Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men in any shape or form, but Alice, Marti, Suzie, Edmund, Anthea and Kurti are my own original characters who only exist in my made-up alternate world, Earth 723. Please don't sue me or steal my weird cozy mystery experiment. Thanks!

NOTE: This story is an experiment! Experiment #95, since this is actually the 95th fanfic I've shared online. Whoa... Still, that's mostly 'cause even when I get writer's block, I can't not write. :) But, all my fanfics are experiments, to tell the truth, every one of them written to unpuzzle something I find confusing, or to challenge myself to do something new, or to try or test something out when I'm stuck on one of my original novel or graphic novel projects - always in hope of helpful feedback from readers like you. :) In this case, I'm testing out the 'cozy mystery.' You know, those shows/books where some retired or unlikely amateur sleuth butts in on a police investigation when an incongruously violent crime hits their cute little close-knit town? I've been thinking about giving this a whirl since I finished "True Love Ways" and figured it might be fun for Opa Kurt to visit Old Man Logan over in Canada. I hope you'll find it fun too. Please let me know what you think! :)

NOTE II: Speaking of original graphic novel projects - My graphic novel nature mystery collection The Adventures of Nicki and Ricky: Baffling Birds! was accepted to this year's San Diego Comic-Con, and it'll also be featured at a special book-signing event in Mystic, CT in August. If you'll be in the area for either of those events, you're welcome to check out my books. I'll be happy to meet you! :)

NOTE III: Your reviews, thoughts and opinions on my stories really matter a lot to me. Knowing you're reading and enjoying my fanfics helps give me the confidence I need to send my original stuff out into the world. Thanks so much, everyone! And Please Review! :D

Story #95! Here goes. Wahoooooooo!

A Stab in the Dark: An Earth 723 Fic

By Rowena

Chapter One

Wolverine heard the car long before it came in sight of his isolated fishing cabin.

In that quiet spot, along the island-studded coast of Georgian Bay, the half-retired X-Man could fish off his wooden rowboat in the summer and ice fish in the winter with nary a neighbor in sight. Just the thought of some visitor, well-meaning or otherwise, intruding on his meticulously unstructured solitude raised his hackles and deepened his fearsome scowl.

"If this is who I think it is…"

The thickly muscled mutant had been slicing logs to kindling with his adamantium claws, but he retracted them into his fists with an irritable SNIKT and stomped up to his wooden porch to watch and wait.

The car looked like a rental, even through the trees – a sturdy, dark blue sports utility vehicle with one of those silent, emission-free engines. Still, if the gravelly rumble of tires bumping along the unpaved road hadn't made it clear the vehicle really was heading his way, the fuzzy, three-fingered, indigo-blue hand waving to him out the driver's side window left no doubt whatsoever.

"Logan!" Nightcrawler called out cheerily. "You are here! Guten Tag, mein Freund!"

Wolverine clenched his jaw and growled. "Knew it…"

Retired General and former International X-Men Organization (IX-MO) leader, Kurt Wagner – codename: Nightcrawler – had been born and raised in Germany before moving to the US as a teenager to train as one of Professor Charles Xavier's X-Men. There, at the Professor's Bayville mansion, Logan had become something of a mentor to the kid, up to – and even following – the outbreak of World War III. After helping to foil the Doomsday plot and bring an end to years of devastating war between mutant and human factions, Nightcrawler had spent much of his adult career leading the anti-terrorist team Excalibur, based at Braddock Manor outside London. And, while his voice still pinpointed his origins to rural southern Germany, Logan couldn't help noticing a bit of the British accent had rubbed off on his old friend over the years.

"I understand you don't keep a com-device here, and your cabin has no computer system," his visitor went on, brazenly parking the car by the porch steps, killing the engine, and opening the door. "I wrote you several letters, but received no reply. So, I figured I'd come myself, to see if you were still alive." He snickered. "Judging from that glare, mein Herr, you seem to be just fine!"

