"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!"

The scream emanating from Logan's room filled the corridors of the vast mansion. Many of its inhabitants, most of them already used to Logan's cry at night, just shrugged and returned to sleep. Others, younger students newly admitted to Xavier's school, could not shake the fear that crept at them in the middle of the night. That scream was so primal, full of fear and hurt. Chatters started in the dormitories, echoing of homemade stories of a dangerous wild man with claws who once stabbed the very person who tried to wake him from his nightmares.

The object of the students' nightly chat sat on his bed, his sweat covered back to the cool wall of his dark room. If any of the telepaths living within these walls had probed his mind at this very minute, they would have discovered that the fierce Wolverine was indeed really scared. As scared as he couldn't even remember he had ever been.

"I can't," he kept saying to himself.

He looked around, as if to find an answer. Of course, there was none. For weeks he had seek an answer, any answer, and found none. His days were mostly focused on looking for an answer, while his nights were haunted by these dreams.

Logan smirked. He had even thought to ask someone. Ask for help!

"Gee, askin' fer help. Musta gone that low," he thought.

Low or not, he had tried all he could to find a solution. Except asking for advice. That was his last hope, that is, if he couldn't find an answer by himself, maybe he could at least find a way to ask someone's 'help' without it sounding as if he actually needed help.

"Maybe Jeannie? Nah," he mused. Then as soon discarded the idea; he was Wolverine after all, and he needed NO ONE.

Tired to think about a solution for the bazillionth time, he opted for immediate action. To move. That would be great. To do something. As in RIGHT NOW.

So Logan grabbed his shirt on the floor by the bed and tucked it in the worn jeans he didn't even bother to discard to sleep. From the corner of his eye, he spotted his jeans jacket and his leather coat. That very second, Logan had finally found a solution.

---

Most of the mansion's residents were sound asleep. A faint sound was the only way to suspect that not everyone was tucked in bed. Professor Charles Xavier, having worked late that night on a speech, had not been awakened by Logan's nightly cry. Not that it didn't affect him nonetheless. The Professor thus decided that he needed a warm cup of coffee and headed for the kitchen, his wheelchair the only sound echoing in the corridor.

Being such a powerful telepath, Xavier couldn't totally ignore strong projections as the ones that had assaulted his brain a few minutes ago. He had no doubt from whom did come those mental images; Logan.

Strangely, what Xavier received as glimpses of Logan's nightmare wasn't the same as the telepath had previously encountered from him. Usually, the dreams of the lone Canadian were haunted of men in uniforms, celebrating over the success of some medical procedure they had performed on Logan. But tonight was different, and maybe because Xavier had been awake, that nightmare was clearly something else than usual. Not that it was more pleasant.

On his way to the kitchen, the Professor caught a telepathic message directed at him by Jean Grey, one of his first student, and a very good telepath herself.

{Yes, Jean, I heard it.} Xavier didn't want to elaborate much more on a personal topic regarding anyone. He would do what he could to help anyone, but stepping in others' business wasn't his way.

{Professor?} insisted Jean Grey after a few seconds.

{I know what you think, Jean. But there is no way I am to interfere in Logan's personal affair.}

{But Professor, there must be something we can do.}

{I am certain we could, Jean. But again, unless he asks for it... }

{You know that he will never ask anyone! He's splitting at the seams, Professor, it's unbearable,} cut an upset Jean.

Xavier sent a comforting wave to her, {All I can do, Jean, is to give him a chance to talk and offer him my help. I will talk to him. Now try to have some rest, child.}

{Alright, Professor. And thanks.}

The telepathic conversation ended as Xavier reached the kitchen. A flicker of light in the dark room told him that someone was there. Not that he needed anything to tell him who was there in the middle of the night, probably seeking comfort in alcohol.

No sound reached his ears, nor did he catch any movement in the darkness. The person obviously didn't want to chat. Nonetheless, Xavier turned on the light and no surprise crossed his features when he looked at Logan, nonchalantly leaning on the refrigerator, an unopened beer in hand.

"Good night, Logan."

