It was hot out and shielding her eyes did nothing to squelch the brightness of the sun - it seemed intent on surrounding her from every possible angle. Well, except for from the ground-up, but she wouldn't get much done staring at the dirt and dried out grass.

Not even near noon yet, and the heat of the day had made itself well-known as she wrung her clothes out with a firm, practiced twist and tossed them over the haphazard line she'd hung just a few days after arriving here.

With a heavy breath, she turned back toward the house, looking down the length of the wooden-plank, front porch as if it were a tunnel, frustrated, again, by the sight of the empty road. She thought she'd heard the low rumble of a motor, a car, possibly, coming up the tiny, dirt path that lead to the three-room shanty of a lodge she'd been living in for the past ten-odd months.

No dice.

She told herself for a moment that it must've been a plane engine sounding somewhere off in the distance, denying the inevitable fact that she'd most likely been hearing things again - her mind's way of compensating for the lack of human contact for nearly a year.

She tossed the last pair of worn jeans onto the wire and let her hands fall to her hips. She leaned back with a satisfied groan and enjoyed the coolness the light breeze offered against the sweat-soaked skin of her neck and face. That was one good thing about living out in the open - the wind came through unimpeded. The house was muggy, like a trap for the humidity of the outside air, and while it offered a little shelter from the blazing sun, the outdoors were more welcome than the make-shift cabin.

God, she missed air conditioning. And electricity.

'I know it don't look like much, but it'll keep ya 'til I get back.'

And keep it had.

He'd spent ten days there with her, showing her everything he knew that he hadn't already passed on, teaching her how to live on her own - literally, because for the first time in the past four years, he wasn't going to be there for her. It wasn't fighting, it wasn't training in the Danger Room or the methodical research of how to take down her foes - no, she already knew how to do all of that. The instruction she needed now was how to find food, how to make do with what she had and ways to stretch things out longer than they'd been made to give.

He'd taught her well because even after all those months, she was still making out all right.

When they'd first gotten there, she'd all but turned up her nose at the harsh change of lifestyle she was about to undergo. Her time on the road forgotten, years of life at the mansion had spoiled her. No matter the side risk of injury or even death while on the X-Men squad, she had led her life of luxury and now - going from that to this?

It hadn't taken her long to break herself of those habits, not when she had to trek the two hundred yards or so down the bumpy path that led to the hand-made well Logan had dug out. There were simply more important things in the world than comfort - like survival - and she'd had to learn that the hard way.

With a groan, she hefted the large pail of dirty water onto it's side and poured some carefully into a small gardening tin. The vegetables around the back of the house needed watering if she planned on them making it through the scorching day, and with a little luck, she might not run out of water before that was done.

Another look at the small pile of still-dirty laundry on the front porch made her swear to herself that no matter how much of a hassle it was, she'd do the clothes more than once every other week. 'One more load,' she encouraged herself as she trekked around the side of the house, the sound of her own voice almost foreign to her ears.

When he'd first left, she relied on the memory of her friends, him, speaking to keep her company, but after months of silence, reminiscing grew old and she'd taken to singing, despite the fact that she couldn't carry a tune in a bucket.

She tried not to think about how amused she was by that thought as she was now, actually carrying said bucket.

He'd written things down for her, little tips, stuff to and not to do, what vegetables needed to be planted at what time and how to make use of every single piece of a deer carcass. She'd appreciated the fact that he'd done that for her. Remembered that her memory wasn't so great at times.

The booklet was thick. He'd spent a while on it - far longer than the two weeks he'd disappeared right before he came to take her away.

He'd told Xavier, warned him repeatedly that this rift with the Senate, this push to reintroduce the Mutant Registration Act wasn't like the other ones. This time it wasn't a false alarm and his instincts were telling him so. The Professor had refused to believe it, falling back on his steadfast conviction that man wouldn't allow a travesty of this proportion to take place.

It was his rejection and downright denial that had gotten him and over half of the mansion's residents incarcerated. They'd been deemed 'hostiles' and 'at-risk' for the safety of the general public and taken away during the night, when it was least expected.

In a rare moment, he'd called, told her to stay the night in the city, that he had a bad feeling. He would've been there himself, but he was too far away and wouldn't be able to get home until dawn.

At first, Marie'd scoffed at the notion, citing that she was an X-Man and she knew how to take care of herself, that the Professor wouldn't let anything happen and that she was safer at the mansion than she would be anywhere else. She knew she'd hurt him when she snapped at him that he was being paranoid as usual, so she went along with his request as an apology of sorts.

That morning, after she'd learned what had happened to her supposed safe haven, she made a promise to herself that when it came to Logan, she'd cast all of her own feelings aside and never doubt him again.

When he'd shown up at the hotel just after check-out with a hastily packed duffel of her own clothes slung in the backseat of the beat up Pontiac he was driving, she knew there was no turning back. They hadn't said a word to one another - he knew she'd heard the news and there was no sense of reminding her that everything in her life was about to change.

For hours they drove, until city gave way to countryside and concrete buildings faded like the sun behind them. When they pulled into the woods and he'd cut the engine, it wasn't until then that Marie had thought to speak.

'You knew this was going to happen, didn't you?'

'History repeats itself, darlin'. I may not remember much truth about mine, but this...this is somethin' I know.'

They had a half-mile trek through the sparse, but deep woods before it opened up into a clearing, a valley of sorts where she spotted the tiny shanty, just barely hidden by a rock ledge, that was to be her home for an undetermined amount of time.

'I know it's not what you're used to,' he'd told - no, apologized to her as soon as they set foot inside and she'd had a good chance to look around. 'But it'll keep the rain offa your head - mostly - and if you're watchin', no one can get near this place without you spottin' 'em first.'

'Me?'

Up until then, she had no idea that he was actually going to leave her there. Alone.

'It's not that I don't trust ya, Marie, because I do, but when I go out this first time, it's gonna be ta gather intell, so I can figure out what in the hell it is we're gonna do about gettin' the rest of those guys outta wherever it is that they're stuck. That's a whole lotta blanks there, darlin', and I'm not about to take that kind of risk with you - not when you're the only one I've got left.'

