"You ok there?"

It's growing dark outside and the air is chilly. Jamie hadn't been expecting anyone else would be out here. She takes a moment to think on whether she wants to bother responding. Puffs her cigar. Decides Anna's company wouldn't be so bad. Glances back at the older girl. "Yeah... M'fine."

The older girl comes up to sit next to her in the grass. "C'mon, Sugah, yah look like someone just ran over yah puppy. Wanna talk about it?"

Jamie just shrugs.

"She's not always like that." Anna says after a moment more.

Jamie turns to her, eyebrow raised in silent question.

"Sarah. She's not always like that. Or at least, she wasn't always. Most everyone around here really likes her, but I'm not surprised the pair o' yah are just rubbin' each other in all the wrong ways, she's gotten harder to put up with recently."

"Nah, she just thinks I'm after somethin' that belongs to her, that's all." Jamie explains. "S'not true, but..."

"Is it? Not true?" Anna prods, gentler now. "Jake's a nice boy, maybe a little too nice. He'll go awful far out of his way to please that girl, we've all seen it. You wouldn't be the first to wonder if he deserves better."

Jamie scowls. "S'not my place to be wonderin' anythin'. I barely know 'im."

"He wants to get to know you, though." Anna points out reasonably. "And Ah can see why. You're both smart and awful mature for your age."

"Well, clearly he got his priorities straight again. End of story, now. Sides. If it's 'better' he deserves, he still doesn't belong with me, anyway."

"Bullshit."

Jamie looks at the other woman again, eyes wide in surprise.

Anna plows on. "There's ways to go about this fightin' fair, yah know."

"Fightin' fair? Stealin' another girl's man?" Jamie raises an eyebrow again.

"Good Lawd, if you don't look like your father!" Anna laughs, and reaches out a hand lightning quick to snatch the cigar from her fingers. "Alright, so maybe there's no way to fight completely fair, but Ah'm not yahr Mama, Ah'm yah friend, and Ah say fight anyway. Be careful how yah do it, but fight anyway. Sarah Summers has been in desperate need of some kind of whoopin' for a while now, you ask meh. Too much like her father, that girl." She brings the cigar to her lips and actually smokes the thing. "And yah're so much like yahr father, yahr probably the best person to go takin' her down a peg."

Jamie eyes up the casual way the older woman handles the cheap cigar, and remembers something. She's not even thinking about Sarah anymore. "Thank you. For - for earlier. My bed sheets. How'd you know about that, anyway?"

Any amusement fades from Anna's face in an instant. She suddenly looks deeply saddened. "Ah knew that look you had in yah eyes." She says, gentler now. "Nothin' Sarah said or did could've had a girl young as you lookin' so haunted. Ah can't know what yah went through before yah got here, Sugah, but yah should know yah not alone anymore. There's plenty of people here willin' to help yah. Includin' me..and yah father. We'll be here when yah ready." She steals another drag from the cigar and hands it back, planting a sisterly kiss on Jamie's temple, and quietly leaves the younger girl to her thoughts again.

...

Logan. About 17 years ago. New York state.

It used to be he enjoyed it, working the cages like this.

These days, he doesn't really start finding enjoyment in anything until he gets down enough whiskey to start his head to feelin' kinda funny. Working the cages, therefore, is only a means to an end now, because his drug of choice is expensive in the amount he needs it, though it is easily obtained.

He shows off a bit, makes it look good, collects what he's earned, and leaves. There's a mutant-friendly hole in the wall not too far away, and the barkeep there never questions it when Logan tells him to leave the bottle three times over. He slams the drinks down in rapid shots, scans the place for the usual barflies, and is rarely left disappointed by the time he's good and drunk.

The routine is always the same, too. Drink, drink, drink until the sharp edges of the world turn pleasantly blurry. Seal the deal with the barfly on his arm by that time, it's never too hard, she's probably drunk too. Take her to the usual cheap ass motel. Drink some more, screw her silly, wake up well before she does in most cases, and head back to the mansion - hopefully before anyone important wakes up and realizes he was gone again...

Get through the day running Danger Room sessions. Rinse and repeat and rinse and repeat and...

Hank warns him. Even with your impressive regenerative capabilities, you're likely not immune to this sort of affliction.

He ignores the good doctor, thinking it'll be like any other time. He figures he'll keep the routine up a while and be ok within a few months. He may not forget her, he never forgets the ones his heart belonged to for a while, but he always manages to move on after a few months.

Except...except this time is different. A few months come and go. And then a few more. And then...

He can't. He can't let it go. Because this time...this time things were different. This time the woman isn't dead. She's very much alive. And to top it off, she's carrying his kit. The more time passes, the more the urge in him grows. He can't..he can't...he needs to go after her...he needs...

