Not in the garage, not in the library, not in the garden, and not in the kitchen, Scott thought to himself as he meticulously checked over the mansion grounds in search of his prey. It would have been easier if he had the keen senses of the person he was hunting. Then he stopped. Why not use reasoning? Where would Logan go to get some peace and quiet away from his students if he wasn’t sleeping and had already worked out?

Scott opened the door to the teacher’s break room. Sprawled in one of the chairs in rumpled jeans and an old T-shirt with his boot-encased feet propped illegally on the once clean table was the man in question.

"No." The greeting came out more like a growl than a word.

Scott assumed an injured air. "Did I say anything? Did I ask anything of you?"

"No. Keep it that way."

Logan had not yet looked up from the pages of material he was reading and therefore missed Scott’s canary-eating smile as he entered and sat across from the older man. If Logan was already starting off with ‘no’, Scott had been wise to call in the cavalry. He made a mental call to Jean to let her know where they were and then sighed as if distressed about something.

"Don’t use that act on me. You’re not upset or I’d know it. You’re up to something I can tell and the answer’s still ‘no’," Logan muttered as he afforded himself a quick glance at the younger man out of the corner of his eye.

"Chill, will you? I heard you. The answer’s no. What are you reading, anyway? More on self-defense techniques?" Scott kept his tone light and non-threatening.

"No, it’s bedtime stories."

Scott stared. "Bedtime stories? You’re reading bedtime stories?"

"Got a problem with that?" Up came the eyebrow though the head never moved.

"Nope. Do they work? Can you sleep better?" Scott pulled a little on his trousers as he crossed one ankle over the other knee. He leaned back in his chair and casually interlaced his fingers as he put them behind his head, his neat attire and lazy attitude presenting the very picture of yuppie disinterest.

"They’re for Megan and you know it." Logan’s eyes narrowed as he looked over at the other. "You’re getting pretty comfortable over there. Don’t let me bother you."

"I won’t." Scott started to softly whistle in a random, somewhat flat way, something that he knew irritated Logan to no end.

"Okay, I get it." Logan closed the stapled pages and tossed them on the table. "You aren’t going to leave me alone until you get something off your chest, are you?"

Scott tried to look innocent instead of smug. "I really wasn’t going to ask you anything; I just wanted you to know that I’ve asked Piotr to help me pick up some parts for the jet. We’re going to be away for a few days."

"That’s it?" Logan sounded skeptical.

"That’s it." Scott briefly held up empty hands as if to prove he had nothing to hide. "See? Nothing to worry about."

Logan started to reach for the stories when the whistling began anew. Gritting his teeth, he saw that Scott wasn’t finished with him. This could only mean trouble.

"I’m not going with you."

Scott looked mildly shocked at the idea. "Who said you were? Colossus and I can handle it."

Logan snorted. "You tell Pete what he’s in for?"

"What do you mean?"

"These part runs of yours are doomed from the start."

"Well, before you came on them I never had any problems," Scott retorted without thinking.

Logan calmly pulled the material to him once again and took up reading where he had left off. "Then it’s a good thing I’m not going this time, right?"

Scott had been outflanked by Logan’s reply and had the good sense to grin in appreciation of the maneuver. He wasn’t worried, though, he knew what he was doing. The trick to getting a Wolverine to go on a vacation was to use child psychology and a reversed version of it at that.

"Sure," Scott replied, keeping his tone genial, "you wouldn’t like where we’re going anyway. It’s way too hot for you."

"Probably so," Logan agreed amicably.

"After all, Florida is no place for a Canuck." Scott tried another ploy.

Logan looked up quickly and glared at him for a second but relaxed almost as fast, refusing to rise to the bait.

Scott yawned. "At least Piotr appreciates the opportunity. He’s asked Kitty to go with us. Jean was delighted."

Logan arched an eyebrow lazily, not even glancing up this time. "You’re taking Jean, too? Where’s the fun in that? She’ll already be there to rescue your ass when you and Pete get into a mess."

"We’re not going to get into a mess. We’re going to enjoy a stay in a charming little four-plex two hundred yards from a beach on the panhandle coast." Scott waived a hand. "You’re more than welcome to come. You don’t even have to help get the parts. They’re small anyway, hardly worth mentioning. You could relax, kick back and enjoy the view."

There was a moment of silence while Logan digested this bit of generosity. "Thanks, but the answer’s still no."

"Damn it, Logan, you need a vacation and you know it," stated Scott as his calm demeanor vanished while he unwound from his pose in the chair. He leaned forward and hit the table with his palms, now determined to make a true argument of the matter. "I’m responsible for the welfare of this team and you’re the only one who hasn’t taken any time off lately. You’ve been pacing the floors again at night and even during the day, which means you’re on edge. You need a break."

"I’m not the only one. I haven’t noticed you cutting yourself any slack. You’re the one who needs a break," Logan shot back. "You’re wound up tighter than a spring. Since when do you wear ties on days you teach mechanics?"

The door to the break room burst open and Rogue and Kitty tumbled in, their faces as flushed with excitement as the men’s were with temper.

"We just got back from shopping and Jean said you two would be in here. You have to see this! Look, Logan, Ah found this basket. Won’t it be great for a picnic?" Marie held up a beautiful traditional wooden picnic basket decorated with yellow ribbon.

Peripherally aware that Scott had relaxed and begun to smile in triumph, Logan focused on the basket and tried to look interested instead of suspicious.

"Sure, darlin’. A picnic would be great. You want to hit the park later?"

"No, silly," Marie huffed as Kitty began to giggle. "We’re going to the beach, in Florida. Didn’t Scott tell you?" She looked at Scott, who nodded innocently, and then turned her attention back on Logan. "We’re taking a vacation and having some fun for a change. Ah even picked up something special." Her hand reached into the lovely basket and pulled out a few small bits of emerald green cloth. "This is the cutest bikini Ah’ve ever seen and it’s just perfect for our trip. Do you like it?"

"Um…" Logan tried hard to swallow but found his mouth had gone dry just thinking of all the places that suit wouldn’t cover.

Her eyes widened. "You do want to go, don’t you?"

"Yes," Logan heard himself say before his brain re-engaged. He gritted his teeth at the words; he had just lost the battle.

"Perfect!" She kissed him on the cheek.

"That wasn’t so hard, now was it?" asked Scott. "Pack your bag, grouch. We leave first thing in the morning."

(Over the river and through the woods to [Florida state] we go)

"So how are we going to get these parts back to New York, One-eye? It’s not like there’s a whole hell of a lot of room left in this SUV."

Scott smiled at the grumpy question from the cramped second back seat that was partially invaded by luggage. Piotr had copped the front during the trip, claiming he couldn’t breathe if he was wedged into the back. That meant the rest of them had played musical chairs almost the entire length of the eastern coast - switching out seats and places at strategic intervals - so a certain Wolverine wouldn’t get too homicidal. The back of the vehicle was packed as full as the ladies could get it so Logan’s question was perfectly valid.

"The parts aren’t that big. They should fit. I’ll admit I had no idea we’d be taking so much for just a few days." He glanced accusingly at the guilty female faces in the rear area of the vehicle. "I guess we could rent a small U-Haul trailer," Scott teased.

Amid the heated protests of the ladies was heard Logan’s deep growl. "I vote we stuff Pete in it."

There was a wounded sigh from the front seat. "I cannot help the fact that I grew so big. It is not my fault my legs are too long."

A dainty but powerful elbow in his ribs reminded Logan not to be so surly. "Don’t mind me, Pete. I’ll get over it," he muttered as a means of apologizing.

It was now early evening. Scott pulled into an alleyway that led between two small bungalows to a weathered two-story house nestled close to a large, long, sand and gravel barrier covered with clumps of native grasses, just visible in the growing darkness. The trip had been a long one and everyone leaned this way and that to get a better look at the structure.

The two-story box-shaped house was a mirrored design with two inset front porches facing the small parking area where Scott finally stopped the SUV. A large, sectioned staircase rose between them and led to two other porches on landings above on the second floor. The exterior lights were on and revealed it had once been painted a light blue with white trim but weather and sunshine had faded the colors on the clapboards and peeled the aging paint back in places, exposing gray wood. While it was not impressive, it did have a comfortable, inviting presence. For the moment they had it to themselves, as there were no other cars around.

The six X-Men extricated themselves from the vehicle, some with difficulty, and stretched their legs before opening the back hatch. Piotr, Scott, and Logan began to unload while Jean took the keys and led Rogue and Kitty into their section on the bottom right of the four-plex.

The interior was roughly a long, fat rectangle that stretched lengthways before them, split down the middle by a wall to their immediate right. To the left, as they entered, was a small functional kitchen stocked with all the needed utensils and even a dishwasher and microwave. The window over the sink looked out on the SUV behind them. Next in line came a dining section containing a rough table with seating for six. A living room was squished into the end of the left half of the rectangle, its borders marked by a non-descriptive square area rug covering a corner of the wooden flooring that ran throughout the entire apartment. Its furniture consisted of an old couch, three assorted stuffed chairs, a couple of crates spanned by a weathered plank for a coffee table, and another small table sporting a TV. The far wall that faced them on the other side of the living area had a large sliding glass door set in it. To the right, the wall with the central arched opening that bisected the house formed one side of a narrow hall connecting three small bedrooms and a full-sized bathroom. These rooms too were laid out in a long row, as the other side had been, with the doors of one bedroom and the bathroom visible through the opening. While the inside smelled a little musty, it was neat and clean. Kitty opened the sliding door to let a sea breeze in to clear out the stuffiness.

"These bags are mostly empty!" exclaimed Scott as the men hauled in the luggage while the women claimed which bedroom they wanted.

"Of course," replied Jean. "Where would we put souvenirs if we didn’t leave room?"

Once the luggage had been stowed away with Kitty and Piotr taking the room with the biggest bed crammed into it, everyone agreed it was time to find some dinner. Logan stepped off the front porch and took a whiff.

"Italian, barbecue, and fried chicken," he told the others. "About a mile west, down the street."

"I vote for the Italian one," said Piotr.

"Me, too," chimed in Kitty.

The vote was made unanimous so they closed up the place and headed for the road on foot. After they were seated in the small restaurant and the food had been ordered, the discussion turned to their surroundings and the agenda for tomorrow.

"There’s a boardwalk across the way full of sidewalk shops, a post office, an ice cream parlor, and a few more restaurants," Scott read from his notes. "The Professor said he owns the four-plex and has rented it out for years, along with a few others on this road. It’s a popular location."

"There’s not that many people," observed Logan, glancing around the place.

"It’s the off season for the beaches, Logan," smiled Jean. "Most universities have their spring breaks next month and college students will be all over this place."

Marie grinned when she felt Logan shiver beside her. They were holding hands under the table and she relished the warmth of his skin against hers, like reveling in sunshine after being in shadows for a long while. It was still a novelty to be able to touch and she couldn’t get enough of it. Liquid brown eyes reflected her image back to her in the candlelight and she sighed in happiness. So far the vacation was a grand idea, despite her initial misgivings.

"Ah vote we have a nice rest and play on the beach all day tomorrow," said Marie. "After all, we can shop the next day while you three go get those packages."

"Logan’s not going with us," said Scott. "He can go shopping, too."

Logan opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by Jean.

"Of course he’s going with you."

"I told him he didn’t have to."

Red eyes locked with brown ones for a mental argument.

"If I get a vote, I want him to come with us, too." Everyone stared at Piotr and he shrugged. "Not that I think anything will happen. It would just make sense to have a guy trip so the women can have a chance to let their hair fall."

Kitty giggled. "Hair down, sweetie. Sometimes I think you say things wrong on purpose."

"I know he does," muttered Logan. Then to Marie he whispered, "Do you want me to go?"

Marie considered this for a minute. "Ah really don’t but Ah’d feel safer for them if you were there," she murmured back. "Ah remember what happened last time. Just do me a favor and come back to me fully conscious, okay?" Her green eyes were luminous and full of desire. "Ah want to enjoy my time with you, not have to spend it sitting by the bed while you recover."

"Fair enough," he answered softly and kissed her lightly on her forehead. "I can think of other things I want to recover from." Logan turned to the others and said simply, "I’m going," before attacking the plate the waiter had just put down in front of him.

Between Logan and Piotr’s appetites, not much remained of the dinner and the three couples left the restaurant sated, relaxed, and ready for the walk back down the road, exploring the unfamiliar surroundings on the way to their home away from home. Off in the distance to his right, Logan’s ears picked up the sound of the surf; it was both familiar and strange to his senses and he realized the noise was triggering yet another sensory memory that his brain had no images to connect with anymore. He looked forward and watched in amusement as Piotr pointed out to Kitty the more interesting of the small, quaint buildings that lined the avenue. The big guy was probably going to bring out his sketchbook tomorrow and provide them with interesting portraits of the people they would see at the beach. Jean and Scott were more interested in the items in shop windows, and were walking close together with arms and hands intertwined.

Logan suddenly picked up the scent of a stranger nearby and his grip unconsciously tightened on Marie’s hand. There was the additional aroma of alcohol and that usually meant trouble.

"S’cuse me, ma’am. I was wondering if you’d be so kind as to go dancing with me."

Logan and Marie turned and spied a rather large white male neatly dressed in an off-white long-sleeved tailored shirt and black trousers who was standing outside a little club. A harmless drunk, he was leaning against the structure’s nautical façade, or rather it was holding him upright, as he spoke loudly across the street.

"I need someone. Don’t you want to help me?"

"Now there’s an idea." Marie grinned impishly up at her companion. "What do you say, sugar?"

"You want me to dance with him?" Logan’s eyes sparkled in the streetlight. "I had other things in mind for tonight."

"You want to dance? I need someone to dance with me, okay?" Again the man called from across the way. "You’re pretty, lady. I won’t make trouble. I need to make her jealous, see. She doesn’t appreciate me." The last words almost turned into sobs and the man pushed away from the wall and began to stagger across the sidewalk toward the street.

"Awww, he’s just in need of a little help. Ah think he’s cute."

Logan shrugged. "You’d better hurry if you want him. He’s going to smear his face on asphalt in a couple of seconds. It’ll ruin that cute chin of his."

"You are so mean," she giggled. Logan didn’t move.

A lovely pout appeared on Marie’s full lips and Logan sighed. Grumping all the way, he strolled across the road and caught the towering tipsy towhead before he had a chance to topple over. The man literally hugged Logan, swallowing him up in an enormous embrace that reeked of tequila as he began to pour out his story.

"She left me. She said I wasn’t acting smart. I’ll have you know my brains are my best asset."

"You’re only off by two letters, pal. Let’s get you back over here," grunted Logan as he half walked, half dragged the teary-eyed companion back over to the club entrance.

By this time Scott and Piotr had noticed the commotion and came to offer their assistance.

"Can’t she dance with me?" The man grabbed Logan by the shirtfront. "Can’t I just borrow her for a minute? I have to make Stephanie jealous!"

"You’re asking the wrong person. I’m just making sure you don’t become road-kill." Logan tried to extricate himself from the stranger’s grip.

About that time, another blonde exited the low-key establishment. Only this one was a well-formed female in a clingy, short dress and definitely as angry as the man was drunk.

"What the hell are you doing?" She pushed the three X-Men around as she zeroed in on her target. "I go to the bathroom and you disappear on me. You’d better have a damn good reason, mister." Stephanie’s tone brooked no argument.

Scott and Piotr backed away but Logan, still stuck, came to the man’s rescue.

"He seemed a little confused. I think he thought you left him," Logan said as he managed to free himself. "He was out here trying to figure out a way to get you back."

Her scowling face cleared a little. "He did?" She shook the man who towered over her by almost two feet. "Did you think I would leave you?"

The man wiped his glassy, bloodshot eyes on his sleeve and tried to look sober, failing miserably. "I went to the bar and you weren’t there. I had a few shots while I waited but you didn’t show up. I love you, baby. I thought you left me."

"I was chatting with Cheryl and lost track of time. Come on, Kevin. You’ve had enough for tonight. Let’s go back to our room." She tugged on his collar and he obediently followed, wailing his sentiments of affection the entire way.

"So he wanted to borrow Rogue to make his girlfriend jealous," said Scott after hearing the whole story. "Pretty risky of him. Someone else might have decked him for making such a pass at their woman."

"That wasn’t a pass and Rogue can decide who she wants to dance with anytime," replied Logan evenly.

"Really?" Scott grinned.

"Really," said Marie as she wrapped her arm in Logan’s and tugged him toward the bed that awaited them.

(Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of rye…)

Logan sighed. The sky was partly cloudy and kept the sun out of his eyes so he could take in his surroundings more easily, but that didn’t make him any happier. The blue-green waters of the Gulf of Mexico stretched peacefully before him, but he wasn’t interested in it. He glanced back over his shoulder. The broad surge wall of sand and gravel covered with grass and brush was almost ten feet tall. Only the upper half of the house where they were staying was visible and could only be reached by the wooden set of steps leading up to the long white-washed bridge that spanned the natural erosion barrier. He’d get caught before he made it to the deck of the place. He looked down at the pale, warm sand that powdered his feet and sighed again. Standing there, in the salty breeze with the relaxing sound of the surf surrounding him, he wished he were anywhere but here.

"Would you look at him? I bet he’s calming down already. He didn’t pace last night for once."

Kitty glanced up from her knots to look at Jean. "You have your mental shields up, don’t you?"

"Yes, why?"

Marie finished tying down her side of the volleyball net and stood, brushing the sand from her shins and adjusting her bathing suit. "Logan didn’t pace last night because he was…with me. After a while, he realized he couldn’t go to sleep so he went outside and sat out on the deck all night so everyone else could get some rest."

Jean let go of the pole. "You mean…"

"Ah told you two he would be miserable at the beach. Ah never should have let you talk me into this. Logan loves the woods. He loves the peace of having things growing around him. He loves the sounds and scents of the animals that hide in the woods, fellow creatures he can be with that will let him have all the space he needs."

Kitty took up where Rogue left off. "You know, I wondered if this was such a good idea. We’ve seen him give us demonstrations of survival all over the place and one thing I noticed was that he was more at home with trees and grass than sand and rocks."

Troubled by this, Jean looked over at her self-appointed patient. Mentally, there was nothing to go on. She was not able to read him well, only things his mind attached to intense feelings and most of those were frightening to look at, given his past. Physically he seemed to be in his prime. Standing there dressed only in his bathing trunks, she clinically compared his physique to Scott and Piotr, who stood nearby, similarly attired, discussing some of the shells Piotr had collected.

Scott had an average frame with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. His limbs were sleek and muscled in an almost beautiful way. Jean smiled briefly in appreciation. Piotr was huge standing next to him, although he was proportionate in almost every aspect. But where Scott seemed almost delicate, Piotr was somewhat long and heavy, his arms and legs giving evidence of his awesome strength. Still, she thought, the Russian looks young and his body still had some of that awkward stance of an older adolescent who has not quite mastered control of his skeletal movements.

