AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Hey! Sorry that I didn't update in like almost a year, but my writing fire died along with the fact that college is too much for me to concentrate on anything else. My muse never left, I've just been ignoring him, but I'm back until school starts again which will be soon BUT I have started work on chapter 5 so there is a five guys! :) Oh and I updated chapter three because I realized I made a small mistake with what time of the year it was, because in the first Chapter I mentioned that November 17th happened three weeks ago so that means it's actually December not September and little Sean needed a coat instead of a jacket in the last chapter. That is all.

A cold vice gripped Logan's heart. How did this guy even know? He just found the boy last night, and the entire mass of Ireland believed him dead. There should be no way in hell he knew he had the boy. Something just didn't seem right. It didn't add up. Logan's expression shifted again, if he had looked dangerous before, now he looked downright homicidal. A threatening growl erupted from the back of his throat.

"Last I heard the kid was firewood, good kindlin' for that castle fire."

The only way this bozo could possibly know anything, is if he had a direct hand in the state Logan had found him in. Ergo this guy knew about the contraption that had been placed on Sean's head, meaning he was looking for the imp so he could continue playing his sick little games. The Wolverine snorted in disgust. I'll die before I let this bozo lay a hand on this kid, and I'm not dying anytime soon. "If you think I had anything to do with the Cassidy Massacre ye're sadly mistaken."

"Then only thing sad will be yer face after I get through runnin' my claws through it." The Wolverine growled, a terrifying primal sound.

The brunette rolled his eyes, exasperated with Logan. "I'm not yer enemy."

"Yeah, and I'm a runway model." Was the mutant's sharp retort. The other's face grew serious.

"I'm 'ere to help ye."

Logan sniffed. "Then why do I smell bullshit?"

The brunette pinched the bridge of his noise, his agitation showing. "If ye listen to me, I promise to give ye the next location of the lad ye been followin' round the globe."

This caught Logan's immediate attention. There was a minute of pause as his eyes calculated the other, determining whether or not he could go on the word of the guy at all. He debated inwardly with himself and after a long pause he decided it was the only lead he had at the moment. Logan stood straighter and retracted his claws. "Fine."

The man visibly relaxed, then his eyes shifted around, looking at the ground a second before bringing his attention back to Logan. "We need to go somewhere inside to discuss it."

Logan raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"I don't trust the outside." Was all he said before darting past the mutant and heading out of the alleyway. Logan stared after him indecisive for a moment, before picking up his bags and cautiously following.

Just down the street was a pub, it was bigger than the one he'd drunk in last night and of higher caliber, which made sense after they sat at a secluded booth near the back and Logan read the prices. This place is askin' fer a lung, he thought frugally. Quickly tossing the menu aside, the American waited expectantly while the guy ordered and received his drink. After the brunette took his third sip, Logan's patience had run thin. "Ya gonna tell me whatcha brought me here for?" He asked tersely.

The stranger let out a small breath, cutting his eyes over to Logan then back to his drink before taking one more sip and placing his mug back on the table. "Order a drink."

"What?"

"It looks suspicious, ye sittin' there with notin' whilst everyone else 'as a brandy in their hands."

This guy just loved playing games didn't he? Logan did not have time to waste, there was a four-year-old waiting for him, probably wondering if he'd been abandoned.

Logan snarled. "I ain't payin' ten euros fer a pint of beer. Now either tell me whatcha want to say or I'm walkin' outta here."

The brunette shook his head mildly, as if he had been expecting something but found himself disappointed. A mumbled "….never were one for subtlety…" fell from his lips.

The implications of the statement began to bang gongs at his curiosity. Just exactly who is this guy? Logan furrowed his brow leaning in towards the other, his eyes peering at the brunette. "Do you know me?"

The stranger sat up straight to face the mutant, his face was impassive steel mask that made it hard for the mutant to read him. The brunette's piercing green eyes watched him coolly for a moment before speaking. "My name is Carney Walsh, I was sent 'ere to kill ye."

