(Four)

Hank gently pressed on bruised skin. "How is that?"

"Better," came the grumbled reply.

Warren Worthington, these days known as Gryfon, was a poor patient. Over the past days he had recovered easily enough from the Flush once he had been pumped with the proper antibiotics, but the broken arm had required a surgery to properly set and the gun shots had been a trial. The man wouldn't stay still and rest.

"This won't heal if you don't take it easy," Hank continued to complain. He understood that most of the high powered crew he worked with were always impatient to recover as quickly as possible, but these were not casual injuries he had suffered. The man's lower back was still one huge bruise. The bullet holes had closed nicely but the area was still raw and sore. This seemed to be taking longer than it should though he wasn't sure why. The puncture holes from Daken's claws in his legs weren't much better, though he could walk a few steps at a time to the bathroom and such now without assistance.

All Gryfon did was grumble some more in complaint. They would never understand. It was in the way Remy kept looking at him, that sideways glance that just about screamed "coward." He knew the Thief hadn't quite forgiven him for bailing on them in the trees even though it had all worked out in the end. The excuse that was given - that he had left to call for help - didn't seem to sway the untrusting Thief any though the man never said a word. It was in those scary red on black eyes. Gryfon wouldn't be going out with the Red Team again anytime soon, not if Gambit had anything to say about it.

So, if he was going to regain the field, Gryfon knew he had to get fit again and fast. Scott at least had appreciated his efforts, checking in with him often. Hopefully the man would see fit to place him on another team, one that might be more welcoming, hopefully. To make that happen Gryfon snuck into the gym whenever he could, pushing weights with his good arm and walking as much as he could. The walking hurt the worst, his back couldn't take the pounding well and his thighs still ached from the puncturing Daken had given him. Those claws had gone deep into the muscle and he struggled to do more than ten minutes at a time on the tread mill at a very slow speed that would easily accommodate a ninety year old man, but he was still determined. Ten minutes today, eleven tomorrow, twelve the day after that. Whatever it took.

"How's your pain?" the doctor asked next.

What a stupid question, Gryfon bitched to himself. He had always been in pain even before this. The secondary mutation hadn't been kind to his body, a sort of karmic punishment for his idiocy. His crooked legs always ached, his clawed hands forever scratching himself when he was dressing or sleeping, leaving streaks of blood everywhere. How did Hank ever get used to having such things? Ridiculous.

"Fine," Gryfon lied, even as Hank's continued explorations forced him to wince.

Hank knew he wasn't being truthful but Gryfon was healthy enough that he let it pass. He had plenty of other things to do and so ushered Gryfon back to his bed and then made his way to the labs deeper within the medical bay.

Even these days later he was still processing some of the remaining evidence the group had collected from Daken's truck. Though they pretty much knew what had happened on that day between all of the testimony and field reports, he still wanted to be thorough. Not to mention clearing up some of those pesky questions – as in who was related to whom? Romulus could make all the boasts he wanted, but that didn't make him right.

The results Hank had received from his investigations so far had been interesting to say the least. He had been lucky to have plenty of blood samples to work with, not just from the truck but also from Gryfon's jacket and the bloody clothing Remy had thoughtfully brought him that Logan had left behind in Twilight. Those had been heavily drenched in blood from the fight in the hanger, most notably from Daken, the man who claimed to be Logan's son.

Both sets of clothing did return a match that came up as familial to Logan, verifying that Daken was indeed a blood relation, almost certainly a son. It was exciting enough news that Hank was disappointed that no good samples from Romulus had been collected. He would have loved to confirm or deny that man's familial claim as well. On one of his visits out to Twilight Remy had been able to collect some hair and saliva from John and yes, the claim of a close familial match had been verified. It was all so very exciting.

As far as Romulus' claim that these particular ferals he had been collecting were all part of some kind of special separate race, Hank couldn't really prove one way or another. The feral traits themselves weren't enough to float such a thing realistically. Not without a much larger group of DNA samples anyhow. He himself had doubts. It was the same as Magneto claiming that anyone with enough magnetic ability to twirl a paper clip was one of his. As far as Hank was concerned these were mutants who by luck of the draw simply shared some similar traits. Nothing more.

As Hank devoted hours to all of this deliciously engaging activity, Star silently joined him. The nice thing about having such a thoughtful partner was that she knew when not to pester him with conversation. Just being with him was enough. She would bring him tea and a sandwich on a plate without having to be asked. He often forgot to eat when he was captivated by research, this was nothing new.

Beyond building a feral family tree, Hank had other distractions. He had taken a good hard look at the medical patches Logan had recovered from Marcus' body and was pleased to discover that yes, they could be backwards engineered to learn how they were made and of what they were composed. Hank had been quick to send his findings to the CDC who were very appreciative. They were already beginning to send out preliminary samples to many of the quarantine camps that had been constructed for the Flush victims. It was widely rumored that a full on cure was only weeks away. Hank couldn't be more pleased. It sort of made up for what Logan had been asked to do, though Hank would have much rather have had a cure come about without young Mindy having had to be sacrificed. Well that was water under the bridge and unable to be reversed.