It was Logan, though, that captured her attention. Of the three, he stood out and it wasn’t because he looked ill, far from it. Although all three men were masculine, Logan seemed to be an intense example of the definition. His hairy chest was a sharp contrast to the other two hairless ones. And the way he stood, even though he was miserable, bespoke of his readiness to spring into action at any moment, like a cat with muscles poised for the pounce. His torso was finely honed and his strength came from practical use, not narcissistic body sculpting. Although, she reflected, every time he moved his body he lifted weights. Logan was rough, animalistic, and definitely male in every aspect, physical and mental, and Jean felt a flush come to her cheeks as she secretly wished there was some of this type of attitude in Scott.

Rogue whistled beside her and all three men turned; Scott to see what was going on, Piotr to gaze on Kitty with adoring eyes, and Logan to react to a potential need for defense.

"Time for the tournament to begin," called out Kitty with a wave.

They didn’t play volleyball all day. There was a lunch break, several beach-combing adventures and even a castle building contest worked in between the sets. The water was a little too chilly for any wading even though the late February sunshine had warmed up the air temperature to a balmy 80 degrees.

Logan managed to try and have fun but the concept was still foreign to him. He did enjoy the time with Marie and even broke into a grin a few times. Jean and Scott nudged each other, sure that they had been right in dragging him along. Even so, Logan looked relieved as the sun began to fade on the horizon. The day was almost over.

Piotr leaned back and sketched as Logan and Scott competed with Kitty and Rogue in the last volleyball battle of the day. That is until Jean called from the bridge to ask for help with the steaks and salads when she got back from the store. Now just the two of them, Scott and Logan gave up, took down the net, and flopped on the sand to relax and pester Piotr. The three of them became absorbed in the sunset and the wonderful drawings the artist had captured throughout the day.

Marie made her way across the bridge and down the steps, intent on calling the men in for dinner when a flash went off near her face. Startled, she held up an arm to ward off whatever was standing just behind her near the wooden steps.

"I’m sorry," the man said as he slipped the digital camera back into his jacket pocket. "I didn’t mean to startle you but I’m sure you’ve had your picture taken many times before. You’re absolutely gorgeous."

His tone was low and non-threatening and Marie found herself flush at the flattery, despite her natural indignant reaction of having been used as subject matter without her consent. His deeply tanned face framed dark, enigmatic eyes that raked her body with a gaze that was almost physically aggressive. No longer blushing, she suddenly had the nasty feeling that she was on display as a prize. He held out a hand to capture hers but she shrank away.

Wham. The volleyball slammed into the side of his head, stunning the stranger and nearly knocking him to his knees. Piotr just managed to run up and grab Logan’s elbow from behind, thus preventing him from finishing the job on the man who had approached Rogue.

Breathless from the run, Scott held out a hand to steady the stranger and ended up grabbing a hold of the man’s jacket instead of his arm. In the ensuing confusion, the pocket with the camera ripped and its contents spilled onto the sand.

"I’m so sorry," Scott began but Logan would have none of it.

"Beat it," he growled, his narrowed eyes locking on the stranger’s with promise of vicious intentions.

Scared, the man pulled away from Scott and beat a hasty retreat down the beach, his face bleached with terror as he glanced back over his shoulder. Logan lunged after him but was held in check by Piotr’s grip.

"Logan!" Scott stepped directly in front of the still angry Wolverine. "Calm down! He’s probably just a flirt. It’s okay. Chill, will you? You acted as if you were going to gut the guy." Logan stared at him and offered no reply. "You mean you were? Why?"

Logan muttered something under his breath that Scott didn’t catch because Jean and Kitty were racing down the steps, alerted by Scott’s mental call.

Scott became angry. "You weren’t going to gut that guy last night! What’s the difference now? You could have killed a perfectly innocent stranger just because he looked Rogue’s way! You really want that on your conscience?"

Logan jerked his arm out of Piotr’s hand using a short, sharp downward motion. "His death wouldn’t bother me," he said in a low, dangerous voice.

"But why?" Scott was still at a loss to comprehend. "Why him and not the other?"

"I don’t know, alright? I don’t know!" Logan stormed up the steps and out of sight as the five remaining X-Men looked at each other in surprise.

Slowly Jean gathered up the camera and the other contents of the man’s pocket from out of the sand. Absently she wondered why the man had been carrying three very small plastic vials of clear liquid.

(The man in the wilderness asked me, "How many strawberries grew in the sea?" I answered him as I thought good, "As many red herrings as grew in the wood.")

Jean tossed and turned that night. Strange images were flying so thick and fast through her subconscious that she was not getting rest and kept waking at the slightest noise. Finally, right before daybreak, she gave up, got out of bed, and wrapped an old robe around herself, resolving to make breakfast for everyone else. The smell didn’t hit her until she was almost in the kitchen. Someone had beaten her to the job.

Surprised, she took hold of the full coffeepot and poured herself a cup. Tentatively, she sipped the drink. Odds were it was Logan who was up at this hour and his coffee…well the best that could be said for it was that it was still in liquid form most times. Her tongue told her otherwise. Not only was this coffee drinkable, it was fantastic and spiced with something flavorful, like cinnamon or nutmeg or something. She set the cup down and began to explore.

The light above the range revealed that the counter was filled with an assortment of chopped items, from mushrooms to onions to cheese, in preparation for what looked like omelets. Sure enough, a smooth, non-stick pan with tapered sides stood at the ready along with a spatula and a little bottle of canola oil. A peek into the refrigerator revealed three full egg cartons waiting for use. Someone was going to an awful lot of trouble. Jean finished her detective work by looking in the trashcan hidden underneath the sink in the cabinet. A couple of crumpled plastic bags from the store where she had bought the steaks last night confirmed that someone had been up early to shop for all these breakfast fixings. She nodded to herself and reasoned that Rogue was up and about and was probably in the bathroom, until she saw the door ajar with no light on.

Curious now, she went to the sliding glass door. Someone was on the deck; she could just make out the dark outline. It was Logan, dressed only in jeans and an old T-shirt. Jean opened the door and started to hail a greeting when Logan looked over his shoulder and made a motion for her to be quiet. She softly closed the door behind her and stood at the railing, too. It was hard to see over the huge grassy berm, but it looked like there was some sort of tiny light dancing along the beach.

"They can’t hear us from this distance, Logan. Only you could. Who is it? What’s going on?"

"It’s the guy from last night."

"Oh!" she replied. "He’s probably looking for his camera. It’s in our room." She turned to go get it but was stopped by a warm, strong grip on her wrist.

"Don’t give it back to him. Don’t go near him, Jean. I can’t explain it but I know he’s not what he seems."

She smiled in a clinical sort of way. "Logan, be reasonable. It’s not as if he’s some sort of predator out to get us."

His face was heavily shadowed in the predawn darkness but she sensed he was not smiling or showing any emotion.

"Yes, he is."

"How do you know?" she teased.

There was a pause. "It takes one to know one."

Stunned, Jean stood there for a moment with nothing to say for a comeback. "Logan…"

"I know. You’re gonna tell me that I couldn’t possibly know that without reading the guy’s mind. I don’t have to. A predator can always tell if there’s competition around."

"Logan, in case you haven’t noticed, you’re one of the good guys." She cocked her head and tried to extend her telepathic abilities. "Don’t you believe that?"

"Define ‘good guy’, Jean. Is that like a knight in shining armor or something?" The world was becoming lighter now, less of darkness and more of gray tones. "You can’t judge everything in terms of good and bad. This isn’t a fairy tale. Actually, maybe it is. Maybe my life is like a fairy tale. Have you ever read one?"

Shocked at the amount of conversation Logan seemed willing to endure, Jean simply shook her head. "I…No, I don’t think I want to read…Well I mean someday Scott and I want to have a child and I think then, yes, but I don’t know if…"

"Not up to your speed, huh?" He snorted softly. "They’re not children’s stories, Jean. They never were. Neither was Mother Goose."

"Mother Goose? I don’t understand…"

Logan’s face was faintly defined now but not his thoughts. Jean was not getting through. There was a wall of silence in Logan’s mind that she couldn’t breech.

"Ever read Jack and Jill? I did once. I thought it would be a good story for Megan. It seemed pretty simple, though. It didn’t mean much to me. Then I went to the library. Did you know that most people are only familiar with the first verse or two? There are more. Some of it deals with child abuse. Jill ends up beaten for what happened to Jack. Not exactly something simple anymore."

"I see. You think there are hidden meanings in those childish poems?" Jean’s skepticism colored her question. Then she looked out over the beach and saw the parallel. "So he wasn’t just taking a photograph of a pretty young woman? And you can’t be a good guy because you know that?"

"Something like that."

His eyes had closed. She sensed the conversation was over and felt an emptiness slide by her, like she had missed out on something special because she wasn’t willing to open her mind enough. She quickly racked her brains for something to say.

"You made the coffee." She watched as Logan opened his eyes and nodded. "When you first came back to the mansion, you made coffee that was…undrinkable. Now you make gourmet coffee. The potential for change is there within you, Logan. You’re no longer who you were when we first met you. How do you know you’re not a good guy now? After all the noble things you’ve done and all the sacrifices you’ve made can you really say you aren’t one? Would Rogue love someone who wasn’t?"

"I guess I can’t see it yet." He quirked a tiny smile. "As for the coffee, Rogue taught me how to make it that way. I promised her breakfast fit for a queen this morning for keeping her up half the night. I’d better get started if you’re already awake."

She knew that was a cue for a change in subject and tentatively tucked an arm around his elbow. "Come on, I’ll show you how to make a proper omelet."

He grunted and led the way back inside.

"Did you see the paper on the table, lover?"

Jean, still in her robe, lounged on the bed watching Scott finish loading his pockets with all the things he would need for the short trip. Breakfast had already been eaten and squared away and the men were preparing to leave on their errand.

"You mean that article on the sighting of a green-skinned human in the Everglades?" Scott shrugged as he straightened his glasses while looking in the mirror. "Sounds like sensationalism. Xavier would have called us if it were a real mutant in trouble."

She sighed. "I suppose so, if he used Cerebro before he left on his trip..."

"You’re frowning." He pulled her up off the bed and hugged her, burrowing his face against her neck and feathering it with soft kisses. She laughed and pulled away. "That’s better," he chuckled and turned to fetch his keys off the small dresser.

"I was just thinking of this morning. Logan and I were out on the deck watching that stranger search the sand with a flashlight for his camera. Logan didn’t want me to return it to him. He said the man was a predator."

Scott froze. "He said that?"

Jean wrapped her arms around him from behind. "Mm-hmm. He said it took one to know one. I think Logan still feels he’s a bad guy or something."

"He can be, Jean. It’s quite an advantage at times. I forgot that last night but the more I think about it, the stranger that man’s actions were. Logan has good instincts about bad behavior." He turned in her embrace and kissed her. "Promise me you won’t return that man’s camera to him. Take it to a police station if you like, but don’t go looking for him." She nodded and he cocked an eyebrow. "Oh no you don’t, lady, I want to hear it out loud."

She sighed. "I promise I will take that man’s things to the police station and turn them in to the lost and found. Okay?" She laughed softly as his charming smile appeared.

"Okay."

Logan was the last one to get in the SUV. Whether it was reluctance to sit in the back seat again or reluctance to leave Rogue was anyone’s guess. She handed him a backpack and grinned at the return scowl.

"I won’t need it."

"Ah know." Marie patted his cheek. "You won’t get into any trouble. But Ah also know how fast unexpected things happen and how your clothes always get destroyed when they do. Besides, Ah packed a few other things in it. Just in case."

Logan cocked an eyebrow. "Are you trying to take care of me or something?"

"Ah believe Ah am." Her mouth quirked upwards into a sly grin. "Got a problem with it?"

The answering kiss Logan gave Marie made Jean gaze at Scott longingly and bite her bottom lip. Scott spied the movement and blew her another kiss. He knew she was not fond of public displays of affection due to shyness and a predilection for professionalism but she more than made up for it in private. The leader then grinned and cranked the engine. Her expression had told him there would be a very satisfactory reception when he came back.

"Oh!" Jean raced back inside and came out just as Logan was getting in. "Wait!" She grabbed Logan’s arm. "Put this in your pocket," she said. "Scott might need his extra glasses."

Logan took the red specs and stashed them in the side thigh pocket of his black military BDU pants. "Sure."

She leaned forward and whispered in his ear. "Take care of him, will you? I want him back in one piece."

Somewhat startled at the confidence, Logan nodded and said, "Will do," before climbing in and shutting the door.

The three women watched and waved until the vehicle was out of sight.

"What did you say to him?" asked Marie as they went back in to get ready for their walk to the shopping area.

"I asked him to take care of Scott for me," replied Jean. "Not that anything’s going to happen, of course."

"Oh, Lord." Kitty covered her eyes and giggled in embarrassment. "I asked him to take care of Piotr, too." She looked apologetically at Rogue. "Logan’s going to think we’re the biggest bunch of worry warts ever."

"No," replied Marie softly, "he won’t." She thought of the promise he had made on a train once to take care of her and what the results had been. "Ah just hope nothing happens. He takes his word very seriously."

(There were three jovial huntsmen, as I have heard them say, and they would go a-hunting all on a summer’s day.)

"I think this is it, gentlemen," Scott said as he threw the SUV into park and cut the engine. They were just within sight of the place where the parts were housed.

"You have got to be kidding." Logan fairly glared at Scott. "This dump is trouble with a capital T and you know it. They either scrapped the parts or sold them already."

Scott nodded hesitantly. Logan’s words rang true. Far from the quiet little drop site that he had used in Maine, this operation looked like a drug-smuggler’s paradise. After a long trip down most of the length of Florida and getting lost half a dozen times on back roads, they had finally found this remote hidden clearing nestled on the edge of the Everglades in one of the most southern reaches of the state’s wilderness. Hardly anyone lived in this area except those who wanted to be left alone and the camp ahead of them seemed to be no exception. Low corrugated metal buildings in varying states of decay and partially camouflaged by Army surplus netting honeycombed the area, connected by large concrete pads near what looked like a huge, ancient Air Force hangar. It was as godforsaken and as dangerous a place as any he had ever seen.

Piotr glanced over at Scott. "You think they will not give the parts to us? But why not? We will pay, yes?"

Logan snorted. "We might pay in more ways than one, Pete."

Scott squared his shoulders as he unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the car door. "Oh no we won’t. And no fighting, got it?" The young leader looked back and frowned to make sure Logan knew he was being glared at from behind the visor. "We’ll make this as quick as possible."

"Good," said Piotr as he looked down at his collared pullover and Dockers. "I am not dressed for fighting."

"You look fine. Much better than some other people." There wasn’t a flicker of response from the back seat. "Tell you what; if we get in and out quickly maybe we can fit in some deep sea fishing on the way back."

"Don’t bet on it," muttered Logan as he disembarked the vehicle after Piotr. "I hate boats as much as I hate airplanes." He paused and, as an afterthought, grabbed the backpack before locking the truck.

"Awww, that’s cute."

Marie looked up. "What?"

Kitty beamed. "You signed it ‘Love, Rogue and Logan’."

Marie grinned in return. "Which part’s cute? The ‘love’, or the ‘Rogue and Logan’?"

"Both, of course. Is that postcard for Megan?"

Marie laughed. "Who else? Ah found out that her parents haven’t been to Florida yet so she doesn’t have that state in her collection." She held up the card so Kitty could see the image on the other side. "Looks like the bridge near the four-plex, doesn’t it."

A breeze ruffled Kitty’s short brown hair as she nodded. She paused for a lick on her ice cream cone before asking, "Where’s the post office?"

Marie jerked her head in the direction of a small, whitewashed building that resembled a one-room schoolhouse. "Over there. Ah figure Ah’d better mail it off now so she can get it sometime this month."

Kitty chuckled. "It does look like Jube’s definition of ‘antiquated facilities,’ doesn’t it? I think it’s cute; it looks like something out of Harry Potter."

"You think everything looks cute today." Marie put down her pen and concentrated more on her ice cream cone. "You must be in love or something." Both grinned at each other in a silent conspiracy. "So," Marie said between licks, "Where should we go next?"

They both looked over at the older woman with them. There was no response. The three of them had managed to hit several places already this morning and had decided to consume sustenance at the local ice cream parlor. They now sat outside on the wooden deck at a small wrought iron and glass-topped table in their shorts, T-shirt tops, and walking shoes. Rogue had French braided her hair and wore a small white painter’s cap to conceal most of her distinctive hairstreak from prying eyes. Ever since her picture had been taken, she felt vulnerable, even though Kitty had erased her image from the camera when Jean wasn’t looking.

"Earth to Jean!" Kitty said loudly.

Jean looked up, startled. "What?"

"Ah said, ‘where should we go next?’ You’re awfully quiet." Marie paused to devour more of her cone before continuing. "Ah thought taking that man’s stuff to the police station would have made you feel better."

"Yeah," said Kitty. "What’s that thing you keep looking at?"

Jean put the little plastic vial down near the center of the small table they sat around while enjoying the sunshine outside. She turned her attention to finishing her own treat, which had begun to drip down the side of her hand.

"Maybe you two have better eyesight than I do. There’s something scratched on the side of this thing that I can’t read."

Kitty picked it up. "Where’d you get this?"

"First tell me what it says and then I’ll tell you what I know," Jean said with a wink.

"Oh, a challenge! I get first crack." Kitty held it up to the sunlight. "Starts with an ‘N’."

"I did get that far," remarked the redhead dryly. "Look at the two letters after it. Then there’s an ‘H’ and then another strange letter. If you tell me what those two letters in the middle are, maybe we can figure out the one on the end."

Kitty took a few more minutes to study it. "I can’t make it out. Rogue? Your turn."

There was a crunch as Marie finished the last bite of her cone. She wiped off her hands with some napkins and took the small sealed plastic tube.

"Hmm. You know what this reminds me of? You remember how Pyro read those Tolkien books and loved the elf writing so he changed some of his letters to look more like them?"

Jean snorted. "Yes, I do. I couldn’t read some of his test answers for a while. Hey, that’s an idea." She held out her hand. "Let me see that again." Marie handed it back and there was silence as Jean intently studied the object once more, her ice cream forgotten as it now languished on a napkin in the sunshine. "I’ve got it! The letters say NaGHB…Sodium…hmm, probably Gamma Hydroxybuterate. Good, at least it’s not an illegal drug then. It’s just a natural body salt. That man is probably one of those body builders that like to use this stuff. I feel better knowing he wasn’t into drugs. Maybe he really was just taking pictures of pretty women on the beach. So much for Logan’s theory." She noticed the shocked looks on the women facing her. "What?"

"You got it from that man from the beach?" Kitty fairly gaped at her former teacher. "You kept it from the police?"

"I turned the other two vials in. I’ll admit I should have shared everything but I was curious. There’s no harm done. It’s a relatively harmless substance."

Kitty began laughing in a disbelieving manner so Rogue stepped in.

"Where have you been?" Marie said with all seriousness. "Do you mean that this stuff is actually labeled as ‘GHB’? Do you know what people have been using that ‘natural substance’ for?"