She would've argued the point twenty-four hours earlier, bringing up her trained X-Men status once again, letting him know that two heads were almost always better than one, but she remembered her self-made pact and told herself that this wasn't Logan being obsessively suspicious. This was Logan doing exactly what he did best, what he was made and trained to do and that right now, she was there to shut up and follow along for the ride.

In the silence of the day, the groan she let out when she hefted the watering can sounded much louder, almost booming to her ears. Every patter of the drops against the thirsty leaves was magnified and she wouldn't let herself believe that was actually the sound of dust settling back into the ground after it had been disturbed.

Only halfway done and already feeling the familiar wooziness from the heat, Marie decided to drag herself back around to the front of the house and cool off for a moment on the front porch. The days were getting hotter by the flip of the calendar page and she didn't know if she'd be able to make it through the summer's peak months. It hadn't seemed this bad the year before, but, then again, she'd been inside, in an air-conditioned home with insulation and protection from the heat.

As she wiped away a loose lock of hair from her forehead, she glanced up the road once more, almost disregarding the black fleck of something that was moving steadily up the path toward the house. In the wavy heat, she couldn't make anything definite out, but her heart skipped a beat at the thought that she'd finally lost her mind. She could handle hearing things through the tricks her ears would play, but combining that with the occasional conversation with herself *and* seeing something that wasn't really there was, in her mind, a one-way ticket to the looney farm.

She tried to ignore the road, hoping the spot would disappear and she'd once again be left alone, her sanity intact, but with as much as her body was telling her to keep moving, to seek the shade that the tiny porch roof could offer, she couldn't make her feet go any further. Her gaze was glued to that point nearly a quarter-mile away and there was no focusing on anything else.

Her free hand slipped down from shielding her eyes to help grip the top handle of the water bucket and she held it in front of her, still unable to pull her stare away from the growing vision of her longing personified.

She didn't want to believe it at first because she knew she was just seeing things, that the heat and near-desperate need for human contact were working together, conspiring against her in what she was sure was a war for her reason. Then it kept growing and she could make out a body - a tall, wide frame, dressed in black, despite the heat. And when she was able to process in her blanched mind that it was a motorcycle this man - because she was sure it was a man now - had in tow, she felt her feet give way beneath her.

In what seemed like no more than a blink, her eyes opened to see a flesh-colored blur looming just above. She felt something cool press against her lips and, on instinct, she opened her mouth to the water that was being offered.

From the porch where he'd dragged her to, Logan cradled her head gently against his thigh as he held the wooden cup to her lips with one hand and tried to fan her face with the other one.

Looking up at him from this angle, with him behind her, was a bit disconcerting, but she couldn't keep from smiling when her eyes finally settled on the face she hadn't seen for three hundred and fourteen days.

"Your hair's all gone," she said suddenly, a hint of both question and amusement in her quiet tone.

The random comment unsettled him a little, but he could see the clarity coming back into her eyes with each passing second and he grinned.

"Got hot," was all he offered as he lifted her and took her inside.

With a nudge of his boot, the front door gave way and he maneuvered the listless body in his arms around the tiny cabin. The bedroom was in the back, past the kitchen and adjacent to the tiny washroom, with a tattered red curtain serving as a makeshift door. Once he'd pushed his way through, he sat her down gently on the goose feather mattress.

She let out a weak moan at the scratchy poke of tiny, down quills along the back half of her body and tried to shift her weight around the discomfort, but Logan held her still with a soothing hand on her shoulder and the top of her head.

"Got hot," she said a few moments later, her eyes still closed and a feeble smile spreading across her lips at her play on his words.

He nodded in agreement as he crouched down next to the split log bed frame. "I can see that. Why'n the heck didn't you have a hat on, or a wet rag around your neck?" He frowned as he pulled back a few of the sweaty strands of hair that were plastered on her face and inspected the reddening skin around her nose and cheeks. "Got sunburned, too - you're gonna be hurtin' t'morra."

"I know. Can already feel it."

"Your neck get any? I'll put some vinegar on ya later."

Her eyes fluttered open and a true grin broke free as she finally saw the face she'd been longing for all these long months.

"You're back," she said simply and reached up, running the pads of her fingers along the edge of his scruffy jaw line.

Gone were the digits softened by lotions and bi-monthly paraffin treatments. In their place were calloused patches of skin that gave rise to the true meaning of hard work. He covered her tiny hand with his own, pressing it to one of his unkempt sideburns before pulling it away with a chaste kiss to the heel of her palm. "Still alive, I see. Guess things didn't get too rough for ya."

She slipped her hand from his and pushed herself up a little higher on the bed. "Oh, I don't know about that, Mister. Me an' that woodstove've had quite a few knock-down-drag-outs since you been gone. But first thing's first - how're we doin' on the outside? Are we gonna be headin’ out t’night?"

He was silent for a moment, then reached around behind him, his arm covering the almost negligible distance from one wall to the other, and pulled up a sturdy, wooden chair to sit in. "Not so good and no, it‘s gonna be a few days at the least," he answered, deciding to come right out and tell her the truth. He hadn't ever pussy-footed around with her before - there was no sense in starting that now.

"I found most of 'em. Well," he corrected, "I found all of 'em. All that's left, that is." He was quiet once again, letting the meaning of his words sink in.

"I haven't made up my mind about Charles yet. I finally found out where they're holdin' 'im, but..." He paused once more, this time to run a hand over his short-cropped hair, capping the gesture off with a frustrated sigh. "I think it’s best for me an’ you ta try and get the others out first. Maybe get some manpower in behind us before we tackle that. They’ve got all the telepaths on lockdown. Usin’ their powers ta figure out where the cells are."

"But how? I mean, how can they control them? And...cells?"

"Remember that shit we ran into at Alkali Lake? That mutant with the mind-altering capabilities? Well, it works on the same principle as that, best I can tell. Just a mutated form of it, if you can stomach the irony. As for the cells, they’re groups, people who hadn’t submitted to the DNA testing to be tagged, back when it was all optional. Seems like quite a few of ‘em have found one another an’ banded together, tryin’ ta protect what little they got left."

With a cautious glance to her side, she studied his hardened features for a moment, decided that he looked older, much older than he should have for the time that had passed since they last saw one another, almost as if his age had tried to catch up with him while he'd been gone, if that was even possible. He was wearing his grief plainly on his face, not even bothering to hide it from her.

