Disclaimer: This fan fiction is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended. Unbetaed so all mistakes are mine.

“Wolvie…”

Jubes raised her hands placatingly and stepped in front of Scott. Let a couple of her paffs dance through the air just as a reminder of what she could do. It was probably the safest tactic, considering the way Logan was glaring at him. At her. At them. The entire canteen had fallen silent, the atmosphere like something out of a spaghetti western. Some kids hiding behind tables to watch the show. Some kids skid-addling like there was no tomorrow. And some recording the damn thing on their camera phones for posterity. Even Kurt and Storm had stopped their yakking, and considering they’d been doing that ever since their wedding was announced, it was a goddamn miracle.

Jubes wondered briefly whether she should congratulate them but the tumbleweed blowing through the room behind her made her suspect that was unwise.

As was taking her eyes offa Logan right about now.

Marie, ever the peace-maker, stood up and made to tug at Wolverine’s sleeve but Kitty stopped her. Grinned at her friend and gestured to Scott and Jubilee like this was Wrestle-mania and they were the main event. “Seriously, Rogue,” Pryde muttered, “How is this not gonna be entertaining?”

Logan and Jubes shot her a sour glare at exactly the same moment and in exactly the same way. Which just made the Kitten grin more and Scott wince. Marie rolled her eyes. Loudly.

“Like I said,” Kitty muttered, “I’m laughing already.” And she put her feet up on the desk to watch the show.

“So let me get this straight,” Logan began then, ignoring the littlest ninja. “You, Scooter, the great and moral stick-up-your-ass Leader of the X-Men, have been running around with a twenty something kid for the last six months and you hadn’t the balls t’tell me. That about cover it, bub?”

Scott’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t deny it. He knew Wolvie way too well to try an’ talk around this. And plus, any denial and Jubes would kill him. He was (sensibly) way more scared of her little fire-cracker self than any angry Canuck. “Yes,” he answered stiffly instead. “Yes, I guess that does about cover it.”

Logan decked him then.

One lightning quick flick-punch to the nose, hard enough to shatter cartilage. To be fair to Scott, he didn’t duck or wince, just took the blow. And Jubes didn’t interfere. She figured a punch was par for the course. He really uglied up her honey on the other hand, and Logie Bear’d be paffinated. Heads flicked back and forth between them, like the crowd was watching a tennis match. Everyone waiting to see what Scott would do. Logan cracked the muscle in his neck loudly, causing Rogue to sigh in annoyance and Logan to wince guiltily when he heard her. But then Rogue was the only person who could guilt-trip the drama queen outta him, Jubes groused, and everyone knew it.

Scott still didn’t retaliate. Patience can be so hot, Jubes thought then.

Logan was looking pleased with himself. “How d’ya like them apples, bub?” he drawled lazily. “Gonna just stand there?” His fingers were itching like he was waiting for a fight, but he wasn’t willing to go feral. Which was actually a good sign. Scott drew himself up to his full height, about a foot taller than Wolvie and turned the other cheek like a martyr. So maybe Wolvie wasn’t the only one with drama queen tendencies… “I promised her I wouldn’t hit you, Logan,” he muttered. “Take another shot if you want to-”

And he did.

Threw another punch, a dirty rabbit jab to the back of Scott’s head. Again Rogue rolled her eyes, only this time Jubes joined her. Scott felt the back of his head gingerly but still didn’t fight back. Though he couldn’t help the infuriating grin on his face, a grin that seemed to say That the best you got? Logan geared it up a notch, throwing a hard upper-cut, and this time he knocked Scott off his feet. Cyclopes skidded backwards before catching his balance, annoyance flitting across his face. Smugness flitting across Logan’s.

Sheer, epic piss-offedness flitting across Jubilee’s.

“Okay, Wolveroonie, that’s it!” Both men blinked and Jubilee forced herself between them. Since they were both dead set on being acting Hannah Montana over this then she was just gonna have to lay down the law. “Back off, bub,” she growled, poking a finger into her mentor’s chest at each word and daring him t’interrupt her. “Take your hands off my man.”

The collective crowd “Ooohed,” at her moxie. Marie moved anything throwable out of her reach. Kitty snickered loudly.

And Logan shut his mouth with an audible snap.

“Numero uno,” Jubes began, “This has nothing t’do with you.” Logan opened his mouth to contradict her and she rushed on, earning another “oooh,” for her efforts. Also another grin from the Kitten. “Me an’ Scott are about me an’ Scott, not you an’ me. Or you an’ Scott. You raised me to make my own decisions and guess what? I have, so deal.” Again he tried to interrupt her and again she spoke over him. She was pretty sure he regretted all the girl-power speeches he’d given her right now. “Hate t’break it to ya, but this ain’t about your pride, it ain’t about your property rights and it sure as hell ain’t about your history with Jean. Capisce? It’s about me and the man I love-” The canteen crowd “Aaaawed,” while Scott went scarlet- “And you are just gonna have to get your Wolvie ass down with that. Like, Now.” And she bounced back on her heels, daring him to contradict her. Because if he thought she was letting him play the brooding and wind-swept card on this, he was sadly goddamn mistaken. He crossed his massive fore-arms and set his face to power-glower; She did likewise, and let the silence stretch out. Neither was gonna back down, and everyone knew it: it was just a question of who would crack first.

And apparently it was her.

Jubes had never been good at keeping her mouth shut, and today was no exception. All it took was Logan flicking a look at Marie for sympathy and she just had to jump in again. “I thought you’d be happy I found someone, Logan,” she muttered angrily. Silence and stogie-related chewing greeted her. And more glowering. “Maybe not someone I ever thought about-” Which was a lie, she’d been thinking X-rated things about Scott Summers since the moment she hit puberty- “But someone good nonetheless-”

Logan actually snarled at that. “Good? Good??” He threw a disbelieving look at Cyclopes. “The name Emma Frost mean anything t’you Kid? Cos it sure as Hell meant something t’Scooter here-”

“That was a long time ago,” Cyclops growled, “I’m not proud of it-”

“But you still did it,” Logan snarled back. “And now you try seducing some poor innocent kid-”

And that’s when the laughing started.

It wasn’t smart, it wasn’t adult but it was out of her mouth before Jubes could help it. And it shut Logan up, something only Marie had previously ever managed to do without resorting to her powers. The idea that Logan had ever thought Jubes sweet and innocent was hilarious: She used to skive condoms off him! She used to steal his bike and go scouting for boys in bars! With him! Kitty might be sweet and Marie was probably innocent, but she was the bad seed of Logan’s Angels and everyone knew it. Even Logan. When he was drinking he called her a chip off the old block. And then bought her more bourbon. Scott adored her bad girl thing; She adored her bad-ass tendencies herself. It wasn’t a secret. So how on Earth could Logan justify his behaviour now? Why the Hell start acting like some Victorian paterfamilias when he knew exactly what kind of a cub he’d raised?

And then it hit her.