"It causes a mild relaxation effect and body builders use it for that reason, to decrease stress without increasing calories in their diet which they would if they used alcohol. Some people do abuse it, yes. Like alcohol, it needs to be responsibly self-monitored," lectured the doctor in Jean. "I’ve heard of some people overdosing on it and losing consciousness. The danger there is that this can make you vomit and, if you’re lying on your back, you can suffocate in it."

"Jean, it’s used as a ‘date-rape’ drug," Kitty admonished in a low tone, checking around her to make sure no one else heard. "Logan warned us about it. He said even he wouldn’t be able to taste it or smell it in a drink."

Jean frowned at the vial. "I thought that was RoHypnol. I’ll admit this can cause unrousable sleep for an hour or two when not administered properly…"

"Jean, that man gave me the creeps last night and it wasn’t because he tried to take my picture. Ah felt like he was sizing me up to see if Ah was edible. It was more than one of those typical male ‘glance from head-to-toe-to-head and see if she’s seaworthy’ looks. He was out for fresh meat."

"Like a predator?" Jean breathed.

"Exactly like that. Ah was glad Logan smacked him with the ball and chased him off. Ah know y’all don’t get Logan sometimes but Ah knew he wasn’t acting jealous. He was in full ‘protection’ mode."

Jean nodded softly, deep in thought. Scott had said Logan had good instincts when it came to bad behavior. Maybe it wasn’t just a reaction to someone looking at his girlfriend. Maybe Logan really felt the man was dangerous. It was just so hard for her to have that much faith in instincts when reason had governed her so well for so long. She glanced up and started to say something but stopped, frozen by the sight ahead of her.

The other two gazed in the direction Jean was looking. There was the stranger from the beach talking and laughing with two young women outside a shop just down the way from them. Marie shivered, remembering the feeling the man had given her. The movement caught Jean’s attention and she frowned. The camera’s memory had been pretty full. If the man took pictures of his intended prey, Rogue hadn’t been the first he had approached. What she needed was more information. She rose abruptly and went into the ice cream shop for a moment. When she came back out, Jean looked visibly shaken.

"Since no one was inside, I let my shields down for a second and tapped the mind of the local girl behind the counter," she said as she sat down again. "There’ve been some unconfirmed reports of missing women in the area. I say unconfirmed because the women were all visitors here and no one’s sure if the women went someplace else or were abducted. The police are investigating but it seems the local politicians don’t want to cause any pre-Spring Break scares for the tourists so the news is not making the papers."

The three women watched as the man shared jokes and conversation with the co-eds. The stranger, dressed neatly in khaki shorts and a collared short-sleeve pullover shirt, was in fairly good shape but obviously not a body builder and would not know about the drug from that standpoint. Jean had the horrible feeling that Logan had been right about him all along.

Marie stood. "Ah think that shop over there has a few things that Ah need to look at." She pointed to a small bookstore that would afford them a better vantage point for keeping an eye on the man.

Kitty nodded. "I agree." She picked up the vial and dropped it on the boards of the terrace, stepping firmly on the thing and crushing it as she got to her feet. "I know several teachers I admire that would back me up on the idea of watching over someone I felt was in trouble."

Jean blushed and quickly sopped the puddle of ice cream up with extra napkins while the young women grinned at her. She stood and deposited the trash in the closest receptacle.

"Let’s go, then," Jean said as she put on her sunglasses. "In fact, let’s get close enough to let him see us. It might be better if he knows he’s under surveillance.

Logan and Scott entered the low building nearest the large hangar-shaped one. It was designated as the office by a small, hand-painted sign. By prior arrangement, Piotr stayed outside to watch their backs.

The first thing that caught the Russian’s attention was the helicopter four small Hispanic men were moving out of the hangar and onto the nearest and largest of the concrete aprons. A stout little man began yelling at the workers in a language that Piotr assumed was Spanish. The man didn’t look too happy with them for moving so slowly and Piotr resisted his natural inclination to go help. Cruelty was not confined to Russia, he thought sadly.

The yelling man glanced over and saw Piotr. For a moment the big Russian saw an expression on the man’s face that reminded him of the little blackmailing man in Siberia who had lorded over him before the X-Men rescued him and his sister. It was a look that appreciated Piotr’s size and calculated how it could be exploited; Piotr knew it well and it made him sick. Then the man frowned and walked swiftly toward him.

"What are you doing here? What do you want?" he snapped.

"My friends are inside," replied Piotr more calmly than he felt. "We need to pick up a few packages that were delivered here."

"Ruskie, huh?" The man cocked his head and gave Piotr a wicked grin. "You in this country legally?"

Piotr stared and then glared. "I have my papers, if that’s what you mean."

"I can check on that, you know. I can own you if you’re lying."

They locked eyes for a moment and Piotr suddenly knew why the four Hispanic workers looked so sad. He held the man’s gaze without flinching; instinctively knowing this was not the time to let his kind nature show through.

"I said my friends are waiting. We do not wish to take up more of your time than is needed," said Piotr using the best growl he could in imitation of one of Logan’s bad moods.

It seemed to work. The man backed off a little and shook his head. "Too bad. I could use you. No hard feelings, right?" He opened the door and shut it behind him.

"Right," muttered Piotr. "No hard feelings." He had a really bad one instead.

(I skipped over water, I danced over sea, and all the birds in the air couldn’t catch me.)

Logan stiffened almost immediately after entering the room but it took Scott half a minute to figure out why. Glancing quickly around Scott took in the three or four dozen boxes neatly stacked in strategic columns along the walls of the square room. The only furniture was a desk near the center with a chair, another chair on the other side of it, presumably for interviews, and two tall filing cabinets and a bookshelf on the wall behind the desk. There was a door in that same wall that ostensibly led to more of the interior of the building. Except for the boxes and the contents of the shelves, the room was Spartan and neat, almost militaristic in appearance. Scott looked again at the shelves on the bookcase and felt his heart skip a beat.

The center shelf contained a number of jars filled with what looked like science displays of animal organs that were interspersed between books on evolution. The shelf above this one, though, made Scott blink and stare harder. There were three skulls, all of which were humanoid in appearance, arranged here along with a few other types of bones. The one in the center was the one that took his breath away. Large and formidable with elongated canines and a pronounced upper nasal construction, it could have belonged to Hank. Scott turned back to Logan.

"The stuff in the jars?"

"Mostly human hearts, some lungs and kidneys. The bones are pretty fresh. I’d say it’s a mutant trophy rack."

"Just don’t say I told you so."

"I won’t," Logan agreed emphatically. "Believe me. When I said trouble, I didn’t mean this. We leave now and they’ll wonder why."

Scott nodded. "We need those parts anyway. Switch." Logan took off his watch and exchanged it for Scott’s. "They’ll probably have the SUV under surveillance. Find something else, something fast. I think I saw them hauling a Bell out of that hangar; if so, I can fly it but there may be other craft in there they can use to follow us." Scott peered through the one small window in the wall. "Set up some kind of diversion and get rid of their ability to catch us. Don’t set anything off until I hit your alarm and my watch vibrates."

Logan grunted. "Will do. They’ll have something I can use, I’m sure."

Scott looked back at the large skull. There was a bullet hole right in the center of the frontal lobe. "I’m sure they will, too. Be careful."

"Aren’t I always?"

Scott snorted just as the door behind them admitted a small, swarthy man dressed in older military fatigues with a jungle camouflage pattern. He stopped when he saw Logan’s black basic dress uniform pants.

"Ever wear BDUs for real?"

The man’s voice was oily, like a used car salesman, and Logan resisted the urge to growl at him. Instead he simply nodded.

The man grinned in a sickly sweet manner. "Me, too. I can’t stand those military wanna-be shits that strut around in clothes they have no business wearing." He moved around them and sat in the chair behind the desk, pulling a cigar from his shirt pocket in one smooth motion. "So, what can I do for you gentlemen?"

"We’re here to pick up a delivery," said Scott in his most business-like tone. "It’s under the name of Gilchrist."

Neither X-Man missed the faint, furtive movement of the man’s eyes to the small stack of boxes behind them; just to the inside of the door they had entered.

"I’ll trade them for that big Russian you brought with you." It was said jokingly but no one in the room was fooled.

"The delivery’s already paid for and he’s not for sale." Scott’s answer was low and hard. "He works for me. I don’t own him."

The man bit off one end and spat, then lit his cigar nonchalantly and waved out the match before placing it methodically in an ashtray on the desk. "No wonder you inspire loyalty," he chuckled as he puffed. "Name’s Weidermann, Gilchrist. Have a seat and let’s chat privately about my holding fee."

Logan and Scott glanced at each other for a second and then Logan left as Scott took the proffered chair on the other side of Weidermann’s desk.

"Well trained men," the older man observed as he inspected the lit end of his cigar. Scott noticed his other hand strayed to the underside of his desk for a moment. "Maybe I could use a man like you."

"Maybe my price would be too high."

"Maybe it would be at that," came the reply as the man chuckled again, taking in Scott’s impeccable wardrobe. "Let’s talk about my price, then. I say you owe me a hundred dollars. Safety fee, you know."

"I think I owe you nothing," Scott replied. "Shall we call in a ‘neutral’ party?" He put finger and thumb to his mouth in preparation for a loud whistle.

Weidermann blinked and then grinned. "If you’re calling that big Russian wolfhound in, I’m not afraid of his bite. If you’re calling the one who was just in here, I might be willing to knock my price in half. Of the two, I’d say he’s more dangerous."

Scott lowered his hand and cocked his head. "Is that why you signaled someone to follow him? I’d be willing to bet your men have lost him already. Let me have my packages and I’ll see you keep everything in this dirty operation intact. Make a move against me and it’ll be destroyed."

"Why you little punk!"

The phone rang at that moment, affording both the opportunity of a diversion. Scott watched Weidermann try to keep his replies on the phone terse and cryptic. Unfortunately for the ex-military man, Scott had ample experience reading the normally tight-lipped Logan and read more into the one-sided conversation than the other man probably suspected.

"Weidermann here…What happened?"

From the tone, a subordinate had called to say he had lost something and whatever it was lit a fire in the older man’s temper. There was silence for almost ten agonizing minutes during which time Scott observed the man’s body language become almost unbearably tense. Face red and puffed for an explosion of angry words, Weidermann realized Scott was watching him and turned away, keeping his tongue in check.

"I pay you to get the job done. Get it back yourself. You’re on your own." His words were clipped and brutally harsh. "Remember, if you don’t deliver on time, I’ll send Spook to look after you." He was silent for a moment to let the words sink in for the benefit of the person on the other end. "I won’t warn you again." The receiver was almost slammed back down on the desk phone. "Twenty five dollars. Take it or leave it."

Scott took a moment to consider and then stood and fished the amount out of his pocket and handed it over without a word.

"Maybe your price wouldn’t be too high. It seems I need some better help." Weidermann also stood in order to accept the bills. He shook his head as he threw the money to the desktop. "Your packages are there by the door. Take ‘em and get out of here." Scott watched the man again reach under the lip of the desk, presumably for a button.

As Scott bent to pick up the packages, a tall, thin ebony-skinned man entered the room from the inner door and he overheard Weidermann’s orders to him.

"Cooper, get Spook on the radio. Tell him to hold off tracking the green thing for an hour. That fucking beach bum lost his camera and the last of his supply last night. All he has left is the dart gun. Have Spook make him a new batch. You can deliver it today while we’re out in the Bell."

Scott stiffened involuntarily. Camera? Beach? The image of the man from last night popped into his head. Was there a connection? The odds were against it but the coincidence was unmistakable. If true and the man on the beach had described his attackers, it wouldn’t take Weidermann long to make the connection. Scott rose, the packages in his arms half hiding his face as he watched the other two men carefully.

"Escort this yahoo and his big Russian back to their..."

"SUV," the subordinate said crisply. "It’s a black Chevrolet, model…"

"Whatever." Weidermann waived a hand at Scott, then turned back to Cooper and frowned. "Where’s the other one?"

If Cooper’s skin could have allowed it, he would have paled. "I’m not sure, sir. We lost him."

Weidermann rounded on Scott. "Where is he? I want the three of you out of here, pronto." There was a pause as the older man really noticed the color of Scott’s shades. "Red glasses, a giant, and a dangerous animal." He said slowly, as if remembering something told to him. "Bingo."

A light gleamed in the man’s eyes and Scott took the only advantage he had, surprise. He threw the packages at Weidermann and lunged for the other man, slamming him against the wall with a well-aimed punch. He then rammed an elbow up, catching Weidermann under the chin as he tried for a tackle. The older man went flying and hit the chair behind the desk, going down with a grunt. Scott hit the button on Logan’s watch even as he scrambled to retrieve the packages. Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement and threw up an arm. Something struck it and hit him a glancing blow off the side of his head. He fell to the floor, unconscious.

Weidermann crouched over him; the pipe he had grabbed still clenched in his fist ready for another blow. The red shades that had clued him in to who the three men were had cracked where the pipe had struck. This man needed to die, Weidermann thought as he raised his makeshift weapon again. Caffrey had said three men attacked him on the beach: a giant, a man with red shades, and a dangerous man with Elvis-like sideburns. They had to be FBI and they had to be onto his operation. Those packages had intrigued him when they had been delivered. Now he realized it had been a set up from the start.

A huge explosion at the far side of the compound rattled the panes of glass in the window. Weidermann half stood, surprised by the noise. The entry door was smashed off its hinges and he turned to see the giant stride through the remains of the jamb like it was cardboard. Weidermann lunged forward with the pipe but the Russian was faster. The metal was crushed and thrown across the room.

"Say ‘goodnight’," said Piotr sternly as he tapped the small man on the chin, knocking him out. He then gently picked up Scott from the floor. "Logan said we would go for a ride in a chopper, my friend," he said as he turned and peered out the door. "Only without you, who will fly it?"

The four Hispanic men had already disappeared from the helicopter pad, the chance of a flight to freedom in the woods during the disaster too great to pass up. The rest of the encampment was in chaos trying to put out the fires. Piotr walked calmly toward the waiting helicopter as more explosions diverted more and more attention away from the area.

Logan met him at the craft, his dark eyes taking in the situation with a grim glance.

"Get in," he said as he opened the back door and shoved. "We won’t have much time once I get her going. They’ll be all over us with everything they’ve got."

"We are still to fly this?" Piotr exclaimed as he tried to maneuver himself and Scott into the cramped rear area of the helicopter.

"If you have any better ideas, now would be a good time to say something," Logan muttered. He slammed the rear door in anger and hopped into the front, throwing his backpack in the copilot seat. The massive array of switches and controls faced him dispassionately. "Shit. I don’t have a clue where to start."

Something slid over his shoulders and strapped him to the seat. Surprised, he glanced around and saw Piotr tugging at the pilot’s harness.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Piotr rammed the clips home. "You always start with the basics. I have faith in you, my friend. You will fly us out. I cannot strap us in back here because I will be holding Scott in my arms to protect him. As you said, the bullets will begin to fly when we do. If you are hit, I want you to be safe in the seat while you heal."

Flustered, Logan began to think of a scathing reply but found his hands drift to the controls, flipping and setting switches and grabbing the stick. "Keep rambling, tinhead. The more I don’t think about it, the better I seem to do this."

Piotr watched as Logan started the craft. "You remember what Scott said once? He said you could fly a helicopter. I believe you can. The knowledge is in your head, you just have a hard time with your conscious thoughts. You spoke Russian beautifully even when you didn’t know you could." Logan’s hands were now much more swift and sure and the blades above them began to whirl in a deadly circle. "You can do this, Logan. You know you can. We will be safe." He pulled Scott into his lap with some difficulty, owing to the tightness of space, and called up his mutation in preparation of the flight. "I will take care of Scott. You will take care of the rest."

"Here," Logan said as he handed a small round cylinder to the back. "When I say ‘go’, push the button on the top."

Strange staccato barks of noise could be heard over the whine of the blades. Logan’s feet and hands pushed petals and pulled back on levers and sticks while the ground sank rapidly away below them. The window near him cracked and the small round hole reminded Piotr just what the men of the compound were doing at the moment. More bullet holes appeared in the walls and the windows and Logan flinched a few times.

"Go!"

Piotr clutched the cylinder, pushing the button. He tried to look down as the helicopter spun a little. Although he could not hear it distinctly, there must have been an explosion on the ground for a flash of flame engulfed the huge hangar. Piotr was thrown back into the seat as the helicopter straightened out and lurched forward. For better or worse, they were out of the mess on the ground. What would happen now was anyone’s guess.

"Ah need to grab a snack," sighed Marie. "Should we take shifts?"

Jean shook her head. "No. No, we need to eat. Besides he dropped the ladies when he realized we were watching him. I have a feeling he may think of us as potential targets now. Look how close he’s getting. I’ve made eye contact several times after he made that call on his cell phone and he’s always smiled."

"Please tell me he gives you the creeps when he does that. It’s not just me is it?" muttered Kitty as she pawed through a clothing sales rack without seeing anything.

Jean came over to look, too. "He does. I just wish I knew more about his motives. If I drop my shields I’ll catch a head full of thoughts from every direction. At the mansion I know whose is whose. Here, I’d have a hard time knowing which ‘stream of consciousness’ is his."

"That’s easy," countered Marie with a smirk. "Pick out the most lecherous."

"You’re probably…" Jean stopped in mid sentence. "Where did he go?"

"Crap," Marie said as she did a slow turn all the way around, scanning the area in every direction. "We lost him."

(When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall…)

With the throttle pressed to the limit and the machine shaking with effort, the Everglades beneath them were hard to make out. Piotr felt his stomach start to react to the turbulent ride. The chopper began to shudder ominously and Piotr could hear Logan cussing a blue streak even with the noise of the blades overhead. The craft descended to the treetops and hovered unsteadily while Logan started shouting instructions.

"Tuck the backpack under Scott’s head. I’m going to need you to jump to the ground below. The fuel line’s been hit and the oil pressure’s dropping. I can’t make it much farther. I’ll fly a few more minutes and crash it. That’ll give ‘em a blind spot to start searching from."

Piotr shook his head. "They’ll find your tracks back to us," he yelled back.

"Not if I jump, too. This thing can crash itself."

Nodding in agreement with Logan’s logic, Piotr grabbed the backpack and leaned Scott forward as he slid his forearm through the straps with the pouch side up. Then he maneuvered the unconscious man into his arms so that Scott’s head was cushioned on the bag. Now ready, Piotr kicked out the door and jumped out backward, feet first, hunching over to shield Scott from the whirling blades above. His mutation and strength would protect them both from the short fall.

He landed feet first in muck, sinking down to mid-calf level in a clear area between palm trees and taller vegetation. As Piotr glanced up to watch the chopper speed off, Scott groaned and thrashed feebly, his eyes rolling in his head and his eyelids briefly opening. The crack in the visor allowed a stream of red energy to escape upwards, neatly shattering the better part of the tail section. All hell broke loose as shrapnel began to fall from the sky and the chopper started whirling out of control.