Anyone else would have blanched or panicked at the statement, but Logan just narrowed his eyes calculating. "Except yer not, or ya wouldn't have brought me here." Which was the truth; you didn't lead someone out of a dark, secluded alley into a public bar where everyone can see you to kill somebody. That level of stupidity doesn't exist. "So the question is, what do ya want."

Carney look mildly impressed with Logan's deduction skills. "And 'ere I thought ye were just some oaf with claws."

Logan's lip curled into a snarl. "Get to the point bub."

The wayward assassin smirked. "Not one for small talk eh?" Logan just looked at him.

Carney, getting the hint, nodded and got serious. He took one long swig of his drink before giving his full attention to Logan, his face held a certain tint of urgency, and now Logan could even smell it.

"Sean Cassidy is in trouble." It was whispered pointedly, the Walsh guy putting as much emphasis as he could over the five words to send the message just how much danger lay underneath them.

It had been unnecessary in hindsight, because all Logan had to hear was "Sean" and "trouble" in the same sentence and he was all ears. "Sean's in trouble? With who?"

Carney leaned in closely "…'is cousin Thomas, or Black Tom as some 'ave come to call 'im."

Logan felt a flicker of recognition at the name, it took a second before the light bulb went off in his head. "Ain't that the guy who inherited the all the money?"

The Irish man nodded in confirmation. "Convenient how both 'is aunt and uncle were killed and 'is cousin went M.I.A, all of them the only thing that stood in the way of 'im and the inheritance."

Comprehension dawned on Logan. "Ya think Tom is behind the death of the imp's parents?" Carney noted the name the foreigner call the Cassidy boy and mentally filed that away for later.

"Not just 'is parents, the entire massacre. 'E didn't want to have anyone left behind."

"Why?" the American asked, confused as to why the entire staff needed to be murdered.

Carney's look hardened as he watched Logan from across the table, a smidge of something crossed his features. Regret maybe? "From what I've been able to gather, the majority of the help that worked Cassidy Keep 'ave been there since the late Mr. Cassidy was a little lad, 'im and 'is brother Barney."

"Barney?"

"Thomas's da."

Realization came crashing down around Logan. "…Lemme guess, Barney was a little bitter about his brother getting the money over himself?"

The brunette snorted. "More than a little, as 'e was the elder brother, 'e should 'ave inherited it from the beginning, but their da changed 'is mind."

Logan nodded, the story making more sense as it all went along. "And the help were the only ones who knew why."

"Right, besides 'im and 'is brother Casey."

It was making a whole lot of sense, he had first thought the whole thing to be so melodrama soap opera, but now not so much, and the culprit looked like an innocent victim struck by circumstance. A thought came to Logan. "What about that Rourke guy? What part did he play in the whole thing?"

Carney shook his head waving the question off. "'E was just a pawn, a small playing piece to sacrifice in 'is bigger game of chess."

The American raised both his eyebrows in surprise. "Tom blackmailed Rourke?"

Carney snickered. "And exactly what would 'e 'ave blacked mailed 'im with? Patrick knew 'e would go to jail if 'e killed anyone, so we know there wasn't enough money in the world that could persuade Rourke to do it, especially when 'e 'ad a handful of 'is own."

Logan was confused. "So Rourke killed them on his own? Or did Rourke even kill them at all?"

The assassin sat up and drank a few more drops of his pint, then leaned down back down across the table. The whole conversation and been spoken quietly to keep up privacy, but Carney must have felt his next words were paramount and uttered them in a low whisper. "I believe Thomas gave 'im the idea."

Logan let that settle in, absorbing the information as it circled around his brain before the part of his cerebrum that indicated an epiphany lit up. Logan slowly leaned back against the booth in mild awe. "Tom planned it all – the fall of the Cassidy funds, Rourke's part in it, Casey's insanity, the massacre…"

"Maeve's death."

Logan stopped short. "Who?"

Carney leaned in in closer on the table. "Rourke's daughter or at least the daughter he would 'ave 'ad, 'ad 'is wife not died of a terminal illness, an illness that was given to her curtsey of lil' Tommy."