The Victorian gentleman in Logan had only one thing to defend in all this: Her virtue. It wasn’t about his ego, it wasn’t about Jean or his history with Scott. It really was about her. The giant hairy hundred year old super-soldier killing machine with the worse track record in relationships in the mansion was trying to protect her virtue.

Huh, she mused. Go figure.

She met Logan’s gaze and in that moment she knew she was right. His eyes instinctively flicked away, back to Marie (who was still shaking her head at their behaviour) and his mouth tugged slightly at the corner. Jubes’ followed suit. A beat of silence descended and then-Then they were both laughing their asses off. Making Marie smile and Kitty snicker, and Scott just look embarrassed as Hell. Peals of laughter echoed through the canteen, the sound completely weird next to the shocked faces of the other students. But it didn’t stop them none. There was a reason her and Logan never argued and it was simple: they were too damn alike. Today just proved it. Scott was essentially shacking up with the female version of Wolverine, and if he hadn’t figured that out yet then he soon would. The thought made Jubilee howl even harder, giggling so much she nearly peed her pants. The only people who weren’t surprised were Logan’s other angels, Rogue and Kitty: They were grinning ear to ear. And keeping a careful eye on Papa Wolverine just in case this was all a cunning ruse to gut Scott. But Logan and Jubes just laughed some more.

“Oh yeah,” Jubes eventually snickered, “I’m as pure as the driven snow.”

“Me too,” Logan retorted, and then started howling some more.

Kitty waited a beat and then stood up, offering the nonplussed Scott her hand. He was staring at Jubes like he’d never seen her before, and it was making the laughter worse.

“What am I missing here?” he muttered to Kitty, even as he shook her hand. “What just happened?”

Marie and Pryde snickered. “Don’t think about them too much, darlin’,” Rogue quipped. “It’ll make your head hurt.”

Scott blinked up at her. “But what does this mean?” he demanded. She was really gonna have to knock that black-and-white mentality outta him if they were gonna get along, Jubes mused. “I thought- I mean- They’re laughing-” He sounded scandalised.

Which just made Jubilee and her Wolvie laugh even more.

The girls exchanged looks and then shook their heads. Kitty took one of Scott’s arms and Marie took the other, Logan’s angels working together as always. Without a backward glance they manoeuvred Scott around the laughing reprobates and began leading him towards the Infirmary, probably to have his nose checked. And also to report to Hank on the outcome of the day. Wolvie gave a little wave as they went, still doubled over with laughter, and Marie rolled her eyes again. Though she couldn’t help the fond grin she shot him as she did so. The last words Scott heard before he was whisked through the doors were Logan’s.

“Welcome t’the family, Slim!” he called.

They were still laughing when he moved into Jubes’ room that night.

Disclaimer: This fan fiction is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended. Unbetaed so all mistakes are mine.

“Sensei…”

Kitty Pryde gestured to the army of girls surrounding both her and Logan. The army of powered up, pouting, sweaty-from-the-Danger-Room mutant girls who were all looking less than pleased. Put out, even. Each and every one of them was gazing at Logan like a junkie stares at a crack mule. A crack-mule who’s limping. Badly.

Something told Kitty that the girls were not here to talk about the fine craft of needle-point. Or the relative merits of Tony Stark’s Fifty State Initiative plan.

“Sensei,” the former Shadow-cat reiterated, “We appear to have company.”

“I got that.” Logan shot her a shark-like grin over his shoulder. “They got us surrounded: Hold me, Kitten, I’m scared.”

Emma Frost, AKA The White Queen, (AKA the White Skank, according to one, admittedly biased, Jubilation Summers) was tapping her toe now. Looking for all the world like the patron saint of WASP-hood, her pristine white corset shining, her why-yes-I-AM-a-hooker kinky boots polished til they hit a sparkly-high gleam. Kitty looked down at her own dishevelled, post-Danger Room apparel and decided she felt under-dressed, but maidenly. Modest. And she bet La Frostique never felt that. Muscled, oiled up young men, but not that. And so long as one of those muscled, oily men wasn’t Pyotr Rasputin, everything would be both fine and dandy with her world. She stood on tip-toe for a head-count, silently marvelling at how many teenage girls had managed to cram themselves into the Head-Mistress’ Office. Also idly wondering how many of the said girls were skipping class to do so.

Like ya even have t’ask that, Kitten, Rogue’s voice chimed in her head. If given the choice ‘tween American Government in Context and a Logan Versus Frosty Smack-down, which would you choose?

Well, the littlest ninja certainly knew the answer to that.

Amen, and praise the Lord, sugah, her inner Marie agreed. May Logan never grow fond o’ slacks.

Still, Kitty was shocked to realise almost half the senior class had turned up for this: Less females had turned up for the announcement of the first New X-Men teams’ leadership. But then she craned her neck to check out her sweaty, beat-up, devil-may-care sensei, a vision (if she did say so herself) in sweats and a white wife-beater t-shirt. The man practically oozed danger and sex-appeal the way Magneto oozes scorn: Considering how glorious that sight was, Kitty had to admit the female head-count wasn’t totally surprising. Though, since one was never supposed to ogle one’s sensei, she immediately dropped her gaze to her shoes. Lest she set a bad example for the girls, of course. Oooh, look, she thought, floor-tiles: Fascinating.

“Well?” Frost inquired icily then, enunciating carefully. She gestured to the pack of teenage girls, her PVC opera gloves squeaking as she did so. Once again Kitty felt a surge of gratitude that she’d been born with the modesty gene. “Care to explain this, Kitten and Hairy?” the blond drawled snootily.

“Not even a little bittie bit, Wanton and Rubber,” Wolverine shot back. Realising her Grand Inquisitrix Routine wasn’t going to get her jack with Logan, the telepath turned her imperious gaze on Kitty. She knew that Pryde wouldn’t publicly show dissension with another teacher. But that didn’t stop La Kitten flipping her the finger in her head. Touché, was Frost’s telepathic response.

The silence stretched out.

“I swear, I had nothing to do with this,” Pryde exclaimed eventually, because if she didn’t they’d be there until Doomsday. And she at least had American-Russian relations to strengthen. “Seriously, I didn’t even know they were going to be here when you called.” Of course, that would have been a lot more convincing if Jubilee hadn’t been snorting with laughter behind her. And if Bobby Drake hadn’t been following suit. Even Cyclopes was snickering, yet more proof as if proof were needed of what a bad influence his new wife had been on him. Despite her best intentions Kitty felt a traitorous giggle start shivering up through her, and once again she dropped her eyes to the floor. One of the girls- Kitty suspected it was Ashida- had begun humming the Desperate Housewives theme song, and unsurprisingly it wasn’t helping Frosty Van Der Kampf enhance her calm any. Nor was it helping Kitty keep a straight face.

“No, seriously,” Pryde tried again, stepping back now, “They came up with this on their own. Didn’t you, girls? Didn’t you..?” But nobody answered, and despite herself a small grin escaped her, her eyes sparking with barely suppressed glee. It wasn’t like she could lie to Emma now: The woman was one of the most powerful telepaths on the planet. She had to know what was on everyone’s mind. The blonde goddess’ right eye-lid was twitching ever so slightly, though Kitty suspected that had more to do with Jubilee’s presence than her thoughts. Ever since the flirting with Scott had started, Jubes had made it her mission in life to drive her rival off the deep end.

