Disclaimer: The usual.

CHAPTER FOUR

Tap, tap, tap. Hmm? Pulling the blanket closer, I scoot left searching out my resident toe warmer.

Tap, tap, tap; more insistent. Suddenly I'm awake, not in my bed and I'm alone.

How did I…?

Oh gosh! What time is it?

Four.

Four!

P.M?

The last thing I recall is sitting by Logan's bedside.

"Sue," Electra's voice filters through the door.

"Hang on a sec," I've got to make sure I'm decent. Yep; fuzzy flannel nightgown. My spouse hates it but like his well-worn flannel shirts, I'll not part with it. Ends up on the floor most nights but that's another issue all together. "Come on," I call to my friend.

She pokes her head through the door, "Didn't wanna bother you miha but your son's on the phone."

Motioning her to stay I pick up the phone and select the waiting circuit. "Hello."

"Hey mom."

It's Matthew.

"Just checkin' in. How come you're not home?"

It takes me a minute to clear the cobwebs; remember the boys are with their dad. I suppose; hope they're unaware of what's happened. "Long story, son."

"Everything ok?"

Not really but I'm not going to burden him. "How's the sunny Caribbean?"

"It's there."

"Surfing?"

"Sucks."

"Bummer. How come?"

"No wave action."

"Ah! That's a definite problem. Where's Trav?"

"Dunno."

What the heck's going on with motor mouth junior? "Hey kiddo really, why so bummed?"

There's a pause and a sigh, "Dad wants to talk to you."

Lovely! I need to talk to that man like I need a hemorrhoidectomy. I swear if Allen's been giving Matt the third degree over Canada and such, I'll drop a nuke on his pompous head.

"Happy New Year," my ex exults crisply.

What's happy about it? "Thanks. What's up?"

"The news down here is all about a terrorist attack in the City. The boys are insistent I check on you. Obviously when we couldn't reach you at home…."

"You can tell them I'm a-okay. Is that why Matt seems out of sorts?"

"Hmmm. I hadn't noticed."

Ok, so it's you who's concerned? Right. "Come off it Allen."

"Susan, I need to ask a serious question."

"Ok."

"Did that….did your….husband have anything to do with last nights events?"

Crap! He's been pumping Matt for information. "Why would you ask that?"

"Matthew's unusual mode of transportation."

"What? My employer's private jet?"

"No. The flight before that."

Oh no! Matt must have said something. Stupid me, I didn't even think to tell him to keep it to himself. "I appreciate your concern."

"I understand," Allen replies gently. "Is everything alright?"

"Things are stable."

He may have been a complete jerk as a mate but he does know how to be professional and abides by the verbal shorthand we used to use discussing confidential matters.

He sighs, "Good. Susan, despite the recent tension between us…."

"Allen, we need to talk…. when you get back."

"Yes, I think we do. Perhaps with our attorney's present."

Oh miserable, conniving, two-faced turdball! Hold out the olive branch then bite the hand that reaches. "Maybe we should communicate through our attorneys."

"That's a bit extreme."

"Allen, let's drop it, ok?" I don't give him an opening to return a volley, "Bye."

Returning attention to my friend, Electra looks as embarrassed as I feel, "Sorry you had to hear that."

She grins wryly and nods.

"Thanks for waiting." I'm just as eager to change the subject. "How's…."

"He's doing ok. Still unconscious. His vitals are in the sky so you know there's heavy duty healing factor going on."

"Ororo, Pete?"

"So far, so good. Symptom free, restful night. Neither can hear well yet."

"It's going to take time. One more question: How did I get up here?"

She laughs. "You poor bebe. You conked out beside Logan. Put your head down on the mattress and next thing we knew the zee's were floating. Vic practically carried you up here."

I feel a blush of crimson in my cheeks and reflexively dip my head. "What time?'

"Oh, maybe five; the sun wasn't up."

"Wow. I've been asleep almost twelve hours."

"Not just you…"

"No doubt. Crap!"

"Por que?"

"My glucose needs testing; missed a dose of my blood pressure meds."

"Si. Want to get checked out?"

"Maybe later. Hey 'Lectra, speaking of all things maternal, have you said anything to Vic yet?"

She smiles, her perfect teeth gleam against milk chocolate complexion. "He cried. But don't you dare let on I told you."

"Trust me. You two keeping this quiet?"

"Haven't had the chance to discuss it but I think so. We'd completely given up hope after my last miscarriage ten years ago."

"O lordy. You two go on the top of my prayer list."

"Muchas gracias, miha because prayer and luck is about all there is."

"How about a crack high risk OB?"

"We've been through all that. Our….. my problem has to do with the electrical field my body generates. But nobody knows why or what to do about it."

"So when would you be out of the woods?"

"Again, no telling. I've miscarried so many times and had two stillbirths. I guess about ten times in all, through the years."

"Oh Electra, I'm so sorry."

"No, no. Every time is a gift. After all this time I didn't think it was possible anymore."

"You've got more faith and grace than me, girlfriend. Can I mention it to Logan?"