Perhaps there was another way to make up some of that for Logan. Remy had also given Butch's thumb drive to Seth and the investigation on that was well under way. Seth had at least managed to prove that such a girl did in fact exist with strong hints that she was indeed a clone duplicated from Logan's genetic material, something that rankled deeply. It was bad enough that stolen DNA from both Logan and Sabretooth had been used to force mutations in subjects like Kyle. Now this. There were also some disturbing reports of this same girl being a highly trained assassin responsible for the deaths of over a hundred people even though it seemed she was little more than fourteen years old. Seth wanted to dig deeper before he assumed any of it was true. He was hoping to be proven wrong. Just in case, an operational plan to retrieve this mysterious clone of Logan's was already being patched together even without a positive destination yet in mind.

Right now Seth's priority was locating the girl, something not so easy to do. She was moved around a lot but over time Seth was beginning to see a pattern, something he could later exploit. Once he nailed it, they would go after her. Being a lab rat was bad enough, but no one wanted there to be even a chance that Romulus would get his paws on her. He had treated Kyle badly enough, Hank shuddered at the thought of what he might do to her. Sometimes it was worse being female.

Seth was keeping Hank updated as much as possible, adding to Hank's already hefty workload. Hank didn't mind - a busy Hank was a happy Hank, especially with his precious Star always so close. As hard as things might have been for him lately with the changes the Honey poisoning had wrought, he still wouldn't trade this life for any other.

(break)

"How long do I have to keep doing this?" Julien complained though his voice wasn't that bitter. It wasn't like this didn't feel good.

"Does it make you stay calm?" Remy countered.

"Yeah."

"Den forever probably," the Thief joked. "Laissez les bons temps rouler, non?"

"What does that even mean?" the boy questioned. His French was very limited.

Remy just laughed. "Never you mind. You just keep doin' what you doin'."

They were back in the Dragon 2, the younger man in Remy's pilot seat, his hands on the charging handles. They were not actually flying, the sturdy craft was parked nice and easy on the tarmac. They were here alone, this wasn't a flight lesson. They had been coming out here sometimes as often as twice a day, letting the ship drain away most of the kinetic energy that Julien's body had to give. It was accomplishing two things – first, the Dragon was always fully charged these days between both of them feeding her, and second, it was helping to keep Julien's nerves cool and calm.

Unlike the past, these two were actually getting along. Having a common interest had helped more than Remy had thought it would. Julien was quite taken with the ship and the added prestige of being able to power her up had given him a much needed ego boost. He paid attention better now, listened to what his more experienced father had to say.

Remy had also taken him to the nearby work site where Seth was in charge of building the Dragon 3. It was the same size as Remy's special craft but had some improvements that Seth was also trying to find ways to add to Remy's ship as well. The Dragon 3 was almost completed and a fourth had just gotten under way. It was an unspoken incentive for Julien – if you want this it's yours for the taking. As he had already made clear, Gambit couldn't just give Julien the next open spot, it had to be earned. There was much to doubt, Julien's past behavioral problems were enough to get him black listed – Julien was technically still on a SHIELD probation even though Fury was pretty much leaving him alone. There were always bigger fish to fry.

Gambit was doing all he could to help the boy along especially since they had made some sort of peace. Julien did not shower him with anything that resembled affection, but he had the lad's attention. Julien was finally listening with both ears and watching him with both of his matching eyes. Inspired to do even more, Remy was also taking him on extra trips to the gym. Remy had long since learned that rough or strenuous exercise helped to keep him level as well and he was quick to pass this on to his son. The Dragon 2 might not always be available for his use as a syphon. Not only was Julien getting stronger from all these workouts but he was showing some ability with the bo staff now that he was taking the time to give it his full effort. Julien had inherited far more than his father's eyes, his enhanced flexibility and quickness had been passed on as well. Gambit couldn't have been more pleased.

Julien himself was thrilled. He had Asher whispering in his ear – these were Gifts, not Curses and were to be used to do God's work as God had intended. With his much calmer mind, Julien was accepting these things as truths, as his ability to do positive things in the world. It made all the difference. There was nothing like being filled with noble purpose to put some real steam in a person's stride. Asher did not complain, not since it looked like the boy wasn't putting a twisted spin on it like Frost had.