He tells himself it's the opposite of selfish, letting her go, but that's a lie from the start. It's easier. It may take longer this time, but he will get over it, and somewhere she'll cut out a corner of the world for her and the kit to live in peace and they'll be safe. He's got a long list of decently dangerous people he's managed to piss off some way or another, and they have a knack for catching him up. If he tracks Joanie down it could just become an endless cycle of him constantly having to defend her and the kit. Which he could do. But doesn't she deserve better? That's what he tells himself to justify it, anyway.

Before he knows it, it's been a whole year. The kids been born by now. Joanie's so far in the wind even he'd have hard time of it trying to track her down. And he's spent so much time in the bottle...

Hank was right. He can't just put it back down again. He's as hooked on the devil juice as he is on the smokes. It's not the first time it's happened, sure, but...

But then there's that one night.

He doesn't remember what happens. He just remembers finally coming to the next morning, still drunk off his ass but beginning to sober up, facing a room full of kids geared up for a Danger Room session. They're all staring at him, wary and unsure, and the professor's giving him a dressing down right in front of them.

Xavier later apologizes for losing his temper as it's hardly something he's prone to doing very often, but doesn't give Logan an option either. And it's understandable. Logan packs up what little things he has and leaves without a fuss. The professor's right. He's become a complete souse, though maybe not a hopeless one. He just needs...

There's over half a dozen empty bottles littering his truck when he gets in it. His first thought at the sight of them is that Joanie would be so disappointed, but this just makes him all the thirstier for more of the stuff.

He gets in his truck and just drives, and proceeds to spend near a decade wandering his way around from cage to cage and drink to drink until he comes across a certain sassy, American Southern runaway...

...

Carol James. Present Day. New York state.

Weeks more pass before she's thrown out of the routine she'd settled into - Jack has to leave. Won't say why, and his 'goodbye' is a hurried one. Though, she feels special enough for getting one at all when she wakes the next morning to find that no one else had even known he was gone.

It's not that she doesn't have anyone else. To even think it would seem unfair to Tash and Jake, who have been trying hard to help her feel like she can make a different sort of home out of the mansion. It's just that Jack was the only one she'd managed to get totally comfortable around. With Tash...the friendship is so new, and she doesn't quite understand Jamie the way Jack does. And Jake, well, Jake is trying, but they have to dance around Sarah to get any time together, and it's taxing.

Tash can sense some of Carol's mood swings, sure, and Jake knows what it means to be feral. But Carol can't shake the feeling that she's a little...just, different. She wants to be able to let her guard down around them, but there's too many reasons why she just can't yet.

So she's forced to resign herself for a while.

She starts sneaking down to the Danger Room, late at night when no ones awake. Or, at least, nobody should be awake. Jack had given her access to some higher level simulations, ones he and Logan train with. (They take the safety protocols offline - he keeps them on for Carol and won't accept any arguements to the contrary). She enjoys the workouts, but it lacks something without a partner to spar with. The release just isn't there.

And then one evening...

He must've followed her down. But she never hears him. He's so big, she can't even begin to figure out how he can sneak like he does.

"Not too good at really listenin', are yah? I'm not even tryin' too hard. Might wanna work on that one, kid."

He's startled her so bad that she whirls around, fists already clenching as her claws start to slide their way down, a growl nearly tearing past her lips.

He doesn't seem too worried. Throws up his hands in casual surrender. "Take it easy. I, ah. I just thought maybe yah'd like someone to spar with now Jack's finally bailed out on us."

Blowing out a breath, Carol unclenches her fists, straightens herself up some to study him. "How long've you known?"

"That you've been comin' down here at ungodly hours of the night?" He raises an eyebrow, snorting. "Weeks. You're not bad at sneakin' around, but yah got a long way to go if yah want to get past the Wolverine."

She snorts, scowling. "I have Ms. Munroe's permission..."

"I know you do. Already said, I ain't here to scold yah. Just offerin' some company."

"Why?" She snaps back, feeling petulant.

He only raises an eyebrow. "You want someone to spar with or not?"

She does. She really does, and he's offering so readily... "Yeah. Sure. Why not?"

They slip into the Danger Room. Carol bites at her lip some, fidgeting with her shirt and refusing to really look at Him.

Jesus. She really just does not want to do this.

He clears his throat. "You wanna pull up a scenario, or...? Which ones did Jack show you, anyhow?"

"Couple of the ones he trains with, ones you use too he says."

"He tells me your not bad in a fight."

Carol shrugs. "Not like it's that hard to throw a punch, I guess."

There's a bit of a pause. He looks thoughtful almost. "Well, lets just go then."

She raises an eyebrow at him (God, it mirrors his own expression just perfect and she knows it). "Just...?"

He rolls his shoulders a bit and drops into a basic fighting stance, fists up. "Just come at me. Lets see what you've got, kid."

Carol snorts, feeling an almost angry defiance, though she doesn't know why. She certainly doesn't feel any pressing need to earn his approval...something about his demeanor just has her automatically feeling defensive. LIke she feels when someone dares to use 'half pint' or something like it on her. But she refuses to be baited that easily. "I got nothin' to prove to you, old man."