With a mighty lunge, Piotr managed to free his feet, but not his shoes, and dove for cover under the closest available brush, covering Scott as best he could from the raining debris. The noise was deafening and Piotr had to fight the impulse to see what was going on. He clutched Scott tighter as small metal missiles and cut pieces of treetops dropped through the palm above them and bounced harmlessly off his back. The noise died off for a moment and then a thunderous crash was heard off to his right. Piotr straightened up and, with his leader tucked back in his arms, ran as fast as the mud and brush would let him in that direction.

"Ah think he went down that alley between those two shops."

"No, Rogue, we’re not going to follow him into a trap."

"Jean, he thinks he has the upper hand. There won’t be any danger. He won’t realize he’s in too deep until it’s too late," Kitty said. "He may spill what he’s up to; especially if he thinks he has nothing to lose."

"We can take him," Marie agreed. "Let’s let him think we’re helpless. He’s gone to all this trouble to set a trap; the least we can do is let him win."

"You two sound more like Scott and Logan every day," Jean grimaced. "I’m not sure if I’m proud of you or if you’re scaring me."

They went down the narrow walkway and ended up near the back porch of a house converted to a small shop. Out from behind the dumpster jumped the man in question and they learned that he didn’t just carry his wallet in the pouch that hung from his belt. Something resembling a small black automatic gleamed menacingly in one hand as he held out the other.

"I want my camera back, now. I’m only going to ask once."

Marie remembered how smooth his voice had been on the beach. Now it was rough with stress and she raised her hands, slightly putting herself in front of Kitty so the man wouldn’t see Kitty’s hands grip both hers and Jean’s shirts from the back.

"We don’t have it anymore," stated Jean in an extremely calm voice. "We gave it to the police so they could put it in the lost and found."

The shocked look on the man’s face turned to despair. "No! No, you couldn’t have! He’ll kill me!" The gun shook dangerously in his grip. "You have to hand it over!"

"What about the GHB?" Marie said softly. "Don’t you want that back, too? How else do you expect to get your ‘women’?"

The man gasped and raised the gun to the level of Rogue’s forehead. "How did you know?"

"Why does it matter? You aren’t going to shoot us." Kitty still had her death grip on the other two women and was watching his trigger finger for tell-tail whitening. "You’re in a blind alley with only one way out. You pull that trigger and the police will come running."

"I’ll take that chance." He was pale again, as he had been on the beach when faced with an enraged Wolverine. "You don’t want to die and I don’t want to kill you. All you have to do is go to the police and say you made a mistake." He pointed the gun at Jean. "You go. I’ll keep an eye on your friends until you get back."

"No." Jean was firm. "They won’t give it back and you know it. I’m not leaving them because you won’t be here when I get back."

"You’re too smart, lady. These two and one more will do just fine. I don’t need you, you’re too old. Say goodnight."

Surprised by his misstatement, Kitty almost missed the tensing of his finger, but she caught herself in time and phased all three of them just as the shots were fired. The gun did not make the loud reports of a regular gun and the bullets weren’t bullets. Instead of hitting flesh, the darts from the pistol passed through Jean and the others and embedded themselves in the siding of the house behind them.

Kitty let go and Marie quickly reached out and grabbed the gun, barrel and slide together, preventing the slide from moving again. She then tilted the barrel up and shoved down hard, ripping the trigger guard against the startled man’s finger and removing a lot of skin in the process. Still with the gun in her hand, Marie pulled it up in a straight motion and forcibly struck the hammer area against the man’s chin. He slumped to the ground. Marie dropped the gun as Jean knelt down and put her hands on both sides of his temple for a moment. The sound of sirens blared in the distance and grew louder rapidly. By the time she let go, brakes were squealing nearby.

"The darts were meant to knock us out. We were right, he’s the one," she said quickly. "Stick to the truth."

The three women turned as the officers came down the walkway, weapons drawn.

"Hands up where we can see ‘em."

A door behind them opened. "No officer," said the elderly woman from the safety of the house, "I called you when I saw what was happening through the window. He pulled a gun on them. I saw the whole thing."

The three mutant women surreptitiously glanced at each other. Just how much ‘everything’ had the woman seen?

The area was very quiet. All the wildlife must have fled the scene, thought Piotr as he picked his way carefully among the palms and underbrush below the intermittent tree canopy. Needing to breathe, he had shrugged off his mutation for a moment and regretted it when he struck his foot on a root. He should go back to get his shoes later, the young man thought to himself. As soon as he knew the others were okay, he resolved to backtrack and fish his loafers out of the muck.

When he finally arrived at his destination, he took a moment to take the situation in. The clearing in front of him was not a natural one. Trees were flattened or twisted and leaning on each other like a giant’s game of pick-up-sticks. Almost in the center of the mess were the remains of the helicopter. The tail section must have fallen off because all Piotr could see was the cockpit. If Logan was still in there, he was probably badly hurt and unable to get out. The frame was crushed among several tree trunks and suspended upside down a couple of feet above what looked like a pond. Depending on how deep the water was, Piotr would have a devil of a time hauling the cockpit to dry land. If the trees didn’t crush it further when he attempted to free it, the weight of the aircraft could easily push Piotr deep in the mud at the bottom of the water. While he wouldn’t drown if he used his mutation, Logan would not be as lucky and Piotr did not want the man injured any more than was necessary to get him out.

Piotr pushed over a squat palm plant with his foot and laid Scott down on the cushioning leaves. Quickly, he took the time to check Scott over for injuries, something he had been unable to do before. There were no obvious major injuries, only one badly discolored bruise on his wrist and forearm and a welt on his skull above the crack in the visor. Piotr took the precaution of removing Scott’s tie, watch, and optics and loosening his belt. Then he tied the tie loosely around Scott’s eyes so that, if the man woke up, he would feel that his ruby-quartz lenses were missing and wouldn’t open his eyes. At least, that’s what Piotr hoped Scott would do. The helicopter was evidence that another accident could happen as long as Scott was unconscious. In the silence, he could hear Scott breathing quietly. This reminded him that another person may be in need of help and he rose and turned toward the wreckage.

Feeling very alone, Piotr made his way to the edge of the water and stepped in. A ripple in the muddy morass stirred near his leg and, on instinct, Piotr’s skin switched to metal mode again. The last thing he needed was to get bit by something that would put him out of commission, too. The closer he got to the helicopter the deeper he sank until he stood below the cockpit up to his chin. Looking up, he involuntarily shivered for now he could see what had happened to Logan. Reaching up, he could just tap what was left of the window edging above Logan’s head, or rather, below it now. The glass had been smashed and flung every which way when it impacted head on with, judging by the size of the dent, a huge tree. Covered with blood, Logan didn’t move.

Piotr tried to shift his position and reach up higher to touch his friend’s head when he felt himself slip in the unstable mire at the bottom of the pond. Losing his balance, Piotr grabbed the nearest tree trunk for stability, which caused the entire misshapen structure to lurch and twist. The helicopter carcass jolted downward a couple of inches. Piotr grimaced. How the hell was he supposed to do this? He glanced up again and was surprised to see two brown eyes looking down at him.

"Logan!" Piotr tried to keep the nervousness out of his voice. "Can you hear me? Can you understand me?"

There was a small nod and Logan tried to move. A groan escaped him and Piotr’s metal face betrayed his concern.

"Don’t move too much. The whole thing will come down on you and I will not be able to catch it without keeping you out of the water. Possibly for a while." Their eyes locked and Piotr willed Logan not to choose drowning. "Can you unbuckle?"

There was a small shake of Logan’s head. Again he tried to move. This time Piotr realized that Logan was tangled in the straps and his legs trapped by the crushed-in nose of the craft. An ominous ‘snikt’ sound of metal sliding through flesh and locking into place was heard. The brown eyes asked a question and Piotr nodded.

"Da, cut yourself free and I will catch you. That will work. We’ll just have to be quick."

Logan closed his eyes for a second and then let out a yell as he twisted against the straps to free his legs with one set of claws even as he sliced into flesh and straps with the other. For a second his features contorted with agony and then went slack as he fell bonelessly through the seat harness, taking the sliced up metal of the helicopter nose section with him. Piotr reached up for the catch when the crazily stacked structure rumbled again for the last time. He snagged Logan in midair and pulled both of them down in the water where he crouched and shoved hard backwards. The force of the logs and helicopter hitting the water created enough of a surge to push him even further out of harm’s way and he sat down in the mud at the bottom of the pond for a second or two before shooting to the surface. Coughing and sputtering, the two men made it to shore.

"I thought you were going to jump free from helicopter before you let it crash," Piotr said as he helped Logan to his feet. The water had washed the blood away and Piotr was relieved to see that, although pale and soaked to the bone, Logan looked perfectly all right. His clothing, though, was another matter as his T-shirt was torn in places and had a few obvious bullet holes.

"The seatbelt jammed," choked out Logan. "I couldn’t hold her and cut through at the same time."

Piotr had switched off his mutation and the pallor of his features showed his horror. "I buckled you in! I could have killed you!"

Logan shook his head grimly. "A bullet passed through me and lodged in it. Not your fault."

"Thank God for that!" Piotr expelled in a loud breath. He pulled Logan toward the place where Scott lay. "Can you do anything more for him?"

He watched as Logan made a cursory examination with quick and careful hands. "Nope. Like what you did with the tie; first time the damn thing’s been useful." He glanced back at the pond. Not much was left of the helicopter itself but the damage to the area was a dead giveaway to what had happened. "We need to get out of here, put as much distance between us and this place as we can before nightfall." He rubbed his neck and popped it. "We don’t want to go back to the warehouse but I don’t know which other direction to take."

The larger man looked down at his toes and wiggled them. "I have a suggestion."

(There was a little man and he had a little gun and the bullets were made of lead, lead, lead.)

A few hours later the ladies finally made it back to the four-plex with their heads aching and their feet sore.

"Ah swear Ah’ve never been asked so many questions in my life," sighed Marie as she dropped her bag on the dining table and headed for the couch. "Ah’m all out of things to say."

"We must have done okay," offered Kitty as she slumped in one of the chairs. "I answered all the questions they asked about that pervert and kept any other answers to a minimum. At least they let us go."

"Ah did the same thing," replied Marie, slightly muffled from the pillows she was lying on. "Good thing that woman was calling the police when you phased us or there would have been a whole lot more questions. Ah just wonder what they were thinking, though."

Jean sighed and stood at the sliding glass door, gazing absently at the water beyond. "They were thinking that we were next in line. They looked at the photos on that camera when I told them it belonged to ‘Mr. Smith.’ All of the women who were missing were on that disc." Jean looked over at the youngest woman. "You told them you erased Rogue’s image, I hope."

Kitty nodded. "I did. I figured my prints were on the camera and it would explain why, when Rogue told them what he did on the beach, the picture he took of her was missing."

"They figured that out. Our stories corroborated each other with small inconsistencies that normally happen." Jean walked over to one of the other chairs and sank down in it gratefully. "They let us go because they think we can’t help them with anything else. As soon as they get the suspect out of the hospital, they’ll question him and he’ll tell them nothing."

Marie pushed herself up off the pillows and eyed Jean thoughtfully. "You have more, don’t you? Is there anything we can do? Can we find the women?"

"I’m not sure if they’re even in this country anymore. Mr. Caffrey, alias Mr. Smith, was never told what would happen to the women he took. He just had a little fun with them before he delivered them to a warehouse in south Florida." She leaned forward and put her elbows on her knees and rested her chin in her hands. "I’m not sure what other kind of illegal activities that warehouse is up to either. Mr. Caffrey wasn’t privy to much information, I’m afraid. He was just an underling." Jean sat up and looked at her watch. "The boys will be back soon. We’d better wait and let them in on this mess before we do anything else. If we don’t move carefully we could hurt the situation more than help it."

"Wait a minute. I did what?" Scott was trying to get a grip on what had happened while he was out.

"You shot Logan down, my friend. It was an accident, don’t worry," Piotr said reassuringly. "Here, let me help you sit up."

"Where is Logan now?"

"He heard something strange so he is checking the forest. He is also looking for some kind of sign that we are near water or some civilization. He was worried when you did not wake up."

"Now I’m worried," groaned Scott as he sat up. "Logan doesn’t get worried about just anything."

"Well, he didn’t say it out loud but I knew."

"Uh huh. Half the things he says he doesn’t say out loud. I know." He checked his injuries over with sensitive fingers and grimaced at the damage. Logan was probably worried about a concussion and, to be honest, his head did feel pretty strange and it was hard to think straight. Scott felt the tie again and made a noise of frustration. " I just wish I could see."

"Try these," said another voice.

Piotr turned, startled but Scott grinned. "I actually heard you that time. You must be wet. You squeaked. Try what?" He held out a hand and felt Logan pass something familiar onto his palm. "My backup specs! Is that what Jean gave you before we left?" He ripped off the tie and blindly settled the ruby-quartz lenses into place. "I thought she was just telling you to take care of me or some other nonsense."

Logan scanned the area. "Doesn’t look like nonsense now."

Scott blinked cautiously and took a good look around him. "I guess it doesn’t." He tried to stand but didn’t make it and Piotr eased him back to the ground. "Man," he mumbled, "I think my head’s going to fall off."

"It nearly did," said the Russian. "That man hit you with a pipe. I stopped him from hitting you again but it already looked pretty bad. Your wrist is not good, very swollen, and you have a large bump on your head."

Scott looked up at Logan. "What’s the verdict?"

"No phone, the watches are shot: yours with a bullet and mine with a pipe, no communications period. I think I hear some kind of water flow up ahead but the ground is so saturated I smell water everywhere," Logan shook his head and snorted. "There’s also something else around here that I can’t figure out. It’s not animal and it’s not human…whatever it is, it’s irritating the crap out of me. I’m not sure I like this ‘vacation’ or Florida for that matter. The sooner we find a water source, the better off we’ll be."

Piotr stood, scooping Scott up in his arms. "I’m thirsty. Let’s go."

"Hold it." Scott was grim. "You can’t drink any water unless it’s been treated or boiled. It could make you very sick, even kill you."

Piotr was stunned and stared at Logan, who continued, "He’s right. When I said a water source, I meant a stream to follow. I’m the only one who could live out here without equipment. You two won’t survive unless we find clean water and shelter."

Piotr flexed his muscles. "I am indestructible," he rumbled angrily.

"I can kill you as easily as I can him," Logan said simply as he nodded toward Scott. "No one is indestructible, Pete. All of the X-Men have weaknesses."

"And you know them?" retorted Piotr. "What did you do, sit around one day and contemplate how to kill us all? Your friends?"

"Yes," Logan replied softly as he turned to go back in the woods.

Piotr’s mouth sagged open in astonishment and he glared at the man in his arms. "Unbelievable! Did you know this?"

Scott sighed. "Put me down, please." He stood unsteadily and leaned on Piotr for support. "Piotr, do you know what ‘residual’ means?"

"Like a residue? Something that’s left over?"

Scott nodded but quit when his head started to spin. "A residual is a condition left over after a medical procedure or surgery. If you have a surgery to correct something but there is damage to tissues or nerves, even slight damage, there is a residual condition as a result and you are no longer the same as you were and will never be that same way again." Scott paused, wondering how much to say. "Hank and Jean figure Stryker made sure there are…residual conditions…in Logan, mostly in his brain and his behavior…that his body will never be able to undo. Understand?"

Piotr’s mouth closed and Scott could see the kind-hearted giant was saddened by the realization. "But if he…"

There was a blur of motion and the two men were flattened to the forest floor. Logan quickly scooted Scott closer to Piotr and pulled Piotr up on his side.

"Change!" hissed Logan. He glanced up and scowled. "And don’t move."

There was a small popping sound far off in the distance and then something whined overhead, clipping through the leaves. Piotr recognized the sound of a rifle and called up his mutation, hugging Scott closely and making sure his back was to the threat. He stared at Logan who was crouched protectively over them and realized that Stryker may have been able to train his friend to kill and assess all threats but he had never been able to strip Logan of his basic values. Piotr almost smiled. Logan may have planned their deaths but it was quite another thing for him to carry them out, especially when his first instinct was to protect them at the expense of his life. More pops were heard in the distance and another whine whistled by them, this time a little closer to the ground.

Logan cocked his head. "Poachers," he hissed. "Two of them. Target practice. Damn idiots."

More bullets whizzed overhead as the three men listened. Without warning, there was a loud metallic sound. Logan’s head whipped backward and the other two heard his neck snap before the rest of his body spun to follow. He ended up sprawled in an awkward position face down on the leafy ground. The next shot rang off of Piotr’s shoulder and he felt a few more strike his back. Finally, gratefully, there were no more sounds of gunfire. Scott and Piotr waited a long time in silence to give the hunters a chance to clear the area before crawling over to Logan.

When they carefully turned him over and wiped the blood off his forehead, his brown eyes snapped opened and he snarled, "I’m beginning to hate Florida."

Scott grimaced. "I know what you mean. This reminds me of that movie ‘Deliverance.’ I half expect someone to jump out of the brush and ask me to squeal like a pig."

Logan and Piotr exchanged a puzzled glance.

"You feel okay, Scott?" asked Piotr.

"What, haven’t either of you seen ‘Deliverance’?" Scott almost laughed. "That scene gave me nightmares."

Piotr bent his head near Logan’s ear as he helped him up. "Does ‘squeal like a pig’ mean anything to you," he asked in a very low voice.

Logan shrugged. "Must be some American thing."

"The hamburgers are almost done," said Marie when Jean came out on the deck.

"The French fries are almost done, too," Jean replied absently as she watched the last rays of the sunset off to the West play across the partly cloudy sky in front of them. "I wish they would call. Scott usually lets me know if something happens that throws him off schedule."

Kitty chuckled from the lounge chair near the grill. "Piotr’s the opposite. He can lose track of time so fast if he’s got that sketchbook in front of his nose."

"Like you watch a clock when you’re on the computer?" Marie snorted as she poked the grilling meat one more time. "You two are made for each other. You’re both so creative and all."

Jean perched on the armrest of Kitty’s chair, enjoying the breeze and the company. It had taken her a little while to get used to dealing with her former students as adults but she found they were smart, funny, and definitely worth getting to know. After all, there really wasn’t that much of an age difference, only about fourteen years, and she had come to think of them as younger sisters she had never had.

"I think Piotr’s a very sweet and sincere person," began Jean before she added mischievously, "whom you have twisted tightly around that little finger of yours."

The young women laughed on that one.

"And you don’t have Scott on a string, madam?" Kitty responded. "Say, when are you two going to really tie the knot? Or do you think he’ll ever take that final step?"

Jean blushed. "I’m the one who’s afraid to take the final step, not him. He’s all for eloping tomorrow. I analyze things to death and sometimes take forever to make decisions; our engagement alone is a miracle." She sighed and looked at her watch again. "They are two hours late now. This is so untypical of him."

"Ah’m sure Logan’s to blame. He has no track of time and really doesn’t care unless he’s promised to be somewhere by a certain hour. That’s the problem with dating someone who doesn’t age. He has nothing to go by; he looks on days, weeks, months, and years a whole lot differently than we do."

"And you think he’d rather spend time with Scott and Piotr than snuggle up to you after a good dinner?" Kitty blinked innocently.