The mutant sat back into the leather upholstered booth, the weight of information becoming a little too much. Maybe way too much because something of this scale…

Logan shook his head in disbelief. "No, Thomas would have to have been planning this—"

"—For years lad, Tommy 'ad been planin' it for a long time commin'."

Walsh finished Logan's thought and then continued to polish off the rest of his drink. They both sat in the quiet for a moment, letting the information settle between them. For the Irishman the pause gave him time to think about how to propose his next subject of discussion, while to the American the whole thing was a bit of a hard pill to swallow, and the mutant still held his doubts. There were a few pieces that didn't quite fit right into the puzzle, number one being…

"Why hadn't the kid been killed?"

Sean was obviously next in line for the inheritance, and by all means should have died during the massacre. As relieved as Logan is that the boy is still alive, it didn't play right into the big chess game the eldest living Cassidy had assumedly been strategizing. It wasn't something that was simply passed over.

Carney nodded in agreement, having had previous thoughts about the subject as well. He leaned back in his seat and fiddled with beer glass a little, running his index finger over the rim as he thought about his response. "I can't be for sure, but I don't think the laddie 'ad been in the building when the event took place."

Logan raised a curious eyebrow. "Whaddaya mean?"

The brunette quit running the rim with his finger and instead lightly tapped it repeatedly in an anxious manner. "I've gone over the incident in me 'ead multiple times and logically there should 'ave been no way the little laddie escaped. 'E 'ad to 'ave already been outside, because if Rourke didn't catch 'im, the fire should 'ave done 'im in, especially with that crusher on 'is 'ead."

If Logan had a drink he would have spluttered. "That thing has a name?" He asked, a look of incredulousness encasing his face. "What sicko would put something like that on a child and then give it a name?"

Without even skipping a beat, Carney answered, "'is father."

Then continued to call over a waiter to re-fill his glass, Logan stopped short. The imp's dad did that?

The world tilted slightly at the meaning of that statement. It was one thing for Sean's cousin to be conspiring against him, but it was whole other ballgame when his own father played a part in the shit fest that seemed to be happening to the poor kid. Logan tried to make sense of the information and was on the verge of calling out the guy on his bullshit when a memory from the night before flared up.

"Rourke may be an aul git, but I betcha the laddie's da is responsible for the boy's disappearance."

"What ye mean, Finny?"

"I mean, Mr. Cassidy rid himself o' little ole Sean."

He thought it had just been crazy talk, but now maybe the guy had been on to something. Obviously he was wrong about Casey Cassidy killing his son, the proof was sitting in his motel room munching on tiny pieces of leftover breakfast. Nope, that part was wrong, but there had been something else he said…

"There are signs before a corporate turns on its belly like that, like a year 'o signs. He knew he was heading to a dead end and it slowly drove 'em loony…"

"…Notice we ain't seen the boy or 'is ma at all during the fall? They'd been witnesses to 'is lost on reality, until he finally went mad."

If everything this Walsh guy was saying is true, and if he thought about it hard enough the logic of it Thomas and is plans made sense, but the father bit. The father bit wouldn't be believable—couldn't be believable—unless,

"…Mr. Cassidy lost his mind."

Carney nodded his head in validation, but didn't say anything more as the waitress came to refill his glass. The silence between the two as she poured the golden liquid was thick with apprehension, enough for the girl to sense it and leave as quickly as she came. Logan watched as his host took a long swig, and then wipes his chin with the back of his fist before placing the glass back on the table. Carney met the other's stare.

"I'm not sure what all 'appened or transpired inside the Cassidy estate, but one fact I know for certain is that there were no doctors that were a part 'o the castle staff. The only medical savvy people were nurses and none of them were qualified with the knowledge and ability to create and manufacture the instrument on the lad's 'ead." He gives a fraction of a pause before he adds "But 'is father was."

Logan sighed, he had nothing to refute that. The man had been the CEO of a medical industry pete's sake, but he'd still like to know what made him do it. Why in the world would he—

And then he knew. He knew exactly why his father put the crusher on his head.

"Is that why ya had that thing on yer face?" Sean gave a meager nod. "…So ya…couldn't scream." Another small nod.