He shakes his head. "Aw, Jesus - Joanie's right." There's amusement coloring his tone. "Never could'a been a question who's daughter you are. Not with that mouth."

"You've been talkin' to my Ma." Carol observes. There's an edge to her tone. She can't help it.

"Take it easy. She's been comin' to find me to talk. I'm not pushin' for anythin' but you'd know better than anyone what Joanie's like when she wants somethin'."

"Wants something." The anger. Why is she angry? "She never even mentioned your damn name...and now suddenly you think she wants you?"

An there goes the eyebrow again. He doesn't seem too terribly bothered by the warning in Carol's tone. "Look, kid -it's not as simple as you wanna think, alright, it was -"

"No, you look, old man. You don't get to not even really exist to us for like seventeen years and then try to - just - you can't..."

"Can't what?" He's scowling now, as though he's annoyed. "I told you, Joanie came to me, and considering the fact you're here now, I highly doubt my existence was ever in quesiton to her. You talk to her like that, too?"

He keeps calling her - only family calls her mom Joanie, family and real close friends, no one elses uses that name on her mother, damnit Carol's seeing red, how dare he make it sound like...just, how dare he?

With a primal sort of noise that borders on being some sort of growl, Carol tears forward with fists up and swings one right at him. She catches him right in the jaw, hard enough his jaw should break like her fingers do. She barely feels the pain, but does clock the bruise on his scruffy cheek that's already speeding through the process of healing itself, as well as the expression on his face.

Suprise. She's genuinely suprised him. With only confirms her early assumption that he'd been thinking what everyone thinks when they first see her. That she doesn't look like much. And this just makes her all the angrier, though it's entirely irrational.

He's dipped back into his own stance now, too, though. At first her moves are all fueled by nothing but rage and there's very little skill involved, so he's clearly just allowing her to use him as a punching bag because he can take the hits. Once this realization penetrates the fog in her brain, she pulls back some and starts using some of her Warehouse-Big-Ring moves.

A smirk creeps across his face. And now they dance.

The moves she uses are far different from his. She's smaller and has to compensate for what she lacks in height and weight, meaning her hits have to be placed differently. But she recognizes his style, too.

His style...

Oh. Shit. He's fought too. In a cage. Like she has. Oooh. She understands now. The smirk on his lips, that smugness. He's enjoying this.

She comes at him faster, throwing everything she's got into it. Everything. Sweat drips down her face, her clothes are soaking through with it.

"Damn." He grunts, his voice a primal growl. "C'mon then, half pint. Impress me."

She lets the anger over-take her. Wash over her in waves, heat her blood to boiling, send another waterfall of adrenaline coursing through her veins. Pours all the frustration of the last few weeks into one last push at him, raining down a rapid fire flurry of blows to his midsection before finally dipping down in the move that's her absolute favorite - swing a leg out in a roundhouse kick and sweep his knees out from under him. He lands hard, caught of gaurd, the thud of his knees hitting the floor sounding oddly metallic she would remember later. And then she sends her fist flying straight at his nose.

It never makes it.

Breathing heavy, she's stuck for a moment, frozen, totally uncomprehending.

His eyes have flushed with gold to match hers. The smirk is gone. His massive hand sits suspended just before his face, covering her tiny fist. He'd caught her mid-swing, and Jesus, he's strong.

It's not enough to quite penetrate the fog, though. Snarling with rage, she tugs at her own arm, trying to pull free...he shifts, gets to his feet, backs her up until she's against the wall. He towers over her. Absolutely dwarfs her. Could probably snap her body right in half like a twig if he wanted, but he doesn't, of course. He just holds her in place, and to spite the gold still dominating his eyes, he's in perfect control, and his voice is much quieter. A clear command, but a gentle one. "Easy, kitling. That's enough. Come on back, now."

The thing inside her, whatever had just taken over her, it stares up at him, into the gold eyes to which hers are a perfect mirror. And then...and then it retreats, quiet and respectful. Carol relaxes, breathing heavy. "I-I...I'm sorry, I..."

He lets her go, backing up a few steps to give her some space. "Don't apologize. How do you feel now?"

Her thoughts are growing clearer. The anger that had been settled like a bomb in her belly for days on end is finally dispersing. "Better." She murmurs. "I needed that."

"I know."

"Thank you."

"Any time, kid." He meets her eyes; it's a promise.

Shaking her head, she slips past him, and he trails her out of the Danger Room.

"So." Carol says, glancing at him when he keeps pace with her walking down the hallway. "We..going to talk about you and my mom? Or..what?"

He raises an eyebrow at her. The expression suggests he's having a hard time figuring her out. "She was young. I was..well, younger than I am."

"One night stand, then."

"Watch it." His tone is more a warning than the words themselves, as is the hint of annoyance that tinges his scent. "For your information, it was much more than a one night stand."

"Oh, really? She never even told me your name, sounds pretty fling-ish to me."

