A low growl sounded behind him. Scott whirled, his hand reaching for the side of his visor. Seeing Logan, he lowered his arm, puzzled. "What?"

"You didn't tell me my vital signs were being recorded. What else did you record?" Logan's tone was low and menacing.

Dumbfounded, Scott thought hard. Oh, the Danger Room session. He relaxed. "It was something Jean wanted built into the programming. She said it was for safety, in case someone started to have a heart attack. The computer is programmed to stop the session if someone's vitals go haywire. All the info goes to Jean so she can keep track of everyone's fitness. Why? You wouldn't show anything." He frowned. "Didn't you get hit by lightning last night?"

"So the medical data goes straight to Jean?" The growl was still there.

"Yes. What's your problem?"

"Nothing." Logan relaxed slightly. Jean had checked him over at Chuck's insistence after finding out about the beach incident. She had hit him with the readouts from the virtual reality session, asking him about the spike in his vitals at the end of the session, when the computer showed he wasn't fighting. He had denied knowing anything and had come to Scott in the hanger, intending to work him over for using him as a lab rat.

The intercom behind Scott beeped.

"Yes?" asked Scott.

"Scott, this is Xavier. Is Logan with you?"

"He's here."

"Ask him to come to my office, please. Thank you."

Scott turned and, biting off a grin, asked, "Logan, would you go to Professor Xavier's office, please?"

"Dick."

---

Logan entered Chuck's office, not bothering to knock. He stopped when he smelled the other man in the room. The large, muscular man, who sat opposite Chuck, turned as Logan closed the door. His scent was familiar in a far-off way, like a dream.

"You rang?"

"Logan, please sit down. This is Steven Rogers. Steven, this is Logan."

Steven looked at Logan and looked back at Xavier. "I don't know. To tell you the truth, I would have to say I've never met him."

Logan bristled. "Listen, bub..."

"Relax, Logan. I'm trying an experiment. Please put this on." he handed Logan an old army helmet.

"Not today, Chuck. I've had it with experiments."

"Please."

He sighed. Grabbing the helmet he rammed it on his head, slightly askew. "Happy, now? Can I go?" He jerked a cigar out of his pocket and clamped it in his teeth, knowing Chuck didn't like smoking around the kids. "See ya," he growled. He glanced at the man in the other chair and was surprised to see him going pale. So pale that for a moment Logan thought he would faint.

"Oh my God. It's him." Steven looked over at Xavier. "But how?"

"Would somebody tell me what the f..."

"Logan, Steven is the product of a genetic experiment. He entered a war as a super-soldier under the code name of Captain America. To protect his identity, he wore a blue mask and uniform and carried a shield in the shape of a bull's eye for protection. He met you during that war. Correct, Steven?"

"Correct," Steven whispered. "He saved my life. I know how I survived this long, but how did you? How did he?" The last question was directed at Xavier.

"What do you mean, 'survived this long'?" Logan didn't like the direction this was taking. "Just what war are we talking about, Chuck?"

"World War II."

Now it was Logan's turn to go pale.

---

An hour later, Logan sat under a big oak at the back edge of the mansion grounds. The cigar clamped in his teeth was still unlit. The news had hit him like a ton of bricks.

Rogers had explained that he was wounded in an accident, and had been unable to get to his shield to take out the sniper fire that had him pinned. Logan, working point for his company had come across the situation and had taken out the snipers. When Logan pointed out that that could have been anyone, Rogers pointed out the reasons why he remembered him. One, Logan had been unaware that Rogers had seen him take several hits and miraculously keep going. Two, Rogers had seen at least two of the bullet holes, but when Logan came back and offered him a canteen, he saw no evidence of the wounds. Three, when his company had joined him and Rogers had told of Logan's heroics, the company commander had chuckled and said that Logan led a charmed life, never getting sick or hurt and it wasn't because he didn't put himself in harm's way. He had also mentioned that Logan spoke Navajo almost as well as the company's code talker, which was unusual. Four, Logan's parting words had been "See ya, bub," as he had put a cigar in his mouth.

Logan absently chewed on his cigar. He had challenged Rogers by stating that World War II was a long time ago and how come they both were so young for veterans of such an old war. Then Rogers had told him how he had been frozen in the arctic for five decades and had only recently been brought back to life. World War II, for him, was like yesterday.

Leaning back on the tree, Logan did the math. Rogers had been born in the depression, so there was every possibility that he had been born at least that far back as well. That meant anyone who knew him was either dead, too old to believe their eyes, or one of those damned scientists. He could be eighty years old for all he knew. His mind raced. What if he was even older than that? Just how much of a past had he lost? Mentally, he slapped himself. There was no way of knowing, so he couldn't worry about it now.

He looked over at the mansion and closed his eyes. Did that mean he would live another eighty years looking like this? Never getting older? He would watch the kids in his class grow old and die. Damn. What kind of a curse was his mutation anyway? How could he bear to watch Marie die of old age?

He heard footsteps and smelled the very subject of his thoughts.

"Logan?"

He opened his eyes and drank in the sight of her. What was he going to do about his feelings for her? She was so young and had her whole life ahead of her. Come to think of it, he had a whole lifetime ahead of him, too. Would she ever see him the way he saw her, though?

She looked him over, his incredible form sprawled in the dappled shade of the tree. "You about done here? Ah'm supposed to bring you back to the library."

He frowned. "Why?"

"Ah'm not supposed to tell you. You're not the type to spoil surprises, now are you?"

"I don't usually like surprises, kid," he growled.

She put her hands on her hips and pinned him with the *look*. He sighed and stood, knowing he could not resist that pout.

The trip to the library was made in silence. He ushered her in first and walked in behind. A group of kids waited in front of a table, effectively blocking it from his sight. The teachers and Chuck were there, too. The smell of the cake and punch hit him as they all yelled, "Happy birthday, Logan!" He was stunned.

---

Ten minutes later, Chuck pulled him aside. "This was the children's idea, you know. They reasoned that you have not had a birthday party in at least sixteen years and felt that you deserved one." He looked up into Logan's troubled face and lowered his voice. "How are you?"

"How do you think?"

"I think you are a very courageous person to have been through what you have and still keep going. Don't tell me you are going to let this latest information defeat you."

Logan's eyes narrowed. "Don't play shrink with me, Chuck."

Xavier smiled. "I wouldn't dream of it. But do me a favor and look around this room."

Logan took a good hard look and realized what Chuck meant. Had he finally found a place where he could stay, where people really did give a crap about him? Those kids did and they knew the worst. He found Marie with his eyes. Maybe he could hang around a little while longer.

"You'd better find a good punching bag I can rip up every now and then or I'll get awfully touchy. You know how crabby us old men get."

Xavier grinned as Logan walked away.

Marie looked into his eyes as Logan approached. He seemed happier than he had been outside. "Are you ok, sugar?"

He stopped dead. What had she called him? Two could play at that game. "Fine, darlin'."

She blinked, then grinned. "Are you still going to stick around even though the semester's over?"

"Do you need someone to watch over you or something?"

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes."

Her hands went to her hips and the pout reappeared. "Yes, what?"

"Yes ma'am, darlin'."