A low grunt echoed Xavier's greeting. It wasn't going to be easy. The Professor sighed interiorly, busying himself at the coffee task.

"Can I ask you something, Logan?" asked Xavier as he turned to the Canadian.

A smirk crossed Logan's face as he popped open his beer.

"Ye just did, Wheels," came out as the sharp reply.

The Professor didn't let it get to him; he knew better than to entertain Wolverine into playing words game.

"I need your help," insisted Xavier.

Logan stared at the Professor in the wheelchair, puzzled. Of course, he needed his help. Gee, they ALL needed his help. Where would they be at that very minute if it wasn't for HIM? He SAVED their lives, for God's sake. He was the ONE to get hurt by doing so! He never asked them anything, THEY always asked him, pushing him to do things he couldn't careless about. He had better stay away. Yeah, A.W.A.Y. What possessed him to get back here? Oh yeah... SHE possessed him.

Logan was already lost in his mental rambling when he noticed the Professor pointing at the cupboard.

"Could you hand me a mug, please?" gently asked Xavier. The Professor grinned, noticing how Logan's mind came to a stop in its ranting as the Canadian realized what he was asked.

Logan turned to the cupboard and took a mug, handing it to Xavier without a word. He then resumed his position against the refrigerator, gulping down the cold beer, not paying any attention to the Professor.

To Xavier, the fact that Wolverine didn't walk away was a sign in itself. Logan would not make the first move, that was a sure thing, but he wasn't running either. The Professor settled his mind to the task at hand; make the Canadian speak up.

While the coffee was being prepared, Xavier looked directly at Logan. Direct approach was indeed the best with the man.

After a few seconds, the Professor's stance got to Wolverine's nerves.

"I don't wanna hear anything about me drinkin' beer," growled Logan.

"I don't recall saying anything about you drinking beer, Logan. Why are you so defensive?" calmly replied the Professor.

"Stop that shrink shit, right now!" Logan bent so he stood just a few inches from the Professor's face. "I got enough of ye, enough of ye'all. You make me do things I don't want, and don't lemme do what I wan't." He paused. "I'm sick to be called an animal, ye hear me?!? The next one to judge me, will do so with adamantium down t'his ass!"

---

{How is it going, Professor?}

{I'm not sure, Jean. There is so much frustration inside of him, and I fear he might loose control.}

{Do you want me to ask Scott to join you?}

Xavier considered the offer. Not that the Professor was scared for himself, he rather was for Logan. But having Scott around would not help anything.

{Not right now, thanks Jean.}

Xavier let some time pass before replying to a quite angry Wolverine. The man in front of him was usually gruff, but an angry Wolverine was a force to be reckoned with. Even if direct approach was the best, direct offensive wasn't. Just as for a chess game, Xavier had to play carefully.

While considering his next move, the Professor followed Logan's movements as the man reached in the refrigerator and grabbed another beer, opened it and gulped it down.

Silence was becoming thick as oil and cold as ice. Xavier poured himself a cup of coffee and took a sip.

"Why did you come back, Logan?" he asked purposely, knowing that this was part of the problem.

Logan didn't twitch. The same question he asked himself since he got back, two weeks ago. He knew the answer very well, but wasn't going to bother to try to explain.

"Ye're the telepath, so ye tell me," he finally said.

"You know very well that I do not meddle in a person's mind without formal permission," pointed out Xavier. "But I could try... "

"Never mind," cut in Logan, before gulping down some more of his beer.

"... to help you, if you want," finished Xavier.

It hit the Professor's mind before the first words were said, rather shouted, in his face. Such anger, such hate, such pain even.

"Help me? You?!" exploded Logan. "Or Jean, Storm or One-Eye?! Yeah sure! Help me get screwed worst than I am, right? None of you care! You've get yerself an animal to hunt for ye, aren't ye all happy?"

"Now, Logan," started Xavier.

"Shut up! Now YOU listen t'me!" Logan paused, smelling around. Yeah, he could smell them in the dark, in the corridor. Jean and her puppy Scotty-Boy. *Right, let 'em get a piece o' my mind* thought Logan.