Remy had noted that even though Julien was feeling much better about himself, it hadn't been enough for him to approach Kiden, the young girl whose picture still graced the boy's pocket. Julien was watching her, though. Remy knew that the girl was partway spoken for – her mutation was one that allowed her to create ghosts for herself, ones she could interact with. They had kept her good company as a child and one had grown even more close than a simple companion. They had become intimate. It was up for discussion if that meant she was available or not, but Julien hadn't quit her, not entirely. No, he watched her very closely, turning away only when her beloved ghost, Lucas, made himself visible to all. Remy felt bad for his son, first crushes were always hard. It was complicated by the fact that Kiden had probably saved Julien's life, taking him in and giving him shelter when his hand had first been broken. Frost had picked them up together and that relationship had come to an end once they had gotten separated. The decision to renew that relationship was Kiden's as far as Remy was concerned and he would do nothing to force her mind one way or the other. He just hung back and let things happen, making himself available should Julien want to talk about it.

Julien hadn't so far but one thing Remy had gotten from having so many Siskans under his charge was patience. With things fairly calm now, he had all the time in the world to wait and he would wait as long as it took.

(break)

Remy walked up to Grace's cabin, his clever eyes roaming over everything. He noted the clothes hanging out on the line, especially the pair of very male underwear drying there. There was one pair of muddy boots on the steps but next to it were the leftover mud impressions of a second pair that had been right next to them, the mud not yet dry.

He knocked on the door and Grace answered, her face breaking out in a wide smile at the sight of him. "Hello, stranger."

"Not my fault de time difference," he joked. To him he had only been here a few days ago. But to her it probably been more like two weeks.

"There's coffee," Grace offered, inviting him in with a sweep of her arm.

"Perfect."

He entered and took a look around. Things were neater here than the last time he had visited though the place still looked very lived in. The files and papers had been stored away and the table cleared. The cabin wasn't large and he took in the neatly made bed, but also the sleeping bag and pile of blankets on the floor beside it.

"He still won't use the bed," Grace lamented, having seen where his eyes had gone. "But at least he takes a shower every night now."

Grace was lucky that this cabin had a full bathroom, not just a toilet. It had taken many tries, but she had finally lured Kyle in for a nice hot shower. She had been forced to use her feminine wiles – flashing him just enough skin to let him know he wouldn't be going in there alone. He relented quickly after that. What she didn't know was that Skye had used the same tactics himself to domesticate the poor creature Grog, as Kyle had been known when Skye had discovered him. Kyle had known few pleasures in life, but a hot shower was one of them. Even better was to be shaved. Skye had done that as well and when Kyle invited her to do the same, she was willing to give it a try. It hadn't gone well, she had cut him. He forgave her for it, but after that Grace was too shy to use a razor on him again. She was more than happy to keep his rough beard nice and trim, a gentle compromise. He would sit quietly for it, loving the intimacy of being groomed.

The makeshift bed on the floor looked recently used and Remy asked, "He don't sleep out no more?"

"The last time he slept out was the last day you visited. He's gone most of the day but now he's home every night. He's making real progress. He should be back in an hour or so."

"Nice he got a routine," Remy said, smiling when Grace handed him a steaming cup of coffee. He sipped it with approval. She had made it just the way he liked it – strong and very sweet. Not much got past her.

Nor him. "Dat a new bruise?"

Grace rubbed her neck self consciously as if she could remove the teeth marks there. "He's getting better. He doesn't do it on purpose and he always feels bad after. He's really trying."

He nodded, seeing the truth of it in her shine. Or what she perceived as the truth anyhow. He still didn't like it. He really wished that Grace would have let the sexual aspects of their relationship wait until the boy had been more properly tamed, but they were kids and kids were never patient. Remy had kept the intimate particulars of their relationship from Charles knowing the Professor would never allow this to continue. Remy's motives were entirely selfish. He knew the only way to get the boy back was through Grace and he was letting her handle it. He didn't want to lose either of them to this place.

Grace may have been impulsive, but she wasn't reckless, not where Kyle was concerned. She had learned that lesson the hard way that day out by the altar. Since then she had taken things very slowly. Yes, she had joined him in the shower and some careful, cautious exploration had occurred along with the wash, but it was only just yesterday that the pair had dared to properly complete the act they both wanted to share.

They had taken it slow and this time she had insisted on the top position, forcing him to submit to her, at least in his mind. It had kept him from rolling her and for the most part kept his teeth at a safer distance, though he had managed to get one quick snap in there, at the moment of his climax. It was more of a pinch than a bite so she let it pass, thrilled enough with the fact that their intimacy had been nice and easy in every other respect, deeply loving. With time, she had doubt that even his teeth would learn their limits. Love had a way of fixing all of that.

Remy was perceptive. He couldn't see all that in her shine and in her body language, but he gleaned enough to know that she had won a victory there. They were intimate now and she was still alive. He was going to let it slide, for now. It wasn't like he had been able to stop them anyhow, no matter how much advice he had given her on being careful.

