Seven

For a moment, no one moved.

Victor's plan had been to foist the kid off on his brother and immediately hightail it out of there.

So, why was he still standing there like an idiot?

James blinked owlishly, and was the first to break the silence.

"What the hell?"

"I didn't fucking stutter," Victor retorted.

The girl looked up at James through her sunglasses. James' brow furrowed as he looked down at the kid.

"I take it you're my pick-up?"

The girl glanced back to Victor but didn't answer Jimmy's question. His idiot brother didn't get it. He'd think the younger feral would know how to use his nose to identify his own family, but that was probably asking a lot, and the smoke didn't help matters.

"No shit, dumbass. Put out that damned cigar and look a little closer."

His brother cocked a brow at him as if suddenly remembering his presence. There wasn't the sort of recognition in that stare that there ought to have been. To Logan, Victor was still buckethead's lackey that had tracked him and the leech to Canada. Nothing more.

It had taken time but Victor's mind had healed, and he remembered.

His brother's still hadn't. If he had to bet money, it had something to do with that poison metal on his bones.

This was going more sideways by the second, but the runt hadn't aimed to stab him yet, which had become the younger feral's default mode in their past few encounters. Time to go, before they both had the opportunity to think about it and ended up beating the shit out of each other.

"Jimmy, your kid. Laura, your pa," Victor gestured indistinctly between them. "Figure it the fuck out. I'm gone."

Victor turned, heading back toward the elevators, angling for the one that the kid hadn't worked her button-pushing magic on.

He'd accomplished what he'd set out to do and the inexplicable feelings of rage and loss would pass.

Thirty seconds later, both the kid and his brother were coming up behind him. Victor growled, making a beeline for the stairwell. The damned elevator was taking too long, and he needed to get the hell out of there.

Logan's brain short-circuited. He gaped, unseeing, at the retreating form of Sabretooth.

Jimmy.

Chuck had helped Logan discover his full name years back. The name he'd hoped would uncover his past and his memories was little more than another dead end. James Logan Howlett was a soldier, and had been since at least World War I, possibly earlier. He'd known he wasn't aging like most folks, but he hadn't been quite prepared to have it confirmed. The majority of the records were redacted or classified and akin to reading the world's most boing history book rather than reading an account of his own life. He knew intellectually that he was James, and he'd lived that life, but that didn't change the fact that he still couldn't remember.

Logan had stopped searching shortly after that, not bothering to look further for family that was likely long dead and buried. Whoever "James" had been, he was effectively dead as well, and Logan, despite his stubbornness, knew when to leave well enough alone. He had a name, and a semblance of closure. It was enough.

But Sabretooth... Sabretooth had called him Jimmy like he knew him. A hazy memory from the early days of his current existence drifted up- The first time he had met Sabretooth, the big feral had used that name right before he'd tried to gut him. Logan thought he had killed him with a claw to the head until the other man had shown up in Canada and kidnapped Rogue.

He'd never given the other feral's existence due consideration.

The almost painful urge to chase the living, breathing link to his past caught Logan wholly off guard.

But that need was nearly blown away by the second, more pressing, revelation.

A kid.

Supposedly his kid.

Chuck had been cagey about this pick up- a little girl found in a lab. No mention of where. No mention of who'd be dropping her off, which was weird as hell to begin with. He just knew that she had a feral mutation, and Logan was the best candidate to do it since Hank was in DC. The whole situation put him on edge from the start.

And now that fucker was walking away with answers to both.

Not a chance in hell.