"Might as well. He'll sense it anyway."

"That's for sure."

xXx

Beep, beep, beep. Drat! What's with these phone calls? Hardly any one knows where I am. "This is Susan."

"Sue, it's Julia….."

"Oh my gosh!" I exclaim smacking a palm to my forehead. "I promised Logan would call."

"It's ok. Scott told me what happened. Circumstances as they are; I don't want you concerning yourself with what's happening here." She's coldly business like and I can't tell whether she's sincere.

"How's Elizabeth?"

"Publicly, fine. Privately…. Well, she's my mother."

Yeah, she's sincere and stuck coping with a fruit loop for a mother.

"Julia, she was a wreck when she called and I didn't understand everything. What really happened?" Please read between the lines and tell me what happened to the paperwork we signed.

"Robert's car hit black ice. Apparently spun out of control over an embankment and caught fire. It's tragic though it could have been much worse, you know?"

"Hmmm. How so?"

"Mother thought she'd go along."

A chill skitters up my backbone and I gasp; thoroughly at a loss for words. It's terrible enough Logan's gesture of love is tainted with one tragedy. Issues with his mother or not I don't want to think how compounding it would make him feel. As it is, I dread breaking the news when the time comes.

Julia continues, "I haven't told her about Ja—Logan. I thought it best to hear things from you first."

"Right. As far as I know he's stable but we really don't know how long 'til he's well. When are services planned?"

"The memorial's Friday. He's being cremated so the burial's going to be rather intimate. We're having to cope with; um, his children."

"I see." That family's got more skeletons in more closets. "Julia, would it help if I spoke to Elizabeth?"

"At the moment, no. She's quite preoccupied with arrangements and such."

In the back of my mind I'm thinking Julia's wrong. Elizabeth is the type of woman who takes note of everything. But she's not my mother, so out of it I remain. "Ok. Let me know if there's anything I can do."

"I don't want to sound cruel but the best thing is to keep my brother away. I can manage mother."

Excuse me! There's a side of me that's thoroughly insulted but all things considered, I think I understand where she's coming from. "I'm sure you know best when it comes to Elizabeth."

xXx

It's a fact that unpleasant things come in threes. "Oh, Doctor Harris," calls a voice I'm not really in the mood to hear.

Pausing outside the door to my office, "Yes, Doctor Jennings?"

"How's Logan doing?"

None of your business. "Recovering."

"Good. It's imperative I speak to him."

"Yes, you made that clear; um, the other night. It's going to be a while longer."

She snips, "How much longer?"

Ooh, you pushy bitch! I can feel the blood pressure pounding in my ears. "He was basically blown up so how the heck should I know?"

If body language were a weapon I'd be a crispy critter but I couldn't care less. I've got the bigger gun right now; control over access to Logan. "And even if I did, get this; we have a few priorities to deal with before we deal with you."

"I don't think it's your place to set priorities when it comes to our daughter."

That makes me pivot on my heel. "Oh whoa! Back up, Marla. Two weeks ago Logan was nothing more—what did you say? He only supplied the biological material? So don't you dare pull that our daughter crap."

"Circumstances change."

"They certainly do."

"I beg your pardon." She cranes her neck like a swan with a fish stuck in its throat. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You reap what you sow." Can't help pointing my finger, punctuating each word. "And I don't appreciated you dragging Logan into something he isn't responsible for."

She's puffed up like a hen in a chicken coop. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"That's a false assumption."

"Maybe so but I don't think it makes any difference."

"I think it's false assumptions that got you in this mess in the first place."

"How dare you!"

Beet red, I hope she doesn't pop a vessel or something.

"Do you think I want to be here? Have my daughters life turned upside down? Come crawling to anyone? Believe me, if had another choice I'd take it."

Lowering my voice, I swoop in with the killer question, "And if you didn't know Logan was alive?"

Her shoulders sag and she shakes her head. "Doctor Harris, I'm acutely aware that some disturbing facts must be put forward due to my ill advised actions in the past."

"Marla, cut the uber diplomacy. You screwed up and the consequences are beyond disastrous."

She's squirming; her eyes fix anywhere but on me. "When may I see him?"

Never. "You'll see him when I release him from care. Now excuse me, I've got patients."

xXx

"There you are." A soft angels' voice caresses my ear and I blink trying to focus on the golden glow hovering above.

Wisps of images float through my mind. Crazy man tearing through a forest. A space station. Toppled grave stones. Hospitals. Posh indoor swimming pool keeps mixing up with icy, polluted river water….and pain.

Where the fuck am I and somebody wanna tell me why I feel like I been run through a giant dull bladed blender?

Sense of smell comes back on line; antiseptic, filtered air, plastic and steel. Answers the where question.

I smell her: baby powder, citrus shampoo, prolactin and progesterone. She coos, "Logan." Her warm, soft hand is heaven against my cheek.

My vision clears and oh, what a vision!. "Darlin'."

Izzat gravelly wheeze coming from me?