"I said watch it." His voice lowers this time, becomes an almost-growl. Carol glances sharply at him in return, but doesn't hold his gaze. She has no wish to challenge him again; she's no match for him anyway, and she's exhausted now. He stops them at the elevator leading up stairs, urges her inside, and then hits the emergency stop button, locking them up there. "My brother's always had some screwy ideas in his head and there was an... an incident. It scared Joanie when she realized she was gonna have you, so she ran, and because part of me didn't blame her, I grit my teeth and didn't chase her. Hardest damn decision I ever had to make, spent a long time drinkin' myself stupid and pickin' fights where I didn't need to just to keep her off my mind. Couldn't put the bottle down again, even ended up gettin' my sorry ass kicked out of the Mansion for a long while. Now whether you believe all that or not is your problem, but if you're really mine you'd smell a lie if I was telling it."

She doesn't. Looks up at him, studying him, expression carefully schooled to give none of her mixed emotions away. "Well. Alright then."

He nods, and damned if the look on his face isn't a perfect mirror of the one she knows she's wearing. "Alright then." He starts the elevator again.

Carol turns away, stares ahead at the glossy metal doors for a fraction of a moment as she pulls out her ponytail and rakes nervous fingers through her hair. "...the hell are we even supposed to do with this?"

He blows out a breath, raking his fingers through his hair and down to rub at the back of his neck nervously. "Damned if I know."

The elevator dings, the doors slide open. She steps out casually and wanders off down the hallway.

"...hey, and watch your mouth, will yah, kid?"

She fires back in an instant, not missing a single beat in the silence of the deserted corridor. "Go fuck yourself, old man."

...

They don't touch. The tension is there. The need for it, intense, almost desperate in both of them. But they don't touch, they can't. Not yet. It's been simply too long, so much has happened, Joan isn't a child anymore, Logan had grown so used to being surrounded by people and yet so lonely...they don't know how to do this anymore.

So they just...walk instead. And talk some. Well, at first it was only 'some'. But her tongue had loosened fairly quickly - as it always had - and he couldn't help but to follow her lead. She tells him everything about herself as she is now, all the new things there are to know, about all her boyfriends and the marriage that had ended in disaster. And slowly he finds his own tongue and does the same.

The one thing they can't seem to make themselves talk about, the one thing they flat out avoid, is Logan's mini-me.

The morning after Logan baits the kid into a sparring session, though, he suddenly finds that she's all he wants to talk about.

It's early morning, Saturday. Few of the others occupying the large mansion have even halfway begun to stir yet, which is why it had seemed to perfect time for the pair to go walking.

"It's such a beautiful morning." She murmurs, quiet, not wanting to disrupt the peaceful stillness they're surrounded by.

"Yeah. Almost as beautiful as you. But then, there ain't much that is, so it's still impressive I s'ppose." He answers, straight faced.

She blushes, glancing at him bashfully. "Oh. Hush, you."

He allows a smile to just tug at the corners of his lips. For a moment they keep walking in comfortable silence, but he can't stop thinking about the kid. Something's eating at him, something...well, to hell with it. "Hey. Ah, Joanie, I..."

Brows furrowing, she pauses and turns to look at him, still able to read him like an open book. "What's wrong?"

"We..need..to talk. Erm. About, ah, the kid. About..." It's still so strange to think of her as his, the name she now goes by doesn't want to leave his lips too easy. "About Jamie."

Surprise registers. But she doesn't miss a beat. "Well - alright."

"Thing is." He hesitates, blows out a breath, brings a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. "Thing is, she's...she's such a fireball."

"I know she's a handful." Joan says, defensiveness creeping into her tone as though she's a little too used to repeating those words back to people.

"Well, that was inevitable." He answers, gentler. "Mean, you should'a seen the kinda hell my brother and I used ta raise...but that's the thing. Vic and I both had our reasons for - for being the way we are. Carol's grown up so different, but...she's got all this rage just the same. I don't get where it comes from."

"I've always figured she's just..young. Feral mutants are known to be a restless bunch." She sounds like she's trying for teasing, but the half-smile that accompanies the words never reaches her eyes.

Logan shakes his head. "That's true, but this is something else. She beat Jack in a cage match, and Jack's sure as hell no lightweight. Held her own against Victor too, albeit not for too long, and one could argue he and I are old and gettin' a little slower. But that still takes more than anything just being feral gave her, her combat skills are too rough. No, she's pissed off at the world over somethin', and I'm worried..."

"Logan. Just come out with it."

He scowls. "Hey - you know, you never called me that. Before."

She sighs, sounding exasperated. "That was before. Logan is what most everyone else called you, what everyone here calls you now. So Logan you are. Now, what about my daughter has you worried?"

He winces. My daughter. There's a wall there now, and he's afraid he'll never be able to break it down. Worse, he's afraid he'll never fully be worthy of it again. But that's a different discussion, and it can wait. "Tell me more about her stepfather." He decides on a different approach, and is careful to keep any of his personal feelings on the matter out of his tone of voice. "You said he disappeared, what happened there?"

