Pulling onto the back drive to the red brick manor he occasionally called home, Logan smiled. He had been kicking around the mansion now for about a year and was surprised to find himself enjoying a slightly settled life. Making repairs around the mansion when they cropped up, teaching gym, running danger room simulations when he needed, even making a few supply runs for stable master Kiera and her horses.

Grinning slightly at the thought of this latest addition to his life, Logan pulled his truck to a stop behind the white and green wood building, spying the blonde striding past the open door, hauling a massive western saddle behind her. "Hey Kid!" he called, feeling a niggling feeling of irritation bubble up as she continued on without so much as a nod toward him. Striding quickly into the stables, he caught her in the tack room. "Hey, you ignoring me now?"

Kiera shot him a glance as she dropped the saddle on a stand to clean later. "We've been over this Wolvie." He winced at the nickname, his irritation growing, knowing the dig was intentional. "I don't respond to 'kid'. It's Kiera or Melinoe, save the 'kids' for your students." Turning back, she locked gazes with the Institutes resident bad boy. Minutes ticked by as they both tried to stare each other down, each struggling for dominance over the other.

Eventually, Logan gave way. She wasn't about to give any quarter in this case and if he didn't relent, the two would be there all night. They had more important things to deal with. "Come on, you wanted this alfalfa right?"

Kiera nodded. "I'll pull down the elevator on the way there, but I gotta pick Xanthos' feet before we start. He picked up a stone on the way in." Grabbing a pick, she went to walk out of the room, but seemed to have second thoughts about it. "Hey, you want to come with? I don't think you've met Xanthos yet."

Logan nodded, following her to the stallion's stall. Over the course of the year, Kiera had been slowly making the horses familiar with his scent. Some of them, he had noticed, didn't much seem to care about him while others looked on him with terror in their eyes. He smirked as he remembered the day Kiera had asked him for a few of his shirts.

"You want what?"

"I want you to give me a few of your shirts, preferably a few older ones that you've worn a lot." Logan just continued to stare at her as though she had lost her mind. "What on earth are you looking at me like that for? All I want are a few shirts."

"Why the hell do you want my shirts?"

"I'm going to hang them in some of the stalls." She replied, rolling her eyes as he continued to stare at her blankly. "So the horses can get used to your sent, so the skittish ones can finally realize that just because you smell like a predator doesn't mean you're here to kill them. I hang the shirts in their stalls and they live around it, slowly coming to realize that your scent doesn't mean they're about to die."

Finally nodding in understanding, Logan moved to his dresser and pulled out three shirts workout shirts he wouldn't miss. "You know, you could have just told me that right off." He said, handing her the shirts.

She snorted softly. "You have an olfactory system to rival a dog's and I have to explain scent desensitization to you? You disappoint me Logan." Rolling the fabric through her hands, she smirked. "Gym clothes?"

"I'll eventually want them back."

Nodding, Kiera turned to the door. "I'll trade you for a fresh set after a few days. Some of them might take a bit longer than others."

"The rescues?" He asked, remembering the stern warnings she had delivered to the students and faculty about her tougher cases. Certain horses were not to be trifled with as a few of the bolder children had learned to their own misfortune. Thankfully it had only taken a few concussions and one or two broken limbs to drive to point home.

Pausing at the door, Kiera sighed. "I knew you were always going to be a stumbling block for them. Their fight or flight instinct has only become more sensitive with the abuse they've suffered." She toasted him with his fragrant shirts. "Hopefully these will help. Hey, you going into town later?"

Logan rolled his eyes. He was never going to get his shower. "Yeah, what of it?"

"I need to pick up a few things. Can you give me a lift?"

"Sure. I'll come find you when I'm ready to leave."

"Cool, and now I'll let you get to your shower."

A low growl lumbered in his throat. "You know I hate having people read my mind."

"And you know I don't do that without permission." She replied, smirking. "But it doesn't take a telepath to know you're filthy from working out and in desperate need of a shower." Opening the door, she winked at him. "See you later Logan, You know where to find me."

Logan shook his head as she left. "Damn Telepath." He muttered, grabbing his towel.

"I heard that!"