She smiles and smoothes the hair from my forehead, "Welcome back."

Our finger tips touch, "How long?"

"Two days."

"Pretty bad, huh?"

"On the scale of one to ten, I'd say about twelve and a half."

From the scent of her fatigue, I'll buy that.

"Hanging in?" I ask pressing my palm softly against her belly. Think she's grown.

"We're all fine," her smile's a beacon. "Do you remember anything?"

I nod but things're fuzzy. A little self exploration tells me body parts are all there but not all of 'em are working like they oughtta. My fingers touch a solid plastic patch covering my left eye. Guess that explains why I got only half a field of vision.

"Time to get out o'here," I declare and try sitting up. Bad move. Feels like a swarm of pissed off hornets attacking from butt to toes

"Will you hold on," she orders pushing against my chest.

"No," I bark and promptly start hackin' up part of a lung.

"Logan. Don't be an idiot. You've still got a lot of healing to do."

"Darlin'," I wheeze, a bloody glob filling my mouth. She hands off a plastic basin so can spit. "We go through this every time. Med lab ain't the place for me. Now you gonna help me or do I do it myself?"

Arms crossed, her smile is wicked. "Go on. I have no doubt the IV'll come out easily. It's the Foley catheter I going to really enjoy watching you deal with."

Foley Catheter? Whatever! Starting to swing my legs off the bed there's a tugging at my groin. "Fuck!" I growl. "Ya got thirty seconds to get that thing out o'me or..."

"Or what?"

Gotta think this through. I could pull it out. Ain't gonna feel real good. Don't relish the collateral damage. Talk about a twist on being got by the balls. I give her my best evil eye and throw the sheet off.

"Holy shi—it!" What the fuck happened to my legs? Withered, misshapen and blackened they're a pair of hot dogs left on the grill days after the barbeque.

"You're vastly improved over a couple hours ago but see what I'm saying? It's too soon Logan."

Right or wrong, the med lab still ain't where I'm going finish mending. "Don't care. Now get this stuff off." I'll carry the damn hook ups, collection bag and everything to the shower and deal with it myself. That's assuming these burnt sticks of jerky can take me the distance.

"I'll make a deal with you."

"Yeah?"

"I'll cut you loose but you hafta promise we'll stay here one more night."

She catches my dirty look. "Well not here but in your old room."

"What for?"

"Because I can't handle you myself if anything goes wrong."

Much as I'd like to, can't argue with her. "Ok but get this shit out and make it quick."

"Trust me, you don't want me to take the cath out quickly," she counsels while slipping the IV from my arm.

"Why not?"

She snaps on gloves.

"Lift your butt," she says and spreads padding under me. "Oh, about nine inches of tubing…"

She takes hold of me and I flinch. "Sorry. Did that hurt?"

"Cold."

She nods and continues, "….That needs to be gently withdrawn…."

I suck in my breath. It doesn't hurt but it feels fucking weird as she snakes the thing out.

"…From a tender spot. Even for a tough guy like you."

"Cute."

"Deep breath," she instructs. "Now, blow it out."

"Guhff—owww!" Instinctively I cup myself. "Son of a bitch burns like a mother fucker!"

Blue appears in the door way, "Thought I heard voices. Eloquent as usual my friend and you're looking significantly improved."

Peachy! Right now all I wanna do is curl up while my dick feels like somebody injected it with acid and I've got an audience. Double bird to ya, bub.

He chuckles, "Ah yes, the flying fickle finger of fate," and rubs the stethoscope on his lab coat. "Let's check the vitals."

"Got a wife for that, bub."

His tone is cordial but there's no mistaking his authority, "Who is officially off the duty roster for the next ninety six hours; at least."

"Uh Hank, that's four days. Even my OB isn't that heartless," she complains.

Hank hmms and umms. "Good. Pulse a little fast, Lungs clearer," then seamlessly replies to Susie. "Maybe so, but you need rest from your surgery and whether Gimpy admits it or not, he needs down time."

What the fuck? "Gimpy!"

Susie giggles, "Hank, don't ya think with the eye patch Blackbeard suits him better?"

Hank pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and laughs, "I'll get back to you on that."

"Let's not and say ya did," I vent.

"Listen well, you two," Hank's all seriousness. "I don't want to see hide nor hair of you until Wednesday at which time Logan needs to begin hyperbaric therapy."

"Oh whoa! What the hell's hyper—whatsit therapy?"

Susie clamps a hand over my mouth. "Hush! It's for another day. How 'bout chow?"

"That's the best thing I've heard since last year. How 'bout a couple o'steaks, eggs; easy over?" My stomach rumbles. "And wash it all down with a six pack."

"I'll approve the steak and eggs my friend. As for the six pack; give your healing factor a couple more hours."

"Aw c'mon Hank. There's grain and yeast—lot's o'good shit. Liquid bread."

He laughs aloud, "Creative Logan, very creative."

He ain't laughing when he says, "No."

xXx

Food and a shower's done me wonders. Standing out here on the terrace by Sue's office it feels good to breathe fresh air. It's been snowing. In the twilight the grounds seem peaceful draped in a thick, luminescent blanket of the stuff.