"Well..." She bites at her lip, fretful. "Truthfully, that's something that's been a bother to me for some time as well. He did disappear, quite abruptly. At first we thought he'd just been driving drunk, took a wrong turn down some back road or something. He was a city boy and was terrible at navigating to begin with. But I have to admit that never sat right with me. They did find his car sometime later, sunk in a river, but no body. So the presumption was that he was running from something. But I can't imagine what he'd have been running from, and he wouldn't have just ghosted us like that, not if what happened that night is anything to..." She trails off oddly, as though she'd startled herself by saying too much. "...well, just, he wasn't about to just let me go."

But the way she avoids eye contact now tells Logan all he needs to know. "So we know he's dead?" He asks, fighting a bit to keep his tone under control and school his expression even as his animal howls with rage at the implications, the thought of anyone laying a hand on his mate in such a way, and then guilt washes out all else because what had Logan himself been doing at the time? Wandering aimlessly through Canada with a bottle constantly in one hand and a barfly's ass in the other, that's what.

"Yes." Joan answers, blissfully oblivious. "Officially he's just kind of in the wind, but I know he's dead. He must be."

Good, Logan thinks, that'll save me the hassle of finishing that job off myself. "So Jamie. How did all that affect her, then?"

"Well, I'm not sure, I mean she..." Joan's brows furrow. "She found me that night, after...she came in and saw me a mess. I'd wanted a divorce, she saw the papers on the table. She hated him to start. The pair never got along, I feel terrible for that now more than ever. She tried to warn me. Her instincts were telling her what bad news he was, she could smell the vodka always on his breath, but couldn't explain that to me without telling me about her mutation I suppose, and she was too afraid to at the time. She was only fourteen, God, I wish I'd listened to her."

"Hey." Logan can't help this time. An almost growl rumbles beneath the words. "Don't, Joanie. It ain't your fault, and I don't think she blames you." She scrubs a tear away, takes a breath, nods. He plows on. "But this may be more important than you realize. What else happened that night?"

Joan closes her eyes. "Oooh, it's a bit of a blur from there on out, I'm afraid. Carol stormed back out the door without another word and I was in such a state I just...I downed nearly a whole bottle of wine. She came back...oh, at some point that night. I don't recall much else until she woke me up again later that next morning, telling me she'd fixed breakfast."

"So you don't know when she came back that night, then?" Logan prods. There's a theory beginning to form itself there. A nasty theory.

"Well, no."

"And you're certain the bastard that beat you is dead?"

"I feel it in my bones, if I'm honest. Yes. He's dead. I'm not sure where Carol went that night. She's always been good at making friends in pretty low places, she'd already come home high on multiple occasions, had me worried sick about it all the time, she could've been off doing any number of things."

"Didn't you ever ask her?"

"Well, yes, many times." Joan shrugs. "But her answer was always the same. She was at a friends. Even admitted to getting high that night, but she insists she never saw him."

Silence. Logan starts walking again, tugging a cigar out of his jacket pocket and clenching it up between his teeth to chew it thoughtfully. Joan keeps pace with him, her expression a fretful mix of down turned lips and furrowed brows. "You think...you think she did see him?" She asks at length.

Logan takes his time answering, choosing his words with care before he snatches the cigar out of his mouth. "I think she loves her mother to a fault and is extremely protective. It doesn't seem like her, even from what little I know of her, to just leave you like that. Not just to run off and get high. She may have been telling a half truth, but..but she left something out. I'd bet on it. She knows what happened to him.'"

"She was different. After that night. Something about her was... Something behind her eyes had changed, and I never could put my finger on what. Or..maybe I just never wanted to identify it. I don't..."

"I'll do the asking, if you want." Logan offers. "I'm already the bad guy, it ain't like things could get worse there."

"No." Joan shuts that idea down quick. "No, I'll ask her. This is my battle, and I should've fought it long ago. I've put if off long enough."

He only nods in response. He lights the cigar, and they continue walking in thoughtful silence.

...

"Jamie."

"Hey Ma!" Jamie chimes, happy, her eyes full of a playful light. She's in the rec room, crowded around a Foosball table with some other students, including Dr. McCoy's spitting image of a son. The game seems to be a rousing one.

Joan hesitates. She doesn't want to do this to her daughter, especially when she looks so free for once, but this can't wait any longer. It just...can't. "Come walk with me, sweetheart. We need to talk."

Jamie's smile fades, but only a little. "Ugh. Four scariest words in the English language, I swear to God." She jokes a bit to her friends, who all laugh and jeer at her good naturedly. "See yah guys later, then!" The seventeen year old bounces over and loops an arm through her mothers. "Ok. What's up, Ma?"

She's never seen her daughter this way. Confident and so relaxed, like someone finally found the 'attitude' switch inside her hard head and was kind enough to turn it to 'off'. "I love you, my Munchkin. No matter what, you know that, right?"