"What can ye do to help me, hey?" he continued, not allowing the Professor to reply. "Look at me, for christ' sake! Who am I? I try my damnest to be a man, and thanks to ye'all, all I see is people judging me!"

"Who judged you, Logan?" asked, still calmly, the Professor.

"WHO? You dare ask WHO?" Logan pointed at the dark corridor. "I think Scooter for one, and all the friggin' teens. D'you have any idea how many times a day I hear'em whisper in my back?"

Xavier didn't answer to that. He wasn't aware of that fact. Of course, he had heard a few thoughts about it, but kids being kids... Now that was counting without Logan's incredible hearing sense.

Logan bent again to face the Professor, making sure those standing in the corridor could hear him. "But you know what, I don't give a shit. They think what they want. It's half what I think of 'em anyway."

"You say it doesn't bother you. So what makes you so angry?" wisely asked Xavier.

Logan grabbed another beer from the refrigerator and turned to face the Professor. "That's none of yer business."

On that, Wolverine walked out of the room, heading out by the back door of the kitchen.

---

A few minutes later, the Professor, Jean and Scott sat silently around the table in the dining room. They hadn't heard any sound from the exterior, no bike or jeep, so Logan hadn't gone away. Not yet, anyway.

Each sipping on their coffee, Logan's words still echoing in their mind, they looked like punished kids. Amazingly, Scott felt a bit of guilt. Oh, he didn't like the man called Wolverine; his way of flirting with his fiancée, Jean, was an enough good reason to dislike the Canadian. That he had borrowed his bike the first time he had left the mansion was just another good reason to Scott. The leader of the X-Men could find so many more reasons to dislike Logan. But still, something nibbled at the back of his conscience.

Jean Grey tried hard to not pry on Logan's thoughts right now. She was deeply concerned about him. What Scott feared the first time she and Logan met was of no consequences; nothing had happened between them. But then, Jean had a first hand (no pun) point of view at Wolverine's memories. And what memories it was, she shivered at the thought. She now looked at Logan as a friend, flirting kind of friend maybe, but a loyal one nonetheless. What had made him so upset?

Jean recalled what Logan said about what others thought of him, "But you know what, I don't give a shit." So what was the problem?

"Do you think his nightmares might, err, trouble him?" finally asked Scott.

"I doubt it, Scott. He had them for quite a long time now," replied Jean. She turned to Xavier, "Do you know what's the matter with him, Professor?"

"Indeed, I have a good idea at what is his struggle," Xavier held up his hand as to stop any comment. "And I still think that we should keep out of his private life unless he asks us to help him. On that, I believe we should all go get some rest."

The Professor's suggestion wasn't meant to be ignored, and so the three of them headed out to their respective rooms.

---

Logan sat on the ground, his back to a tree. The night was warm and the sky so clear he could easily see the stars. It almost felt like home. Home, which meant for him, a secluded cabin in the Canadian frozen north.

At least there, he didn't have to hear people talk in his back all the time. He didn't have to bear their judging stares, and didn't have to make them turn into pure fear of him. They sure made him look like an animal, a caged animal. Their looks were like whips on his back.

But if he was such a wild animal, they would already be cold meat. So Logan kept on finding peace within him, the forest around soothing his temper.

{Logan.}

Logan almost jumped with a start. He had heard the Professor's voice in his head the first time he had ended up at the Mansion. He hadn't liked it a bit then. He didn't like it anymore now.

*How the hell do I... * thought Logan.

{Just think it,} suggested Xavier.

{Why do I have to think it, since ye can read my mind?} asked Logan.

{I can hear the thoughts you intend to send to me, which doesn't mean I will pry on your mind,} explained the Professor. But he could nonetheless feel that Wolverine had calmed down.

{Yeah, ye're so damn correct,} replied Logan.

{I try to be, Logan. That's why I wanted to apologize for earlier.}

{No need to. I like a frank talk once in a while. Makes for a change in this place.}

{Well, I will leave you alone. Just know this, Logan. I'm here if you want to talk.}

{Yeah right. I might take you up on yer offer.} Logan paused. {What about a beer?} he teased, sure that the Professor would flatly refuse.