"Is - is it really that bad?" she chanced, already knowing the answer to her question.

He shook his head. "Darlin’, you have no idea."

She let that thought settle in her mind as easily as it was able and tried to leave it alone for the time being. She’d known that a lot of things had probably...changed from how they used to be during the time that she’d been out, safe on her own, personal refuge, but to hear it spoken aloud, and from Logan no less, just made the reality of the situation hit that much harder.

Whether it was her mind's natural tendency to wander, or some form of mental preservation kicking in, she thought back about what he’d said earlier, about Charles and whether or not they’d be able to save him when something clicked in her brain. "You said they were holding all the telepaths - what about -"

"She's gone," he interrupted, stopping her before she could even say the words. "They got rid of her. Guessin’ her telepathic powers weren’t high enough for ‘em and they didn’t need a teke for whatever the hell it is that they’re doin’."

She hated the way he’d said that, cut her off, his voice void of emotion. She knew it’d hurt him deeply to lose her, and not just as what one could only describe as a ‘tumultuous’ love interest, but also as a teammate, and more importantly, a friend. For Logan, those came few and far between and Marie knew that the damage was heavily felt.

Her hand slipped off the mattress beside her and settled gently atop his, letting the slow, steady thrum of his pulse reassure her that there was still a chance that things would turn out all right. She was silent and, unlike the other times, he didn’t move away from her touch.

"You been practicin’," he said with half-hearted smile as he glanced down to their hands, to her skin resting safely on his.

Nodding, she pulled her hand away. "I got it up to about two or three minutes, I think. Hadn't been able ta test it, but I can tell when it's off - feels diff'rent. I’da been able ta touch you longer, but I’m still feelin’ a little weak from a few minutes ago."

He nodded in kind and settled back into his chair a little further.

"So where ya been to?" she asked, trying to lighten the mood a little before they went any deeper into the previous conversation. She was anxious to know all that he’d tell her, but she could see that he was frazzled around the edges from more than just his probable lack of sleep. She didn’t want to push for too much right away.

He smirked and she could see the playful dance of his eyes under their half-closed lids.

"Nowhere. Ev’rywhere."

"Bastard. Cryptic doesn’t suit you."

He arched a brow and cocked his head to the side, effectively making her eat her words.

She sighed good-naturedly and rolled her eyes. "Okay, so it does - but where? Tell me."

"Went as far South as Tennessee. As far West as Nevada. T’the East I made it to New Hampshire and North...well, here, I guess."

"And where exactly is here?" she asked, voicing a question she’d toyed with ever since she thought to ask him the first time. Trouble was, he’d been gone for two days by then. Things had been in too much of a flurry before then and she'd trusted him well enough to know that where ever they were, he'd picked it for a reason and that she was safe.

He brought his foot up to rest across his knee and flicked a dried chunk of mud out from the tread on the boot, sending it skittering under the bed. "About sixty miles north o' Berlin."

"Hunh - I was thinking we were in Canada."

He shook his head, letting a grim expression fall over his face. "Didn't wanna risk crossin' the border as many times as I woulda had to've done workin' on this place. Things were already startin' ta heat up, so I thought it was best ta stay on the south side. We're still close enough that if we had ta make a run for it, we could."

"You thought of it all, you know that?"

He shrugged and she knew that this was probably the one time he hated having been right about everything. "S'what I do, darlin'."

She watched him then, following his eyes to the spot on the floor where some of the dirt from his shoes had landed.

"So what about the others? How many’ve you been able ta find?" she finally asked, unable to take the thick silence in the room any more than she could keep her curiosity at bay.

Marie knew from what she'd heard in the news before leaving the hotel that not everyone at the mansion was taken. She could only assume those that were left had gone home, sought refuge where ever they could.

"Eight. Mostly the older ones - it’s been a practice o’ theirs ta do away with the kids."

He hated telling her all this, hated the way her face fell, showing just how terribly her heart was breaking with each new revelation, but there wasn't any way around it. The world had changed drastically in the past eleven months, been thrown off its entire axis...and Marie hadn't even felt the tilt.

A tiny part of him wished that he'd taken her along with him, but most of him was glad that he hadn't. She didn't need to see any of the things he'd seen.

"Jubilee, Remy an’ Hank - found them in a station together. Upstate. Bobby an‘ St. John are with one another, too. Couldn‘t get an exact location on them, but I found ‘em in the same network I found the other three in, so they can‘t be too far away. Kurt - he‘s in Michigan, Detroit, with Warren. ‘Ro an’ Scott - they’re on the outside."

"Outside?"

"Yeah, they’re lettin’ some of ‘em go after they’ve done their...work. I haven’t been able to contact ‘Ro, but I found Scott."

"And?"

"Heard some stories, too."

"About what?"

"’Bout some o’ the mutants they’re releasin’ bein’ spies. Been brainwashed, micro-chipped an’ runnin’ surveillance once they get in on those cells I was tellin’ you about. Workin’ hand in hand with the telepaths - and the enemy."

He snorted out a growl and shook his head. "Damn sons o’ bitches. We ain’t good enough ta share a planet with, but we sure are good enough ta do their dirty work. Fuckers. Don’ even hafta lift a finger - all they gotta do is just press a button and we’re at their whim."

With that, he cut himself off, feeling that familiar rage starting to rumble beneath the surface. He didn’t wanna blow up here, not right in front of her. Yes, he was angry, but this wasn’t the time or the place to let it all out. The world had only witnessed the true fury of the Wolverine a few times during his realized existence, but the chance for it to be seen was coming again, and soon.

Marie resisted the urge to reach out to him again, to try her best to calm some of the frustration she could see etched clearly on his face. His ire was justified and she wanted to let him feel it. To try and soothe it all away would be like saying that it wasn't warranted and she didn't want that.

But instead of sitting around and stewing about it all while getting nothing done, Logan decided to kill two birds with one stone and put some work in on the side. He'd gotten a look at the backyard and catalogued some of the chores that still needed to be done on his way down the footpath, before Marie had collapsed.

He let his foot fall back down to the floor with a heavy clunk and clapped his hands down on his thighs, pushing himself up from the chair. "Look, kid, you need ta get some rest," he started, and she didn't miss the fact that he'd deliberately chosen that pet name to call her - it put her on a lower level than him and let her know that he wasn't in the mood for any arguing.