Jamie's brows crease in worry. "Well - yeah, Ma, I know that." She wraps her arms around the older womans shoulders. "I love you, too, you're the best. Is something wrong?"

Joan leads the girl to grab a jacket and then outside, into the chilly evening air of a mid November afternoon, and keeps them walking so they won't be overheard. "I'm - I've got to ask you something. You're not gonna want to answer but...but I need to know, Jamie."

Jamie tenses. Visibly. Her eyes lose the playful light in them, grow harder, wary. "Mom..."

"I've put it off long enough."

"Please don't tell me..."

"It's just, I'm not the only one that's noticed now, how off the whole thing was."

"Mother." Her daughters voice lowers in a way that anyone else might find dangerous. "You bring this up every year at least once, and the anwsers still the same, I don't know what you -"

"Carol James!" Joan snaps. Really snaps. Barks. "I want you to tell me the absolute truth for once in your short life. I know it eats at you, it must if I didn't even have to explain for you to know what I was getting at. What happened that night?"

"I told you. I've told you like a hundred times. I was with T. We got high, I came home and found you passed out, I threw a blanket over you and then went to my room. End of story."

"But...but I got a text later that night. I don't remember anything past..but I know I got that text."

Jamie's tone grows angrier. "I told you, I never sent any-!"

"Jamie!" Joan cuts her off, raising her own voice. "Stop. You're lying and I know it, you've lied about so many other things. You promised me you'd start telling the truth!"

Tears. Just two of them. They trail a singular track down each of Jamie's cheeks. "I wasn't...I just, I wasn't sure either of us was ready for this." She shakes her head. "But fine. I guess you're right anyway. He was at that old bar he liked to go to. The, ah, the one just up the road from where he crashed your car that time. I knew that's where he'd be. So, so I went there to..." Here she shrugs. "Hell. I don't know what I was thinkin'. But I waited until the place closed and he came stumblin' out. He was drunk. Really, stupidly drunk, and he, uhm. He pulled a knife on me." She won't look her mother in the eye. She's stuttering some, but her voice ultimately remains steady. "So - so it was self defense. That's all."

Joan's blood runs cold. Her heart skips a beat, and her throat closes up as though she'd just swallowed drain cleaner. She can't speak anymore.

Jamie plows on. "I really was with T that night. She brought me out there. And don't..don't go blamin' her for any of it. I told her what he'd done to you, that's all, she understood I had to do this myself. I just wasn't expecting it to end the way it did. But the way his stomach was all tore up - the wounds wouldn't have matched any kind of knife or other weapon. They might've found out what I am and then...I was scared, that's all. So I called T back and she came and helped me clean it up and just, fix it I guess. Gave me some pills to slip to you, you made that part easier cause you were passed out cold when I came home." Now she looks Joan in the eye, and there's a hardness behind hers that makes her look far older than her seventeen years. God, it makes her look like her father. "I'm sorry, for that part. The way I covered it up, I'm sorry I did that to you, I really am, but I'm not sorry about him. He..he had it coming. One way or another, I know he had it coming."

Joan just shakes her head. Her first thought is that her daughter is absolutely right. Her second thought is that this is the most genuinely screwed up answer she could ever have imagined getting from her daughter. And any thoughts after that...

"Ma." Jamie's voice wavers this time, just a bit. "Say somethin'. Please. Anything."

But Joan...Joan has nothing to say. Nothing. She brings a hand up to brush it tenderly against her daughters cheek, shakes her head, and walks away.

...

Jamie's off in the woods again. Logan finds her a couple hours later, long after they'd all watch Joanie slip out to her car and leave (without saying a single word to anyone). She's sat with her back to a tree, smoking a cigar she'd obviously stolen from him, but he's not even angry. She isn't generally prone to such low levels of basic teenage delinquency as stealing like that. She's feeling reckless for a reason, and that's what worries him.

Her eyes are speckled with gold. He takes in a breath and pulls the Wolverine a good ways to the surface, enough that she'll sense him. Not to intimidate this time, but to put them on equal terms. He wants nothing more than for her to understand that he'll understand.

"Your Ma's gone."

"Mm." A grunt. That's all the acknowledgement she gives.

"It's gettin' dark."

"Mm." Her animal is floating too close to the surface.

"And it's gonna rain. You should get inside, kid."

Just a shrug this time.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Fuck no." Well. At least she's using her words.

"Yah just gotta give her time."

"Yeah. Time to figure how much she hates me."

He rolls his eyes. "If there was one thing I ever knew about your mother, it's that the woman doesn't have a mean bone in her body. She wouldn't know how to hate someone even if they deserved it." He points at her when her mouth opens as if to reply. "Which you don't. So stop thinkin' it."

"How do you know?" Her tone is petulent.