A bunch of the younger kids are off in the distance having the mother of all snowball fights. It's tempting to get into it with 'em but I ain't up to speed yet. If it hadn't been for adamantium bones in my legs I'd be a; well, I wouldn't be standing on 'em any time soon.

Looks like somebody got a dog over the holidays. Huge, furry Newfoundland, I think. Seems to be having a blast chasing snowballs and barking its head off.

Susie's caught me up on all the latest and done a great job keeping a huge thorn outta my backside; namely Marla Jennings. Thanks to a vast network of concealed passages and lifts we can move through most of the school undetected.

Secret passages can't save me having to face another situation and now I'm fiddling with the cell phone trying to figure it out. The explosion scrubbed a lot of shit from my memory including news about Robert. Goddamn, that sucks!

I gotta do the right thing and it ain't simply guilt driving me. When Susie passed on my sis's wish that I stay the hell away; gotta admit I think Julia's right—for now. Hope I'm wrong but I got a sneaking suspicion about the wreck and that's were I won't keep out of it. But can't do shit about it for now.

Here goes nothin'.

Phillip the butler answers, "Howlett residence." The guy must starch his shorts.

"It's Logan. Can I speak to Elizabeth?"

"Mrs. Howlett is unavailable, sir."

Figures. "How 'bout Julia?"

"Unavailable as well. May I take a message?"

Ok. Are they unavailable as in out or unavailable as in ain't talking t'me? "Yeah. Tell 'em I called."

"Very good sir."

"Thanks." And unclench ol' man before you cut of your circulation.

Just as I click off I hear a voice from Susie's office. "It's been two days. I know he's back on his feet. I want to see him and I want to see him now."

"I don't make up his schedule," my darlin' replies.

"You're both avoiding me."

"Think whatever you like, Marla."

Marla leans both arms on Sue's desk and gets in her face, "Where is he?"

Enough o'this shit. "Turn around," I growl and step through the French door.

Flinching like I goosed her with a branding iron she faces me square on. "It's about ti…Oh my god! Logan, you look like death warmed over."

Look in the mirror lately, bitch? "Whadaya want?"

She glances sourly at Susie, "We need to speak privately."

"Nope."

"Fine," she huffs.

"You know what?" Sue interjects. "I think this whole thing'll go a lot better if I'm not sitting here."

That's not what I expected. "Ya sure?"

"Yes. Unless you need me to stay."

"Up to you."

"I'll be in the conservatory," she pecks my cheek on the way out.

"Ok Marla, now what?"

"I need your help."

"Uh huh. Got that much when I talked to Charles. Take a load of your feet and tell me the whole story."

She spills her guts about Ruchinsky. I can tell she ain't lying but she's leaving out a helluva lot.

I ain't tipping my hand on what I remember. So we're playing connect the dots."Why's Ruchinsky want her?"

"I don't know."

"Bullshit! Listen up, Marla; gimme the truth. All of it… or I walk."

"I told you they want to train her for god only knows what."

"God only knows what? I'll tell ya what but I shouldn't hafta. You were up to your neck with 'em same as me."

"No. Never like you."

"It's all relative. But think about it. Replication's was originally set up to create clones; super soldier clones. So, you telling me you don't know what Ruchinsky wants is telling me you're stupid."

"No need to be insulting."

"I just call 'em as I see 'em."

"It doesn't make sense. She's a little girl."

"Hell it doesn't. Just look at what the kid's got already and she's just begun to manifest her power. And for being a little girl; have ya taken a good look at her, Marla?" Ignoring her fuck off and die expression, "There are places where they train 'em young as nine or ten to be killers."

"I know," she chokes back a sob and it ain't croc tears.

"That's why I came to you, Logan. You're the only one I know who stands any chance of protecting our daughter from that fate."

Aw shit! Don't go all watery on me. Tossing the tissue box on Sue's desk in her direction; time to redirect the conversation. "Alright, explain how she's my kid and don't gimme the sperm donor routine"

"That's the truth."

"I want the rest of the truth."

"What do you know about in-vitro fertilization?"

"Test tube babies, right?"

"Correct. Simply put that's what Wendy is a product of."

"So how the hell did you wind up adopting her?"

"She's not adopted. I gave birth to her."

Holy shit! My stomach hits the floor. "So you are her mother?"

"Not biologically. I was a surrogate."

"Then who is?"

"I told you I don't know and that's the truth."

"Did you know I was her father from the beginning?"

"Yes."

"And you don't know who her mother is? C'mon Marla, that's fuckin' BS."

"Logan, put a cork in that crude mouth of yours. There were hundreds of ovums banked but there were only five men in the program who were successful donors."

"Creed, North, Kane, me and…."

"Wade Wilson. You do know about it!"

"Dunno know nothing about any donor shit. I do remember givin' up a lot of samples as part of whatever testing and research Diebel ordered."