Logan grunted, his lips twitching upwards despite himself. But then, the Elf's smile seemed to have that effect. Even on the gruff Wolverine.

Still, his jaw tightened as he watched the fuzzy blue mutant ease out of the car…then reach back for an elegantly carved wooden cane. Kurt's short curls looked grayer than Logan remembered, his shadowy cheekbones sharper below his golden eyes. But his posture was straight, his figure still fit and slim, and his grin was as impish as ever as he lashed his long, spaded tail. Standing there in his dark trousers and red-and-black polo shirt, the old man actually made a pretty dapper contrast to Wolverine's mud-caked boots, multi-stained work pants, and worn-out white t-shirt.

"That was quite a drive," Nightcrawler commented, heading for the trunk – or boot, as they said in Britain. "More than two hours from the Toronto airport, and I felt like I was sitting on my tail the whole way! But I must say, the scenery around here more than made up for it. This place is truly beautiful, Logan. Let me get my bags, and I'll be right with you."

Logan shook his head, then clomped down the steps to lend his friend a hand.

"Careful, Gramps," he teased, lifting the Elf's bags down and closing the trunk with hardly a grunt of effort. "Wouldn't want you sprainin' somethin' just when you got here."

Nightcrawler smirked. "It's Opa," he corrected. "My Kurti calls me Opa."

This time, Logan did smile. "I still can't believe you have a grandkid, kid. Or that your boy Edmund's old enough to have a wife and son," he said, lugging the luggage up to the cabin's front door. With a familiar BAMF of smoke, Kurt swiftly teleported ahead to hold it open for him, then followed him inside. "Kurti's what – eight, nine years old now?"

"He is nine, ja," Kurt confirmed proudly. "But you should be pleased, mein Freund. There will still be a Kurt Wagner in this world to keep you company, even after I go to join my lovely Alice."

Logan dropped the luggage and stomped into the kitchen. Kurt blinked in surprise.

"Logan…?"

"Don't talk like that," the Canadian growled, yanking a beer from the 'fridge, then grabbing one for Nightcrawler. "I don't wanna hear it."

Kurt regarded him thoughtfully, but accepted the gruffly proffered can. "Very well," he said, popping it open with an effervescent hiss and taking a grateful swig. "But you should come for Christmas, mein Freund. Meet Kurti. He is such a good boy. He wants me to be happy." Kurt leaned his velvet-furred elbows on the counter, his long tail swaying behind him like a shadow. "In fact, talking with him is the reason I'm here."

"Hmm," Logan snorted. "Nosy little squirt, is he? Proddin' at folks like his 'Opa'? Gettin' 'em to open up about their feelings…"

Nightcrawler smirked and shook his head, the afternoon sunlight glinting off the bluish-silver strands in his indigo hair. "Kurti is like himself. And that is how it should be."

"Yeah…" Logan rumbled into his beer, the tap-tap of Nightcrawler's cane as he shuffled over to sit at the table beside him making his muscles clench. "Whatever."

The two men lapsed into companionable silence, each thinking their own thoughts as they finished their beers. After a long while of nothing but rustling leaves and birdsong, Kurt slowly began to rock, then fidget, then jump up to sit at the edge of the wooden table, letting his bare feet swing.

"So," he said, breaking the silence at last. "Besides…this. What exactly do you do, alone here? All day…?"

"Fish," Logan told him. "Drink. Sometimes I smoke a cigar."

"That's all? Every day?"

"Mmm hmm."

Kurt nodded, tapping his thick fingers against his knees as his golden eyes darted all around the rough, wooden space. After another very long while, he blurted:

"But this is boring! Aren't you bored? Hiding yourself away in this little cabin in the middle of the woods here with no computer, no books, no movies…!"

Logan glanced at him. "You holed up in that cabin in Germany."