Now, leaning against the sliding door of the stall, Logan watched Kiera pick out the stone and check the horse's hoof for bruises or other injuries, while Xanthos kept a wary eye on him. "He a rescue to?"

"No. He's a racehorse. His owner is an old friend of mine and knew I'd give him a good home once he put him out to pasture." Logan watched as she ran her hands up the leg. It would have been almost erotic had it not been for the hard, clinical look in her eye. "All I have to do is let him breed every now and then so the stables can still make some money." Getting up, she tucked the pick into her back pocket. "Now let's get those bales in. I'd like to actually get some sleep tonight."

"Looking for some company?" Logan asked, striding along beside her. He winced as she landed a stinging shot to his shoulder. "You know, it's really not a good idea to hit me like that."

"Then stop making asinine comments like that you idiot." She snapped back, a tiny glimmer of a smile winking at him as she pulled down the elevator. "You get them on the belt, I'll put them away?"

Logan nodded, moving towards the truck, waiting to hear the motor to start whirring. When he didn't, He turned back, wondering what the hell could be slowing her up.

Kiera was staring back at the mansion, the scent of annoyance and anger rolling off her in waves. When she finally roused herself, she punched the start button so hard, Logan feared it might break. "What's eating you Mel?" he shouted to her.

"Jean! That self-righteous, conniving, control-freak is what's eating me." Snarling slightly, she snatched a pair of hay hooks from the wall. "Let's just get this done."

"Wait!" Logan called, striding over and grabbing a-hold of her arm. "You go up there with that mind-set; you're going to get yourself killed. Now what's going on?"

Jerking her arms free, Kiera sighed. "For some reason, our beloved Dr. Grey felt the need to tell me the professor wanted to speak to you."

Now Logan was really confused. "What the hell is wrong with that?"

"Are you serious?" Shaking her head, Kiera hung the hooks up; afraid she might do some serious harm. "Firstly, Charles is not an invalid. He is fully capable of calling you himself if he needs you." As she spoke, Kiera began gesturing wildly with her hands. "Secondly, if Jean wants you so damn bad, she can talk to you herself. She's a freaking psychic after all."

"That's what's making you so angry?" He asked, a little incredulous.

"It's one of many." She snapped. Pausing, Kiera turned from him and took a breath, trying to calm herself. Her scent was going haywire, her anger and resentment battling for control. Logan knew that battle all too well, having fought it almost every day of his life. "Look Logan, what's going on with Jean is between me and her. I don't want to pull you into the middle of it." Grabbing the hooks, she started for the hayloft.

"It would seem I'm already in the middle."

"Then I don't want to pull you in any further." She replied, shouting over her shoulder. "Now let's get a move on, we're burning daylight."

No more was said about the situation, both choosing to finish their work and walk back towards the manor in a tense silence. Tense, mainly because Kiera was still smouldering from this afternoon. Her conversations from that point onward were one worded and terse. The students who knew her took one look at her and did a 180*. The students who didn't know her well, were at least wise enough to only need a minor nudge to figure out it was best to leave her be for the night.

Dinner that night proved to be a bevy of interesting nuances for Logan. Kiera had finally managed to get her temper under control and was now actively avoiding Jean, something that was obviously getting on the red-head's nerves. Logan couldn't help the grin that tugged at his lips, taking a drag of the cigar clenched between his teeth as he watched. It gave him an odd sense of satisfaction to see Jean getting so worked up, one that was immediately followed by a wave of guilt. Jean was a fellow X-man, professor and... a friend. Yeah, that was it, a friend. He shouldn't be taking pleasure in the fact that Kiera was managing to push all of her buttons. And yet, as he considered the notion, he remembered all the times Jean had caused him grief, had frustrated him to the point where he had damn near run down to the danger room to beat the living tar out of virtual enemies. All things considered, He supposed a little irritation on her part was hardly something to feel this guilty over.

As the meal wound down, Logan continued to find himself entertained by the impressive game of cat and mouse being played out before him, though he occasionally wondered who it was playing the cat. His eyes narrowed slightly as Kiera took a batch of dishes to the kitchen, Jean slinking off after her. Jean didn't slink, Logan thought to himself, choosing to follow the two ladies. If only to make sure either one hurt the other, yeah... That was it.