And she was succeeding admirably, from what Marie had said.

“Kitten, you’re not answering my question,” Frost demanded snarkily then. Perhaps having picked up the stray thought about Jubilee and Cyke. Tossing one perfectly coiffed lock over her shoulder she scowled, her expression becoming irritated. “What’s the matter, Wolverine got your tongue?”

I sometimes wish, Kitty thought before she could stop herself. Every telepath in the room shot her a grin.

“She’s not answering because this is not about her,” Ashida pointed out to save her blushes. “It’s about the Advanced Combat Class with Professor Logan, and the way you’ve just kicked it to the curb.” There were murmurs of agreement amongst the girls and some nasty-sounding hair fluffing of their own. Once again all eyes went to Logan, and if they’d been able to somehow hook up the hormone surge that generated Kitty knew they’d have been able to power the Mansion for a month. Scratch the Mansion: they could have lit up Tokyo like Vegas, and had some juice left to spare. “We read the post,” Surge continued, her hands crackling with barely suppressed, electrical annoyance. “We know it’s cancelled.” She gestured to her fellow females. “And we’re here to register how much we disagree.”

Frost rolled her eyes, made an annoyed harrumph then.

Logan shot Kitty that grin which said, Yeah, I know: I’m the Man.

“While it is absolutely none of your business which one of your classes continue,” the blond telepath began, her voice martyred, “I am happy to explain the thinking behind this particular cancellation. It’s been a long time coming, as no doubt Professor Logan can attest.” She let out a long breath, her voice becoming ever more censorious and strict. Her expression getting ever more arch. Wolverine was still grinning at Jubes and Kitty, like he hadn’t a care on the world, and it wasn’t helping Frosty’s Zen at all. “Professor Logan’s class has been cancelled for one simple reason: it had ceased to be co-ed. He’s been teaching nothing but young women for the last year now, as this little student jamboree makes clear. It has to stop.” Frost glared at her students, daring them to contradict her. Though if she was looking to intimidate them, she’d picked the wrong bunch. “Now, we here at Xavier’s take our integrationist mandate very seriously, as you no doubt know. We cannot accept a non-mixed class in any subject, not even so the female population of Xavier’s Institute can ogle the PE teacher.” A twitch of a smile. “Understandable as that may be.”

“Aw, I didn’t know ya cared, Frosty,” Logan dead-panned.

“I’m more into the fearless leader types myself,” she muttered, shooting Scott a dazzling smile. (She didn’t notice right away, but Jubes had just used one of her paffs to set her over-priced hair-extensions on fire. Kitty did the reasonable thing and pretended not to see). “But I am a woman and they soon will be: It’s perfectly understandable.” Her expression turned haughty. “It’s just not a legitimate reason for a class.”

“So let me get this straight,” Hisako Ichiki interrupted, crossing her arms over her chest. “If the class integrates then it stays on?”

Frost’s smile was the dictionary definition of condescending. “Of course, darling. It’s only about fairness, after all.”

“And it only takes one guy to make that happen? Only one has to grow a pair and audition to get in?” Hisako was grinning at Logan now. As was Ashida. And Gwynne. And, well, everyone. The effect was a little creepy. Although Kitty had to admit, this truly proved Logan was The Man…

“Why yes,” Frost answered, her voice losing some of its certainty. Hisako had turned on her psychic armour, and Madame Head-Mistress had trouble hearing her thoughts through that. She looked like she suspected she was being set up. Kitty didn’t blame her. “But every year several young men make a lot of macho noise about auditioning, and every year-”

“Several cry-babies go running home to mommy after the trials,” Jubilee spoke over her. “Believe me, Frosty, we know.” She shot Logan a fond smile. “How do you think the class ended up all female in the first place? Last hombre had the cajones t’audition was Colossus, and we all saw how that turned out.” All eyes turned to Kitty again and she blushed scarlet: It wasn’t her fault Logan had used the try-outs to test out Pyotr’s suitability to be her boyfriend. Wolvie’d all but sent her poor Russkie honey looking for a golden fleece… Or the One Ring to Rule Them All… “But it turns out we have a likely candidate already,” Jubes continued.

Frost cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? And just who might that be?”

The fire-cracker’s smile turned practically wicked. “Oh, you know, just the new stray Marie brought home with her from New Orleans. The new boy-what’s his name-Remy LeBeau?”

Kitty could’ve gotten stoned on the oestrogen fumes then. The concept of a Logan on Gambit throw-down was just too, well, bootylicious for the girls to resist. They’d be able to sell tickets, make a fortune in DVD sales: Even the senior (female) X-Men would pay to witness that. The concept had everything you could wish for in an entertainment event: the only way this would be better were if they could somehow add jell-o. And give Jubes enough time and encouragement, chica would doubtless find a way to do that…

But suddenly Logan had stopped grinning. He even looked a little-jeez- freaked.

“Nuh-uh, I ain’t goin’ there, Jubes,” he muttered, looking down now. Kitty swore she could taste the drop in testosterone this caused. “T’aint like I don’t appreciate you girls comin’ here, but-”

“But what?” Kitty inquired, intrigued now. She looked over at Jubilee, who was rocking on her heels in barely suppressed mirth. The Fire-cracker probably already knew what this was about, what with that Hell-cat mind-meld thing they had going on. “What is it, sensei? What‘s wrong with the concept?” And she looked at him in genuine confusion. The girls around him following suit.

Logan muttered something unintelligible into his boots then. “What was that, Wolvster?” Jubes asked innocently. Her lashes batting fit to beat Little Bo Peep.

He shot her a glare that would have curdled yoghurt, let alone milk. Crossed his massive arms over his chest. “Rogue’ll kill me, anything happens to that boy,” he muttered.

“And you’re actually afraid of Rogue?” Frost inquired, her voice sweetness itself.

“Hell yeah, wouldn’t you be?” He tried to cover it in swagger, but the… terror seemed genuine enough. “I don’t mess with my girls’ boys. That’s the way of it.” He shot Scott a look. “It’s the reason Scooter there’s still walking on three legs-”

“And Pyotr?” Kitty inquired huffily.

“He knows I know things about hiding bodies in Siberia. I’m pretty sure you’re not gonna have any problems with him.” Logan looked like he was gonna tussle Kitty’s hair and thought better of it. Instead he cleared his throat. “You an’ Jubes’d just use your powers on me. It’d be painful but Hell, I’d heal. I don’t wanna know what Marie’d think was appropriate: Girl got her knack fer vengeance from me. And her knack fer holding a grudge too.”

Of course, Kitty thought then, Marie’s got his memories. And his personality. I wouldn’t want her mad at me either, that being the case.

“So where does that leave us, training-wise?” Ashida asked, sounding disappointed. “Does this mean we don’t have a class?”