"Well, they may be out on a boat," offered Jean. "Scott said something about getting the parts out of the way and doing some fishing so we could have a fish fry tomorrow night."

"Lord, Ah hope not. Logan doesn’t like boats any more than airplanes."

Kitty and Jean exchanged a look and Jean asked the question. "Why?"

Marie grimaced. "If you didn’t have a buoyancy compensator, would you go scuba diving?"

"Not with all that weight strapped…Oh." Kitty smacked her forehead. "I’m not thinking. He’s got those extra hundred pounds of metal in him. Makes sense."

"Not the airplanes, though," Jean mused. "Why does he hate to fly? He was a pilot, wasn’t he?"

Marie looked thoughtful. "Ah think he had some training, yes. Don’t bring it up, though. That’s one of those gray areas that he can’t remember."

"Of course," Jean said as she nodded. "You know I’ve often wondered if he could be hypnotized."

"Sure he can," quipped Kitty quickly. "We see it happen every day."

Startled, Marie stared at her. "What do you mean? Who’s hypnotizing him?"

"You," the younger woman giggled. "Every time you bat those lovely green eyes at him he’s helpless."

"Ha!" laughed the chef as she took the hamburgers off the grill. "You just think that. He’s a hard-headed stubborn idiot sometimes…"

"Whom you love deeply," finished Jean. "All men are, especially ours. All I can say is they are all in a lot of hot water at the moment. Scott had better be in the mood to apologize profusely."

"With flowers in one hand," added Kitty.

"And chocolate in the other," giggled Marie.

"Tell me again why we need to cross the water?" asked Piotr nervously. "I mean we could follow the creek from this side, too."

Logan turned in mid stream, the water up to his bare chest. He carefully balanced the backpack full of clothes on top of his head. "We need to make it as hard as we can for someone to follow us. Not many people would cross this water, not knowing what was in it."

Piotr eyed the rank-smelling, muddy water that overflowed both banks in a reed-filled marshy mess. "You aren’t kidding. You don’t think there are alligators here, do you?"

"Metal up, Colossus. Nothing will hurt you. You’re invincible, remember?" said Scott, who was perched on Piotr’s bare shoulders, ready for the ride across. He noticed Logan flinch and rapidly swish an arm under the water’s surface.

"Indestructible," muttered Piotr as he changed and entered the water reluctantly. "My pants will stay soaking wet for a long time."

"Everything dries eventually, Pete," Logan muttered, his eyes trying to peer through the murky water without success. "It’s not like it’s the first time today we’ve been in the water."

Piotr shook his head. "No, you are right but that doesn’t make it better. I don’t like going into this kind of water, not when there are slimy things in it. I don’t like snakes, Logan. Have you seen any?"

Logan flinched and swished again. "Nope, haven’t seen any."

Scott watched the water around Logan. It was hard to make out in the dim light of dusk filtering through the tree canopy, but he thought he saw pieces of what looked like the body of a snake bob up and float downstream, slowly sinking the further away they drifted.

"Hooboy. It’s okay, Piotr," he said as he patted the younger man’s metal head. "We’ll be across before you know it."

(There was a man in our town, and he was wondrous wise; he jumped into a brier bush, and scratched out both his eyes.)

"We should probably get some sleep," Kitty managed to say between yawns. "I for one have had it with waiting up for them."

Marie bit her bottom lip but said nothing.

Jean sighed heavily. "It’s not like they can’t take care of themselves. The three of them combined have enough strength, firepower, and survival instinct to withstand almost anything." She rose from the couch and turned the TV off. "I don’t sleep well when he’s not with me, though," she offered in a small voice.

"Ah know what you mean," Marie replied. "Ah think it’s going to be a rough night for all of us."

The tiny fire Logan had made was only to furnish light, as they didn’t have any food to cook. The other two watched him as he started surveying the camp area. He snikted out a blade and cut a small palm down then upended it and used it as a broom to gather material off the forest floor. After Logan finished sweeping leaves and other soft debris into a large pile, he pulled a few small, metallic packages out from among the clothes in the backpack.

"That wouldn’t happen to be food, would it?" the big man asked hopefully.

Logan simply shook his head, opened two of the shiny packets, and shook them out to reveal plastic, reflective sheets, which he covered the pile of leaves with.

"What are those?" asked Piotr.

"Thermal blankets to keep us warm," Scott answered with a yawn. "One of you will have to take first watch," he admitted. He picked up one of the remaining packages and opened it, wrapping it around himself after shaking it out. "I can’t keep my eyes open any more."

"You’re going to have to," growled Logan. "You’ve got a head injury. Pete, wake him up every now and then to make sure he’s all right. I’m going to cross the creek again and check out our back trail and the surrounding area."

"Hold it," said the Russian. "You can’t leave and go across that creek again. Not now, that’s dangerous."

The corner of Logan’s mouth twitched slightly in amusement. "Dangerous for who?" Piotr switched languages for a moment and Logan listened intently. "No, nothing like that," he calmly replied, obviously taking the young man’s concerns seriously. "I’ll be back shortly. Nothing will happen. I’ll even try to see if I can find something you can eat, okay?"

"That would be very good, my friend. I am hungry enough to eat an alligator."

"I’ll see what I can do."

Without another word, Logan slipped off into the woods. They didn’t even hear him enter the water hidden by stubby palms and brush a few yards away. Piotr sighed and grabbed a package, too. He opened it and realized Scott was staring at him.

"Oh, well, I was just worried that you might have a seizure or fall into a coma or something and I didn’t know how far I should go to keep you awake." Piotr yawned and his eyelids drooped. "I know I would not forgive myself if I fell asleep and something happened to you. I don’t think I will sleep in these wet pants anyway so maybe that is a good thing."

Scott realized that the younger man must be worn out since he had used his mutation several times that day and had nothing to eat to replenish his energy use. "Wet pants or no wet pants, I have a feeling you’re going to nod off whether you want to or not. Tell you what, Piotr, I’m not quite as tired as I thought; I can stay awake for a little while so you can take a short nap. That way you can stay awake longer when I do need to sleep. Sound good?" The large man’s eyes conveyed his gratitude and he cautiously climbed on the bed Logan had made. "I’ll just sit here with my back to you and make sure nothing surprises us." Scott sat down on the bed also and smothered a yawn so Piotr wouldn’t see it. Within minutes, there were soft snores coming from behind him and Scott smiled ruefully.

He readjusted himself so he was lying down with his head propped on a forearm and sighed. Logan was right. Nothing would happen. Slowly, inevitably, his eyelids dropped until he was sawing a few logs himself.

A huge shadowy figure moved in the tree line and approached the small camp. Pausing, it silently made its way around the perimeter until it picked up the nearly invisible trail Logan had left. There was a grunt of satisfaction and the hulking form followed in pursuit of more challenging prey.

Marie came out of her room and sat on the couch. She needed a change of scenery since the bedroom ceiling had ceased to be entertaining after a couple of hours of tossing and turning. Sitting alone in the dark, she now knew how Logan felt when he couldn’t sleep. Her mind was whirling with endless possibilities — ones she didn’t want to think about but her brain had other ideas. She hugged her arms tight around her. Logan had packed an old flannel shirt and some soft gloves in case she had a nightmare and needed him to comfort her. It was ironic that now, in this waking nightmare of not knowing where he was, she was using the shirt and gloves to comfort herself and she breathed in the scent of him from the fabric and the leather.

Her control of her mutation was slipping and Marie knew it was a matter of time before she became untouchable again. Although he had not been sexually abused and raped as a child like she had, Logan understood what it was like to be used and abused in ways others couldn’t imagine; he also knew the heavy burden of causing death and not being able to stop it. She couldn’t keep the mental monsters away forever and would lose her hold over her skin without his love for her to lean on. Marie blinked back her tears. She needed him. Where was he? Another door opened and she quickly wiped her nose on the flannel sleeve and tried to look better than she felt.

Kitty stood in the dark archway. "I’m not doing so well. Want some company?"

Logan squatted in the brush. He knew something was behind him, he just couldn’t figure out what it was. Male? Yes. Big? Yes. Human? No…not really. There was something about this…thing… that was tantalizingly familiar and yet he couldn’t put a name to it no matter how hard he tried. Nor could he get a glimpse of it. As good as his night vision was, this thing was as green as the brush around them and it blended in and moved with the kind of stealth that…well, Logan himself had. It didn’t just hide in the shadows it merged with them and became part of the forest. So far, it had not been aggressive, which puzzled Logan to no end considering its size and its decidedly masculine scent. Males usually did not allow territorial breeches from outsiders. Maybe it was as out of its territory as he was out of his.

Ignoring the thing for a moment, Logan caught the conversation of the two poachers on the other side of the creek. He had retraced their steps from the area where he had been shot and hunted them down. If they had a boat and he could get his hands on it, he could get Scott out of here that much faster. Jean’s words rang in his head and he knew he had to take care of the young leader since he had given his word. Of course, he probably would have taken care of Scott anyway. For some strange reason, these people seemed to bring out a side of him that actually cared about their welfare. It was an emotional twist he wasn’t sure he wanted to delve that deeply into since it might mean he really had found a family and friends to share his life with, things he was sure he would lose again some day. He pushed these thoughts down deep. Outliving them was a possibility he couldn’t ignore and he didn’t want to think about losing Marie, not now.

He focused back on the conversation across the way and smiled. The two morons weren’t experienced hunters — they were out here to find an alligator and win a bet with all their buddies back at the bar. They’d never find one, he thought to himself. Hell, he would have trouble catching one at this time of night. Then he frowned as he overheard that their buddies had made sure they wouldn’t get out of the bet. They were dropped off three days ago with enough food and water for a week. When they killed a ‘gator or gave up they were to fire off a flare. Damn, that meant no boat.

He moved into the water and paused. This section was deeper. It would go over his head. Either he could trust that his breath would hold or…He spied the end of a fallen tree on the bank and moved toward the ancient, broken carcass that spanned the channel under the surface. Sure enough, walking on the trunk kept his head out of the water. A movement behind him reminded Logan that he was not the only thing stalking around this time of night and he turned his head just in time to see the male creature briefly outlined in the moonlight before it melted away. Curious, Logan stood still in the slow current for a moment to see if it would reappear. Just as he began to move forward again, something struck him a savage blow in his right leg and he was pulled under the surface of the inky water so fast he swallowed quite a bit of it before he realized he was under attack.

The claws came out immediately but his senses were off balance. Whatever had him was rolling him over and over under the water, tearing into the flesh of his leg with sharp teeth. It had to be an alligator. Logan rammed his fist at his own leg and managed to spear its skull. All movement stopped and Logan realized he had no way of knowing which way led to the surface of the creek. All around him was black water. Forcing himself to be as still as the now deceased reptile, he waited for gravity to kick in. Finally, he hit the bottom of the creek where he planted his feet and stood, the alligator still speared on the blades of his right hand. It was over his head. Desperate now, he crouched down and crawled along the bottom. His free hand found something hard and rough and he realized he’d found the log. Clambering on top of it, he stood again. His head broke the surface of the water noiselessly and he gulped in air silently but gratefully. The poacher’s camp was much nearer now and Logan grimly pulled in his blades and hauled the ‘gator to the surface. He had a good idea what to do with it and headed for their fire.

Scott woke suddenly and the world reeled for a moment, disorienting him. Stars were above him and leaves crunched underneath. He turned his head slowly and beheld a strange sight. Framed by moonlight, Logan stood nearby staring out into the forest around them, his wet hair still dripping on his shoulders and down his bare back. Every now and then, he turned as if following something with his eyes. His claws were out and he was tense, every muscle ready for a fight.

Scott cleared his throat softly and Logan turned to make sure he was all right. One of his hands came up and Scott was astonished to see Logan open a fist and scratch his nose even though the blades still protruded from his hand.

"I didn’t know you could do that," said Scott in a very low tone. Logan looked puzzled so Scott continued. "Open your hands with the blades still out."

Logan shrugged and pulled the claws in as he knelt beside the younger man. He glanced over and made sure that Piotr was still sleeping before he focused on Scott.

"He was supposed to watch over you."

"He was tired. I stayed up and let him sleep. His mutation uses a lot of energy and he hasn’t had any food for a while. He needed the rest. Speaking of needing energy…How long has it been since you had something to eat or drink? Do you need a nap? And what were you watching in the trees?"

"Just…something. It’s big and male and…green, whatever it is."

"Green?" Before Scott could protest the way Logan was sidestepping his questions, he caught a glimpse of Logan’s right pant leg. Startled, he blurted, "What happened? Is that water or blood? Did it attack you?"

"No." Logan hesitated and then decided to supply more information. "An alligator got me as I crossed the creek south of here. It’s a good thing, too. I used him to get some food and water."

"How on earth did you do that?" Scott sat up with Logan’s help and Logan pulled a water bottle from a bag on the ground near them.

"Turned out those two poachers were out here to get a big ‘gator. I overheard them talking. After I killed it, I walked into their camp and asked if either of them knew how to squeal like a pig. They fainted so I left it for them and took three bottles of water and some trail mix bars in trade."

Scott grinned as he imagined what the sight of Logan, clothing torn and bloody and with an alligator slung over his shoulder, uttering that saying would have looked like to two strangers in the light of a campfire out in the middle of nowhere. "Just wait ‘till I tell you what that phrase means."

Logan grunted. "Considering their reaction, I’m not sure I want to know."

"You’re not going to drink?" asked Scott as he unscrewed the cap on the bottle.

"I’ve had enough water for a while," came the reply.

Jean wandered from the bedroom into the living room. Lost in thought, she was startled to find she wasn’t alone. Two pairs of haunted and tired eyes watched her from the darkness of the couch.

"I see I’m not the only one who can’t sleep. I don’t know what to say, ladies. I really don’t. I’ve torn apart all his luggage. He didn’t write down where they were going. He never does. I even called the mansion." She sighed as she sat in the chair and flipped on the light at her side. "The transmitters in their watches aren’t working. The Professor has been notified and is on his way back so he can use Cerebro, but he won’t get there until tomorrow afternoon."

"We’ve got to find them, Jean. Why didn’t you read his mind?"

"I try not to read his mind, Rogue. Just like you try not to pull Logan’s thoughts," snapped Jean.

"Stop it!" Kitty’s voice cracked like a whip. "We’re on edge and hindsight and bickering aren’t going to help." She got up and walked to the dining table, her steps slowing as her mind raced. She turned back to the other two. "What did you see in Caffrey’s mind?"

Jean took a moment to answer. "Why?"

"Well we can’t do anything about Piotr, Scott, and Logan at the moment. They’re obviously in trouble or they would have called but we can’t help them if we don’t know where they are. I’m sure they’re safe for the moment. When they can, they’ll get in touch with us. We can do something for someone else while we wait, though, and that’s how we can help ourselves. It will take our minds off our worries."

"That’s got to be the stupidest thing Ah ever heard," muttered Marie. "But in some crazy way it makes sense. Ah’m willing to do anything at the moment to stop thinking about Logan. Ah’m having a hard time controlling my skin right now and Ah don’t want to become a danger to you two. You said Caffrey took the women to a warehouse on the southwestern edge of Florida, right?"

The older woman thought for a moment. "Not exactly; it wasn’t on the coast. He delivered them to some hole-in-the-wall warehouse near the southwestern edge of the Everglades. I can picture it and the roads that lead to it." Jean sighed. "You’re right. There’s no reason to stay around here and tear our hair out or blame each other. Scott would call my cell phone anyway so we don’t have to stick around this place. I suppose we’ll leave in the morning."

Kitty looked over at a clock. "I say three a.m. is morning enough. Shall we get dressed?"

"We’re going to have a hell of a time finding a car rental place open at this time of night around here," Marie commented. "How about Ah fly us over to the nearest airport and we pick up a car there?"

"Sounds good. I’ll get the map and the phone." Jean yawned. "Let’s get dressed. Wear something warm in case the night air is cold."

Marie hugged the flannel to her. "Ah agree."

(Tweedledum and Tweedledee resolved to have a battle.)

"We finally find some evidence of civilization and you want to head in the other direction."

Logan had just about had enough. "You’re cracked."

Piotr had woken up not long after Logan came back to camp. The small amount of food and water had not lasted long among the three of them with one exception: Logan had reserved his bottle of water and had it stashed in the remaining good thigh pocket of his BDUs. They had broken camp shortly afterward, as soon as it was light enough to see anything. Daybreak had not shed a better light on the men’s situation, however, and that, coupled with no breeze to bring relief from the humid air, had tempers on edge.

"Look, here’s a dock." Scott was trying to be patient. "That means someone comes up the creek and docks here and walks down this path to a destination. We need to find the destination because that’s where we find people."

"If there was a boat here, there would be people down the path. There’s no boat so there’s no people. Let’s go find where the people come from. Let’s follow the creek."

They glared at each other, neither understanding why the other was being so dense.

"Look, I’m in charge here," retorted Scott.

"If you were in your right mind, you wouldn’t need to say that," snarled Logan.

A beautiful flower appeared between them. "Logan, what is this? It’s beautiful."

"Grass Pink," answered Logan shortly. "Summers, just listen to yourself for a minute…"

"But it’s purple and white," the big man protested.

"Piotr!" "Pete!"

Piotr grinned down at them. "You two remind me of my brother and myself. We would argue all the time before he went missing…" He frowned. "I wish I knew where he was now."

The three men stood on the bank of the creek at a clearing where a makeshift dock stood ready to tie off boats. A faint trail led into the woods and Piotr had listened for a few minutes as Scott and Logan argued over which to follow: the creek or the path.

"We could flip a coin," Piotr suggested.

"Pete, this path could lead nowhere. The creek should lead to a road where they haul the boats in. At least there we could flag someone down." Logan was on the edge of giving reign to his temper.

"As you said, there aren’t any boats here so no one would be home. I’d be willing to bet we can find some kind of food or shelter and maybe even a radio. It’s probably a hunter’s shack or something." Scott was pale and drawn and wiped the sweat from his forehead with a shaky hand.

"You’re showing signs of heat exhaustion. That’s not the time to start making decisions."

"We need to follow the path, Wolverine. Can’t you see that?"

"Well let’s just see how clearly you’re seeing things. How many fingers am I holding up, Cyclops?" Logan asked as he shot him the bird.

"I can’t survive if we don’t find more water soon," Scott shot back. "The road could be miles away and I’m not indestructible or able to go for days without food and water." He whirled sharply on his heel and started down the trail.

Floored, Logan made a lunge to stop him but Piotr held him back.

"You are right, he’s not well. We need to follow him now more than ever, though. He needs us just as much as he is trying to help us." Piotr turned but Logan caught his arm this time.

"Give him this," Logan said as he fished out the bottle he had saved.

"But that water is yours. What will you drink?"

"I’ll be fine. Go ahead, I’ll be there in a second."

The big man looked around sharply. "Is it the green man you spoke of earlier? Are you sure he’s real? I mean…"

"He’s real but he’s not around right now. Maybe he’s taking a nap or something. Get moving and keep an eye on Scott."