"I'm gonna go 'round back an' get some o' that shit taken care of. Take a nap and I'll wake you up for supper."

She wanted to argue, wanted to let him know that the iron ribbon in her spine that he'd always talked about hadn't rusted while he'd been gone. But she didn't. She read the situation for what it was - he wanted to get out and get some fresh air, vent a little through hard labor after everything that he'd just spilled to her.

"All right - make sure an' get me up, though. Don't go hoggin' all the food for yourself." She ended her mild rib with a wink and settled back down into the pillows a little further, thankful for the chance to actually take a break and have some work get done at the same time, but mostly just happy that he'd returned, like he'd promised he would.

She let her eyes linger on his back, his shoulders as he started to leave the room, taking the few, precious moments to savor the way his muscles played under the damp material of his t-shirt.

"Logan? Why isn't your hair growing back?" she asked suddenly, remembering the time he'd lost a bet and let her shave his head, knowing full-well that it’d be back to its normal length by early that same evening.

"You rest, all right, kid? I’ll finish up with the waterin’ an' stuff out back," he answered, not even bothering to hide the obvious dodge of the question.

"But -"

"Later, ‘kay? Just get some sleep an' we'll talk about it when ya wake up."

And with that, he disappeared through the doorway, pulling the curtain closed with a snap of his wrist.

‘How did you know all that stuff, Logan?’

It was dinnertime and he’d thrown together a venison stew from some of the dried deer meat and jarred vegetables that lined the shelf on the back wall of the kitchen. She’d napped fitfully after he left, waking up too many times to count because of the afternoon heat and the way it’d settled over her body like a wool blanket. As she lay in bed, boiling, both literally and figuratively, she’d tossed and turned in her mind everything that he’d told her and the more she analyzed, the more questions she had.

Through the thin walls of the cabin, she could hear him working in the backyard. For a little while, it was the sound of wood being split that helped keep her awake, and after that, she heard the grating, metallic scrape of the axes and knife blades being sharpened against the grindstone. After he'd come inside and put the soup together, the cabin was quiet and she could only assume that he’d decided to take a rest.

When she finally willed away some of the dizziness that had lingered on since her fainting spell, she got up out of the bed to check on her laundry, only to find him dozing in the rocking chair on the front porch, his worn and heavy boots propped up against the railing.

When she came back around the house, laundry in tow, he was awake, his frown heavy and his mood considerably darker than it had been not a few hours earlier. She'd started to say something to him, but he stood up abruptly and walked off the other end of the porch, disappearing behind the corner of the small hovel. She'd dealt with him before when he'd been like this, and with the situation as it was, she decided to leave him alone and finish up her work.

Now they were at the two person table near the tiny front window and she was buttering a day-old biscuit. He still hadn’t answered her.

‘Logan?’ she prodded, knowing he’d heard her, but not allowing him the leeway to just ignore what she’d asked.

'All of what stuff?' he growled back, avoiding her gaze under the guise of eating.

Marie shrugged. 'Everything. I dunno - you just seemed to have gathered a lot of information since you've been gone and I -'

‘Been on the inside,’ he interrupted gruffly, his head and shoulders bent over his bowl of soup, shoveling the meaty liquid into his mouth with what she could only describe as a caveman-like fervor.

She sat her spoon down, letting it rest on the edge of her bowl. ‘On the inside? What exactly does that mean?’

He glanced at her through hooded eyebrows and broke off a piece of his bread with a mighty snap of his jaws. 'What the hell does it sound like it means, Marie?' he asked around the mouthful of food. 'I told you I was goin' ta get some intell. The only way ta know for sure if what I was gettin' was true or not was if I got it myself, right?'

'A-are you okay? I mean - they didn't - are you all right?' she sputtered out, taken aback at the sudden revelation and the sorts of implications it brought. Her mind kicked into overdrive, flaring up memories she'd long buried, long tried to forget. She could feel more than hear the hiss of liquid metal as it was poured into her flesh and the breath she'd been taking caught in her throat. She shuddered.

His only answer was a snort, and while he continued eating, she pulled enough composure together to formulate another round of questions.

'So those rumors you were talking about? With the people that'd been released? That wasn't exactly hearsay.'

'They're rumors, all right, but that don't mean they ain't true. I saw 'em release 'Ro - she's been 'modified,' I think they called it. I dunno about Scott. Told me he got out on his own, broke free.'

Her heart skipped a beat. 'You saw him? Met with him?'

'Yeah.'

She didn't understand - this was wonderful news. Storm and Cyclops were alive and yet, from the tone of his voice, one would've thought they'd been lost in the melee as well. Marie frowned. 'But you don't believe him?'

'I don't know what ta believe, Marie,' he answered with a sigh, leaning back in his chair while balling up the rag he'd been using for a napkin. 'I want to. I didn't smell a lie on 'im.'

'But...'

'But that don't mean he's tellin' the truth. It ain't gonna smell like a lie if he believes what he's sayin'.'

'The brainwashing.'

'Exactly. I couldn’t...he didn’t smell any diff’rent, but I could smell the lab on him - I know that he’s been in there. I just have no idea what’s been done to ‘im...if anything.'

'Well what about 'Ro? I mean, if she's been tagged, then how're we supposed to be able to help her without leading them straight to us? You said they monitored the people they’ve modified...' She was worried about her friend, but the more he divulged, the more hopeless the situation seemed. She didn't even want to think about how they'd manage to get the Professor freed.

'I haven't the slightest clue. I been rackin' my brain the entire time I was drivin' back, but the best bet I could come up with was for me an' you ta work together an' get some o' the others out first. It's tough goin' gettin' in there, but it'll be even worse tryin' ta get out. From the ones I've seen, they're all on lock-down pretty much twenty-four-seven and ain't a piece o' cake ta get by. They're not messin' around this time.'

'Sounds like Fort Knox'r somethin'. With all that security, how'd you manage to get in an’ out all by your lonesome?' she asked coyly, letting her Southern accent slip a little more with the friendly flirtation.

He stood up from the table and flashed her a wolfish grin that settled some of her fears and reminded her just exactly who it was that she was talking to. 'Because I'm the best there is, darlin'.'