"Can I get you something to eat?" Grace asked, being the proper host. The cabin had a small kitchenette built in. She was lucky to have gotten a cabin with both electricity and a propane powered stove. "The food came yesterday and we've still got steaks left."

"Sure," he agreed to be polite.

As she opened the refrigerator he noted wrapped steaks, but also plastic bins of shredded raw meat, labeled for Kyle.

"He still take it raw?"

She smiled back at him, amused by his nosiness, but her eyes were pained. Her voice held weak humor as she replied, "He lets me par boil his chicken now."

"Every little bit helps," he teased back with sympathy.

She chuckled softly at his joke and got the steaks out. One thing about being on her own these past weeks, she had learned how to cook for herself. On his occasional visits, Remy had taught her some of his own tricks and now she could sizzle up a steak with the best of them.

"You t'ink he'll come home for good some time?" Remy asked as she set down a plate of food in front of him.

She sat down across from him with her own plate, her eyes a little sad. "I don't think he'll leave John. They've gotten very close."

Grace had left the front door of the cabin open when Remy had come in, the air was sweet and warm. Remy kept his eyes that way as they chatted and ate their meal. Grace had said it wouldn't be long before Kyle finally showed up and she was right. They had just finished eating when Kyle came from the trees, stooped and bent from being on his hands and feet. However, he was dressed in regular clothes and noticeably cleaner. His hair was combed and his face neat and clean, a definite improvement.

Kyle's eyes were keen and his nose sharp. As soon as he noticed his Grace was not alone he immediately stood up straight, sweeping a hand back through his long bangs to neaten them. The motion revealed just how white Kyle's hair had become, something that had happened fairly fast. He wasn't fully white, more like a nice surfer platinum blonde, one that hadn't come from a bottle.

When he came to the door it wasn't so easy to see the feral man that had been running naked through the trees only weeks before. It wasn't just the much better grooming, Remy realized with a start that the boy was dressed in a normal pair of jeans. His legs had straightened enough for that. His face was flatter but those fangs were still there and Remy could only hope that the healing factor that Skye had restored at such a heavy price remained. It would be shame if all of that had been for nothing.

Kyle sniffed at Remy, his lips peeled back just enough to show the tips of his impressive fangs. It took Remy a moment to realize it was actually a smile.

"Bonjour," Remy greeted.

"Hey," came the soft reply. "You come.. Mrr! ..to take my Grace?"

Remy startled a bit at that, that hadn't even been close to the reason for his visit. It was also something he would never have considered. This pair was like Kimble and Aiden, he counted them as one package not to be broken. "Non. I come fo' you, fils."

"Me?" Kyle couldn't have been more surprised.

"You t'ink maybe you could come home a bit. Help us out on sumptin'?"

Kyle lost his smile. The last time this had been asked of him, it hadn't ended so well. "Not such a good.. Mrr! ...idea."

"Den maybe you lend us just yo' nose, eh?" Remy teased. It had been the tracker he had wanted after all.

"What?" Kyle didn't get the joke.

Remy waved it away with a hand. "We got a line on dat girl Butch claim was Logan's. She like yo' sister, you want to t'ink of it dat way."

That just confused Kyle. He already thought of Molly like that though they had never gotten close. Molly just didn't trust him anywhere near her kids and he didn't exactly blame her. "Will.. Romulus be there?"

"Hopefully, non. De idea is to get dere first. But we gotta go quick. We wasted enough time already just tryin' to find where she at. Now we know."

Kyle considered his options, his tawny eyes on Grace. "Do I .. Mrr! ...have to come back for real .. Mrr! ..if I do this?"

Remy shook his head. "Non. Karen and I agree it best you come little at a time. You spend some time 'ere, some time dere. Always wit Grace. You don't come alone unless you want."

Kyle's fearsome grin grew wider. "Mrr! Then yes."

(break)

In a small half lit room, in a building far underground, a young girl sat on her cot waiting. This bed and this room were like a thousand others she had been in, the environment always changing while the orders never did. They wanted her to do things and she did. That was just how it was. This was the only life she had ever known and so the constant movement never fazed her. It was the waiting she could do without.

Bored now, she raised an arm and popped two shiny claws out of one hand, watching them gleam in the half light with her cold, dead eyes. They hadn't coated her whole body with Adamantium – they hadn't wanted to stunt the growth of her still tiny body – just the two claws that lived in each arm. Claws that had killed before and would again, once the orders were given. Until then there was only this - snickt in, snickt out - the sound the only thing in the room.

The end - for now.

Author's note - I just want to thank everyone who read, especially Liz who reviewed just about every chapter I posted. Just to clarify - Romulus, Daken, and X23 are not mine though pretty much everyone else new here was. Hope I was at least somewhat true to character on those guys for those who know. Don't know when I will be posting again, hopefully it won't be another four years, lol. Thanks again, everyone.