Five of us banking samples and how many eggs? Christ on a crotch rocket! "You're saying there's hundreds of …."

"No. The programs success was extremely limited."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"A majority of embryos weren't up to standard and were destroyed. Some of us volunteered for multiple implantations but that failed far too often as well. Alternative forms of gestation yielded no positive results. Ruchinsky told me himself that he knew of only about a half dozen successes; Wendy being one of those."

"You're telling me I got six kids like Wendy out there?"

She rolls her eyes and chortles, "Your ego's as big as your…..anatomy. I'm saying between all the male donors there were roughly six documented successes that Ruchinksy mentioned."

Uh huh. There's a comfort. Psychotic mini Creeds and Deadpools running loose. "That doesn't answer the question."

"I only have first hand knowledge of Wendy."

Damn the bitch and her hedging. "Care to guess?"

Suddenly feverish and weak, the pain from my regenerating eye stabbing through my head, I slide onto the nearby couch. "Nah, forget it."

Healing factors revving up for another agony trip. Lousy fucking timing.

"You're white as a ghost! Are you all right?"

Like you really give a flyin' fuck? "So what's the kid's story?"

"She was in a sub par batch bound for destruction. I took the batch and had a colleague help me implant the embryos. Six developed but in the twelfth week I miscarried. I thought I'd lost all of them but Wendy remained."

"How the hell did you that get past Replications?"

"Obviously I didn't. But, carrying multiples I went on medical leave. When I lost them I'd already tendered a transfer so there was no reason to let anyone know I'd not lost them all."

"Why'd ya do it?"

"I had my reasons and they're deeply personal."

"Why'd ya pick me or is that deeply personal too?"

"It is but it's fair I share them. Out of the five you and David North were the best. David was—is still alive as far as I know so it would have been wrong of me to have a child of his without his consent."

"Right, but I'm dead so hey, why not?"

"No. It wasn't that way. I loved you once and I thought you felt the same. In a bizarre way I felt having your child was a way to keep something of you alive. And you don't know how much I wish that Wendy's other half was mine."

Ain't touchin' those sentiments with a ten foot pole even if I believed 'em.

That squirrelly buzz sets up in my head again; memory from a lifetime ago. O-dark thirty in the morning; reachin' across the sheets to an empty, cold spot. Crack open an eye. See dim light coming from another room. Ease up behind her all set for more action and what's the slut doing? Sending off a goddamn performance report of our nightly activities!

"Didn't have anything t'do with love, Marla. Think I didn't catch on to what was goin' on? Fuck sake; couldn't pick yer nose or take a shit without somebody documenting it."

She won't look me in the eye. "We all had our difficult tasks. I'm sorry."

"Yep. Science project of the moment, eh?"

"She looks like she's going to crumble to dust. "Logan, I fell in love with you."

Lingering pheromones says she still does. Staring at a dot of lint on the carpet, "Tough luck," comes out polar and I mean it that way. Don't want her under any illusions.

It's time to get off this locomotive to nowhere. "So, 'bout the kid; what do ya want me to do?"

"What can you do?"

"Right now, I dunno. You made a good move when you brought the kid here. How much have ya told Charles?"

"Only the basics."

"Ok. Step one is to brief him; thoroughly. Wendy's a security nightmare and there's stuff that's gonna hafta happen."

She hugs her midsection and the stress hormones rocket off her. "He wouldn't turn us away?"

"No worries there. This place is a haven for fucked up cases. He took me in."

That evokes a grin. "Brave soul," she chuckles.

I flash a half grin in return, "Or nuts." Serious once more, "I'm gonna be honest about something."

"Go on."

"Wendy's gotta know everything."

"I don't agree."

"Get your head outta the sand, woman! Reps will do anything to get her. Unless we lock her up there's no way to protect her twenty-four seven. Knowledge is self-protective power."

"She'll hate me."

"I guarantee she'll hate you more when she figures it out on her own. And Marla, she's close."

"I'm afraid you're right. If I could just tell her the circumstances without naming names."

"I ain't gonna dictate how you handle it but ya better think it through. She's a crack telepath, strong empath and she's smart as a whip. Neither of us can shield forever."

xXx

My past is on a collision course with the present and the brisk night air and cigar do squat to ease my mind. Instinct tells me this is tied to the shit Creed warned about. Now Jennings brings the kid here. No fucking way is this coincidence.

This place is prime pickin's for that bunch of mother fuckers.

So what's another mother t'do?

Can't risk sitting tight and baiting 'em. Not here. Not with all these kids.

Pre-emptive strike. Shove it up their asses and pull the trigger.

It's the only way.

Xavier ain't gonna like it but compared to Ruchinsky and company, Stryker was just practice.

Gotta strip it to the basics. No way are they getting the kid

Gonna stop 'em.

Period.

With my bare hands and flyin' solo if I hafta.

"Hey look you guys. It's Logan," carries across the wintry landscape. "Doin' ok, coach?"

I give 'em the thumbs up.