"At long last, you deign speak to me." Jeans voice reached Logan's ears through the kitchen door, now hanging slightly ajar. Through the crack, he could see Kiera standing at the window, probably washing the dishes from the sounds of things. "You've been avoiding me all day Melinoe."

"Not all day," Kiera replied softly, not turning from the window. "Just since this afternoon. Which, frankly, I don't think I can be blamed for considering both the tone you took and what you said." The cold formality in Kiera's tone shocked Logan a bit. He had never heard her speak this way and it put him on edge. There was danger in that voice, and it wasn't one to be trifled with.

"And your performance at dinner tonight, what was that?" Right Jean, very smart, poke the bear with a stick.

"Decorum Jean, it was a little decorum. Something you should know far more about than you apparently do." Dishes clinked together lightly. It almost appeared to be a very normal scene. Logan's nose was telling him a very different story. Scents of frustration, anger, and suspicion wafted towards him. Listening carefully, Logan stepped silently towards the door, ready to burst in if he was needed. "You don't usually try that hard to speak to me in person unless it is to lecture me about something and that was not a conversation I felt had a place at the dinner table." Kiera finally turned to face Jean. "As you should recall, such conversations usually end in screaming matches between us. Something I don't believe Charles would have found to be appropriate in front of the children."

Jean seemed to start back. "I do not lecture you."

The acrid scent of contempt hit Logan's nose. "Every other day Jean, you have something to say about what I should or shouldn't be doing with my life. That is the more critical definition of a lecture." There was a very pregnant pause, possibly as Jean fought to find a response to the quiet barb. "Did you have something to say to me Jean? Or was this just about my avoiding you today?"

"Why didn't you send Logan in when I asked this afternoon?"

"Why didn't you ask him to come in yourself?" Kiera retorted. "You told me it was Charles who wanted to speak to him. If that were the case Jean, Charles would have called Logan himself, and don't you dare deny it." Kiera's voice sharpened with each word spoken, her anger getting the better of her. "And if you wanted to talk to him that badly, you could have done so. I am not your messenger Jean. And I am most certainly not about to accept some bit part in your little Phantom of the Opera fantasy, thank you very much."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Bullshit." Jean started at the profanity. "Look at what you're doing. You're married to the Compte De Chagney, Scott, and toying with the Phantom, Logan. You are Christine Daae. Only, unlike Christine, you refuse to choose between the two men vying for your affection, probably because you enjoy the attentions lavished upon you." Shooting an angry look at Jean, Kiera turned back to the dishes. "You are playing both ends off against the middle and one day it is going to come back and bite you in the ass."

"Oh and you're so perfect are you?" Jean snorted. "You spend all your time with your animals; I wonder if you even remember how to act around people. You're such good friends with Logan. I wonder though, does he know about your other powers?" Logan watched Kiera's shoulders stiffen. Was Jean speaking true? Had she lied to him? "You haven't then, I wonder how he would feel about that?" Logan felt anger rising up in his chest. Why would Kiera lie to him?

"That's it." Spinning towards Jean, Logan watched Kiera's eyes flash with rage. "Listen up Jeannie-girl, because I'm only going to say this once. What goes on between Logan and me is none of your damn business. You're a married woman, start acting like one." In her rage, Kiera appeared to almost tower over the taller red-head. "As for my other powers, Charles was the only one who ever NEEDED to know about them. Anyone else I choose tell about them is my business...and only my business." Kiera's lips twisted into a snarl, transforming her face into a macabre mask of her usual kind countenance. "And mark my words Jean, if I ever find out you have been poking your noseabout where you know it is not welcome, there will be consequences."

This time it was Jean's turn to stiffen. "Are you threatening me?"

"Consider it more... a warning against your continued arrogance." Her face softened slightly, but lost none of its cruelty. "Tread lightly Jean. I would hate to see you fall from grace. You might hurt yourself." Finally reaching her limit, Kiera stepped around the shocked the telepath. Striding out of the room, she closed the door firmly behind her, breathing a sigh of relief...

Until she opened her eyes and saw him. "Logan..." she whispered, slight fear creeping into both her her voice and scent, but Logan would have none of it. Shaking his head, he turned and walked down towards the danger room, closing his ears to Kiera's voice behind him.