The protective instinct that seemed to be reoccurring surfaced once more, but this time it was roaring hot. Igniting like a flame it rose and consumed the Logan, turning his tan skin a sunburn red, his fists clenched into tight balls the cool metal resting beneath them threatening to emerge. "Bastard!" It was a harsh whisper. Even though the American was having a difficult time keeping his anger in check he still understood this conversation was just for the two of them. "That was his son! And he…he…all because Sean is a—" Logan abruptly stopped speaking, not daring to finish the sentence.

But once again it was unnecessary because Carney finishes for him. "A mutant."

Logan's eyes met the others which held a glint of knowledge. He knew Logan was a mutant, but that could be made obvious to anyone when six blades of steel a foot long shot out of the back someone's hands and were waved around in front of you, but he also knew that Logan had taken Sean in, he knew that Sean was a mutant and he knew the truth behind the kid's family tragedy. He seemed to know a good bit of things that he really shouldn't know.

Logan narrowed his eyes "Who are you and whaddaya want?"

Carney gave him that smile, the same one from the ally, the one that made it seem like he knew way more than he let on. "An answer." Was his only reply.

Logan had a sickening feeling that he knew this guy, personally. The smile had thrown him the first time, but now, now he's sure he's seen it before…

But the strange this was it wasn't this face he'd seen it on. He can't even explain the feeling to himself, but that smile— that glint, he knew it. It was feline in a way, like the look at cat gets when it's got its paw on the tail of a mouse. The playful I've got you now and there's no escape, but he feels he's been here before, knows he's been here before, but as proven before if he asked who he was he wouldn't get a straight answer. So instead he plays along. "Yeah? And what's that?"

The smile grew "A proposition."

Logan snarled in annoyance. "Can ya stop giving me one worded answers and just tell me what the hell it is ya want?"

The smile morphed into a full grown grin, his pearly whites shining in amusement.

"Fine, I want ye to take in the boy. In exchange I'll give ye ye're hooded figure's next destination."

What?

"What?"

Walsh finished his seconded drink and then turned to a nearby waiter, "Check please." Logan's booth partner then reached into his inside coat pocket (must have been hot wearing two of those) to pull out a tan envelope and pushed it across the table space that separated them. Eyeing the envelope questionably before looking back at Carney, he asks the obvious question. "The hell is this?"

A smirk "Open it."

Logan grunts before conceding with the request. Inside lies everything he needs to know about Sean, his birth certificate, his medical records, legal documents, it's all there. The mutant grips the package a little tightly; this was coming on a little too fast for him. "I don't get it, why do I have to be the one to take care of the kid?"

Carney's Cheshire grin falls away and his face become serious again. "Like I said before, the lad's in trouble. Black Tom knows e's still alive and needs 'im dead and as long as the boy stays 'ere e's in danger." Carney leans in closer. "The best thing for 'im is to leave Ireland."

Logan catches on, and the idea is absurd. "And because I just so happen to be hoppin' the globe I'm the kid's best bet?" Logan's incredulity was potent in every word. "I sometimes barely have money to feed myself, how am I supposed to take care of a boy? I don't know the first thing about parenting."

Carney's agitation from earlier is starting to rear its head. "Look the boy trusts ye."

Logan snorted, "And?"

"And, ye're the only person outside of the Cassidy 'ome that 'e knows, and the only one who's treated 'im decent in a long time."

Logan tensed. "Can't ya find someone else? Anyone else? I'm sure there are parents who would kill fer a kid like Sean."

Carney shakes his head. "Ye're not gettin' it, Sean cannot stay 'ere. E needs someone to take 'im away, someone like 'im."

The mutant sighed understanding exactly what he was implying. Kid need to be with other mutants. "I'm the only one?"

"Ye're the only mutant the lad's been in contact with that actually gives a damn and plans on leaving the country."

A pause "No one else?"

Yes, Carney thought, but 'e only fits two of those qualifications. "No."

Logan got a moment to deliberate when the waitress showed up for the tab. After Carney finished paying for his beers, Logan waited for a moment before asking. "What happens if I go to the cops?"