A snowball arcs high and lands with a crunch close enough to splatter chunks of it on my jeans. Gathering up a fist full o'the stuff, I chunk another back—and it falls short? Well, fuck that! Left arm looks ok but it's still weak from being half blown away.

The tone's good natured but the kids don't miss the opportunity the rub it in. "Winter ain't over," I threaten, clamp my stogie tight between my teeth and lob a right hander. Bulls eye!

"Whoo-hoo! Logan's in," Ty, my little busted arm pal shouts.

Kids must be taking basic tactics to heart and launch an all out assault while Ty, gone ghost, sneaks in for an up close barrage of ice balls.

My own physical reserves starting to run low, as well as ammunition, "Hey you guys," I shout looking for an out. "Whose mutt?"

Converging en masse in my direction, they're yammering about the dog just showing up.

"Good dog like this is bound to belong somewhere." Ruffing his ears and neck feeling for a micro chip, he rewards with a slobbery lick for my trouble.

"Hey Coach," Ty says. "That thing on the Brooklyn Bridge was some kind of sc-a-a-ry."

No shit little dude. Ain't something I wanna repeat. Outdoor lighting dims twice signaling curfew and nixing a rehash of the gory details.

"You guy's get a move on before the Professor or Mister Summers hammers yer butts with eternal K.P."

"What's that?"

"Kitchen patrol."

A few of them got blank looks on their faces. "Look it up," I advise. "Now, get a move on." Their yes sir's are about as crisp as uncooked bacon.

A hundred fifty pounds of canine energy doesn't follow the pack. Tongue lolling, tail wagging, he parks himself at my feet.

Damn if I ain't a total sucker for a big ol' dog.

Had one for a couple years while I was on the road. Jake was a wolf mixed breed I rescued as a pup from an asshole who tossed him onto a freeway. Ended bad when another asshole mistook him for a wild wolf and shot him. I ended the assholes hunting career but missed that mutt something fierce for months afterward.

Aw, what the hell! Can't keep myself from giving him a brisk shoulder rub. "You're a good ol' boy, ain't ya?" He is an old boy, too. There's plenty of gray speckling his slobbery muzzle. "What's your name?"

The dog snorts and rolls over, exposing his belly. It's a gesture of trusts and surrender in the animal kingdom and it earns him a belly scratching from me.

"You're gonna be good for this place; yeah ya are." Gotta laugh at myself talking to a dog like this.

Something sets him on alert and he rolls back to standing. I sense it too and when he doesn't sense alarm from me his tail flicks back and forth.

"Whose your friend?" Susie comes from behind and rubs my shoulders.

"Dunno, Kids say he just showed up yesterday."

"He's a beauty." The dog sniffs and licks the hand she offers. "Brrr! Let's go in."

"Yeah." I snap my fingers at the dog and he accepts my invitation indoors. Susie's sideways glance vaporizes as he flops down by the door and drills her with nothing less than expression of pure canine adoration. Dog knows a prime woman when he sees one.

Rummaging through a stack of mail, Susie wades right in, "So what did she say?"

"Not exactly sure what to make of it all yet. What she's saying 'bout Replications ain't their style. Those bastards don't ask, ya know?"

"Not really."

"Something don't smell right. Why didn't they grab the kid right off the bat? I don't believe they've gone sloppy."

"Set up maybe?"

"Crossed my mind."

"Dear Lord! What's she want you to do?"

"Keep the kid safe."

"Well yeah, that's obvious. But safe from what exactly?"

"From gettin' fucked over like they did me."

She's sorted the mail into neat his and hers stacks, topping mine with a large yellow envelope. Addressed to both of us, it's one of those official looking things with Confidential stamped all over it. Somebody had to sign for it, evidenced by the green remnants of the Return Receipt. The sender; Worthington Laboratories, don't ring any bells. "What's this?"

"I think it's Wendy's DNA profile."

Hit me over the head with a fuckin' two by four! "Aw shit!"

"Piling higher and deeper," she sighs. "By the way, she didn't happen to shed any light on Wendy's parentage, did she?"

Shit! After her reaction to the last time this topic came up I might as well slit my throat now. "Yeah, she did."

It's one of those long, expectant pauses and she prompts, "Well?"

How'd I know she wasn't gonna let it lie? "Well what?"

"Rrrr! What did she say?"

"Marla ain't the kids real mom and she didn't adopt her."

"Really? Guess that explains why Scott can't locate any adoption records."

"Yeah. Marla's a whatchacallit—a surrogate."

"Ok." Crossing her arms and setting her jaw, her tone goes chilly. "That doesn't explain how you're mixed up in it."

My own anger feeds off hers. "Lemme tell ya darlin', I wasn't mixed up in it voluntarily. The kid got her start in a Petri dish and it was just luck o'the draw my….stuff was used."

"Luck of the draw? Oh c'mon Logan."

"There were five of us. Reps used us like…like breeding stock. I didn't put it together; all the testing and sampling and shit, until a couple days ago."

"Logan, when you say stuff, are you saying artificial insemination?"

"Hell if I know. Maybe. Come t'think about it, Marla never said."