He scrubs a hand over the stubble that generously coats his cheeks and chin, praying for patience on the off chance there's a god listening that cares (not that he thinks it's likely). "Tell me what happened." He demands instead of answering. "I mean, you killed him." She winces. But with this kind of thing there's just no point in trying to sugar coat shit. "Sounds like he deserved it but that probably doesn't make you feel that much better. Was it an accident?"

She shrugs. "Maybe kind of. I mean. I hadn't intended to..to do it. He was just, a pretty big guy, and really drunk."

"So he was a threat."

"I mean, once he pulled the knife on me, yeah. He was decently a threat... or, I mean, he would've been definitely a threat to anyone else."

Wolverine takes further control at what she's implying. "Mm. Having our gift doesn't change the facts. He he had a weapon. Yah weren't expectin' it. He was big. You were a pup. He became a threat. You defended yerself."

Silence for a moment, and then she scowls. "Gifts? Who decided that? To call them gifts? The idiot who first said that clearly didn't know what the hell he was talkin' about."

A voice echoes in his head. Joanie's voice. You're not an animal, James. His gruff old heart is cracking, but he schools his expression with care and allows the Wolverine to remain in more control. "Without them you might very well have been killed by your stepfather." He says quietly. "Bein' able to survive like that don't always feel like a gift, I know. Trust me, I know. But really, whether it is or not...it depends on what you make of it, that's all."

She sniffles. He smells the salty tears gathering in her eyes; she turns away quickly and puts the near-forgotten cigar out against the tree behind her to cover it. "You know what's the worst? I don't even remember it. I just remember seein' the knife. And I could feel my heart poundin' and my ears were ringin' and I was just so scared and angry, I like, blacked out I guess. And then...and then when I came to he was slumped against that stupid little sports of car of his and there was blood everywhere."

"Sounds like something to be thankful for, if you ask me." Logan points out.

"I mean, part of me is. But part of me feels like..." She trails off, raking a hand through her hair. The gold in her eyes fades some.

Realization dawns instantly. Logan finishes it for her gently. "Like you deserve to have the memory. As punishment."

"Yeah. Somethin' like that, I guess."

"The universe may not be so kind the next time things get a little messy. Just be thankful it cut you some slack that time."

She nods, and swipes an arm over her cheeks. Takes a breath. "Did..did my Mom say where she was going?"

"No. But she's only been gone just over an hour, I'm not worried yet. Let her sort herself out."

Thunder. It's been rumbling distantly for at least an hour but now it rolls across the sky just above them, accompanied by a flash of lightning.

Logan holds out a hand to help the kid up. She seems to contemplate him a moment, but excepts it. He reaches out to pluck a twig out of her hair, raising an eyebrow.

She shrugs. "I ran for a while."

He laughs. "C'mon. You hungry?"

"Honestly? I'm starving."

"I know just where to go."

...

"So where'd you learn to fight like that?"

They're at a diner now, a greasy spoon of a place that serves burgers that are near as big as Jamie's head. "Friend taught me." She shrugs it off, popping a french fry into her mouth.

"Uh-huh. And, ah, just where would a rich girl like you be going to make friends like that?"

She rolls her eyes. "Anywhere that wasn't home at the time. Not that it's your business."

"Fair enough." He he goes back to munching on his own food, but continues with a more conversational tone. "It's just I think I recognized a few of those moves you were pulling."

"Hm."

"In fact, some years ago I think I fought a guy up in Canada that had the same style. He was just a kid then, prob'bly your age, he'd be almost thirty now. Looked Native as hell. Mohawk, tattoos."

Jamie's brows furrow. "In a cage. Your were fighting cage matches."

There's a smirk pulling at Logan's lips now. That eyebrow raises. "And now my only questions is, does your mother have any idea that's what you were doing?"

"I-I..she..she knows, I mean..."

"That's a no."

"Well, no, she knows. I just..might've made a promise there that I..." She brings a hand up to rub at the back of her neck.

"Ain't too sure yah'll keep?" Look chuckles. "Can't say I'd blame you. Anyway, she can't be makin' that big a deal out of it, ain't she told yah yet how she met me?" (A little voice in the back of his head whispers that it's a huge fucking deal because she's just a pup and he'd had no part in bringing her up but god she's so much like him, so much, too much, she needs guidance but won't accept it what is he supposed to do with this?)

He has no idea, but he knows what he won't be doing. He won't be running away again.

She only shakes her head.

He rolls his eyes, still not missing a beat. "Right. Course not. Well, we only met because she snuck out of the house with a bunch of other girls to this place called the Warehouse. God knows what the hell they thought they were doin'. She got seperated somehow, ended up surrounded by a bunch of dirtbags who just wouldn't let her alone. Tryin' to shove drinks down her throat. I went over and told them to take a hike and, well...don't know what the hell she really saw in me. But she saw somethin', cause here we are."

Laughter. Peals of it. It bubbles up her throat and she just can't hold back.

"What the hell's so funny?"

"The Warehouse? My Mom...met you...at the warehouse...where you were fighting in the cages?"

"Yeah. I mean, s'not the most romantic story ever told, but..."