The Danger Room's floor was littered with virtual carnage. Robots, lay in pieces around him, sparks flying, black smoke rising up from the rubble. Taking a moment to calm his breathing, Logan surveyed the results of his anger and his frustration, feeling beads of sweat rolling down his face and neck. The old familiar calm filled him, steadfast companion of the fatigue from a damn good workout.

As he walked around, the world seemed to shimmer and vanish from his eyes, revealing the sterile steel and shimmering blue lights of the real Danger Room. Growling quietly, Logan spun around to face the control room, looking to see who it was who dared interrupt his session.

"Good Evening Logan. I thought I might find you down here." The growl faded from Logan's lips as Charles' voice came over the speakers. "I wonder if I might have a word with you concerning some rumours I have heard buzzing about."

"Be right up." Logan said. Sighing, Logan strode to the door, grabbing a towel to mop his face. Flinging the towel over his shoulders, Logan waited for the soft hiss of the elevator doors that heralded Xavier's arrival, figuring he knew what the old man wanted to 'discuss'.

"Would you care to walk with me Logan?" Charles asked, rolling past the feral, not expecting a refusal. Rolling his eyes slightly, Logan fell into step with the chair, waiting for Charles to ask. "I understand you were a witness to an altercation between Jean and Kiera in the kitchen earlier this evening. It concerns me that two such intelligent women would be fighting. I wonder if you might be able to shed some light on the situation."

"What light do you need shedding? They were fighting. Apparently Kiera doesn't particularly like Jean sticking her nose into her life. What more is there to say about it?"

"Yes, but according to Jean, threats were issued." Charles replied, glancing up at him. "This obviously concerns me a great deal, particularly as I have always found Kiera to be a particularly patient woman."

Logan shrugged, not particularly caring. "What can I tell you Chuck, Jean can really push a person's buttons when she wants to. Today it was about her powers. Apparently Kiera didn't appreciate the fact that Jean was aware that she had more than one. She apparently thought Jean had been pokin' around in her head without permission." Looking down at Charles, Logan tweaked an eyebrow. "I figured you must have told her."

Frowning, Charles shook his head. "No I did not, and powers are not something Kiera is always comfortable speaking about. This is very distressing."

"What the hell is wrong with other people knowing her powers?"

"She would not tell me, and I did not press. However, I believe you might now have the opportunity to ask her." Frowning, Logan followed Charles' line of sight to see Kiera walking towards them. There was a slight hesitation as their eyes met, her conviction seeming to waiver under his blank stare. "Hello Kiera."

When Kiera finally spoke, her voice was uncharacteristically soft. "Hello Charles." She said, squaring her shoulders. "I wonder if I could have a moment with Logan." Kiera refused to relinquish his gaze, and Logan found himself stilled by the hint of pleading buried deep within her bright green eyes. "Could we... talk, Logan?

Logan didn't speak for a long moment, just watching her. If you had asked him later, he would have said he was waiting to see if she would try probing his mind, using her powers to influence him. She didn't, though her scent told of how tempted she was. "We're done right Chuck?"

"That we are Logan. I shall see the both of you tomorrow hopefully." Neither one of them said a word, waiting until the mechanized whirr of Charles' wheelchair faded into the night. "So... talk"

"Right, um... Do you... Do you mind if we take a walk? What I have to say is really difficult to get out and..." Logan started for the door, cutting her off, but he didn't move so quickly that he missed the sigh of frustration escaping her lips. "You are not about to make this easy are you?" she muttered, running to catch up with him.

"No, I'm not." He snapped, not looking at her as he strode out onto the lawn. A harvest moon hung overhead, illuminating the fallen leaves beneath his feet. "You got a problem with that?"

"You know what, yeah, I do." Logan felt her hand grip his arm and, with surprising force, wrench him around to face her. "Look, I'm sorry, ok! I'm sorry I didn't tell you about all of my powers, I'm sorry I insulted Jean in front of you, I'm sorry I lied. Even though it was by omission, it was still a lie." Kiera's breath hitched in her throat as she spoke, spewing out a cloud into the crisp night air. "My mutations have always been a sore spot for me Logan. People, my own family, have abused them in ways I cannot even begin to describe. I learned a long time ago they are not something you talk about, and the fewer people who know about them, the better. That has always been my rule, even among my kids. " Kiera hugged herself gently, grimacing at her own vulnerability. "It's been a really, really tough rule to give up."