Piotr nodded and hurried forward to find Scott before he moved too far ahead.

Logan sighed and rolled his eyes. He dropped the backpack and approached the bank to find a spot next to the dock where he could kneel and lean forward to scoop up some water to drink. It didn’t look or smell that appetizing but he had drunk worse than this. Something gleamed above the water, almost at surface level and Logan leaned farther out for a better look. It was a nylon fishing line, invisible to anyone not paying attention.

At first Logan thought it was part of a trout line and his hopes rose in preparation of providing a fish lunch but the line did not span the creek; it wrapped around and in between the pylons of the dock. Curious now, Logan entered the water and waded around to where he could lean forward and see what the line had been attached to under the planks. For a second he stood in the water, chilled but not from its temperature. Then he plowed his way up the bank, snatched up the bag, and took off after the others.

"This is it," said Jean as they turned onto a dirt road. "This is the one."

"I’m glad of that," Kitty puffed out. "You know, if I had known how much exercise I’d be getting on this vacation, I think I would have stayed at home."

"Ah think you had some incentive to come," offered Marie before she frowned at her own remark. "Ah meant…"

There was a pat on her shoulder. "We know." Jean squinted in the low light of dawn. "We’ll get them back."

A noise rose in the distance and years of training had Kitty and Marie scrambling to hide in the brush on the side of the road with Jean following in pursuit. Three pickup trucks drove by with men loaded in the front and in the back. Tired and dirty, they were grim and talking angrily among themselves as their vehicles moved down the makeshift road at a fast clip. Once they were out of sight, the three X-Men cautiously came out of hiding.

"I wonder what that was all about. There weren’t any women with them so they could still be up ahead. This looks more serious than we thought. We should have called in the Blackbird," said Jean. "We shouldn’t be doing this without backup."

"You’re probably right. We should have called when we found out they couldn’t rent us a car at the airport. Ah think we made better time flying anyway and now we don’t have a car to worry about." Marie dusted off the flannel and pulled up the tails of the shirt to tie around her waist, above her jeans. "Ah think we can do this, just the three of us."

It took them a few minutes to make it to the end of the road but when they got there, they stood in silence for a moment, taking in the sight. The black SUV, their black SUV, stood as if ready to take them anywhere they wanted to go, especially since their destination was a smoking hulk of ruined metal buildings, twisted from heat and explosive force. Stunned, they stood side-by-side and realized what must have happened.

"This was the pick-up place."

"They walked right into a mess."

"It looks like they got out of it, too. Ah bet those men in the trucks are on a hunting party." Marie saw that one building was still standing. "How about Ah go down there and sweet talk them into telling me what happened."

Jean shook her head. "I’ll go. I can read their minds…"

"And have all that shit in your head? No, Jean, Ah know what that’s like. Having to read Caffrey was bad enough." Marie adjusted the gloves and unbuttoned some of the flannel shirt to expose the low-cut white tank underneath. "A little Southern charm can get us what we need without any of us getting hurt. Ah shouldn’t be doing this but showing skin may get more information, considering they seem to be desperate for women." She glanced at the SUV for a second. "Just the sight of that made me lose it. Don’t touch me, okay? Ah can’t control my skin anymore."

The tremble in her voice made the other two women look at each other, realizing that Rogue had lost something precious.

"Rogue…" Kitty began.

"Ah’ll be alright, Kit. Don’t worry." She shook out her hair and let it frame her face, holding her head high. "How do Ah look?"

"Irresistible," said Jean and she gave the young woman a cautious hug. "Kitty can sneak over and unlock the SUV. I’m hoping Scott left the extra set of keys in the glove box."

"If he didn’t, it’s not a problem," Kitty replied absently as she scanned the compound. "I’m a graduate of Hotwiring 101. Logan said I had lots of potential."

"Wait!"

Logan’s voice rarely sounded desperate, but it did then and the others stopped in their tracks. They had just rounded a corner in the trail and were heading to an abnormally overgrown section of the woods.

"Don’t move," Logan panted as he caught up to them. "The dock was wired with nylon fishing line and attached to a mine underneath. Anyone not tying up their boat just right would be toast."

Scott trained his eyes on the dense trail ahead, an empty bottle of water in his hand. Now that he had drunk something, he was starting to feel better but what Logan just said made him feel ill again.

"Let’s go back," he started to say when Logan cut him off.

"No. You’re right. We don’t know how far away the road is and you need more water. Whoever wired the dock doesn’t want visitors but that also means they have something out here. If it’s an illegal operation, there’s bound to be some kind of communication system we can use to call for help." He glanced over at Piotr. "Look around for some kind of string or something. Just don’t go forward."

"Why?"

"Cabbage and Paurotis palms can get to be 20 to 40 feet tall. Those up ahead have been deliberately cut to bush out and there’s a ton of thorny growth that’s not native to this area surrounding them. That means you can only walk on the path and not around it. I’d be willing to bet it’s wired, too, like the dock."

Piotr took the left side of the area while Logan started to search the right. That is until Scott pulled him aside.

"Thanks," he said as he lifted the bottle.

"Don’t mention it," Logan replied as he shifted the backpack over to his other shoulder.

"Why don’t you put on the shirt Rogue packed?" Scott asked, for Logan was only wearing his boots and half-eaten BDUs

"It’ll just get destroyed, too. I might as well keep it clean for when we get ready to see the women again."

There was an exclamation in Russian and Logan and Scott watched the larger man emerge from behind an old tree with two slender canisters in his hands.

"You won’t believe this, guys. There are toys here. For children, I mean. Like the stuff Illyana and Megan use to play tag with at the mansion." He held up the Silly String with a confused look on his face. "Why?"

"I’ll show you why," muttered Logan as he walked over and took one. He shook it hard for a second and, to the surprise of the others, shot a stream of it down the path. He crouched down and the others did likewise. To Scott and Piotr’s astonishment, the foamy plastic streamer from the can did not lay flat on the ground but remained suspended in the air a few inches above the path in several places.

"Tripwires," Logan pointed out. "Watch your step. Pete, give me that other can," said Logan and he pocketed it. "We may need both of them."

"Ben!"

The young man on the porch was startled out of his nap in the rocking chair. He blinked and saw three pickup trucks crowding his yard. Funny how he didn’t hear them drive up he thought as he stood and rubbed his eyes. He yawned and rumpled his unruly black hair before stepping down to the ground.

"I need three of your boats," called out Weidermann as he and his men unloaded boxes of weapons the men had sat on in the beds of the trucks.

Ben grinned in a dense sort of way as he hooked his thumbs in his overalls. Weidermann was his best customer. Not many people wanted to go down the creek he lived on; the terrain and woods were too wild and dangerous. "You usually take all four, Mr. Wei…"

"I only need three this time, Ben," Weidermann shot back. "I don’t have as many men anymore, thanks to three problems I’m about to hunt down." He turned to one of the men. "Let me have the radio."

"You didn’t bring a mutant, this time?" Ben asked slowly as he readied the boats tied to the dock. He poured fuel in one that needed it and looked back over his shoulder. "You normally bring a mutant to hunt, Mr. Weidermann. What are you going to hunt this time if you didn’t bring a mutant?"

Weidermann ignored him and motioned for his men to start loading the boats. "Spook? Spook! Get out of bed! I need you to get up and moving." He waited for a moment and seemed to be listening to someone on the other end. "There’s three feebee agents I need to you track down." There was a long pause as he listened to the person on the other end of the radio. "Forget the green thing, idiot! No, no, wait…I’m sorry. Hell, no, I’m not sorry! I’m angry, damn it! Just listen. These three yahoos blew half my place up yesterday and took off with my Bell. They couldn’t have made it far; Cooper shot the fuel line before they were out of range." There was an incredulous pause. "You did? Why the hell didn’t you call me? They’re right in your backyard then! Get on them! You can’t miss ‘em; one of them is seven feet tall, and one wears dark red glasses." There was another pause. "Hell yes, whatever it takes! Dart them! I don’t care what you do just don’t kill them until I get there! They’re mine!" He shoved the radio at the waiting man and stood toe to toe with Ben using an intimidating stance. "Not a word of this, got it!"

"Yes, sir. I won’t tell nobody." The young man took a step back in surprise and alarm. "What happened to your chin, Mr. Weidermann? It looks like somebody hit you."

"Shut up, sit on your rocker, and take a nap. Here." Weidermann gave him twenty-five dollars. "You take this. I want something else from the man it came from."

Cooper let out an exhausted sigh as he put his head down on Weidermann’s desk. That was one night he didn’t want to relive. It had taken them hours to put out the fires, move what they could salvage to the last remaining building, and figure out what to do about those three FBI men. While Cooper didn’t easily stomach the idea of killing them, he knew they had to die. He had volunteered to stay here in case they came back for their car. It was his now. Weidermann had promised it to him after Cooper had shot out the fuel line on the Bell. Thinking of shooting, he sat up and pulled his weapon. He drew back the slide on his Glock, racking a bullet into the chamber, then shoved the gun back in its holster. It was good to be prepared incase those three came back.

There was a soft knock at the doorframe and Cooper looked over. His jaw dropped. This was the kind of woman the boss was looking for. Small and curvy, she was sweet and spicy all rolled into one.

"Ah need some help…"

The voice was smooth and Southern and Cooper knew he had to have her. Weidermann would make a bundle on her and he, Cooper, would be the recipient of his boss’ gratitude yet again.

"My friends and Ah had some car trouble and Ah need to use your phone."

Cooper grinned. "Our phone’s out, little lady. You could bring your friends here and I’ll give you a lift if you want." The gorgeous creature smiled charmingly and he found his breath caught in his throat. Maybe he could have some fun before Weidermann and the others came back.

"Oh Ah don’t want to be any trouble and it looks like y’all are already having some problems. Did you have a fire?" Long, dark lashes batted sensually over large, glowing green eyes.

"You could say that. It’s just a little problem the others have gone to take care of." He noticed how her chest rose and fell with each breath. "I’m here alone but I can certainly take some time out to help some damsels in distress."

She sauntered over to the desk and leaned on it, exposing more of her exquisite chest to his view. "Why, aren’t you the sweetest thing? Ah just bet that lovely little SUV out there is yours. You could do a lot in an SUV like that."

He licked his lips, longing for a taste of hidden sweetness. "That SUV is mine and I’d love to treat you to a ride." He leaned forward to see a little better and she bent down to his delight. One of her dainty little glove-encased hands stroked his cheek and moved down toward his collar. "I could give you quite a ride."

Both hands were on his shirtfront now and he closed his eyes and groaned in pleasure, until he was jerked out of his chair and pulled across the desk in one swift, powerful motion. His eyes flew open and he was stunned to find she flipped him around as easily as if he were a child. She had him pinned on the desktop, flat on his back with his neck in an awkward position between her arms. He struggled in vain; there was no give. The world was beginning to fade at the edges and his breath was coming in ragged gasps.

"Ah think you and Ah have some things to talk about first, before Ah break your little old neck."

(Needles and pins, needles and pins, when a man murders, his trouble begins...)

The clearing at the end of the trail was small and seemed to be hacked out of the surrounding vegetation with a vengeful sneer since logs and brush rotted at the perimeter, a testament to other plants not to encroach. Near the center was a small, battered travel trailer long since abandoned by any vehicle capable of mercifully carting it away. A crude chimney had been fashioned in the roof and a thin stream of smoke came from it. Nearby, a table and a bench made of rough planking served as the outdoor dining facilities and an outhouse was partially visible behind the trailer. All in all, it was a dump. The three stood in confusion, wondering what could possibly be of any value here that would warrant such extreme protection. At that moment, a grizzled white male, thin except for a slight paunch around the middle, exited the trailer.

Startled, he eyed them warily as they did him. His jeans were patched and the shirt he wore had probably been white at one time. His worn boots were beyond repair. Despite his shabbiness, his sharp eyes were uncomfortably intelligent and he took a moment to swig a drink from the water bottle in his hand, using the time to plan his reaction.

"Well, well, well. I don’t have many visitors. It’s a welcome change of pace. What can I do for you folks?" He made it seem like they were simply unexpected guests. No mention was made of his booby traps.

Logan was relieved to see that Scott wasn’t fooled by the smarmy Southern accent or the omission of the question of how they made it to his place through the maze of tripwires the man had set. He watched as Scott went into what Logan referred to as ‘the acting mode’ as he replied politely, "I’m afraid we’re in need of some assistance. You wouldn’t happen to have a cell phone, would you?"

The man’s gaze zeroed in on the ruby glasses and Logan felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. This was a predator on his level: a killer assessing how to defeat the enemy. This was his den and those traps were his way of warning off visitors. They were in danger and Logan could practically smell it around them.

"Nope," came the genial response, "but maybe I can radio for the state police to come rescue you." The man took a visual inventory of the condition of their clothes. "You do need rescuing, I take it? Were you in that crash I heard yesterday afternoon?"

"We were not in a crash," said Piotr, "but I did hear that noise, too."

Logan stifled a small grin. It was the truth but not the whole truth. Pete was learning fast.

"We could use some water and some food while we’re waiting for the police," Logan offered. He glanced around and pointed to the woodpile by the trailer. "How about I chop some wood for you in exchange?"

Anyone knowing Logan would have suspected his nice voice and generous offering but the man seemed taken with the idea, almost amused by it.

"Well, now that’s an idea! I think that will do nicely, thanky sir." He waved toward a rickety table and bench near where they stood. "You other two take a load off while I use the radio and get you a drink."

He disappeared into the trailer and Scott immediately hissed, "What are you up to?"

"How are the police going to get by the tripwires, One-eye? He’s going to call his regular visitors, not help for us. I’m going to make sure I’m close enough to him to take action if I need to."

"We’ll take the water and food and get going."

Logan shook his head. "You’re still not thinking straight and I’m beginning to worry about that bump on your head. He’s not going to let us leave. This is his den and we’re trespassers. Think about it. Those weren’t fireworks hooked up to those tripwires, that was C-4. He’s a nut and we’ll be lucky if all we get is water."

Disgusted with the situation, Logan walked over and picked up the axe, taking out his aggression on the logs that needed splitting. Scott and Piotr sat gingerly on the bench, hoping it would hold them.

"He’s right, Scott. You have not been making the kind of decisions you normally…"

"Alright, Piotr. I get the picture. I still think those tripwires are to keep out trespassers and, yes, this guy may be a nutty recluse but he has the water we need. Let’s take what we can get and run with it."

"I’ll run pretty fast, then," quipped the Russian.

Logan nodded softly to himself when he overheard Piotr’s words. He would see to it that they could get away from this situation safely he thought as he gripped the axe firmly. Damn sure.

The redneck came back out a few minutes later with a pleasant, toothy grin on his face as he carried a tray covered by a fairly long blue cloth with four full glasses perched on it down the three steps of the trailer. Logan immediately caught the whiff of a firearm in the air. The man had armed himself and it didn’t take Logan long to figure out it was tucked in front, behind his belt, hidden by the cloth.

"Here’s the water. I’m cooking up something; hope you like chili." He set a glass down on a nearby stump. "If you wait a minute, I can deliver the rest of these glasses to your friends and we can toast your rescue together."

The suggestion, delivered in an extremely carefree way, caused Logan’s suspicions to rise instantly. Why wait and drink together? The glass was tempting but Logan was loath to trust the stranger. His smile was not genuine and the gun tucked in his belt hidden by the tray was not a good sign. There wasn’t any odor of chili in the air, either.

As soon as the man’s back was turned, Logan took a couple of steps and picked up the offered drink. He sniffed the glass, trying to detect any additional chemicals other than water but none was evident. Maybe it was all in his head. He glanced at the other two mutants; the man was going to serve them the same stuff and had a hidden gun. Was the man just a nut? Or was something else going on? Were the others in danger? What if the water was drugged? Or poisoned? He was the only one who could survive if the stuff was lethal but he had to hurry if he wanted to find out. The man was already walking toward them quickly. Against his better judgment, Logan downed the glass in a matter of seconds.

"How much?"

Startled, the young man shot out of his chair on the porch. He had only dozed off for a second, he thought. No business for a week and now he didn’t have time for a nap. The tall redhead was a looker and he saw the two she was with were every bit as wonderful to stare at, too.

"You want a boat?" he asked stupidly. Three women such as these were the stuff of dreams and he found he couldn’t think right.

"Did the others want boats?"

The question drilled gently into his head and he found his promise of secrecy fading as he told the redheaded beauty everything about the men. Anything to please her. Her eyes became his whole world and he smiled at her in wonder. As she left in his last boat, he waved, moving as if he were swimming in a thick cloud of love and acceptance.

His chair welcomed him and it wasn’t long before he believed she had been a dream. After all, he didn’t have that many boats, did he? She couldn’t have taken one because he only had four and Weiderman had taken three of them. He still had the one he thought as he looked over at the empty dock. It was tied just where it should be, to his eyes.

Kitty looked back over her shoulder at the man sprawled vacantly in the chair on the porch. "I’m glad you’ve never used that mind trick on us, Jean. That’s just too damn scary."

Scott had seen Logan sniff the water and he could almost read the look on Logan’s face when he glanced their way; he was going to chance a drink to make sure it was okay for them. Biting his tongue in recognition of Logan’s deadly logic, Scott tensed, hoping against hope that Logan’s senses were right about the water. They weren’t. He watched in horror as the glass slipped from Logan’s hand and shattered on the stump even as Logan’s other hand came up and, with deadly speed, swung the axe, letting go at a critical moment so that it whirled in the air and sank deep into the man’s back. The redneck fell on his knees and then pitched forward, tray and contents flying upward then raining back down in front of the man as he lay face down in the grass. He never knew what hit him and never would. Before Scott could clear the table, Logan had fallen to his knees.

"Piotr! Ransack that trailer for water! Now!" Scott slid in the grass and ended up on his knees in front of Logan as Piotr yanked the door off its hinges in his haste. "Logan! Damn it, you idiot! Why the hell did you have to be right?" He shook the older man’s shoulders.

Logan didn’t respond. There was a blank look on his face that scared Scott worse than if he had been grimacing in pain. Logan’s head started to loll and Scott grabbed it with both hands as he tried to look in his eyes. There was a low growl and Scott realized he was not in a good position. Before he could move, two strong hands snaked up and gripped his forearms so tightly Scott nearly cried out. Slowly metal oozed out of Logan’s hands and Scott had an up-close and personal view of six deadly, razor-sharp adamantium blades.

Fighting to keep his heartbeat down and his fear at bay, Scott took some calming breaths. "Logan, it’s me, Scott," he said loudly. "Don’t move."

Logan frowned. "Scott? I can’t see you; something’s wrong with my eyes."

"I’m right in front of you and you’re holding my arms. Your claws are inches away from my face and throat."

Carefully, Logan let go of Scott, locking his arms in place so his hands did not move. "Are you clear?" When Scott answered affirmatively, he pulled the claws back in. He then dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Why are you bleeding?"

Surprised, Scott looked down for a second and realized some of the glass fragments had sliced into his pants and into his knee. "I just am. Do you remember what you did with the axe?"