"No, but..but that's where I've been going! Like two or three times a week for three years. Freakin' A, dude. Seriously. That's great."

Logan's eyebrows shoot up. "The Warehouse? That's where you've been..."

Jamie just shrugs.

"Well. That explains some things." (Explains her rough-n-ready fighting style and attitude and partly that mean look she can get in her eyes and fuck, he needs to do something, needs to make sure she -)

"I just wish I could find someplace like that down here." She laments.

"Aw, c'mon, kid. Yah got it made over at the school here, don't yah? Why would yah wanna go lookin' for that kinda trouble now?"

"It's boring as hell!" She fires back. "We're barely allowed to go anywhere without a literal babysitter."

"Things down here aren't the same as where you lived up north, kid." He tries to explain. "A lots happened down here in the past decade or so and not everyones as willing to be friendly to folks like us who are a little different. 'Ro keeps a tight leash on you guys cause she just doesn't want anythin' happening to you."

"Yeah, well, I still ain't like the rest of them over there." Jamie answers, hard now. "I can watch my own back just fine."

That's a little too true. It dawns on Logan just suddenly. Joanie's smart, but a little scatter brained, and always had a tendency to be a little too trusting. She wanted to believe everyone was basically decent at heart and clearly hadn't given up on that even after being beaten by the man she'd married.

The kid could probably absolutely watch her own back well enough. She'd been watching her own back and her mother's for years already.

"Here's the thing." He starts, trying harder than usual to choose his words. "You need someone to be pissed off at, be pissed off at me. I should've chased yahr ma down, I easily could've, but I didn't. Yah got every right to hate me for that. But you don't have to watch yahr own back anymore. You've got friends for that and people like 'Ro. Don't go keepin' all the wrong people at arms length just because that's what yahr used to doing. Yah're too young to be headin' where that'll lead yah in life."

She sits back in her seat and crosses her arms, thinking maybe, studying him. "Why did you? Just let my ma go?"

The truth hurts. He decides to give it to her anyway. "I was...I was scared as she was. With decently good reason, but not good enough. I ran away with my tail between my legs, kid. That's all there is to it."

She nods, as though she suspected this would be the answer. Kids smarter than she pretends to be. "You tell her that?"

"Ah." He trails a hand up to rake it through his hair, sheepish now. "Conversation hasn't come up yet."

Jamie snorts. "Stop to think maybe you should've brought it up by now, old man?"

He sighs. "Cut it out, kid. It's not your job."

"What?"

"Protecting her. Watching her back like that. S'not your job. It never should've been."

"Yeah. Well. Someone had to do it."

I'm sorry, kid. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm... The words won't leave his lips. It won't do him any good and he knows it and he doesn't deserve her forgiveness anyways. "Well that someone doesn't have to be you anymore. Yahr free now, kid, and Joanie worries about you. I know it's a hard concept to suddenly get used to, but try."

She nods, and goes back to picking at her probably cold french fries. "Hates a strong word." She says quietly after a moment. "I hated my step-father and Wild Thing gutted him like a fish." Logan winces, but she goes on just casually. "You never seemed worth it to hate. I mean..I'm not tryin' to be nasty, it's just facts. You don't seem worth hating because you never did anything to me and Ma 'n I survived just fine on our own. And you're right. I love Ma to death but it's not my job to protect her. You wouldn't hurt her like my step-father did, I can tell that much, so do what you want, old man, the rest is up to her."

He has so many more things to say. But she won't want to hear any of them, so he just shrugs. "Fair 'nough."

They don't do much more talking after that.

...

"Hey, 'Ro. Got a minute?"

"Of course. What's on your mind, Logan?"

Logan brings a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. "I think...you should ask Jamie about joinin' the X-Men."

Ororo freezes for a moment, staring at him incredulously. "You're..actually suggesting...? She'd make an excellent fit, I think, I just wasn't sure you'd approve."

"S'not my place to approve or disapprove of anything she does. I had no part in bringing her up. I'm just sayin' the girls gotta get better at playin' well with others. Joanie says she's too much like me, but she's young and can still learn. I think it'd be good for her."

"Her mother thinks so too. Interestingly enough, I just spoke with Joan about how best to approach your daughter with the idea."

"Good. I'd..just do it soon, if I were you. Kids gettin' restless."

"I'll keep that in mind. And Logan." She stops him before he can slip away. "She is your daughter. If she's open minded enough to be talking to you at all..well, I'd say that's a good sign. Don't give up hope. You've paid your penance, after all, a few times over I'd say."

"I gave up hopin' for good things a long time ago, 'Ro." He answers quietly. "I'm just tryin' not to screw things up any further. Let me know what the kid says. I'm..gonna disappear for a few days. Got some things to think through." The deal for some time has been that he can do this whenever he wants, as long as he lets 'Ro know first.

Ororo looks like she desperately wants to say something...but comes up and just plants a sisterly kiss on his cheek. "Don't be gone too long, this time."