Author's Note: Thanks JubesJunkie and tokyofox for the reviews and for Canucklehead Cowgirl and Wynterheart for following!

JubesJunkie: I think that's a great idea. I normally write a few chapters ahead, but I can already think of a place where Laura would easily fit into the story. I agree that she'd probably be a great help to Jubilee when things get tough.

tokyofox: Just bear with me! Things will begin to lighten up more and more each chapter (though there will be some rough spots throughout). The goal is to not just get back to the Wolvie-Jubilee relationship that we all love, but to take it even further. There will be some fun times to come. Thanks for the compliments and your patience.

Chapter 2

Logan slept soundly until about two o'clock the next afternoon. He pushed open the door to his room and peered in. Jubilee was asleep on her stomach, her features relaxed. He moved closer to the bed and frowned as he studied her. Her olive colored skin was closer to its natural hue, likely thanks to the blood she'd ingested the night before. Her hair hung half over her face, so he bent to brush it out of the way. She still had the same lithe figure she'd had when she was changed into a vampire, though she was clothed in one of his tee shirts and sweats that were too baggy for her. She had kicked the covers off of her at one point, so he pulled them over her again. He waited a moment to see if he had woken her. It was so easy to imagine she'd open her eyes, yell "Wolvie!" and pounce on him for a hug. That ain't likely to happen, he reminded himself. No matter how much time passed, he still found it easy to imagine that she'd just magically be her old self again. When she remained still, he turned and went back out to the main room. He had plenty of things to keep him occupied.

He decided not to wake her until it was nearly twilight, after a couple quick slices to his wrist, he placed a mug filled with blood next to the bed and said gruffly, "Food'll be ready in five."

She shifted beneath the covers, burrowing deeper under the pillows, faintly, he could hear her say, "The sun is still up. I can feel it."

"Yeah," he returned, "but it'll be down within the hour, so get yer feet under yer ass and get movin'." She just continued to ignore him.

He walked into the bathroom to retrieve her sodden clothing and the used towels. As he walked past the bed, he kicked the mattress, and she only grunted in response. "If you don't get up," he reminded her, "yer gonna be sluggish for the rest of the week. I don't wanna listen to yer bitchin', so get outta bed." When she flopped onto her back and opened one eye, he went out the door and kicked it closed behind him.

He dumped her clothes into the garbage and the towels into the laundry basket next to the stacked washer/dryer in one portion of the kitchen. Then he headed back to the stove to continue frying up bacon and scrambled eggs. A lot of bacon and eggs. While she didn't really need anything besides blood to survive, he knew the act of eating regular food seemed to do something for her mentally, so he always fed her early in her visits.

When she shuffled out of the room, her hair was pressed up on one side, and he tried not to smirk. She slumped into the chair, and he placed an overflowing plate of food in front of her. She dug in without comment, so he sat down across from her to eat his own mountain of food. They didn't speak during the meal, and the only sounds were of forks scratching against plates and the tinny sound of country music coming from the radio he'd turned on while he was cooking.

When he was finished, she was still working on hers, so he leaned back in the chair and just watched her. When she drained what was left in the mug and set it back on the table, one blade sprang out of his hand. When he leaned forward to refill it, she placed her hand over the top of the mug, but never looked back up at him or paused in carrying another forkful of eggs to her mouth.

He grunted in response and sat back, instead pulling a cigar out of the pocket of his shirt and slicing the end off. He stood to turn on the stove, using the flame there to light it. In the process, he dumped what food was left in the pan onto her plate and then sat back down to enjoy his cigar.

When she was finished, she stood without looking at him and walked out the door. He took a couple more puffs off his cigar and then picked up the dishes to take them to the sink. He took his time washing them, not wanting to crowd her. When everything was washed, dried, and put away, he stretched his arms over his head, hearing the bones crack, and then stepped outside as well. She was standing at the edge of the porch, just looking out at everything. He moved to stand beside her, leaning against one of the posts that held up the tin roof.

"Food stayin' down?" He asked as he folded his arms over his chest against the chilly night air.

She nodded.

They remained like that for several minutes, each enjoying the quiet and peace that came from being so far away from civilization. They each could hear the animals moving about in the forest that surrounded them and smell the crisp scent of the smoke from the wood fire he had burning inside. There was something about being away from everything that was calming and in some ways felt like a healing salve. He glanced over at her. She hadn't moved and was just still staring out across the pond. He straightened and turned to go back inside respecting the fact that she wasn't ready for conversation yet. It always did take her time to warm up socially. In fact, it was taking longer and longer each visit. Just before he closed the door, he said, "I don't ask much from ya, but I want you to say good bye this time."

When the door clicked closed behind Logan, Jubilee felt something twist in her chest. He did not ask for much and in fact rarely asked for anything. He always just gave her what she needed. The last time she had been there, she'd planned to just step outside for a moment, but had been halfway across Canada before she'd even realized that she hadn't thought to say good bye. She'd just stepped off the porch and kept walking.

Slowly and carefully, she lifted a hand to rub it over her face. She had to stay in control. Somehow Logan had known she was on the brink of running again. She was on the verge of making a big decision, and she wasn't really sure if she was ready. It was so much easier to try to run from things, to run from herself and what she was, than to deal with them. But she'd begun to make up her mind during the long run from Kentucky to northern Canada that this would be her last mad dash. She had been punishing herself for over twelve years, and it wasn't doing anything except hurting other people. She smiled wryly. Ten years ago, she hadn't given a shit about who else was being hurt. She had only cared about what she wanted and had ignored anyone who had tried to help. There had been so many who had come after her: Laura, Remy, Storm, Raizo, Shane…. She had lashed out at all of them. Had burned bridges that she'd never bothered trying to rebuild.