Logan felt the Professor grin. {Patio in 5 minutes.} simply replied Xavier.

---

Wolverine walked to the back of the mansion. True to his words, Charles Xavier had made his way to the large patio. A dim light from the glass door poured on the surroundings. Logan sat down on a chair besides the Professor and found a cigar in his jacket, which he proceeded to light.

"I didn't bring the beer," announced Xavier.

Logan shrugged. "Think I had enough anyway. That friggin' healing factor won't let me get drunk."

The men's voices, although low, carried well in the air and could be heard by any attentive resident standing by the window. In fact, many of them did.

Scott Summers told himself that he was listening only to make sure Charles Xavier wasn't in danger being alone with the Canadian. His fiancée, Jean Grey, did out of concern for Logan.

In another room, a young woman listened quietly, making sure to not awake her roommates. One of the men down there was... But what was he? Rogue couldn't put a description on Logan that would fit him perfectly. Just not yet. Oh, he was her friend, that she was sure of. No one but a friend, a really good one, would offer his life for you. But since they had touched, and in the process she had received a bit of his memories and some charming traits of his, she knew there was something more. And God, she liked this something more.

Two weeks ago, he had come back after a few months away at looking for his lost past. They had been genuinely happy to meet each other again. There was something else in his eyes, and sure there was something burning in hers as well.

Rogue was sure he had noticed it and, sadly, since then he had been quite distant. Convinced that she had done something wrong, that she shouldn't have let him see the sparkles in her eyes, Rogue hadn't tried to push it.

Not that he has been cold or anything. He had been correct with her. But distant. As if he was afraid of something.

---

"I wasn't kiddin', ye know," started Logan.

"About what, precisely?"

"'Bout ye readin' my mind. I hate talkin'. Would be faster, don't ye think?"

Xavier pondered about what Logan just said. He knew pretty well that conversations weren't what Wolverine was the best at. But the message was crystal clear; Logan wanted it out of his chest. And frankly, even to Xavier, the sooner the better.

"Why don't you tell me about your nightmare tonight?" offered the Professor.

"Not much to talk about. Look at it, if ye dare," grinned Logan.

Although Charles Xavier already had a good glimpse at it earlier that night, he nodded in agreement to Logan.

He concentrated a bit, not much since even to Logan, the visions in his mind were still pretty clear. Exactly what he had caught when Logan had cried out in the night, with an added prologue he didn't see before.

It was primal indeed. So very primal and animalistic. It was quite easy to understand the basic symbols. A man fighting a wild beast over a young girl. Pretty simple. It ended abruptly when the beast showed signs of wining over the man.

Xavier kept silent, leaving Logan to his own thoughts for a while.

"I want the man to win," simply stated Logan.

"I can see why. And I can see you making it so."

"You asked me why I came back." Logan paused. "Livin' alone in the forest can't help him. Had to get back somewhere, and hell, I figured out here would be better than anywhere else. Err, not that I... "

"It's alright, Logan. I understand what you mean."

Logan sighed. "I'll have many years to wait. To fight. Heck, I did for many years, I can do it again. But... "

"But you need to make him stronger."

Logan nodded. "Ye got it, Chuck. It's a never ending fight. But I'll make it for her. And no one, ye hear me, no one will stop me. I'll win, or die trying. I'll win this friggin' fight, no matter how long I'll have to fight. For her."

Xavier nodded. There was nothing to add.

---

Up in their room, Scott Summers and Jean Grey finally got back to sleep, not fearing for the Professor, nor for Logan. To both of them, Logan, the fierce Wolverine, was a fighter. He had a hard fight ahead of him. One that they didn't exactly understand, but nonetheless they could feel the importance of the outcome.

Not to far from the couple, in another room, a young woman clutched her pillow, the men's words still sinking in her mind. Logan would fight for her. Even more, he would wait for her. The first rays of sun lingered on her tear-covered cheeks when sleep finally overcame her.