He wasn't shielding himself at all and Charles could see the pain of not knowing where his…his James had died and been buried. How could he have known that his love had survived? But, so much for regrets. They were together now.
"James…James…" Steven was whispering over and over. Charles knew that he would be the only one to ever call Logan by that name.
"Steve…" Logan murmured, "God, I said goodbye to you. I said goodbye to you and it killed everything good in me for years. I forgot you, Steve. I forgot everything that made me a good man for so long. So long. Oh god, if I'd known…Steve, I would have come for you. Please believe me. I wouldn't have stopped. I would have found you." Logan ended on a sob, a sound that Charles had never thought to hear him make.
Steven shushed him gently, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, "I woke up and everything was different, everything had changed. I thought everyone was gone, or near it. Without you…I wanted to die if I couldn't be with you. I almost let myself be killed. And you were here all along. I would have come to you, James. You know it. I would have…"
"I love you, Steve."
"Oh, god," Steven wrapped his arms around Logan's strong body, "I love you, James. I dreamt about this moment for seventy years."
"No more dreaming," Logan wrapped his arms around Steven's back and cupped the back of his head in one of his large hands, "No more dreaming, sweetheart."
Charles knew the moment Steven and Logan's lips met would be one of his cherished memories. Something that he could take out and look at when times were hard. It calmed and settled both men until they were awash in a golden glow, much like Logan's memories of the war. Just their happiness was like a balm against his wounded mind and he opened it to the other telepaths on the grounds, hoping to soothe some of the unintentional hurts. Then, he turned to give the men their privacy. The happiness didn't fade and it took some time before he could sense that the men were ready to speak to him. When he turned around they were standing and Charles smiled at the picture they made.
Steven, golden and smooth as a Greek statue. Logan, rough and dark like a painting of a Wildman. Steven was like a man out of time. Crisp khakis and a plaid shirt with an old fashion leather bomber jacket over it. Logan in his customary white tank top and jeans, scuffed boots and a cigar loose in his free hand. The other was tightly grasping one of Steve's, their fingers entwined. They could not have been more different or more perfectly matched. Charles could feel the peace in them both.
"Chuck…" Logan sounded almost sheepish. Charles smiled. How many new emotions, new actions, would they see from their Wolverine now that he had the other half of his heart back? "This is Steve Rogers. He…"
Charles held up his hand to stop the mumbled words, "Captain Rogers will always be welcomed here, Logan. On his own merits."
"Really it's just Steve, sir…" Steven tried to interject. Charles lifted his hand again.
"It is your regard and affection for each other that will have him treated as family. Welcome to The Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, Steven. Welcome home."