***

Later that evening, when the sun had settled and there was no point in trying to do anymore of the odds-and-ends-type of chores around their lodge by light of an oil lamp, Marie slid off to bed, saying 'good-night' to Logan before she left him, puffing on a cigar, on the front porch. She thought about what he'd said over dinner, about Scott and how he didn't know if it was safe to believe him or not. She refused to let her mind wander around the possibilities of what had happened to Ororo.

What if he really had been modified and let go? How in the world would they ever even be able to know? Logan's senses were as keen as was possible and if he couldn't tell...

Her heart ached, literally, at the thought of what had happened to their lives. Each and every one of them had been blessed with the good fortune to fall under Xavier's benevolent wing, but that was all ripped away before their eyes. With a mental shake of her head, she wiped all those thoughts from her mind, denying the chance for it to dwell on the past.

The future had looked bleak, but Logan was back now and she trusted his ability to make things right again. She wasn't fool enough to think that it would be easy, but having him on their side tilted the odds back to even.

She looked up then as the curtain was pulled back, allowing only a small amount of light into the room before it was blocked by Logan’s wide frame.

‘Ready for bed, sugar?’ she asked, scooting over a little to make room for him.

The first few nights they were there together, he’d slept on the floor on his roll-mat until she’d finally been able to convince him that it was all right, she didn’t mind if they slept in the same bed. He'd held out for a bit, telling her that he was sure the bed wouldn't support his weight until he realized what kind of effect it was having on her. She was sure that his reluctance had to do with a fear of her skin and told him as much before quietly rolling over and going to sleep.

The next morning, she awoke to find him curled around behind her, a quilt in between their bodies as an added precaution. At some point during the night he'd realized that, yes, a lot of things had changed, had been taken away from both of them, but there was still one thing that they could hold on to - their friendship. Things had never been weird between the two of them before, so why should they be now? If anything, the stage they'd been thrust onto should've brought them even closer together.

She held the blanket up so he could slide under, leaving the sheet down so it would act as a barrier against her skin, but he didn’t come any closer to the bed. Instead, he walked over to the far wall and began digging around in his bag that he‘d tossed in there earlier.

Marie sat up, worried at his silent entrance - most of the time she’d at least get a grunt in return. ‘Logan?’

He still ignored her, his hands moving faster through his wadded up clothes as the seconds ticked by until he sat back on his heels with a relieved sigh.

This time it was Marie’s turn to be silent as she watched him finger the object - which she was assuming was his dog tags from the silver glint they gave off in the moonlight - between his thumb and index finger. The chain clinked dully as he lifted his arms to fasten it around his neck and only then did she feel like she could interrupt him.

‘Logan? You okay? You gonna come to bed?’

It was at that moment that he looked up, seeming to really see her for the first time since he’d crept into her room. He pushed himself to his feet awkwardly as he got his legs back under himself and took two steps toward the bed, where Marie was waiting, blanket still upturned.

‘Think I’m gonna take a walk,’ he answered hoarsely, reaching up to rub at his neck. ‘I’ll be back in a little bit - need to check some things out first.’

She started to answer him, to tell him that she’d wait up for him, but he was gone before she could get the words out of her mouth. ‘O-kay,’ she whispered slowly, still a little perplexed by what had just happened. She heard the front door creak open, then closed as he went outside, to start in on what she could only imagine was his ’grounds check’ that he’d always done at the mansion.

Whenever he couldn’t sleep, or was bored, he would patrol the grounds, checking and rechecking tirelessly all the security precautions that he and Scott had made on the large school. As much as she wanted to take comfort in that, to relish the bit of normalcy that his protective nature brought, she still couldn’t quite shake the feeling of unease that she’d had since he’d gotten back.

God, she felt like a lump.

It was already near nine o'clock and she was still tucked under the sheets, comfortable despite the early-morning heat. When she'd first woken up, she shot out of bed, only to stumble back to the mattress. Logan had told her yesterday that she might need to take it easy for a little while, but she didn't think her head would still be giving her problems almost a day later.

And speaking of Logan - she still hadn't seen or heard from him and, as good as she could guess, she'd been awake for nearly half an hour. He hadn't come back to the cabin the night before either - unless he'd snuck in and then crept back out, but she couldn't imagine why he'd bother with that when he knew that they'd both have to get up soon anyway.

With a grunt, she pushed herself up from the bed, this time considerably more steady, and slipped her feet into her sandals before shuffling to the kitchen. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she pulled back the curtain to see an empty kitchen. She'd been half-expecting Logan to've made something to eat, but as far as she could tell, nothing had been touched since they'd done the dishes after dinner.

She called out to him when she still hadn't heard anything, hoping that, if he was somewhere in the near vicinity, he would hear her. Fear flitted momentarily across her mind that she'd imagined his entire return, but a look over her shoulder provided her with a peek at the corner of Logan's duffel that he'd left against one of the bedroom walls.

Frowning, she opened up the small cupboard and pulled out a piece of bread with a jar of fresh, blackberry jam. While she was munching on her sandwich, she thought about Logan and how he'd acted the day before and during the night. She'd been so happy just to see him yesterday, that she couldn't even think to notice if anything seemed out of place...but now that she thought about it, he hadn't acted quite right.

Then again, they were both different people now and even though she realized it on the outside, some part of her mind wouldn't let go of the notion that, no matter what happened to him, Logan would always be the same. She couldn't even imagine what it must've been like for him to've seen all of his friends like that and be completely helpless to do anything about it. Her mind grazed across what he'd said the night before, about being on the inside, and she couldn't help the sick feeling that welled up in her stomach.

She could've been that close to losing him and she never would've known it.

She couldn't even begin to imagine what her life would be like, if he never came back and she was left to fend for herself out her for God-knows-how-long.

Or if they'd found out about her, come for her while he was gone.

She jerked when she suddenly realized that she'd squeezed what was left of her bread and jam in her fist and made a mess of her hand and the table. Shaking her head, she eased her grip and tossed the little bit of sandwich out the open window for the birds to eat, then went over the wash bucket that she kept handy.

Her nerves were wound tighter than she'd thought and the repetitive action of the rag rubbing over her coarse palm did little to calm her. Frustrated suddenly, she wrapped her apron around her waist and headed outside to see if she could spot Logan anywhere.