"So, what you're saying is you can't trust me, is that it?"

"Oh come on Logan!" she cried, her frustration at herself and the day in general bubbling to the surface once more. "You should know better than anyone here, old habits don't ever die, they just go dormant. And since this one is dormant to begin with..." She shrugged, not really able to finish her thought. "Besides Logan, no offence and... not to equivocate here, but... it's not as though you asked if I had any other powers. Someone obviously told you I was a telepath and you apparently didn't think anymore of it."

Logan shoved his hands deep into his pockets, his fingers fiddling with the lint of the seams. "Would you have ever told me?"

"You might not believe it, but I've been trying to think of a way for about a month now. Problem with that, it's not exactly something you bring up in casual conversation." Pushing back a rouge strand of hair, a cynical smile tugged at her lips. "I mean, come on, 'Hey Logan, You ready to head into town? By the way, I'm not just a telepath.' Yeah, like that wouldn't have been awkward."

A ghost of a smile twitched over Logan's face. "Yeah, that would have been weird." The two fell silent, neither quite sure how to continue this. "So... what other powers do you have?"

"Just one other. I'm... I'm like Jason Stryker." She stumbled ever so slightly over the name, obviously having been briefed about his past, or at least as much as anyone else knew. "The only thing is... I'm apparently more powerful than him. I can make the illusions real, and I'm talking Nightmare on Elm Street real."

Now Logan was confused. "What are you talking about?"

Kiera grimaced slightly, trying to find the words. "Ok... When Jason put an illusion into people's heads, it was only ever real in their minds. Put enough stress on them, their heart would give out, usual stuff. Me... I make you dream your palm gets sliced open; you will come out of the dream with an actual wound on your palm." Kiera drew her arms tighter around herself. "It's how my older brother died. Our house had been broken into recently and I was having a nightmare... He was cut to bits... I was five."

"Your parents..."

"Decided that, rather than turn me in or send me off to someplace that might help me, that I was going to repay the loss of their son by helping them grift. They had me read minds to see who would be the best mark, fool them into thinking I wasn't picking their pocket." Kiera seemed to shrink in on herself with each word, the shame she felt coating her scent like oil.

Logan shrugged. "You had to survive."

"Doesn't mean I have to feel good about it." Kiera said, rubbing the back of her neck nervously. "Listen, um... are we... are we going to be ok?"

"Are you ever going to keep things from me again?"

Kiera sighed. "I'm not going to patronise you by making a promise like that Logan. I don't know what the future holds. What if I ever want to plan a surprise for you or a student might tell me something about you and then beg me not to tell you."

A snort of laughter burst from Logan's lips. "Right, cause how often is that going to happen?"

"You'd be amazed." Kiera replied, smirking. "Apparently I'm very easy to talk to." Looking out over the lawn, Kiera smiled softly. "Hey, a buddy of mine just sent me a care package from Moscow. You want to help me put a bit of a dent in it? I can tell you a bit more of my tragic story."

"You won't have enough to even get me buzzed."

Kiera laughed. "Obviously you have never met Sasha. The man runs his own bar and could get alcohol by the case for free if he wanted. Throughout the months he has been sending this stuff to me, I have stockpiled enough vodka to get you, Sabertooth, and McCoy completely blitzed."

Logan arched his brow. "There a reason you got so much booze?"

"I don't like to drink alone." Kiera replied, shrugging. "And until now, I hadn't found anyone I felt like sharing my stash with." Without waiting for him to respond, Kiera started for the stables. "You coming or is this looking really lame?" A laughing grin broke over Logan's face as he started to follow her, his slightly longer legs quickly catching up to her.

The gentle breeze that had been moving softly through the leaves shifted slightly as they walked, bringing a myriad of scents to Logan's nose. His smirk widened ever so slightly as he happened upon one in particular. Every animal in the world knew that scent. Question was... what to do about it?