Logan shook his head, blinking rapidly. "That’s better," he said as his eyes focused again. "Don’t tell me I missed him at that range." He rolled his neck and looked directly at Scott. "Don’t give me a lecture, One-eye; there was something in that water and he had a gun hidden on him. I meant to kill him. End of story." Logan sat back on his heels and ran a hand absently through his hair. "That stuff had quite a kick."

Scott held up a hand. "You remember what you said about making stupid decisions and seeing things clearly? How many fingers am I holding up?"

Logan glanced at the single middle digit. "Ha, ha. I get the point." Then his face grew serious. "Don’t get that close next time. Not if I’m out of it."

"I wasn’t thinking about the danger," Scott admitted. "In fact, I wasn’t thinking on any of this."

Piotr exited the trailer, taking the three steps down in one leap as he quickly made it over to the others. "There are boxes everywhere in there and lots of wires. I did not want to open one and have it blow up our chances to find the water. I found this in the little kitchen, though. I think it is what he poured in the glasses." Scott took the jug from him as he continued. "Someone was on the radio in there. He said to keep ‘feebee’ on ice until he gets here. He said they were delayed by some log and to not forget he wanted to take care of the three personally." Piotr frowned. "What is a ‘feebee’?"

"It’s slang for FBI." Logan held out a hand for the jug but Scott was too busy looking at the five letters on it to see. "Did you say three?" Logan looked back up at Piotr. "I wonder if this idiot thought we were with the government?"

"I don’t know what it says," Scott said as he slowly handed the jug to Logan. "But why fear the FBI? What else did the man on the radio say?"

"Not much, just that he would be here in a few minutes. If the FBI is ‘feebee’, what does that make the CIA? What are they called?"

"Spooks," Logan answered as he studied the container. "Now where have I seen those letters before?"

"Spook? Like in a ghost? That is what the man on the radio called this man. Spook" Scott paled and sank to a seated position. Piotr knelt down beside him. "What is it, Scott? How is your head?" Logan looked up, concerned. "Do you want me to carry you?"

"Spook? Oh, shit," Scott said before he relayed what Weidermann had said in his office. "That means this guy was Weidermann’s henchman, too, just like the man on the beach. Weidermann must have been the one on the radio. He’s coming out here thinking Spook has three men from the FBI, us. What I can’t figure is, if this man supplied stuff to the camera man and the camera man delivered things to Weidermann, what were they up to?"

Logan half crushed the jug to the astonishment of the others. His eyes glazed for a moment and his facial features hardened into a stone-like mask. Scott felt a sharp chill of danger race up his spine and opened his mouth to ask why but Logan beat him to it with a question of his own.

"You said the man on the radio would be here any minute, right?" asked Logan in an ice-cold voice. When Piotr nodded mutely, he turned to Scott. "I have an idea."

(Baa, baa, black sheep, have you any wool?)

Scott waited in the bushes, mentally reviewing Logan’s plan, which was simple but effective. He and Piotr, positioned at the entry point of the trip wire area, had left the silly string remnants as testament to their previous passage. Per Logan, Weidermann was probably going to post a guard at this end of the passage, follow the trail to Spook’s place, and find…nothing as they had stashed Spook’s body in some brush behind the trailer. Logan remained hidden at the other end of the trip wire section. Once Weidermann and his friends had passed, he was going to pick up the silly string and leave no trial for them to follow, effectively trapping Weidermann there until they could get away.

Not a bad plan either, mused Scott. He was glad to see Logan find a non-lethal means of containing the enemy. Scott’s only argument had been who to leave behind to pick up the trail. Piotr voted for himself because he could change and the mines wouldn’t hurt him if they went off. Logan shot that down immediately saying that one glimpse of metal was enough to clue Weidermann in to the presence of mutants and then all hell would break loose. He wouldn’t even listen to Scott’s argument of leadership, either. Finally, Scott admitted that Logan was the best man for the job but made him promise not to get near Weidermann. Reluctantly, Logan had given his word. Now all they had to do was wait, thought Scott grimly as he shifted his feet. He didn’t have to wait long. Within minutes, a group of men came down the trail, bent on getting their hands on some FBI agents.

"Where the hell’s the string?" roared Weidermann when a search of the hollow tree turned up nothing.

"Look, boss. They must have used it and taken it with them," pointed out one particularly bright member of the group.

"Good eyes, Cody. You stay here and guard our back trail. Radio if you need anything," said Weidermann. "The rest of us will follow their trail. Leave those three to me," he sneered. "I want to make damn sure they get what’s coming to them."

There was an ominous chuckle and all moved down the leafy tunnel save one. Scott waited a few minutes and then chanced a short, soft whistle. The man spun on his heel and stared at the bushes intently. Again there was a soft whistle and Scott watched the kid unsnap the holster of his pistol, his attention riveted on Scott’s position. What the young guard didn’t see was the large man coming up behind him from the opposite side of the trail. There was a gentle blow to the back of the skull and ‘Cody’ fell face forward on the forest floor.

"What now?" Piotr asked as he dragged the unconscious man to the bushes where Scott had been hiding.

"We secure the boats, trashing all but the one we want to use," replied Scott as he tied the young man’s hands and feet and gagged him with a handkerchief. "Logan will catch up in a minute."

"Won’t there be a guard?"

"Not with that dock."

"They definitely passed this way," stated Kitty. "They hacked up this log in a hurry."

Wooden debris floated everywhere in the water. Jean cut the motor for a minute and all listened for the sounds of the other boats.

"Ah can’t hear them now. They must be further on ahead," said Marie. She bent over and pushed the remains of the log out of their way. "At least this slowed them down. Maybe we could slow them down even more."

"We have to catch up to them first," commented Jean. "Before..."

They all finished the sentence mentally. They had seen the empty boxes in the pickups and Marie had told them what the man said about Weidermann hunting down a problem.

"Ah can fly on ahead…"

"Ahead of what?" Jean’s voice cracked with emotion. "We don’t have a clue where we’re going in this mess. All we can do is follow and hope we get there before the worst happens."

The clearing was empty. Weidermann motioned for his men to search the area thoroughly but all they found was a bloody axe, some broken glass, and a tray.

"Should I look in the trailer, boss?"

"Only if you want to get killed," snarled Weidermann. This whole situation was getting worse by the minute. "Ron, you and Dwight get back to the boats. Even if they got past Spook they still need a way out of here and I’m not about to let those bastards get away." He snagged a radio from one of the men. "Cody? Cody, don’t let anyone get past you. Cody?"

"Boss! The string’s gone! How are we gonna get to the boats?"

Weidermann just managed to control his temper before he smashed the radio. "How the hell do you think we’re going to get back?" His face twisted with an intense rage his men had never seen before. "I’m going to go down that trail and shoot those motherfuckers down if it’s the last thing I do. Who’s with me?" There was a pause and Weidermann’s scowl deepened. "Let’s put it this way, who goes with me and who stays here with Spook and the green mutant?"

Several eyes nervously strayed to the perimeter of the clearing and the dense forest beyond. No one had found Spook’s body and Spook’s last reports put the green man at close to eight feet tall and in the area.

"We’re with you, boss. We’ll follow you."

Weidermann turned and led the way to the trail. As he delicately stepped over the first of the invisible tripwires, a small chill ran up his spine. For a second his heart flipped and he momentarily considered using Spook’s radio to get in touch with Ben. Then his anger overrode his mind and his fists clenched at the thought of defeat and humiliation at the hands of the enemy. There would be no surrender. He would get out of here, track down the three agents, and enjoy killing them as much as the mutant scum he usually hunted.

Logan threw the remnants of the foam string under a bush and quickly found the guard Scott and Piotr had stashed under a squat palm. He hauled the man out by the ankle and dragged him up on his knees. The kid’s eyes opened wide in fright and Logan stifled his normal reaction to the scent of fear. His adrenaline was already at peak levels since he figured out what the camera man had been supplying Weidermann with.

He popped the claws out on one hand and sliced the gag off the man with a flick of his wrist. "Where are they? What did he do with them?" His voice didn’t sound right even to his own ears but he was too intent on finding out what the camera man had done with that GHB Spook supplied him with to notice. "Talk!"

To his surprise the man started rambling on and on about mutants. His eyes focused solely on the blades and Logan had the horrible feeling that the sight of them had pushed the kid’s sanity over the edge. Logan retracted them and shook him but the young man kept on babbling.

"…Weidermann’s idea, not mine! He’s crazy! He says evolution is taking a bad turn and if we don’t stop it, mutants will run the world. He says we’ve got to kill them. I didn’t want to…honest! Don’t kill me! I’ll tell you everything! He brings them out here and plays with them like a cat with a mouse. Sometimes he lets them go and then we track them. Sometimes he tortures them at Spook’s place. I swear mister that’s all I know. I only killed one of them and that was an accident. Well, there was one more but that was an accident, too. Please! You’ve got to believe me! Don’t kill me! I didn’t…"

Logan struck out savagely and the lanky kid slumped to the ground, out cold from the metal-laden blow. Of all the rotten times to get a hold of a coward. Now he would have to ask Weidermann himself. That meant waiting. If Scott figured it out, he’d be back up the trail in no time and might hear what Weidermann had to say. That was the last thing Logan wanted.

He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. His instincts were at war with his reason and he had to act rationally if he wanted the truth. Part of him knew a dart could not penetrate Marie’s skin and Kitty would not be as trusting as Jean when it came to a strange man but the other part vividly reminded him how undetectable GHB was. Marie and the others could drink it down before realizing what had happened. If so, if the camera man really was using GHB to deliver the women, Weidermann had already proven he was a killer and Logan felt the blood pound in his head at the thought of Marie, Kitty, and Jean in the hands of someone like that.

He whirled around at the faint noise behind him and stopped. There it stood in living color, the big green man. Logan snarled. The timing couldn’t have been worse.

"Get the hell out of here! Men are coming that would love to shoot you and nail your hide to their wall."

The thing didn’t move. For all its size and ferocity, Logan found he was ready to take it on if only to get it out of here and he lashed out with all blades extended. "Go! I don’t have time for this! Get going! They’ll be here any minute!" To his surprise, the thing backed up a step with a funny look on its face. "Take a hike!" Logan lunged and the hulking form slowly backed up further eventually disappearing into the surrounding treeline. It had not feared him so Logan wasn’t sure what made it go away, but he was glad to be rid of the added complication, nonetheless.

There was a noise on the trail and Logan turned to meet it. He cut the cords off the unconscious man and held him up by his neck and the back of his belt. Weidermann had better be in the mood to talk, he thought to himself. Marie’s face swam before his eyes and he blinked hard, trying to shake the thought of what someone could do to her while she was in a drugged and helpless state. He would not give into the rage, he vowed to himself. Not until he knew.

"What the hell is taking Logan so long?" asked Scott as he rubbed his battered and aching temple gingerly. "We need to get out of here while Weidermann is still trapped at Spook’s place."

Avoiding the deadly dock, Piotr had waded out into the creek and was pushing the second of the two boats they were scuttling down under the water. "Cyclops, will this do?"

"Yes," said Scott. Then he continued, "Logan’s up to something. Why did he crush Spook’s jug?"

"I don’t know," answered Piotr as he crawled up the bank and grabbed the shirt Scott handed him. "I still think I should have stayed behind. Logan has been hurt many times and he is not drinking or eating right. He did not meet my eyes when I asked him if he was okay. I am not liking this at all." Piotr shrugged the shirt over his broad shoulders and hauled it over his head. "He would be badly hurt if a mine went off."

"More than one would go off," commented Scott. "I noticed they were planted way too close together. If one of them went off, the rest of them would and the whole trail would become a deathtrap. I think that’s what Spook intended."

Piotr thought about the aggressive little man who lorded over the four Mexican men. A man like that would not wait for help; he would feel he could walk down the path, string or no string. "Scott, what if Weidermann thought he could make it? What if he and his men are arrogant people to think they can walk down the trail without string? What if Logan was hurt by that poison more than we thought and he cannot get away in time and they catch him?"

"I get you." Scott quickly surveyed the creek then glanced back to the trail. "Let’s go get Logan before…"

A gunshot echoed through the trees. Scott took off down the trail, heedless of the danger, but was shaken almost to his knees by the thunder of sound and vibration that followed.

"No!"

"Logan!"

(…Ashes to ashes, we all fall down)

Weidermann looked up from watching his step on the trail. Damn that Spook anyway, he thought, him and his paranoid traps. At least his man was still on the job at the end of the trail. He waved at the young man.

"What the hell happened to your radio, Cody? I’ve been calling you for the past five minutes. Spook’s missing and the string’s gone…" Weidermann realized Cody was not standing by himself. An arm was around his neck and a half-hidden face showed behind his head. It was the dangerous one, the one with the sideburns. Weidermann felt his anger rise. "Put him down, asshole!"

"What happened to the women? Just what the hell did your camera man do?" The tone was low and menacing.

Weidermann grinned. There was only one of them. He still had the upper hand. "They’re in a safe place out of your jurisdiction." He moved forward carefully and waved for his remaining men to fan out behind him. The idiot hadn’t even taken Cody’s weapon out of his holster. "I’ll admit I’m not normally into white slavery but I had an offer that made it too good to pass up and I’m willing to try anything for that much money." He smiled viciously. "Not the kind of thing I want to get around though. The last thing I need is the FBI crawling up my ass. But you won’t live to tell the tale, G-man." All his men were behind him now and he felt strength from their numbers. "I’m going to kill you."

"If you harmed any one of them…"

"You’ll what? It’s not like we hurt them. In fact, I bet they enjoyed it. Hell, they weren’t virgins when we got them so there’s no harm done. They were good, too. I’ll make a fortune off of them." Weidermann frowned. He could have sworn a low savage growl came from the agent, not the reaction he was looking for. "As I said, you’re time’s up. They’ll never even find your body and I’ll be long gone and enjoying the scenery on the Yucatan coast by the time anyone figures out what happened." Again the reaction was not what he expected. Far from scared, the man stood there, not moving, and the growl was intensifying. Suddenly nervous, Weidermann tried to boost his own confidence. "Did you hear me? You aren’t going to leave here alive. We’ll hunt down the other two. They can’t have gone far. The three of you will die and I’ll be on my way." This idiot didn’t seem to understand the danger he was in so Weidermann lifted his pistol. "See you in hell, asshole."

There was a strange noise and Cody’s unconscious form twitched. Three red spots appeared on the front of his shirt and grew in size, spilling down his chest. Dead now, Cody sank to his knees, the dangerous one holding his body up by the collar of his shirt. Now that he could see him clearly, Weidermann stood in shock. Three knives studded the man’s fist, three deadly, bloody knives. Slowly two of the knives melted back into the flesh of the man’s hand leaving the middle one standing alone.

"You first." The voice didn’t even sound human.

When he released Cody, the man dove backward and Weidermann suddenly realized what was directly in front of the falling body: a tripwire. Cody’s body was falling on a tripwire!

"No!" he screamed as his hand convulsed on the trigger.

Jean held a hand up and shaded her eyes from the sunlight shafting down through the treetops. No doubt about it, they had come to a division in the creek and there was no telling which waterway the men had taken. Frustrated, she let out a groan of impatience and decided to let down her shields.

"Ah can work my way through the trees…," offered Marie.

"No. They’ll shoot at you and we don’t know that bullets can’t penetrate your skin. I’m not going to risk it. Hold still, I’m going to ‘search’."

Marie’s eyes hardened. "Jean, we’ve come all this way. Those bastards are up ahead somewhere, hunting down the men we love. Ah’m not going to sit on my ass and…"

"Wait!" Kitty quickly stood in the boat, causing it to rock dangerously. "Was that a gunshot?"

There was a second of silence followed by a staccato of explosions that ripped through the forest ahead of them to the right.

"Come on!" Jean gunned the motor and Kitty fell back against Rogue as the boat sped toward its destination.

The two men rounded the turn in the path that led to the tripwire area at a run but had to stop due to the haze of choking smoke that smothered their way.

"We’ve got to find him!" Piotr coughed out as he held up an arm and moved forward.

Through the smoke, Scott noticed something large moving toward them and he grabbed Piotr and dug in his heels, trying to pull the younger man back. Surprised, Piotr looked behind him and Scott pointed. Facing forward again, Piotr suddenly found himself almost flat against a large green wall. Only it wasn’t a wall at all, but the smooth chest of a man that towered over the seven-foot-tall Russian by almost two feet.

Staggering backward, Piotr didn’t notice at first that the massively muscled man was carrying something. Although the sight of him startled Scott and Piotr, he did not seem as concerned about them and simply sidestepped them on his trek away from the tremendously damaged area of the forest behind him. As he passed, they both recognized the limp form slung over the stranger’s shoulder.

"Logan!" Scott quickly maneuvered himself in front of the huge man. "Wait! That’s our friend! Put him down, he’s badly hurt!"

The giant glared down at Scott and brushed him aside. "Little hairy man will heal," rumbled a deep voice that seemed to resonate around them.

Scott called out, "Please? I don’t want to hurt you."

That stopped the giant and he turned on a heel to face the tiny man that threatened him so politely.

Piotr went metallic and stood beside Scott. "Thank you for helping our friend out of there but now you must put him down. He is not healing as he should."

Logan had obviously been hit by some of the shrapnel that had exploded out of the mines and he was still bleeding from his wounds, something that had both of his friends extremely concerned.

"Little hairy man will heal," the man repeated, not seeming the least troubled by the sight of a metal man.

"How do you know?" asked Scott.

The giant considered that for a moment. "Fight little hairy man before."

"Please put him down," Scott repeated. He cringed when the giant shrugged and dropped Logan like a sack of potatoes. "What do you mean you fought him before?" Scott asked as he knelt down and tried to check Logan’s vitals. "When was this?" He glanced up and realized the man’s features had turned openly hostile.

"Puny humans send little hairy man."

Obviously this creature had nothing but contempt for men but Scott continued to fish for information. "To kill you?" There was a nod. "And you stopped him? You beat him? Why save him now if he tried to kill you before?" The huge green man glared at Scott but said nothing so Scott bet on a hunch. "He healed, didn’t he? And then he tried to save you from them? What happened? Did he take on the men so you could get away?"

"Puny humans die. More puny humans come," rumbled the man.

Scott’s lip curled in disgust. "And they recaptured him. You were free and he was back in slavery. Is that why you picked him up now? To make sure they didn’t get him again. Nice thought, but a little late."

The giant took a step forward, bristling with anger and Scott could clearly see that he seemed, if possible, even bigger than before. His rage must feed his strength.

Scott stood up and stood his ground. "What’s your name? Are you a mutant?"

"Not mutant."

"Well, not-a-mutant, we have something in common. ‘Little hairy man’ here has saved my life, too. But I’m willing to bet I care a lot more about what happens to him than you do. I don’t want to hurt you but I want you to know that I’ll fight to keep him safe. Understand? I help people like him that have been abused by humans. He helps me help them. I need him. I’m taking him with us. If you need our help, we can take you with us, too."

Piotr started to object but the huge man beat him to it.