She called to him once more when she got to the porch, but still saw no sign of him. Grabbing up the pail on the porch, she headed around the house to the worn path that led to the well and spring hidden in the woods. On her way, she noticed something she hadn't seen yesterday - Logan's bike was propped again the back of the cabin with an olive drab army tarp covering it. Stopping for a moment, she pulled one corner of it down to get a good look at it.

When he'd left her, he had a car, but it wasn't surprising in the least that he'd picked this up along the way. It looked fairly new, so he couldn't've had it for very long - he always put his motorcycles through hell, testing their limits like he did his own body, as if he thought they'd manage to hold out as long as he could.

Grinning when she saw the shiny black and chrome of the machine, she tucked the cover back down over it and made her way across the open field to the tree line.

She considered yelling out to Logan once more, knowing that he'd most likely be able to hear her, but decided against it. He might be out hunting, she thought, and she didn't want to scare off whatever prey he could be tracking down.

So, she trekked onward, idly wondering if she'd ever get used to the humidity that these summer days had been providing her with, until she came up to the edge of the field, stopping just before she reached the threshold of the woods. It was always sweltering amidst the trees and she hated the way the sweat pooled at her elbows, giving her skin that hot, slick feel as it grated over the tiny grains of dirt that got lodged in the folds of her skin.

She frowned and wondered if it was worth it.

But, with bucket in hand and no fresh water in the cabin, she crossed over the imaginary line she'd set and into the mild forest, headed in a two o'clock direction toward the mouth of the spring. Quietly she walked, though not in fear of being found, but for the lack of wanting to disturb anything. Despite the heat, the woods were always a peaceful place for her to come and she tried to imagine it as it was in the cooler months of early Spring or just after Fall had set in.

It was strangely quiet this morning, unusual for a summer day, but she thought then that even the birds needed a break from the indiscriminant warmth every now and again, too. With the well in sight, Marie quickened her steps, eager to prolong the time between now and when the sweat made itself at home for the day in her clothes.

The pool that the natural spring formed was at its usual level, and despite her prior eagerness to get out the woods as quickly as possible, she couldn't resist stooping down to wipe some of the cool liquid across her arms. It was soothing against the heat trapped there from yesterday's sunburn and she smiled. Logan had instructed her to watch out for snakes when around the water's edge, so, even while she was enjoying a partial respite from the high temperature, her eyes danced cautiously around the tiny bank.

And that's when she saw him.

She hadn't recognized him at first, but she'd seen something in the corner of her vision that looked out of place...but not really. As her eyes settled, focused on the distant object, she saw him more clearly and she stood.

He was sitting down, knees pulled tightly to his chest, partially covered by the overhanging dirt ledge that a small earth slide had created. As best she could tell, he was dirty, his black clothes smeared with mud, making an almost perfect blend with the earthen shadows.

At first she'd gone back to her earlier assumption that he'd been hunting and cursed herself for possibly coming between him and tonight's dinner, but the longer she remained still, the more she realized that he hadn't even noticed her. No, he wasn't even looking in her direction - nor any direction, as best she could tell. His eyes were glassy, she knew, even from this distance, so she left the water bucket on the pool's edge and made her way through the low, thick brush over to him.

'Logan?' she asked quietly, knowing far too well from past experiences that to startle him when he was out of sorts only ended up badly for both parties.

She stopped when she was about twenty feet away, hearing suddenly in her mind the baritone timbre of Hank's voice as he lectured in Biology class.

'It is not uncommon for animals to retreat, to 'go to ground', so to speak, when confronted with injury or perhaps defeat.

Not even pausing to wonder why that particular throw-away-thought made itself re-known, Marie found herself immediately skimming his body with her eyes, checking for any visible signs that he might've been hurt. She knew that, most likely, any wound would have disappeared by now, though blood...torn clothes...anything that might give way to what had happened...

But there was nothing.

She inched closer, keeping her hands out in front of her, fingers splayed wide in a show of deference in case he had any ideas about what she was trying to do - as well as giving herself a way out by having her mutation at ready. He still hadn't said anything to her, and combined with his appearance, there was no reason to believe he was in his right state of mind.

'Logan, it's me - it's Marie,' she said calmly, keeping a slow, steady pace toward him still. 'I'm not gonna do anything, okay? I just wanna make sure you're all right, sugar.'

By then she'd made it to him, and, less than five feet away, she knelt down, putting herself at eye level with him. From what she could tell, he was physically all right. He still looked a little bedraggled, but that was to be expected - she already knew that he didn't get any rest the night before.

When she shifted her feet beneath her, trying to ease some of the pressure of her weight on top of them, he looked up, alerted by the sound the crunching twigs and leaves made. Marie locked eyes with him, keeping both still and silent, waiting for him to make the first move.

While he continued to say nothing, he shifted a little, using his feet to push himself up a little higher on the dirt ledge he was sitting on. His hands slipped out from where they'd been tucked behind his knees and he reached for his neck, his fingers working furiously against the base of his skull.

'Itches,' he whispered in a frustrated growl as his eyes closed and hands fell back down to his lap. He shook his head from side to side, rubbing the back of it against a tree root that had been exposed and frowning more deeply with each passing second.

Marie was about to come closer when he suddenly slammed his head backward and into the dirt wall, causing bits of earth to shower down around him and her to stop in her tracks. Though he didn't appear to be in a feral state, she knew that he wasn't himself at the moment and couldn't risk putting herself in danger without knowing for sure he'd be able to help her afterwards. He'd never forgive himself if he hurt her when he was like this, she knew.

So, instead of trying to get closer again, she continued to talk to him, and hopefully get some type of response so she could figure out what was going on. The first thing that came to mind was to ask him what itched, but he only answered the question by repeating what he'd already said and brought his hands back up to scratch.

And that's when she realized that it wasn't dirt covering his fingers and palms - it was blood. His skin had been stained a rusty brown, his fingernails lined with the glossy black sheen that had caked into mud and coated a bright red once he brought his hands away the second time.

Seeing the blood, she shot next to him, heedless for a split second of what it might mean for her, and pulled his hands to the side, keeping them down and away from his head where he'd apparently scratched through the skin. 'Logan, talk to me - what happened?' she asked, her face so close to his and her voice at a pitch so feverish that he had no choice but to look away.