Frost went to answer but Jubes spoke over her. “Just give me, like, five seconds,” she muttered, pulling out her cell-phone. “I think I have a friend who can help.” And she disappeared into the next room for a second, Scott shooting her a goofy grin as she went. The look Frost threw him would have been enough to kill brain-cells on sight. “Okay, I gotta friend needs some extra tuition,” Jubes announced when she came back in. “If he joins the class can it go ahead?”

Emma narrowed her eyes. “And who would this friend be, Jubilation?”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “Name’s Parker, a New York boy. Been fighting the good fight for a while.” She blinked unconvincingly innocent eyes up at Frosty. “Says he needs an extra workout. So we cool?”

“And he’s high school age?” Emma’s voice sounded cynical.

“Yeah, totally.” Jubes handed her phone to Ashida and gestured for her to pass it around. She wanted to girls to see the photo on the front. Frosty took one look at the Parker boy and started snickering. Kitty raised her eyebrows questioningly as she watched Logan’s expression grow more sour. “What?” she asked, again genuinely puzzled.

Emma’s smile grew even wider than Logan’s had been. “I don’t think, with that boy in the class, we’ll have any difficulty getting more males in the mix.” She gestured to Scott, who was glaring at the photo in annoyance. “Even Scott there’s thinking of dropping by.” Kitty stared down at the photo of Parker, eyes widening.

And then decided she really, really, REALLY loved her life.

****************************************

By the time Advanced Combat started up again, there were twelve boys enrolled. And several waiting for a spot. The weird thing? Every one of them had a girlfriend in the class. And even Gambit had volunteered. Like Kitty said, weird huh?

But Logan was still The Man...

Disclaimer: This fan fiction is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended.

“Logan…”

Marie growled, ran a hand through her stripes. Swung the dish-rag at his legs and slapped his feet. She really didn’t wanna have this conversation. “Logan,” she repeated, sighing, “Get your Goddamn feet offa mah coffee table.”

Logan, being Logan, didn’t budge.

Just glanced up at her, kinda smart-assed. For once not puffing on a stogie cos he knew she hated the stench inside the house. Beside him little Beccah was trying to crawl onto “Uncle Logan,” like he was her own private monkey-puzzle, her black-and-red eyes lit up with glee. The former Wolverine had been her favourite from the moment she set foot in the mansion, and by the looks of things the feeling was mutual. Logan pretty much adored her daughter, taught her everything from kicking ass to fixing cars whenever he had a chance. She was the only seven year old Marie’d ever met who could take apart a carburettor while swearing in Japanese. Loudly.

Mentally Marie glowered and shook her head.

Maybe it was the look on her face, maybe it was a small, niggling sense of guilt which occasionally overtook him, but Logan picked Beccah up and set her down beside him then. Tussled her head and whispered for her to give her Momma a moment and let the grownups talk. The little girl rolled her eyes and blew air through her lips, the image (Marie suspected) of herself at that age. Then marched out of the room to find her brother Olivier, someone else she could torture for fun. Because “Uncle Logan,” had been such a good influence there, Rogue mused dryly. And speaking of-

He stood, crossed his arms then. Cocked the eyebrow more, like that was gonna help. “So, is it true?” he asked. Eyes smouldering. Marie mighta been his kinda, sorta foster daughter, but even she had to admit the sight was- Well, she didn’t wanna think about what the sight was. Remy hadn’t been gone more’n two years, and she was still wearing her wedding ring. Couldn’t bring herself to take it off. “Is it true?” he growled again. “What they’re saying about you ‘n’ Jeannie?”

Marie rolled her eyes, aware that she probably looked exactly like Beccah had, and bit her cheek. Annoyed. She was proud to see a touch of worry flicker across Logan’s face at the action, and it was nice to know he was still a little scared of her famous temper, even now. But when she spoke her voice was even. “That depends, sugah: What did ya hear?”

He kept his eyes on her face, serious, but his lips were clearly trying not to twitch into a smile. She wondered idly whether Hank and Bobby had been gossiping. “The third floor window mighta been mentioned,” he drawled eventually. “Some kinda throw-down, the Danger Room bein’ shot to Hell.” Marie snorted like a teenager, and the twitch turned into a grin. “Apparently Storm and Hank had to intervene, pull ya offa her,” he continued, mock innocent. “Cyke’s nerves are so shattered, he’s leaving to go work for Norman Osborne. Or the Peace Corps. Or maybe Barry Manilow, I’m not really sure which-”

Despite herself, her own lips twitched grin-wards. “It’ll be nice t’see Scooter finally livin’ the dream.”

He snorted. “Like Jubes’ll let him off his leash that long.”

“Ah don’t think he’d be running from her, with a leash on him. Those two-”

“Please, Marie!” He interrupted, hands held before him. “I don’t wanna even think about Slim and my Jubilation like that. I’d haveta gut him and Jubes’d be moody for weeks.”

Her smile widened. “Still scared of a fire-cracker?”

“Hell yeah, ain’t you?”

“Nah, Ah know where all the bodies are buried. Knowledge is power, an’ all that.” And again Marie felt a twitch of a smile. “And she likes me.”

A beat.

“So, ya done with the pouting, Kid, or am I gonna have to shake it outta ya?” he muttered eventually. Threw her another smile to take the sting outta his words, and once again she reminded herself that they were practically family. Abruptly she pulled away from the memory of that last argument with Gambit, before the Blackbird went down- “I know that something did happen, darlin’,” he continued, rescuing her from her memories. “So why don’t you stop dancing around the issue and just tell me what the Hell it was.” Another twitch of a smile. “Or else I’ll have to go get it from Kitty, and neither of us want me to do that.”

She narrowed her eyes then. “Low blow, Logie Bear,” she muttered.

He shrugged, looking close to angelic as he ever got. “Don’t do any other kind, Roguey.”

Marie sat down then, admitting defeat. Since the sweet Lord Jesus only knew what spin Kitty’d put on events if asked. Pryde still retained some damn weird notions regarding her and Logan, despite her marriage to Remy and his (now broken) engagement to Mariko Yashida. And the, ahem, “incident,” with Elektra Natchios. But then Kitty of them all was a born romantic, and settling down with Pyotr had done nothing to knock that tendency outta her. Even if it was still damn embarrassing. The silence stretched out until eventually Logan stood up, about to walk out the door and make good on his threat, and she blurted-

“Ah’m not sorry Ah did it and Ah never will be and you can’t make me say Ah am-”

Which was not, needless to say, how she wanted to start this. But got to the heart of her feelings nevertheless.

“So you did get in a fight with her?” he asked dryly. Hazel eyes lightening once more in amusement. Despite herself Marie felt a twinge of relief that he wasn’t yelling at her for taking on Jeannie: She’s thought for sure he’d take the telepath’s side.

“Well, it wasn’t so much a fight-” His cocked eyebrow raised higher, he knew she was lying- “As a smack-down.” She cleared her throat in embarrassment. Repeated Jubilee’s description. “An old-school smack-down, kinda like you an’ Scott usedta have back in the day.”

“And this was necessary, why?”