Carney chuckled. "Ye can't tell me you actually believe that would work? Thomas's is a smart lad, and e's been planning this for a long time. No, cops won't 'elp."

The American ruffles his hair in frustration, no he didn't actually believe that but he had to ask because it looks like he doesn't have much of a choice. Twenty-four hours ago he had nobody but himself to think about, but all of sudden the life of a little four-year old is being thrust upon him. If he says no the kid will surely die, but if he says yes who's to say the kid won't die due to bad choices on his own behalf? Plus he'd have to give up his search. Or would he?

"Ya said ya'd give me information on where my target's headin."

Carney nods, guess there's nothing really holding him back except…

"Fine, but I don't have a lot of money."

Carney smiles, but this time it's genuine. "Great, ye'll be receiving 20,000 euros for compensation and ye've got a week to pack before ye plane to Australia leaves."

A week? Australia? A plane? Twenty-thousand euros?

"Australia?"

Carney takes the envelope back from Logan and begins to stand. "Yes. It's where ye guy's headed." He pulls a card from his pocket and hand it to the mutant. "Call if ye have questions and take advantage of it now because once ye're outside 'o the country our acquaintance is officially terminated. I don't know ye, ye don't know me."

But I never knew you. "Got it."

The would-be-assassin starts to make his way towards the exit as Logan is still examining the card. Something comes over the mutant, a question he never got to ask, before he lifts his head and calls out. "Wait!"

Carney turns and Logan stands and closes the distance between them. "Why do you care? You were sent to kill me." The Irishman just gives him that charming smile again and says,

"Just think 'o me as friend." Then turns on his heels and heads out the door.

Logan placed the card inside in pocket and stared at the door for a moment uneased. After a few seconds he returned to the booth picked up his bags and headed out the door himself, making sure to walk quickly to speed the trip along.

The kid had been waiting long enough.

XXX

Carney Walsh watched from across the street as the American briskly left the pub and disappeared down the street. He then turned his back and made his way down his own street, he strolled passed a few building before he came to the designated corner. He stopped and leaned against a streetlamp post and pulled his right sleeve up to look at the time.

5:23

Seven minutes to go.

The Ireland native whistled a few tunes before a long, black, sleek limousine pulled up to the curb and parked.

5:30

Right on time.

The backdoor opened and Carney slid himself into the car, at the click of the door closing behind him, the limousine took off. Before the man could fully relax a voice piped up from the adjacent seat.

"Were ye successful?" Carney turned to face his car companion.

Thomas Cassidy seemed to be the epitome of blue blood elegance. His ebony, black hair which was slicked back brought attention to the deep shade of blue that colored his eyes. Where his cousin's eyes were like the bright sky on a cloudless summer's day, Thomas' were the allure of the ocean that rested below, its depths hiding many things that may never come to surface. He had a narrow thin nose and equally thin lips which were now pressed together in a slight frown. His physique was lean and tall, and his stature and poise gave off the impression that he was born with an etiquette manual in his hands. His expensive hand tailored suit just polished off the look, they probably weren't even necessary, the Cassidy heir could probably go nude and still eradiate an aura of grandeur and sophistication. Unfortunately it's considered indecent to go without clothing.

Carney gave a nod as he began to pull off his coat and handed it over to the younger male and then began to unbutton his shirt. "Yes, but I barely got out 'o there in time."

Thomas took the coat and folded it with precision before setting next to him on the seat. "Remind me again why ye needed my father's clothing?"

The shirt came off quickly, and as it did the thick arms that filled its sleeves began to shrink, becoming longer and slimmer. His chest size started to curve and concave as its broadness lessened. Slim fingers which had begun to turn a darker shade made quick work of the pants which exposed thighs and hips that gradually lost muscle mass and bulk, turning more curved and sleek, the skin still darkening and becoming real nice shade of blue.

The shirt and pants and tossed to Tom as Carney's blonde hair recedes into a scarlet red. Just as Cassidy finishes folding the items of clothes he looks up and his deep blue eyes meet a lemon yellow. The mouth opened and a distinctly feminine voice fell gracefully from its throat.