She closed her eyes and fought the lethargy that threatened to pull her back into sleep. It was always like that for her when she first had his blood. It would be so easy to just crawl back into bed and…. She shook her head. No. Instead, she tried to focus on what she was feeling. It was refreshing to feel again. A life of weak animal blood bought from the butcher would cut the craving for human blood for only so long, and it certainly had its drawbacks. Sights, sounds, smell, touch, tastes: all of her senses had been severely muted as a result. The longer she stayed on such a diet, the worse things got. If she hadn't been lazy and had been getting fresh blood (even fresh animal blood), things wouldn't have gotten so bad. When she had arrived the previous night, her body had been so numbed to sensation that she hadn't even felt the cold. The only clue to how cold she was had been the difficulty of moving her joints. Well, that and the fact that her hair had frozen to the side of her face.

Now she reveled in the feel of the cold air causing goose bumps to raise on her arms. She took a deep breath, enjoying the burning of the cold air in her throat and the way her lungs ached. She could feel the food resting heavily in her stomach, but even that she enjoyed compared to the normal void. She wanted to feel less empty. Food was an artificial fullness, but it would work for now until she worked out the rest of it. She stood there for a few more moments, drinking in her surroundings, before she turned to go back inside.

She found Logan sitting on the couch with a book in his hands. Jubilee settled into the couch next to him and gazed into the fire. She barely noticed when he set the book aside to look at her for a few moments. She was entranced by the play of colors in the flames. Blues. Reds. Yellows. Oranges. Even a hint of green. It was beautiful.

She realized how patient he was when he just continued to sit there, gazing into the fire with her. She was grateful but couldn't find the words to tell him. Instead, she reached a hand over to rest it on top of his. He turned his hand over until his palm met hers and his fingers linked with hers. Where she had enjoyed the coldness of the air before, now she enjoyed the heat that radiated from the fireplace and from his skin. They sat peacefully, the quiet unstrained, for about an hour.

Finally, she found the words. "I won't leave," she said quietly, her speech stilted and unsure, "Not for a while. Unless you want me to."

"That's good," he said in response.

She let the silence stretch, feeling awkward, wishing he would speak. Finally, she admitted, "It's different this time."

She felt his fingers flex against hers, but he still said nothing. She moistened her lips with her tongue, darting a glance at him, but still finding him looking at the fire. The muscles in his jaw were tight. Good. This was just as awkward for him. That made her feel a little better somehow. Talking about feelings was foreign to them both.

Taking a deep breath, she continued, "I don't want to do it anymore."

When she stopped speaking, casting a sidelong glance his way again, he opened his mouth to speak, stopped to clear his throat, then asked, "What are you done with?"

That was a good question. How would she explain it? How to say she didn't want to hurt him anymore? Or other people? Or herself? She looked down at their hands and decided that was a good place to start. Carefully, she whispered, "Being alone."

She only realized he had been holding his breath when he let it out all at once. In a swift movement, he turned to pull her into his arms in a tight hug. She remained stiff at first, overwhelmed by him. The warmth of his body and his woodsy scent assaulted her senses. Gritting her teeth, she fought the panic that rose up within her and screamed to escape, to run. The contact, she realized, was more for him than for her. She took a few deep breaths through her nose as she tried to relax her body, moving her hands up his back until she hugged him back.

Logan couldn't believe her words. He was almost afraid to hope, to believe what she was saying. He had had to touch her, to hold her, to believe that she really was there and wasn't just another teasing fantasy. But he had no reason to doubt her. She had never said anything like this before, never made any promises that she didn't mean to keep. When she began to soften, when he felt her tentative touch on his back, he pulled back, realizing how uncomfortable she normally was with being touched after an initial feeding. Another difference from the girl she used to be who would use any excuse to cuddle against him.

He looked down at her, feeling awkward. He pulled back and pushed to his feet, clearing his throat again as he shoved his hands into his pockets. He moved closer to the fire and asked, "What do you need?"

He heard her stand as well and sensed more than saw her move to stand next to him. "Blood."

He nodded. "As much as you need, you got. What else."

"One of those sun benders," this she said in a tentative whisper.

He paused for a few moments, considering that. She was more serious than he thought if she was asking for one of the medallions that allowed vampires to move around in full sunlight. His blood would allow her limited time in the sun near sunrise and sunset. If she wanted a bender, she was thinking of being out for an extended period of time. He finally said, "I'll see what I can do."

It was her turn to be quiet for a few moments before she spoke again. "It's going to be very hard," she admitted. "I know I can be pretty nasty on a normal day. I'm going to want to run. I'm going to want to hurt people, to hurt you." She shivered. "I want you to stop me, even if you have to hurt me."

He nodded, accepting the truth in that statement. "I can do that." He grinned over at her, trying to lighten the mood. "'Sides, if I hurt ya too bad, my blood will help ya get over it pretty quick."

She smiled a small smile, "That should help with any guilt you might feel about causing me bodily harm."

"Yep." He smiled back at her and then placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it as he said, "I doubt it'll come to that, though. You're tough. You'll make it through."

She smiled wryly back at him and then looked back down into the flames. Quietly, she said, "I sure hope you're right."

He released her shoulder then and turned to pull on a wool-lined coat. "There's firewood that needs split and brought inside. You helpin' out or what?"

She smiled and caught the second coat that he threw toward her. She let out her breath. It was over. She'd made the decision and committed. And, because he knew it was the best way to help her through it, he was accepting it and letting it alone for now. "I bet I'll chop double what you can manage," she boasted as they headed out the door into the cold night.