Marie shrugged. “She was bein’ a pain in mah ass.” Which was pretty much the long and short of it.

“But I thought you liked Jeannie?”

“Ah do,” Marie muttered. It was the truth: she’d been helping the other woman settle back in since she had arrived five months before. “Ah just don’t like everything she says, is all.”

His smile grew so wide then, it shoulda been illegal. “Now what on earth could that mean, darlin’?” he inquired, and not for the first time in her life Marie wished just an ickle bit that she had claws. He was enjoying this way too much. But then this was the lightest she’d seen him look since Mariko kicked him to the curb, and that being the case she could stand a little embarrassment. For his sake. Though this was still making her uncomfortable as all get out.

“It means,” she bit out, aware she sounded testy, “That she should get it inta her head that you’re over her. That ya moved on with your life and that the universe does not Goddamn revolve around Jeannie “Marvel Girl,” Grey.” Marie was surprised at her own vehemence.

His smile turned downwards. “What?”

Marie crossed her arms, her body language switching as the Wolverine in her head came to the fore. When Logan did it, it looked terrifying; When she did it, it looked cute. Pissed, but cute. “It means, sugah, that she should get it through her skull that ya moved on with your life,” she all but growled, pacing. She wasn’t sure why, but now she was saying it out loud it was making her mad as Hell. “We all did: We didn’t have much choice. Ah get the thing with Scooter: That musta bin a shock. None of us saw that coming, much less Jubilee. But the bullshit she was spouting, about how you couldn’ta possibly been serious about Mariko-chan-” She felt her lips slide back from her teeth into a snarl, as if of their own volition, “Well, that was just insulting to you, and onee-san-” She’d really liked the Japanese business-woman right up until she’d broken her Logan’s heart- “And maybe, yeah, Ah was mad at her fer hurtin’ ya darlin’, nobody gets to do that to you without hearing from me an’ the girls, especially not some cowardly, yellow-bellied ama-” She was really getting worked up if the Japanese insults were coming out- “Who didn’t even have the strength to stop herself, who left you t’do the hard work-” And abruptly she stopped, running out of steam at the look on his face. Because in all the time he’d known her, that was probably the maddest he’d ever seen her- And he’d seen her go berserker on Sabretooth’s ass once or twice- But never in all that time, had she mentioned that Jean had used him as her last ditch back-up plan. That he’d had to kill her (with her blessing) in order to save the world.

Kuso, baka, she thought then. Hadn’t really meant to say that.

Logan had this expression, this carved-in-granite, anguished facial expression that he occasionally wore when the shit had well and truly hit the fan. Only time Marie’d seen it had been the moment, two years earlier, that he’d come down to New Orleans to wake her in the middle of the night and break the news that Remy was dead. Nobody else had had the balls to tell her, so of course he’d volunteered. It made him look haunted, and helpless, and about a thousand years older than he actually was. And he was staring at her with it now, or maybe its ghost, that craggy forehead drawn, his lips pursed and the light gone from his eyes like she’d snuffed it out.

Suddenly Marie wanted to use every swear-word she knew, in every language she knew about herself. Because she felt like she’d stomped on that fractured, wounded heart of his, and she’d sworn after Jean died the first time, she’d never let anyone do that again. Without even thinking she crossed the space between them, reached out her gloved hands to him like that would make it okay. “Ah’m sorry, Logan,” she muttered. “Ah’m so sorry-Ah shouldn’ta mentioned-”

He cleared his throat gruffly, looking down now. Knuckles tightened as he stared at his hands. “I asked,” he pointed out.

“And Ah shoulda thought before Ah opened mah big damn mouth,” she retorted, closing one of his hands in both of hers. She thought he might pull away but he stayed put. “Ah just- Ah just don’t like what she did to ya, cher,” she muttered, Remy’s endearment rising easily to her lips now. Again she shook away a thrill of unease. “She shoulda had the strength- It was just so damn unfair. Ah’d never let that happen. Ah’d never make you make that choice for me.” And she shook her head, aware she was being incoherent. Unable to stop the truth from pouring outta her mouth.

And still kinda wishing she could beat on Jeannie and make this better, since nothing she’d tried so far was doing the trick.

His tired chuckle surprised her. As quickly as it had come, his heart-sick look was gone. Well, for the most part. And for the most part was good enough for her. “I made my peace with it years ago, Marie,” he muttered. “I had to. Me and Mariko, it couldn’t have gone anywhere if I was still carrying that around.” He smiled dryly, running the hand she wasn’t holding through his hair, dragging at the back of his neck. The hazel eyes flicked up to hers and without warning he tucked one of her platinum streaks behind her ear, a gesture he hadn’t indulged in since- Since before her wedding. For some reason it froze her, though she knew he meant nothing by it. After all, they were still almost kin… “It’s not like I don’t appreciate major property damage on my behalf, sweetheart,” he continued softly, “But ya don’t need to beat on Jeannie just because she screwed me over, once upon a time.”

“What if Ah want to?” she muttered, chagrined. Fascinated suddenly with the floor.

“Fight it.”

“Can’t,” she retorted, and at his raised eyebrow, “Ah got you in mah head, barking to take no prisoners every time Ah lose mah cool.” His hand felt warm in hers now, the adamantium giving it weight. “And besides,” she whispered softly, “She’s gotta learn she ain’t the centre of your universe any more. Is she?”

She really shouldn’t have said that.

The moment sputtered, fractured. Suddenly he took his hand from hers, smiling to make it look less awkward. But Marie was suddenly aware of a chill. She wasn‘t quite sure why she‘d said that. “Oh, I think she knows, darlin’” he grinned, trying to sound unconcerned, though he was backing away from her. One thing about her Logan, he always had an exit strategy. Today was no exception.“She didn’t look at all pleased when I demanded she explain herself, for punching my Marie-” he quipped.

It took a second to hit her. And then, she was actually thankful she didn’t have claws, because she’d have filleted him. But even if he was dodging her, Marie realised with a sinking feeling she’d be better off playing ball.

“You mean you knew what happened?” she demanded, balling up her fist and thumping him good and hard. Making sure her own voice sounded carefree. Still not sure why she‘d asked about Jean. “You knew and you let me go through this-”

“I had to make sure you weren’t homicidal, sweetheart-”

“If Ah wasn’t before Ah am now!” And he backed away, smiling. She picked up the dishcloth she’d threatened him with earlier, playing along, and starting chasing after him. His laughter loud enough to tip off Beccah and Olivier that Uncle Logan was in the house. The two kids poked their heads out of their bedrooms, Olivier shyly, Beccah gleefully and joined in the chase. Climbing all over him like he was their own private monkey-puzzle, their laughter filling the house until hers was no longer fake but real. Marie knew he was giving her an out from her melt-down, knew instinctively that he was side-stepping what had happened. Because truth be told, she’d never seriously considered kicking Mariko’s ass for hurting him. Just Jean’s. And if they were to talk about that, then they would have to talk about a whole lot else. Like Remy, and the children. Like why he’d stopped tucking that strand of white hair behind her ear. And she just wasn’t ready for that. Marie was grateful he’d let her walk away from it, at least for another day; She couldn’t face it, not when she was still wearing her wedding ring.