"He can pick up on my aroma even when I'm disguised as someone else."

And the transformation was complete, Carney Walsh had left and in his place sat Mystique. Tom was mildly impressed.

"I thought he couldn't remember anything."

Mystique smirks. "His mind may not remember, but that nose of his never forgets."

Tom hummed in acknowledgement, his slender fingers lightly tapping the costly leather car seat. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind, now since ye have kept up your side of the bargain it's my turn."

Mystique grinned like a Cheshire cat. "I would say so."

"Now if I recall the deal was you get rid of the lad and I give ye intelligence."

The aristocrat reached over and opened his briefcase which had been sitting at his feet. Filtering through the many documents his fingers stopped at one and swiftly plucked it from its testing place. He closed the case and then promptly handed offer the folder of information. The blue mutant took it from the other's hand and read the plain text.

William Stryker.

A satisfied hum escaped her throat. "Excellent."

Tom gave a smirked. "Fine everything to your liking then?" The shape-shifter sifted through the presented material, a contented grin never leaving her face.

"It would seem so."

Another hum of acknowledgement "Good, any questions before I drop ye off?"

Mystique lifted her gaze from the folder, a question had been simmering since the deal was formed. She cocked her head a little in inquiry "Just one…" she says.

Tom raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Why not kill the kid?"

She's not the sentimental type or least not anymore. She's become very businesslike over the years and has come to be very familiar with Tom's type of people. Greedy whoremongers who will stop at nothing to get what they want and will use any means necessary. Usually that means is quick and easy, in fact guys like Cassidy prefer quick and easy. So what she can't understand is why the guy would go out his way to make sure the kind left the country instead of just offing him. The entire nation thinks the boy is dead anyway, no one would notice. Now she's not advocating for him to murder the kid, but she's a little curious to know why he hasn't already. She's just a little surprised.

Tom however is not surprised, a least not by the question anyway. He'd been expecting it for some time now, he's surprised she hadn't asked sooner. He closed his eyes and gave a small nostalgic smile.

...Memory...

The smell of antiseptic is killing his nose, he's been here for six hours, the medical staff has been an incompetent waste, and he's nearly late for a very important meeting, but with all that said he's the happiest he's ever been because lying in his arms with its fist curled around his index finger is his baby cousin. Sean.

"I named him that because I remember when ye were a wee lad and ye said that if ye ever got a brother you'd want 'im to be named Sean." His aunt Eileen smiled at him from her perch in the hospital bed. "Your parents never got the chance to give ye that brother, but I thought maybe our son could be the brother ye always wanted."

Tom gave her an honest heartwarming smile, something he hadn't thought he was capable doing ever again, and then he did something else he hadn't done in a while. He cried. He cried because it hurt, it hurt that as much as he would love to forget his plans and start over and enjoy his brother, his Sean. He can't. He just can't, he would have to die first.

...End of Memory...

The memory fills Tom with warmth and a longing that he has learned to quench overtime. He opens eyes and gives his guest his best thousand-watt smile.

"Sorry dear, that's not the intelligence ye asked for."

XXX

No sooner had Logan opened the door to his room, when he felt a small mass of curly, red hair collide with his left leg full force.

"You're back!" Logan gave a grunt of surprise.

"Yeah imp, course I'm back." He said taking the tyke into his arms to give him enough room to actually enter the room and close the door behind him. "Got ya some stuff too, wanna see?" Curls bounced vigorously in an affirmative, Logan chuckled before planting the boy back on the floor and began pulling items from the bag. He's never been a parent, but he's seen children's reactions when their parents by them new clothes and usually it's disappointment that it wasn't some type of toy. Sean however was as joyous as though it were Christmas Day and he got the ninja action figure with the Kung Fu chop. Now fully dressed and grinning ear to ear Sean wraps his arms around the elder's leg in a hug.

"Thank you."

An endearing smile took center stage on Logan's face as he bent down on one knee to return the embrace. "No problem imp." He reached his left arm towards his back pocket, all the while keeping his eyes on the child, a sneaky smile replacing the endearing one. "I have one more thing to give ya."