He struggled feebly against the grip she had on his hands, and, when he couldn't wrest himself from her, she realized how incredibly weak he was. Draping an arm across his chest, she held him securely while tipping his head forward in an effort to survey the damage that had been done.

She sucked in a breath through her teeth and had to close her eyes for a moment. His skull was an ugly mass of dirt and blood and leaves and whatever else the earth could conjure up. From what she could tell, from the collar to halfway down the back of his t-shirt, blood soaked the material, only making worse the muddy mess that he was slowly turning into.

'Shit,' she breathed as her hand hovered over his injured skin, unsure of what to do or what might hurt him.

'Logan, I uh...we need to get back to the house, okay?' she stammered out, finally pulling her eyes away from the torn skin that was allowing blood to trickle freely down his neck.

'Itches,' he repeated for the third time, still struggling to bring his hands up as he spoke.

'I know it does,' she answered, nodding while trying to keep his arms pinned and tug him out of his burrow all at the same time.

'No!' he shouted, the strength in his voice belying his earlier helplessness. He repeated the word then, almost snarling it as his fists tightened to a white knuckled grip and pounded against his thighs.

Startled, Marie jumped back, losing her balance on the uneven earth and taking the short tumble to her backside. She watched him for a moment, careful to note anymore sudden changes in his behavior before she pushed herself back to the squatting position she'd been in before. Taking him by the elbow this time, she urged him to move a little further, but he'd fallen into complete unresponsiveness.

'Logan, come on. We've gotta go to the house and get you taken care of. Come on.' Shifting to her knees, she wrapped her arms around his back and tossed his arm over her shoulder. It was almost pointless to try and lift him, she knew, but she had to do something - there wasn't anyone else out there and she still didn't know what had happened to him.

Had it been an animal? She didn't think so - there wasn't any other signs of a struggle on him - his clothes were intact and no other place on his body had been damaged, as far as she could tell. She was worried, he wasn't healing and had passed out on her, but sitting around in the woods wasn't going to do either of them any good. So, she conjured up every amount of strength she could muster and prayed for one of those adrenaline bursts that people get when they need to lift cars off of their children, though, somewhere in the back of her mind, she had time to wonder if that trait was solely available to humans, if her mutant gene took that option away.

Earlier headache forgotten, with a grunt of effort, she tugged him out from under the ledge and laid him down on his back. She figured that anymore dirt in his wound probably wouldn't matter with as much as he had caked over it anyway. Moving him those few feet had taken enough out of her so that she was seriously having doubts on whether or not she could get him from here to the cabin, so she tried rousing him one more time.

'Come on, sugar - wake up. Let's go...Logan?' While talking to him didn't do any good, shaking him did even less, but she kept on, hoping against hope that he'd come round. 'We've gotta get back to the cabin - back to the house. You've gotta wake up, all right?'

She felt a rise of fear start to well up within her when there was still nothing happening, but before she had time to react to it, she heard a twig snap right behind her. Whirling around as quickly as she could, she came face to face with the end of a machine gun.

Her eyes slid up the barrel, adjusting their focus with the change in distance until they rested on a clean-cut face partially-covered by the bill of a plain, black hat.

'I really don't think that's going to be possible, miss,' came a voice from behind the gun-pointer.

She watched as an older man stepped out from behind the young soldier and took a spot near Logan's head. That's when Marie noticed there were at least fifteen more soldiers, just like the one next to her, holding positions all over the forest. She looked up quickly to see several more men - and women - come falling into place around the dirt ledge to effectively surround her from all angles.

'You see,' the older man started up again, taking her attention from the soldiers and bringing it back on himself. '*This* won't allow that to happen.' As he spoke the words, his hand that was tucked into his pants pocket came sliding out and Marie could see that he was holding a sort of electronic box.

'What've you done to him?' she spat out, her voice more strong than she felt. She had no idea of what was going on, but they were in deep shit - she knew that much.

'You mean - he hasn't already told you? Normally he almost gives his cover away - he fights against it so hard that he leaks the information through sometimes. I guess this time the modifications worked a little better.'

Modifications.

The word rang sharply in her mind and immediately she knew what had happened. He'd practically told her as much yesterday afternoon - was that what this...General, or whoever the hell he was, was talking about?

'What've you done to him? Is he all right?'

Smirking, the older man had the gall enough to prop his foot up on a nearby rock, to rest his elbow on his bent knee and look almost bored. 'Well, not that you're in a place to be asking questions, and - speaking of place, you can sit back down,' he ordered, motioning her back to the ground as she was trying to stand. The gun was moved closer then, brushing the skin on the side of her neck and she felt her heart strengthen its effort to burst from her chest. 'We know just what that skin of yours is capable of doing, so we don't want any incidents on our hands, do you understand?'

Not even waiting for her reply, the smug bastard continued, his each and every word dripping with a superiority that he must've thought was innate to him. 'He'll be fine once he gets back to headquarters. Now that this mission's done, he'll be taken care of, restructured and put into holding until we need him again.'

The way he talked about him, about Logan, made her stomach lurch and hackles rise all at the same time. 'What the hell did you do to him?' she shrieked, finally giving in to the rain of emotion washing over her. She tried to scoot closer to him by shuffling on her knees, but a quick pop to her chin from the gun barrel sat her back on her ass once more and this time she knew to stay still.

'I'm afraid the process is fairly complicated,' the older man answered, not phased in the least by what had just happened. 'All you need to know is that it took him longer to get to you than any of the others.'

'What? What others? What are you talking about?'

Frowning, he lowered his foot back to the ground and moved to the other side of Logan's prone form, stepping over his head and sprinkling dirt from his boots all over his face and half-open eyes while doing so. 'I'm guessing you already saw the damage he's done to himself,' he started, using the toe of his army boot to nudge Logan's shoulders and head to the side and inspect the injury with his own eyes. He clucked his tongue and shook his head, letting his shoe fall away while the limp body lolled back to its original position.