But that wouldn’t last forever, a voice suddenly whispered in her head. Nothing does, not even Jean Grey.

His laughter and her children’s rang through the mansion as she chased them then, sounding younger than she’d ever heard him, where five minutes ago he’d seemed ancient and drawn. His grin brimming over with affection, the happiest she’d seen him since he and Mariko split. Dammit, why did he have this effect on her? she groused. And why should Ah care that he does? Because for the first time in nearly two years Rogue felt like laughing. Felt like tomorrow, awkward as it was gonna be in the Danger Room with Jeannie, was worth it if it meant this moment here. She ran after her kids, her family, smiling. This mother of two for the first time in a long time really feeling like a Kid. But then Logan always did that to her-

She saw him then, smiling at her. Saw his hands twitch towards her silver stripes. But she wasn't ready for it, neither of them were. Not while she was still wearing her wedding ring.

Though three days later, Jeannie noticed it. That Marie had taken to calling him cher.

“I feel I may have brought this on myself.”

Jean Grey leaned forward, nudging gingerly at one (note, one) of her black eyes. Checking with her usual efficiency whether the swelling had gone down enough to warrant putting on makeup, and deciding it had not. Not that there was any real reason to try covering up her bruises: The Jean-Apalooza Smack-down (as Jubilee gleefully insisted on calling it) had taken place in full view of just about everyone. It wasn’t like she could pretend that she hadn’t had her ass handed to her by Marie now, was it? And-she grimaced- It wasn’t like she could pretend she didn’t know why, either. The entire school knew why. But there was something, well, soothing, about checking her injuries professionally. Like it made the fact that she had wrecked her life and lost everyone she’d ever loved somehow more manageable. Like she could prove her herself there was more to her than the Phoenix, and the will to maim and torture-

Like there was something to do besides staring at Logan, as he chased Marie LeBeau’s little daughter across the hockey pitch, and completely ignored everyone else.

Jean Grey was above such pettiness as that.

Beccah’s laughter rang through the summer sunshine then, contagious enough that even Emma Frost was smiling at the scene. Jean watched the man she’d once heard Scott describe as a living nightmare pick the little girl up and swing her, her little red plaits flying. Wondering why it didn’t seem odd that he could do this, that he could be trusted with Beccah, despite her tender age. When Jean had first met Wolverine, the scene before her would have been unthinkable: Logan couldn’t be trusted with plant-life or gerbils, much less small children. He fought in cages and lived on beer and growled like an angry wolf when irritated; If given a child to mind he’d most likely have swapped it for biking boots on e-bay. Or tried to teach it how to hot-wire a car and taken off for Vegas to see the sights. He was not someone you left in charge of toddlers, nor was he someone you wanted them to emulate. At all. And yet here he was, playing with Rogue’s children. Making the little girl giggle, calling to her shy elder brother to join in now. Looking at the kids and their mother like they were his family- Which was what they essentially were. Kitty and Jubes were looking on, smiling indulgently, Marie laughing and calling out suggestions for games- And Grey immediately looked away to the magazine in her lap, chastened. Wondering whether it was her own nerves or Rogue’s borrowed telekinesis that was making her sun-chair suddenly rattle like an old tin. For a second it looked like Marie was going to come over and inquire where her thoughts lay personally, but a look from Jubes seemed to halt her-

And a look from Kitty convinced Grey that reading her Marie Claire was wise.

It was slightly disconcerting, to say the least.

“You’re doing it again,” Ororo piped up then, from beside her. She was bopping her head calmly to some music, her blue I-Pod nestled in her elegant dark fingers like it was surgically attached. She loved the damn thing, Kurt had bought it for her. But she didn’t even have her eyes open, so Grey was sure she didn’t know what she could be talking about.

“Doing what?” she muttered, nettled. Pretending her voice didn’t sound guilty.

“Getting all wound up and type-A about this. I can tell by the way you’re pouting.” And a twitch of a smile crossed Storm’s face then, her expression somehow serene and mischievous. Which was infuriating.

“I do not pout,” Jean snapped. Arms crossed now. Pouting.

The serene smile got slightly wider. “You can, you do, and you are at the minute. And besides, I know what you’re thinking.”

“Oh really, what are you, a telepath?”

Storm’s calm smile would have driven anyone to murder. “No, I’m the best friend who’s known you since forever. So long she might as well be able to hear your thoughts. And guess what?” She pulled down her sunglasses, staring over her nose at Grey. Blue eyes sparkling. “You’re doing the exact same thing that irritated Rogue last time. And the time before that. And the time before that, and that again. So unless you want to, ah yes, how did Jubilee put it? Open up another can of Rogue-on-Grey whoop-ass, I suggest you accept the situation and deal with it.” She pushed the sunglasses back up on her nose, still smiling. Lay back in the sun, got comfortable. Serene. “Personally, I think it’s long past due for it to happen. They’re a good team, they make each other happy.” She turned so now she was laying on her stomach. “Besides, what did you expect? He got over you. It’s not the end of the world.” And she took a deep breath, went back to listening to her I-Pod. As if she hadn’t just insulted, worried and offended her best friend in the space of five sentences.

But no, of course she wanted to hear it. She welcomed and treasured the advice of her friends and colleagues. And if she’d listened to Storm about the Logan’s Angels phenomenon then her face might not look like a map of the Rockies right now. Grey wasn’t sure what had come over her in the Mess Hall: She’d just seen the way Logan was looking at Marie and something had…snapped. Not Phoenix snapped (because if that had happened the Mansion would be without a roof now. And she suspected Logan might still be naked…) Just Jean snapped. She couldn’t help herself: She had been the nicest, calmest, most togetherest girl anyone had ever met since puberty, Dammit! She’d always been…perfect, everyone knew that. She’d had to be. Not a hair out of place, not a foot set wrong, that was Jeannie. She was the one he was supposed to be grinning at, not Marie or this mysterious Mariko Yashida Kitty kept mentioning. So long as she was that the world made sense. But now the man her id couldn’t keep from salivating over was grinning like an idiot at his supposed foster daughter, a human train-wreck who’d gotten married and pregnant by nineteen, couldn’t touch for more than a couple of minutes without her inhibitor collar, had multiple personalities and a temper like an irritable grizzly-bear- Who was unlucky and all over the place and never in control of anything-

And had learned to live with it. Love with it. Even have a family with it.

Even kick her Level Five mutated ass three ways to Sunday with it, and that fact was sticking in Jean’s craw more than anything else, there was no use claiming it wasn’t. It seemed to go against all the laws of God and man, that an out-of-control former student could have the man she was supposed to have, the life she was supposed to have. And could wail on her while she was at it, when the last time Jean had seen Marie in the Danger Room, she’d needed a tag team of Bobby and Jubes just to make it through the simulation in one piece. Rogue was too uncoordinated, too gentle to make the team; She and Scott had decided it though they’d kept it to themselves. But now- Marie was a powerhouse. A pro. She’d been moved onto Logan’s team over a year now and Wolverine wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t think she could take it. He wouldn’t have been able to watch her fight, Jean suspected, if he thought she couldn’t take care of herself. Lord, how things had changed. The evidence of Marie’s progress written all over her confident, lithe body, and if she was being honest with herself, it was written all over Logan too, in the way he was playing with that little girl who looked so much like her mama, and seemed to have no notion that Uncle Logan had once been Weapon X…

Jean sighed then.