Cerulean orbs widen in excitement. "Really?" Logan nods. "What is it?"

The kid was practically bouncing on his heels in anticipation and Logan, not usually one for playing around, couldn't help but draw out the moment and build up the surprise. "Why don't ya guess?"

The contemplative look that appeared on the boy was too adorable.

"More clothes?"

Logan shook his head.

"Candy?"

Another shake.

Sean pinched his face in concentration before an idea clearly lit up in his eyes.

"…A toy?" There was smidge of hope lightly laced in the question.

Logan beamed at the correct answer and brought the dopey teddy bear into Sean's line of vision. If he thought the kid was happy with the clothes, then the boy had to be head over heels for the plush toy. The look of awe that washed over Sean just made Logan want to buy to more of them right then.

The little carrot top pulled the plaid, blue bear into a bone crushing hug and buried his face in it for a moment before pulling away and then prancing around the room screaming shouts of "thank you, thank you!", before running back to Logan to give him another heartfelt hug. "Thank you so much."

Logan gave a satisfied huff. "No problem imp."

Before he could return the hug, there was a knock at the door. Instincts immediately took over and he shooed the kid into the bathroom. "Don't make any noises kay? Won't be long." Sean solemnly nodded before Logan closed the door.

The American turn his attention back to the hotel door, "Who's there?"

"Room service, there's a package here for a Mr. Logan."

The mutant made his way over to the doorknob before slowly turning it and pulling it back to give a slight crack in the threshold to peer at the person on the other side of the door. "A package?"

It was a male, most likely a teenager. He looked like he'd rather be anywhere else than standing here holding a blank white box talking through a slit in a door to a surly guy who's got paranoia issues. Probably a part-time job his parents pushed him into or something. "Yeah, ye goin' to take it or not?"

Logan gave a grunt "Sure kid," before opening the door all the way snatching it from the kids hands. "Need a tip?"

The teen rolled his eyes, and lazily stuck out his hand. "It's what O live for."

Logan dug through his pockets before retrieving one euro and shoving it in the teen's hand. "Now beat it."

The kid gave a "No need to ask twice," before giving a prompt retreat.

Closing the door behind him, Logan called out to the bathroom to announce that Sean was allowed to come out now and within seconds there was head of red curls right next to him.

"What is it?" Sean eyes were focused on the box in adult's hands.

Logan shook it, bringing it up to his ear trying to guess what's inside. There's a bit of shuffling and a distinct clanking sound. Logan shrugged. "No idea." He sat down on the sole wooden chair in the room and places the box in his lap. "Guess we'll find out soon enough." Upon opening the box, the first thing he finds in a yellow envelope. Curious the raven takes it from the box and opens it. The moment he did he knew exactly sent it to him.

20,000 euros, Sean's passport and birth certificate with Logan's name on it, and two one-way tickets to Australia were all littered inside.

"That was fast." Logan mumbled.

"What is it?" Sean was straining on his tippy toes to see.

Logan gave a soft sigh, before ruffling the mop of hair on the boy's head. "Tell ya later kid."

Because he needed time to digest what was happening. He definitely hadn't forgotten the conversation at the pub earlier, it had been on his mind the entire journey back and swirling around the back of his thoughts since he got back, but now, now it was hitting him full force.

He and this kid were together now. For better or for worse they were a family as of right heaved a long sigh before he turned his attention back to the box. There was a clear plastic bag with a pair of sunglasses an what looked like a black wig inside, upon picking it up there was a note attached that read: for the laddie.

Right.

Logan decided he needed a nap. Today had been an eventful day and he could really use the rest. He turned on the small T.V inside the motel to children's station which Sean was immediately interested in and made his way toward the bed. After pulling back the covers he remembered something important that had completely forgotten. The bed was still broken.

Riiiiiight…

He looked back over at the 20,000 euros sitting on the desk then back to the bed and stared for a moment. Fuck it, I'll pay for it later. Then went to sleep on the floor.

Tobi's Really sorry about the long wait guys, hope it was enjoyable enough to be forgiven...pwease?