Kurt inclined his head, granting him that one. "True," he said. "But, I was mourning my wife, Logan. I'm all right now."

Logan raised an eyebrow and Nightcrawler seemed to deflate, sinking back down to his chair with a deep, dark sigh.

"Nein..." he said quietly. "That is not so. I will never be 'all right.' Still…" He straightened his shoulders, his fuzzy chin held high. "I am not there, sitting in that chair playing chess on a computer screen. Kurti got me out and now I want to do something!"

The corner of Logan's mouth twitched. "So," he teased. "The Elf wants to play. Even at your age."

Nightcrawler shot him a golden-eyed glare. "You can stow it about my age. I am doing just fine."

"An' that?" Logan jutted his rough chin toward Nightcrawler's cane.

"...apart from a touch of arthritis," Kurt amended with a scowl. "In the toes, mainly." He gestured to his two-toed dinosaur-like feet. "But I have medication for that. I'm fine. I know – how about I make us some supper?"

"You cook now?"

"Let's say I'm learning," he teased back, prying himself up from the chair and heading for the 'fridge.

He pulled open the door and crouched a little to peer inside.

"Logan," he exclaimed. "You have nothing in this refrigerator but beer and fish!"

"Don't need nuthin' else."

"Indeed." Kurt shot him a dry look. "Well, this will do for tonight, my friend, but tomorrow you and I are going to town for some real provisions. My treat. I didn't retire on a general's pension for nothing, you know."

"You go," Logan grunted. "I'll be fishin'."

"Now, what kind of hospitality is that?" Kurt countered, suspiciously sniff-inspecting a pair of plastic-wrapped fish. "I'm a stranger here in Canada. I'll need you to show me around."

Logan could have pointed out he hadn't asked the Elf to come. But something held him back.

It might have been the fact that he had gotten Kurt's letters. All of them. And, he might have suspected, if he didn't reply, his best friend just might show up one day to find out why. Beyond that...

It wasn't that he'd been avoiding the Elf. Not exactly. It was just, since the death of Kurt's wife, Alice, it had been easier to keep away than admit to himself…

...how hard it would gut him to lose Kurt too.

Logan snarled and clenched his fists hard, feeling his sharp adamantium claws press against the stretched skin of his knuckles.

"All right, Elf. You win," he said, surging from his chair to the sink to scour out his cast-iron frying pan and chip the crust off a couple of plates. "We'll go together."

Kurt smiled, then shoved a long-expired fish under his friend's nose.

"Tell me, Logan," he said, "would you honestly eat this?"

"Healing factor, bub," Logan pointed out. "Means I can eat practically anything an' not die."

"Fair enough." Kurt snickered. "But the bin will be having this one tonight. And maybe a few more…"

"Just toss 'em in the bay," Logan said, gesturing to the long dock stretching out from his rocky back yard. "Somethin'll eat 'em."

"If you say so." Kurt wrinkled his nose, but obligingly stacked the more dubious specimens in his arms. "I'll be right back."

BAMF!

Logan sniffed the residual teleport stench – like a fistful of freshly-struck matches – and sighed, watching the Elf hurl fish from the dock into the rippling bay. From that distance, under the shadows of the trees, it was easy to picture ol' Opa Kurt at sixteen...thirty-five...forty-seven... Pitching baseballs at the annual International X-Men Organization charity game.

"Man..." He cleared his throat, his nostrils widening against a strange, sudden stinging in his eyes. "Time sucks."

To Be Continued…

References - Earth 723 is my own made up alternate universe mostly inspired by the animated X-Men: Evolution series and the Excalibur comics by Chris Claremont and Alan Davis. For more on Nightcrawler 723's family, his time leading Excalibur, and his service in World War III, please see my Earth 723 stories, including "True Love Ways," "Sinister Motives," and "The Day The Earth Stood Back."

Hi again, everyone! Thanks for reading my story! I'd love to know what you think so far. Please leave a review! :)