Because she knew that this, when it came right down to it, was the root of what was making her so mad. When she’d first come back to the Mansion, it hadn’t been seeing Scott (and his new wife) which had upset her. Not really. It had been realising that everyone had moved on, had found so much more than they ever thought they could, and she couldn’t be a part of it. She didn’t deserve to be. The suspicious looks, the whispers, the questioning tenseness whenever she so much as raised an eyebrow let alone threw a punch reiterated the point every day she spent with the team. They didn’t trust her: In all honestly she no longer trusted herself. The guilt of her actions, the weight of it, that was an earned ache which never went away and for someone who was used to being the good guy that was torture, pure and simple. A torture she knew she deserved. The Phoenix hadn’t been forced on her: It wasn’t like something had reached down from the heavens and yanked her into its grasp. It hadn’t been an act of God. It had been an act of cowardice, repressing the part of herself she didn’t like until it broke free. And while she might have had a bit of help with that (she still woke up some nights screaming with rage at the memory of Charles Xavier, and the trust-free decision he had made for her) she couldn’t blame anyone else for the consequences. The Phoenix was her. If she’d been one of the students she’d have advised herself to meet the guilt head on, to face it and try to master it. But it was easy to lecture about responsibility, when you didn’t have anything weighing on your conscience. And it was easy to talk about moving on when you didn’t have to do it, when it wasn’t you trying to slouch into Bethlehem and lay your burdens down at last-

“You got a minute, Red?” she heard Logan ask then.

Jean opened her eyes to see him looking down at her, everyone in the garden pointedly not looking their way. She was surprised she hadn’t sensed his presence, but then she’d been so distracted lately even her most basic telepathy seemed permanently on the fritz. Without even waiting for her to answer Storm stood and abandoned her seat for one beside Kurt, giving him a place to sit and some privacy. Also settling a ring of storm clouds around them, a warning to anyone who might try to interrupt their little tête-à-tête. Logan quirked an eyebrow when he noticed, shaking his head in amusement: When he’d first come to the Mansion the show of power might have irked him, but he’d grown more mellow with age, Jean guessed. Or more familiar with ‘Ro’s temper when challenged, whichever came first. Jean didn’t want to say anything, so she nodded mutely instead. Just sat up and moved her legs to the ground, her ankle accidentally hitting off his-

A spark of electricity moved through her at the contact but he felt nothing. She didn’t need her telepathy to see that. She was suddenly very happy that he couldn’t read minds.

He just cocked another eyebrow at her, his gaze evaluating, and moved back slightly til they weren’t touching. It felt more awkward than disappointing. “Marie’s not coming over here, if that’s what’s worrying you,” he began, his tone even. “And she won’t be giving a repeat performance, she promised me. Promised Jubes too, which might mean more: the Fire-Cracker’s the one we’re all scared of.” And his mouth quirked into a smile, his mind going to some memory she knew better than to try and read.

“I’m sorry to have caused so much trouble for your-” she forced herself to say it, “For your family.” Part of her expected him to deny it; Part of her wanted him to. But he just nodded slowly, sagely, his eyes never leaving hers and never flinching. Never denying it. In that moment Jean realised how much she’d still been hoping, and how much she’d hated herself for not being happy that he’d finally found some peace.

He cleared his throat. “Marie will come around eventually: She’s a little… protective of me, is all.” And again that slow, warm smile spread across his face. A smile she realised he only wore when he thought of Rogue. “It’s kinda funny-”

“Not at all,” she interrupted. “She knows what’s been done to you. Stryker, Alkali Lake, m-me. It’s perfectly understandable.”

Again the cocked eyebrow. “You puttin’ yourself in the same category as Stryker, Red?”

“Um, nearly caused the end of the world and killed you? Then made you kill me in an act of cowardice? Let me think…Yeah.” She couldn’t help her sarcasm: It made her feel safer. But his grin grew cockier as she said it, and the urge to take a swing at him grew apace along with it. Although he didn’t argue with her definition of events.

“Did I turn into a pansy-ass when nobody was watching?” he muttered instead. “Women thinking they gotta defend me-”

“Don’t have to. Want to.” Acting on impulse she reached across and touched his hand. He didn’t move away but he didn’t react either. Just gave her another one of those level-headed looks he’d become so adept at. Instantly Jean took her hand back. “It’s not surprising, I see the way she looks at you, Logan,” she continued softly. “As I said, you two are family now. It’s… It’s good that you found someone.” Who isn’t me.

She pushed the thought away.

“Never thought I’d get this lucky,” he muttered gruffly then. For a man with such a big heart, he never felt comfortable when it was on display. “After Mariko, after you-” She flinched. “Yeah, well, it all went a little country fer a while there, darlin’.” Despite herself she smiled. “But life don’t stay that way, thank Christ.” And he looked over his shoulder, shooting Marie a dry grin. “You can ask Stripes there ‘bout that.”

Jean fought the urge to roll her eyes. “I’ll pass. Don’t feel like getting my ass handed to me again.”

“Like I said, she’ll behave.” And then his gaze flicked back to her. “After all, she has nothing to worry about.” A beat. “You an’ me both know that.”

And there it was.

Impossibility wrapped in six syllables. Jean lowered her head, closed her eyes. She hadn’t needed to hear that, hadn’t wanted to: She understood that she was being told, not asked. And watching him watch Marie she knew he wouldn’t back down. He knew how lucky he’d gotten, and so did his-his woman. (Man, it was strange to think of little Marie like that. But that's what she was.) Storm’s words came back to her unbidden: He got over you. It’s not the end of the world. It just felt like it. And even though she suspected that there was really a lot more to this than losing even the possibility of him, she also felt like her heart was breaking. But she said nothing. Simply cleared her throat awkwardly, nodded.

Tried to look happy for them both.

Logan wasn’t convinced.

“I know it seems like shit now, darlin’,” he said softly, “But it will get better. I ain’t gonna sugar-coat it: ya screwed up, and the good ole days ain’t coming back ever again. But you’ll survive it, Red. You’re strong enough.” He nodded towards his little family. “And when you’re ready, we’ll be waiting for you.”

She snorted, suddenly bitter. “You mean you’ll forgive me, do you?”

“I mean you’ll forgive yourself. Eventually. But I can’t do that for you. Red. Hell, nobody can.” And with that he walked away.

Beccah saw him coming and squealed in delight, running over to him. Marie leaned over and rubbed his arm, the gesture clearly territorial though Logan shot her an exasperated look. Rogue’s gaze flicked over his shoulder to meet hers and the expression held warning, but also a hint of… pity? Understanding? Maybe even kindness or regret. Jean couldn’t be sure. But she knew Marie well enough to believe that the younger woman would try to help her if she needed it-

Though she ever stirred a toe near Logan, and she also knew she’d lose the limb.