"Back then that's all there was."

"Dunno Sue. They did take a lot more samples that just…that."

Popping a tip of a claw and slitting the envelope, the contents spills onto her desk. Scrawled on a neon orange sticky note on the first page is: Sue- Tested samples twice. Results unusual. See pg.4. Regards, KS.

"Like what?"

"Yer askin' me to remember?"

Hands on hips, suckin' on her lower lip, yeah she is.

"Blood, piss, shit….hell anything and everything. I'll tell ya this; bone marrow was a bitch."

Thumbing through the report, I can't make heads or tails of the squiggles, blobs and numbers. "What's this say darlin?"

She takes it, sits at her desk and reads it over… and over… and reads it again. I can smell confusion in her.

Now I'm getting antsy and drum my fingers on the shiny surface of her desk. "What?"

"Kathi's not kidding," her eyebrows arch. "This is bizarre," she replies still scanning the report.

"Hello, Susan! What's bizarre?"

The dog reacts to my frustration, raising its head and snorting.

"Can't be right," she mutters

"Dammit!" I pound the desk with my fist. "What?"

Ears perked, tail stilled and golden eyes glowing, the dog's up on his paws reacting to our emotions.

"Let that thing out," Susie suggests but dog breath resists.

"Lay down," I command and he does. Pointing to the spot by the door, I add, "Stay," for good measure.

"You'd think he belongs to you," Susie accuses.

"Maybe he should."

"No. Just no. The cats don't do dogs."

Right now the last thing I wanna think about is a giant fur ball. "Whatever. Now what the hell's with this report?"

"There are two distinct maternal DNA patterns!"

"Say what?"

She boots up a computer. "Look. This is you." She shows me a comparison between the report and the data she saved from my test results last spring "But here," she separates two pages from the report. "These marks indicate female patterns. There's…"

"Two," I complete her sentence.. "How?"

She chews on her fingernail. "W-e-l-l-l; I can make an educated guess. No; that technology didn't exist…"

"What technology?"

"Gene splicing. But even today it's cutting edge; extremely experimental."

"Babe, we're talking Replications here. Bonding bone and adamantium ain't a technology that exists either."

She nods. "Hmm. Good point."

She ain't got anything close to a poker face when the cogs in her brain are grinding together. "I dunno know, Logan. Fourteen or fifteen years ago….Oh well, maybe. The first test tube baby did just turn twenty something."

"Ya think the test is fucked up?"

"No but maybe the samples were contaminated."

"That's just great. Marla'll never let us close enough to the kid to get any more samples."

"Even if we did, it takes a solid two weeks for results."

"Fuck that, Sue. I'll get the answers."

"Logan, what are you thinking?"

Making tracks out of her office, I'm thinking I'm gonna choke a bitch to death if she don't A: start talking or B: let Sue get more blood from the kid.

"Logan, hold on," she blocks my path. "Don't do something crazy."

I ain't even close to berserker but I am pissed enough that it's a struggle not to shrug her off rough, "Back off Susan!"

She flinches and the smell of her fear throttles me back. "Ain't gonna do anything crazy."

"What are you going to do?"

"Marla ain't lied to me but she's left a butt load of shit out of her story. She's gonna spill it one way or the other."

"Yeah, it's the one way or the other that makes me nervous." She reaches up and touches my cheek, "How about we talk to her together?"

Don't want the contact and I brush her hand away. "No."

That gets her Irish up and she snaps, "Logan, think about things for a minute. Please. Didn't you mean it when you said you wouldn't turn down a chance to be someone to Wendy?"

"What's that got to do with it?"

"Everything. If you alienate her mother you might never get that chance."

"You sayin' I'd screw it all up?"

"They way you are right now that's a strong possibility."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, darlin'."

With that I'm gone leaving her in the door way fuming and I don't give a shit! Aw hell, yeah I do. She's right, as usual. But godammit, she's gotta cut me some slack.

It doesn't take long to sniff out Marla but it's complicated. She and the kid are cozyed in the library. Maybe it's for the best; easier to rope in my emotions with Wendy around.

Crossing my arms and leaning into the door frame, "Hey kid."

Her guard goes up but curiosity's stronger. "H-hi. Wow! When Marie and Jubilee said nothing could hurt you they weren't lying."

I laugh and start to answer when Marla cuts me off.

"Can I help you?"

I try to sound neutral. "I gotta ask ya something."

She's perturbed and it shows. "Can't it wait?"

"Wouldn't be standing here if it could."

Wendy's gone nervous and glances back and forth between us; no doubt tuning into to the bad vibes between her mother and me. Her ability to surf my mind's definitely stronger than the last time.

Marla puts her hand to the side of her head, "Wendy, stop it."

"No mom. I wanna know what's really going on."

"We'll talk later. Now please give Coach Logan and me a few minutes."

"I'm not stupid, you know. First you think it's cool for me to go to school here. The next day it's like not happening…"

"Wendy Leigh, I told you we'll talk about this later."