'Does that every time,' he muttered with a sigh, sounding just this side of disappointed. 'But, like I said - you should know that it took him the longest to get to you. We started to worry if the new modifications we made to his neutralizing chip and retraining program might not've been up to par. He made it away from us yesterday - got out of the thirty mile range for the first time since we started his branch of the program.' He smirked and looked back up at Marie with an evilly proud grin. 'We found him, though. Just in time, by the looks of it - another six or seven hours and he would've told you everything.'

'Why isn't he healing?' Marie demanded, ignoring the man's callous comments in favor of watching Logan for any signs that he was waking back up.

'That's part of the modifications - oh, don't worry, he's still got the mutation, but while he's under the direct management of this' - he held up the box once more and Marie surmised that it was a type of remote control device- 'his mutations are limited.'

Taking a moment to motion to some of the troops standing on the ledge above him, he directed them to come down and handle the body. 'Only problem is, that damn healing factor of his tries to override the system every time. Almost beat us - but not quite.'

Helplessly, Marie watched as the soldiers unfolded what looked like a metal-laced stretcher and heaped Logan's still-lifeless body onto it. She cried out when they lifted him, reached for him as they started walking away, was angry that they were using the very same path out of the woods that she'd entered by. Logan had cut that for her and they had no right to trample through it.

There was a sharp prick in her shoulder, and almost before she could register it, her legs went numb. The strange sensation somewhere between coldness and warmth spread its way up her body until she could feel nothing and her eyes started to slip closed. The last thing she saw was the craggy face of the older man slithering into her field of vision. He told her that it was going to be okay, that she wouldn't ever remember a thing, but the words came first and then his mouth started moving. Before she could even begin to process what he'd said, or if he'd even said anything at all, he eyelids fell and she knew no more.

***

'Dammit.'

They say that hearing is the first sense to leave and the first sense to return when a person experiences a loss of consciousness, and though she heard the word, it was the tone - the familiar, deep, gravelly rumble in the voice that made Marie bolt upright.

'Darlin', lay back - calm down and lay back, okay?'

She turned her head quickly - the sun was shining straight into her eyes - and blinked several times to try and rid the searing whiteness from the backs of her lids.

'Marie? Talk to me, tell me where you are.'

She could hear the barest hint of panic in his voice, but her mind was struggling to get a grip on her surroundings and she couldn't make the rest of her work quite right.

'Hold on.'

She hardly registered the words before she felt the solidness she hadn't even noticed was there disappear from behind her only to be replaced with the hard-packed dirt on the ground. Her world was slowly spinning to a halt and when she dared open her eyes, she expected to see the fiery sun blaring back at her once more, but it was blocked out just in time by the towering shadow above her head.

'Drink this.'

Her sense of reality was coming in spurts, like a movie or CD that was skipping, words and seconds of time were missing and she was having to piece the parts together in her mind. One moment, he was standing above her, the next, there was a coldness brought to her lips and she could feel his sturdy hand wrapped in her hair, holding her head up.

The water brought her back to herself, but no sooner had she begun drinking, the ladle was pulled away.

'Not too fast - you'll get sick. Come on, let's get you on the porch.'

She had to clamp her eyes shut once more as she was lifted and the sensation that she was tumbling down a hill returned. The wooden slats were warm against her back, but the sun was no longer a problem and she opened her eyes to finally see Logan, propped up on one knee next to her hips.

'You all right?'

She started to answer, but the words froze on her lips before she could spit them out. The terror she was feeling inside must've come through clean on her face because within second, Logan was on the alert.

'What is it? What's wrong?'

The questions spouted out even as he looked around, sniffed, tensed his arms in ready to spring the claws.

And that's when it hit her. They weren't in the woods. They weren't surrounded by those army men. Logan wasn't covered in mud and bleeding and he was talking to her. He was all right and she was all right and everything was okay.

Her face crumbling, she sat up, only to collapse on his thigh, cradling his leg to her chest while the silent tears trickled from the corners of her eyes.

'I thought...I thought...'

Her voice hitched and it was all she could manage to get out right then, but she got the feeling that it didn't matter. She felt Logan's strong arm come up around her back and pull her closer to him, careful to keep her skin from touching his.

'It's all right, darlin'. Ev'rything's gonna be fine now.'

The deep rumble to his voice passed through his chest and into her ear and she let the noise soothe her heart. 'I was so scared - I thought you were hurt.'

She felt, more than heard him laugh, and enjoyed the way he squeezed her a little tighter. 'Now you know as well as I do that that can't happen. An' I'm back now, so you can stop worryin' about me.'

She knew that he had no idea what she was really talking about, but it was okay. They were both going to be fine and that was all that mattered right then.

Allowing herself a few more brief moments in his arms, Marie finally sat up, wiping her face clean of the tears, only to have it mix with the dirty residue on her hands. Logan smiled down at her, brushed a few errant strands of hair back from her face and tucked them behind her ears, allowing himself that instant of touch before he took his fingers away.

'Jesus, kid - you'd think you'd forgotten how ta take care of yourself out here,' he chided softly. 'You know when it's hot out like this ya hafta take breaks. Don't even have a wet towel on your head,' he added, frowning slightly at the thought of what could've happened had he not returned at that exact moment. It would've been too much for him to've come all this way only to lose her in the end.

He kept his eyes trained on her, watching as the creases in her brow became more pronounced and confusion flitted across her face once more. He smelled worry, and...fear?

Her hands came up to his face, hovering above either side and giving him the sensation that pins and needles were poking lightly into his skin, but he said nothing. He gave her the time that she needed to work out what ever questions she had in her own mind before making her voice them aloud. Her movements were careful, slow and deliberate and when she slid gently away from his half-embrace, he thought nothing of it.

He continued to watch her, his own eyes full of questions now, but he waited until she spoke first.

With her hand providing a trembling cover for her mouth, she shook her head and sent waves of that earlier fear his way.

'Logan?'

It came out shaky and he couldn't keep quiet any longer.

'Darlin' what's wrong?'

He knew now that it was more than just the initial shock of seeing him again after so long, and it had him almost in a panic, so when she came back with the question that she did, he could only tumble back on his ass and laugh. One would think that something would've seriously been wrong with the look of horror that had absolutely taken over her face.

'My hair?' He ran a hand quickly over the buzz-cut he'd given himself only a few days earlier and shrugged. 'Got hot.'

He had to cover his ears she screamed so loud.