"Red-eye man fight?" There was a throaty rumble. "No. Red-eye man not know Hulk watch but little hairy man did." Scott could hear the contempt in the giant’s voice but didn’t respond. "Hulk meet little hairy man again."

With that, the man turned and hopped a few feet away. The force of the jolt shook the ground and Scott lost his balance and hit the forest floor. At almost the same instant he landed, the brute then leaped and, to their surprise, he shot into the air and disappeared over the treetops. The shaking ground woke Logan, who was on his feet in a flash, claws out and ready for business. Realizing only Scott and Piotr were near him, he pulled in the blades and staggered a little as he tried to wipe the blood out of his eyes. Piotr quickly moved forward and grabbed him to prevent a fall.

‘Logan, the green man was here!" Piotr exclaimed. "You should have seen him!"

"What happened? Why did the mines explode?" asked Scott.

Logan’s expression was a strange mixture of pain and anger. "We have to get to a phone and call the mansion."

"We have to call the women first. Kitty will be besides herself," argued Piotr.

There was a sudden sound of brush crashing off to one side of the trail. Logan’s nostrils flared, then his features changed dramatically and a huge grin lit up his face to the astonishment of the others.

"What is it?" Scott tensed, ready for another encounter with the ‘Hulk’ man.

"The cavalry."

A final tree fell and the dust settled as the three ladies emerged from the wilderness. There was a cry of relief and Kitty and Jean raced into the outstretched arms of their men. Rogue, seeing Logan, began to cry with happiness but did not come forward and he guessed from the shirt and gloves she was wearing why she hesitated to get near him. He walked slowly toward her, his heart grateful just for the sight of her and he smiled at her tear-streaked face.

"I love you," he said as he finally stood in front of her.

"Ah love you, too. Oh, God, Logan, Ah was so worried. Ah couldn’t keep my mutation off." Her arms came up but she forced herself to lower them. "Ah can’t even hug you," she said, eyeing the vast amount of bare and blood-smeared skin he was showing.

He knelt down in front of her and held out his arms. "Come here." She clutched his head to her chest and he encircled her hips with strong, loving arms. "You can always hug me."

She felt a peace settle over her and her heart unclenched with the warmth he lent to her. There was nothing to worry about now; they were together and could face anything. She kissed him on top of his head and, before she knew it, she was on her knees as well with his lips passionately claiming hers. The switch was off. There was no more fear.

"Some cavalry we turned out to be," said Kitty from her perch in Piotr’s arms. "You know, I can walk on my own."

"I want to carry you," said Piotr simply.

Jean shook her head and tenderly kissed Scott’s bruised temple. "I don’t know how we’re going to get out of here. I guess I’ll have to hit the button on my watch so the jet can come get us tonight."

"No, we need to get out of here now before something else happens. Trust me, you don’t want to stay in this place. Wait a minute, how did you get here, then, if not by boat?" asked Scott. "Rogue fly you in?"

"No," confessed Kitty. "We had a boat but Jean was in too much of a hurry to land it right. We rammed it right into a stump on the bank of the creek and Rogue jumped out and started plowing her way through the forest. We heard the explosion and thought…" She clutched Piotr to her tightly for a minute. "Anyway, we didn’t know what we would find."

"We have a boat and we’d better get going," offered Scott as they strode around the last bend in the path. "I suppose we need to call the authorities anonymously and let them have Weidermann."

"What’s left of him," said Logan grimly. "They’re all dead."

There was a moment of silence while the others digested this bit of information. As they cleared the forest, the dock came into view.

"We didn’t come far enough then," said Jean. "We didn’t see this."

"Good thing, too. It’s wired with a bomb." Piotr let Kitty down and snagged the line he had tied to a stump near the dock. "Okay, Kat, I will hop you in," he said as he lifted her into the boat.

"We should blow it up so no one else gets hurt," Scott said as he helped Jean in the boat. "Piotr, grab a rock. We can set it off from a distance. Once we get down the creek, can we get back to the four-plex?"

"Yep," Marie said as she took off the flannel shirt. "Here, sugar, put this on. We brought the SUV and the parts from the warehouse." She picked up the backpack in the bottom of the boat. "Let me guess, you saved them rather than put them on." Logan nodded absently and she sat next to him and kissed him, then tucked his head on her shoulder. "Next time…"

"Next time put some food in the backpack," Scott said ruefully as he pushed the front of the boat off the bank and hopped in with one neat motion. "Thanks, Rogue. The bag was a lifesaver, literally. How did you get our stuff back?" He nodded to Jean who started the motor and turned them downstream.

"Ah just had a talk with the last man at the warehouse," explained Marie. "Ah told him Ah knew about Caffrey, Ah was looking for my sister, and Ah wanted a piece of Weidermann. Ah told him Ah’d take the SUV as a down payment for the pain and anguish he caused our family and he told me to help myself before he skedaddled out the door. Once he was gone, Jean told me to grab the packages marked ‘Gilchrist’."

"Sister?" Scott exchanged a glance with Jean.

She sighed. "Weidermann and Caffrey, the camera man, had a business exchange going. Caffrey supplied Weidermann with women in exchange for money and drugs. There are several co-eds missing and we need to call the Professor. Maybe he can track them. I was hoping to ‘read’ Weidermann so we could find them." Jean glanced over at Logan who hadn’t moved from Rogue’s embrace. "Are you sure he’s dead, Logan?"

"I’m sure. He held the women somewhere on the Yucatan coast," muttered Logan. "Check Weidermann’s backtrail. Have Bobby check his financial records. I bet he owned property there."

Scott had been watching the creek behind them and he reached over and tapped Piotr on the shoulder. "Now."

Piotr lobbed the rock over Jean’s head and his aim was true. The dock blew up, throwing debris all over where they had been.

Marie noticed Logan didn’t react and eased his head up off her shoulder with her hand as she turned and checked his face. He was fast asleep.

(rub a dub dub, three men in a tub, and who do you think they be?)

The water lapped softly against the sides of the boat. Rays of dawning sunlight streaked across the sky promising fair weather and calm seas.

"I can’t believe you dragged us out of bed this early just to go fishing, Scott," yawned Jean as she baited her hook. "We could have slept in you know. Supermarkets carry fish."

"Where’s the fun in that?" he chuckled in reply. "Besides, we lounged around the four-plex all day yesterday to recuperate from the day before. This is our vacation, you know. We can’t waste it."

Kitty managed to cast her line out with difficulty owing to Piotr’s over enthusiastic help of holding her in his lap for security. "I thought the Professor gave us another three days off. He did, didn’t he?"

Strong arms held Kitty tight as Piotr nibbled on her neck. "Da, my little Katerine. And how would you like to spend the time, eh? Anything as long as I get to hold you."

"You won’t feel that way once she catches a fish and starts to smell like one," laughed Marie. "Ah hope y’all don’t mind if Ah come out the winner in this fishing contest."

Jean clicked her tongue reprovingly. "Now, now. You know the rules. It’s men against women. Whoever catches the most does not have to cook."

"Seeing as how I’m the only man fishing at the moment, I resent the contest." Scott eyed his line hopefully. "Piotr’s busy fishing for the wrong catch and nature boy’s taking a nap."

Marie tossed her ponytail as she took a peek over her shoulder at Logan. Clad only in a pair of jeans with a battered straw hat covering his face, his bare feet stretched out and his hands finger-clasped over his flat stomach, it was hard to tell if Logan was just lounging in the low folding chair or sleeping. "Ah say let him rest. After all he’s been through…"

She quickly checked to make sure the captain of the fishing boat was still well forward in the bow area. He was not one to mingle with his paying guests, preferring to take a snooze of his own propped on the bow of the converted commercial fishing boat. He had found it more lucrative to quit the competition in the trenches for the ambiance of fishing tours but made it clear to his passengers that amateurs were beneath his contempt. That was fine with the X-Men. If he wasn’t hanging around them, they were able to be a little freer with their conversations.

"I can’t figure out why he found out about those women," said Piotr.

"You mean how," corrected Jean.

"No, why. I can figure out how. I saw how that man treated the ones he figured to be beneath him. He would have told Logan if Logan had only asked him because he would have been sure to think that he would have gotten away with anything. The man was unbelievable."

Scott smiled absently at Piotr’s favorite word but his mind began to whirl with possibilities. Why did Logan ask about the women when none of them knew that women were missing?

"Well the fact that he kidnapped women and was going to sell them only proves what kind of a…" Kitty paused, searching for the right word.

"Ah know. As my mama used to say, there are some people you just can’t put a name to in polite society," Marie intoned, her voice dripping with southern scorn.

Jean smiled softly. "The Professor wiped the women’s memories of the kidnapping. All they can remember is that Caffrey drugged them and held them somewhere. The Grand Jury will probably indict him soon."

"Ah’m surprised the Professor went with them on the jet," said Marie. "But Ah’m glad he did. Ah bet he took out the guards, too."

"No one was hurt," agreed Jean. "Ororo said it was a beautiful place on the coast. Bobby found it through a quick audit of Weidermann’s records. He’s quite an accountant, you know. Believe it or not, he found all of Weidermann’s illegal activities in military surplus and chemicals."

"How did the camera man catch the women, again?" asked Scott in a thoughtful voice.

"Jean found some vials that dropped out of his pocket when you tore his jacket," said Kitty.

"I knew about that."

"Then she figured out what was in them while we were eating ice cream," said Marie.

"Yes," admitted Jean as she reeled in yet another empty hook. "I can’t believe it took me that long to figure out that the letters were NaGHB. Then these two convinced me how dangerous it was and what Caffrey, or the camera man, was probably using it for." She looked at the bait box. "Can someone else do this for me? I seem to keep losing my bait."

"Ah will," offered Marie.

"It’s a date rape drug," explained Kitty to a blank-faced Piotr. "Logan taught us it can knock you out and you don’t remember what a guy does with you or to you."

There was a sharp snap. They all looked over at Scott. His line had broken and he stood there, hands clenched on the pole as he gazed out over the water.

"Lover, something took your hook. You need to let the line out next time," murmured Jean soothingly. She cocked her head. "Scott?"

"I need a drink," he muttered unexpectedly and he stowed the pole in a holder before making his way over to the cooler next to Logan.

Squatting, he lifted the lid and presumably started looking for a drink before he whispered, "Was it an accident? Or did you kill Weidermann on purpose?"

"I figured you’d ask sooner or later," Logan responded softly. "Yes and no."

"Why didn’t you tell me?" Scott asked quietly, pulling out a soda and taking a seat on top of the cooler. "You crushed the jug because you thought he’d used GHB on our ladies, right?"

Logan sighed and nodded. "I thought, from what you said, that the camera man had used GHB on them to get the camera back. While Weidermann was caught in the tripwires but thought he still had the situation under his control, I decided to make sure he hadn’t hurt our women. Do you want to know what he said?"

Scott nodded, unsure of what he was about to hear. When Logan repeated Weidermann’s answer, word for word, and got to the part about no harm done since they weren’t virgins, he crushed the can of soda.

"Oh my God…"

"Yeah. I didn’t know he was talking about other women so I don’t remember much after that. I lost it and he died. The only thing I remember thinking was to drop to the ground so the mines wouldn’t get me so badly that I couldn’t tell you where they were."

Scott sat there for a moment, soda dripping from his hand. What would he have done if he had heard that? He glanced over at Rogue who had finished baiting Jean’s hook and patted her on the back, her bare hand against Jean’s shoulder. She had just learned how to touch and was enjoying the newfound freedom. If a forceful rape had taken that wonderful new lease on life from her, there was nothing on Earth that could have held Logan back. Scott was sympathetic, knowing that a good part of Rogue’s problem with controlling her mutation stemmed from childhood sexual abuse. To be abused yet again would be too much for her. Logan had killed Weidermann in retribution, but the rape had not occurred and now Scott found this weighed on his conscience.

Weidermann had not deserved to die, had he? The question was horrible to ask but, at the same time, Scott had a flash back memory of Weidermann’s ‘trophy rack.’ It had indicated right off the bat what kind of a man they had been dealing with. It was his turn to sigh as his reasoning mind wrestled with his unwavering conscience. Killing someone in self-defense was one thing. Blowing them to pieces on purpose, no matter what the motivation, was something else. Would he have acted any differently if he had been in the same situation?

As if reading his mind, Logan raised the hat just enough for Scott to see the flinty look in his eyes. "How does it feel to murder someone, Scott?" he growled.

"I don’t know. I never have."

Logan lowered the hat. "Exactly. Weidermann was a murderer and you aren’t. Let’s keep it that way."

Scott suddenly saw the situation clearly. Logan hadn’t said what he was thinking on purpose. If he had, Scott would have made sure to be there when Logan asked those questions and he would have heard what Logan did. There was every chance, with his skull all busted up and his mind not working right, that he would have blown Weidermann away with a single glance and regretted it afterward for the rest of his life. Logan hadn’t just looked after Scott physically, he had also watched out for his soul. Just the thought of that kind of loyalty from someone who didn’t even have a clue what a friend was shook Scott deeply and he made a mental note to tell Jean never to make Logan give his word like that again.

He remembered what Logan had done after the Statue of Liberty incident and he again glanced at Rogue. Logan had been willing to give everything for her, for a love he didn’t even realize he had then. What would he do now that he knew he loved Rogue? Scott shuddered. Sometimes Logan was scary as hell.

"How can you claim to be such a bad guy when you pull shit like this?"

"I’m sure Weidermann would agree with me," Logan drawled. "The way I was feeling at that moment, I wanted to follow him to hell and help ream his ass with a pitchfork."

Scott slowly wiped up the mess and disposed of the can. "So you think you’re headed for hell, huh? Want to bet?"

"You haven’t seen my nightmares. I’m still wondering if the green man was from one of them. Look what kind of a guardian angel I get - something called the ‘Hulk.’"

"I never said he was your guardian angel and you’re changing the subject. I want you to look at Rogue and tell me you’re headed for hell," said Scott. "Go ahead, I dare you."

There was a mock snore from under the hat.

"Okay, I’ll ask you another question, then. Why aren’t you helping me catch fish for dinner if you’re such a badass?"

"Hmmm, throw a hook in the water and wait for a fish to grab it ‘cause it’s hungry. Where’s the sport in that?" asked Logan dryly. "If you really want to hunt a fish, take it to their level."

"You take it to their level. I’m going to try to salvage our honor." He stood and swayed with the rocking of the boat. "I’m not cooking fish tonight. My head still hurts."

Logan frowned and raised the hat. He scanned the deck carefully. An air tank, a net, and a rope caught his eye and he grinned mischievously.

"You mean they clean it for you?" Piotr asked incredulously. "I didn’t know you could have that done. Now we won’t smell like fish guts."

Scott nodded toward the stand near the pier with a sign indicating fish could be cleaned for a fee. "There’s a stand over there, Piotr. Take them all the fish and see that they get a good tip." He turned and helped Jean exit the boat while Piotr and Kitty hauled a small net full of fish to the waiting dock workers. "Lady, I hope you’re in the mood for a fish fry tonight. I’m hungry."

"I just hope you don’t expect us to cook all those fish," laughed Jean. "I still think Logan cheated."

Scott wrapped his arms around his lady. "Oh no you don’t. No word was ever mentioned as to how the fish had to be caught. The fact that Logan decided to hunt his fish personally and with a net breaks no rules that I know of."

"It was dangerous. He could have drowned," she protested half-heartedly.

"He was tethered to the boat and had an air tank and you know it." Scott sobered a bit. "Still, you’re right; the things he does can be dangerous. Do me a favor and don’t ask him to protect me again." She furrowed a brow at him so he went on. "When he gives his word, he doesn’t hold back anything. I don’t want his death or anyone else’s on my conscience, okay?" He closed his eyes and mentally concentrated on what he had figured out and the conversation he had with Logan on the boat. When he opened them, Jean’s face showed her shock and her eyes overflowed with emotion. "Shhh," he said as he wiped away a few tears from her cheek. "We didn’t know he would take it to that extreme."

She smiled briefly. "I guess this means he really considers us his family, if he’s willing to do that kind of act…that type of sacrifice for us."

Scott nodded. "Don’t mention it, though. You know him. He’d never admit it even if he did realize…" He quickly dropped the subject as he watched Rogue and Logan come up on deck arm in arm, knowing how easily Logan could overhear a conversation. "Would you look at those two lovebirds? I’m wondering when the wedding will be."

"Why don’t we worry about our own?"

His face turned sharply back to her and there was a moment of silence followed by his absolutely breathtaking grin. "You mean that? You do, don’t you! You’re ready to set the date?" She nodded, tearing up again but this time from happiness as her broad smile attested. He grabbed her up and swung her around in a delighted circle. "God, I love you, lady!"

"What am Ah going to do with you?" Marie chuckled as she handed Logan his T-shirt. "Now you’re stuck in wet jeans for the drive back to the four-plex."

"I guess I’ll have to shuck them when I get there. I only brought two pairs of pants and now I’m down to one. What will we do while we wait for them to dry?"

There was an ominous growl and Marie felt shivers run up and down her spine as he nuzzled her neck. They exited the boat and trailed behind Scott and Jean down the dock and past the bars and shops that lined the marine area.

"Hey, maybe we could go shopping tomorrow morning. You need another pair of pants and Ah could use some more clothes." She snuggled up against him, still bare-chested since he hadn’t put the shirt on yet.

"You want to take me shopping?" He snorted and started to say something else when two figures emerging from one of the bars caught his eye. "I’ll need some money, then," he said as he steered them closer to the two men and their tipsy conversation.

"Here it is, Charlie. Here’s the payoff." One waved the bills under the other’s nose. " I knew we could pull it off."

The other slapped the first on the back and whispered in the overly loud voice of a drunk trying to be quiet. "Should we mention…you know…that guy?"

"What guy?" The first stared at him. "I’m not admitting to anything. As far as I’m concerned he was a figment of my imaginings…imagination, my dreams. I was dreaming. That ‘gator crawled into our camp and we killed it. End of story…"

A hand reached over and plucked the money from his grasp and the two drunks immediately howled in protest until they got a good look at the man who took it from them.

"Oh my God!"

"It’s him!"

They promptly fainted right there on the boardwalk at Logan’s feet as Logan calmly counted out half the money and tucked the other half in one of the men’s shirt pockets. He turned and handed his wad of bills to Marie to hold while he slipped his shirt on. When he wrapped an arm lovingly around her waist and moved them forward to catch up to the other X-Men, he tried to ignore the raised eyebrow she threw his way.

"Ah don’t suppose you’re going to explain that to me, are you?" She was trying hard not to laugh but her tone was infectious and Logan found humor suited the situation.

He chuckled. "Alligators bring more than I thought. We’ll use that to buy us some clothes, okay?"

Marie pocketed the money slowly. "And they fainted because…?" She was insistent.

Logan shrugged. "It has something to do with a pig. Ask Scott." He stopped on the boardwalk and kissed her passionately. When they finally broke apart, he watched her eyes sparkle with delight. "Are you happy?" She nodded, a charming grin curving her beautiful lips upward, and he hugged her tightly. "Me, too. Maybe vacations are a good thing after all."

End