"Nah ah. Then that guy completely messes up our vacation; we're jetted right back here and you've been freaked out ever since."

"That'll do young lady."

"Aarrggh! Mother, please."

"All right but let me talk with Logan first."

"He's part of whatever you're blocking me from, isn't he?

The kids on the mark and Marla only digging the hole deeper. "Wendy, do as your mom says."

She studies me carefully and I can feel her surfing my mind as hard she can. Anger and frustration stink like rotten cabbage. She dips her head, knits those eyebrows and sneers. By god if it ain't like looking in a mirror.

"You think just because you're my father you can tell me what to do?"

Holy shit!

"Wendy! Where did you get such an idea?"

Marla glares accusingly at me and all I can do is shake my head.

She stares and me and then her mother, "I'm right, aren't I?"

Crossing my arms, I stare at Marla. If the kid's reading my told ya so thought, then let it be.

Marla looks like she about to be sick, swallows hard, "How long ago did you figure this out?"

"For sure; just right now. But mom, you've been blocking all these weird things…" Big tears roll down the kid's cheeks. "And so has he. Why wouldn't you tell me?"

Aw shit, two weeping wenches. Break out the violins.

"I was…I will….Oh Wendy, it's a very complicated thing."

The kid stares at me and I ain't immune to the sour stink of betrayal and hurt rolling off her.

"How come? Why didn't you say anything?" she hiccups between sobs.

Because your mom's a stupid bitch and I caved when I shouldn't have. "Honey, you're mom thought it was important that she told ya."

"Oh!" she squeaks.

Mollification doesn't last but a second before she whips, "Mom, if I'm adopted how can I have a living dad?"

Oh yeah, kids sharp as a tack. Let's see Marla worm out of this.

"Well, lot's of men make babies they don't become aware of or take responsibility for."

Hold on. Don't fuckin' paint me as the deadbeat dad here.

There's razor scrutiny as the kid blasts me, "So which one are you?"

Angling my head toward her mother, I reply, "Ask her."

"Mom?"

"Damn you Logan. Look what you've done. Get out. Just go."

"Haven't done a goddamn thing woman and I ain't going nowhere 'til I find out what I need t'know."

"I've told you everything."

"Yeah? Then what the fuck's double maternal DNA all about?"

The kid butts in, "What's he talking about?"

Ignoring Wendy, Marla snips, "How do you know about that?"

"Little thing called a DNA profile."

"Oh my god! What gave you the right?"

"Ain't debating rights, Marla. Gimme an answer or a sample from the kid."

Coiled and fanged, Marla spits, "You can go to hell."

"After you darlin'."

Wide eyed, yanking on dark auburn curls, rocking back and forth, the kids about to meltdown. "Mommy! Somebody tell me what's going on."

"Logan, get out," Marla commands. "Now."

"No, no," Wendy howls. "You gotta tell me."

Marla's head snaps back; she stumbles and screams, "Wendy! Stop!"

"Grrraagghh!" It feels like a repeat of the Brooklyn Bridge inside my skull. Brain's on spin cycle and I gotta grab the door frame to steady myself. The kid's scouring my mind like a roto rooter.

"Kid!" Gotta yell over the mental claxon blaring in my brain.

Either she's way stronger than before or my neurons are still fragged from the bomb blast.

"Wendy….Stop."

The aminial's rattling its prison. Can't let it break free; ruin the kids mind with the hell visions polluting my mind.

The kid's piercing scream sets the dog to barking furiously.

Marla screams, "Stop her! Somebody help. Logan, do something!"

"Like what?" I yell lurching forward.

Wendy's shield repels me, almost knocking me on my ass.

A ricochet effect flattens her mother. The shock sends her into hysterics, her screams drowning out the kids.

Bam! Everything freezes and a blanket of silence falls. No screaming, no barking, no whine of the psi-shield. Nothing. The battlefield inside my skull stills.

Ain't the kids doing and it sure as hell ain't me. Another powerful presence clamps a lid down on the party. The psychic signature's familiar and he's circling the wagons. If the kid walks away from this relatively unfucked, I'm buyin' Charles Xavier a case of the best liquor of his choosing.

Kid's a basket case; wild eyed, tear streaked, fingers tearing at her hair. Terror bleeds from every pore, making her gibber and shake uncontrollably.

"They hurt you. They hurt you," she moans.

"And…" she sinks to her knees.

"They're going…" She pitches forward.

Leaping toward her I hear, "…Going hurt mommy…"

Going fetal on the floor, she cries, "…And me."

"Kid! Look at me. Wendy, look at me."

Blood shot eyes peer through tangled hair.

"As long as I got breath in my body I swear I'll protect ya." Glancing at Marla I hammer the final coffin nail, "And your Mom."

Authors Note: As usual, I've got to thank my beta, especially for a couple of 'give me' lines she so generously offered.
Feedback is always appreciated; positive and negative. Helps me grow and spurs me to write more.
Hang tight. With luck and a cooperating Muse Chapter Five should be up in about four to six weeks.- MLC.