So Jean watched the former bad guy and the former screw up. Watched them play and laugh with their family, and wondered whether she’d ever be where they were. Whether she'd ever feel like she deserved to be.

Whether the Phoenix would ever let feel like she'd the right to win.

Though it did finally occur to her that it wasn’t so terrible, the way some things always change.

Disclaimer: This fan fiction is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended.

Mommy’s happier now, Beccah thought.

And she’s happier because Uncle Logan’s here.

Beccah knew her Mommy hadn’t been happy in a really long time. Not since daddy died, not since she had to come back to the Mansion. Mommy hid it really well (she was like Olivier like that, she never admitted when she was sad) but Beccah saw. Saw the way her face went all broken sometimes when nobody was watching. Saw the way she held onto some things just a little harder than she needed to and for a little bit too long. Beccah might have been the littlest LeBeau but she wasn’t stupid: she knew what was going on around her and she’d been worried. Scared even, because there was nothing she could do to make Mommy happier and the only thing she could imagine helping was having Mommy forget about Daddy, and she felt sick in her stomach whenever she thought like that.

So most of the time she tried not to.

Beccah couldn’t help it: She couldn’t bear the thought of forgetting about her Papa. She’d adored him before he went to heaven. But then the bad men from the government came to New Orleans and Daddy said he had to fight. That if him and Mommy didn’t then maybe someday someone would come and try to hurt her or Olivier too. So he’d gone away with Uncle Kurt and Aunt Ororo and, and- she forced herself to think it- and he’d never come back. Uncle Logan had showed up in the house, the first time she’d ever seen him, and told her he had to talk to her Momma, said something real quick and quiet-like that made Mommy holler and wail. Olivier had come and got her and brought her to his room and they’d curled up together, both of them scared outta their wits until Uncle Logan came and told them what happened to Daddy. That he’d died protecting them and Momma and they must be so proud o’ him, because he was such a good man. Beccah could still remember the way Olivier had yelled at the giant, hairy man, so loud she’d stared at him with wide eyes because she’d never heard him talk back to a grownup like that before. Olivier just didn’t do that. But Uncle Logan hadn’t stopped him, and hadn’t argued either: He’d just let him get it out and then stayed with Mommy and him and her all that night, holding Mommy while she cried. It was the strangest thing but Beccah had never heard her mother cry before then: She’d never even really known Mommies could cry, but they did do-

And until Mommy had come back to the Mansion to stay with Uncle Logan she’d cried an awful lot.

But not anymore. Not now. Beccah smiled, watching her Mommy and the big, hairy feral argue and wrestle on the couch. Uncle Logan was holding something over his head outta Mommy’s reach and she was trying to tickle him to get it back. Which Beccah could have told her wouldn’t work because Uncle Logan always turned the tickles back on you. She was laughing, trying to wriggle away but never quite managing it- Although it didn’t seem to Beccah that she was trying really hard. She kept falling onto instead of away from him, smiling from ear to ear and giggling like Auntie Jubie did when she was playing with Uncle Scott. Eventually Uncle Logan gave up whatever he was keeping from her and she grabbed it, holding a bright red plectrum up to the light, practically dancing on the couch in victory like one of Beccah’s friends. The little girl grinned, realising what this meant: Mommy had found her guitar and her CDs from New Orleans yesterday and now she was going to start playing again. It was another thing about her first home that Beccah had missed: When she was really little Mommy had played music all the time, with Aunt Katrine on her big, dusty ole grand piano and Uncle Julien on his fiddle. The house was never quiet- Mommy had played alongside them on her guitar, singing in this special way that made the room go quiet and Daddy stare at her. It was one of her earliest memories of her parents, Mommy singing a lullaby for her while Daddy rocked her and called her his petite princesse. Olivier smiling and asking Mommy to sing one for him too. Beccah smiled, remembering: She’d wanted to learn the drums so she could help her family play, but Daddy said she would have to be older and that she was good enough at making noise already without giving her specialised equipment-

She noticed that the laughter had stopped then.

Mommy and Uncle Logan were staring at each other really weirdly, like they’d forgotten how to breath or something. Logan covering Mommy’s hand with one massive, hairy paw, the plectrum peaking out from between his fingers and the other hand playing in her white streaks, tucking one behind her ear. It would have looked kinda funny but Beccah didn’t feel like laughing: instead her tummy felt kinda fluttery, and despite herself she looked away. She somehow knew that this wasn’t something anybody else was meant to see. That it was a good thing, but a… private thing. A grown-up thing, in a way that singing lullabies never had been. The moment stretched out, seeming to last forever and then… Mommy said something she didn’t quite catch. Suddenly Logan moved back, letting her stand up, his face looking disappointed and weary. Almost the way it had looked that first night they met, when he came to tell them about Daddy though not as bad. Beccah was about to go to him, to give him her best and biggest hug like she did the other times he seemed upset-

But before she could Mommy came back, carrying her guitar.

The plectrum glowing in the light as she held it out to him and then settled down to sit between his knees. Beccah watched, strangely fascinated as his big, blunt fingers moved against the frets, Mommy’s littler fingers coaxing them. Putting them in place. He looked nervous- which was weird, because Uncle Logan never looked nervous- and then he began to copy her movements. She placed his fingers into a G chord, then a D. Made him lean harder on the strings though Beccah knew it hurt your fingers to do that. Logan tried to strum the strings but Mommy stopped him, told him that was a more advanced lesson. That he had to get the hard part first and then he could try making noise. He twisted to look at her and her eyes went that same wide, couldn’t-breath way again. Her eye-lashes fluttering as she leaned towards him, laying her forehead against his. He took this really deep breath like he was taking her scent and then- then-

Uncle Logan kissed her.

Very gently, the way Uncle Scott kissed Auntie Jubie when she came back from the field. His big arms went around her, the guitar tumbling from her grasp as she curled up against him. Her fingers curling in his hair now and pulling him closer again. A moment passed, then another and another like that-

And then, finally, Mommy Smiled. Really, truly Smiled for the first time since before Daddy died.

And for the first time since that happened, Beccah did the same.

“You need to go to sleep now, little sis,” Olivier’s voice sounded behind her. She was surprised that she hadn’t heard him because Uncle Logan had been teaching her how to be a hunter for weeks now and she should totally be aware of her surroundings. But she supposed she would just have to tell him she needed more lessons when he was less…busy than now. She turned to see her brother pointedly not looking at their mother, a blush creeping across his face. A little grin there too, his red-on-black eyes almost glowing in the faint light. She hadn’t seen him look this embarrassed since the first time he saw Sooraya Qadir in gym class- And that had involved kissing too, eventually.

Though since Dust hadn’t told him off she guessed that Sooraya (like Mommy) didn’t mind that stuff at all.

“Seriously, Bex,” he murmured. “You need to go to bed. Quietly.”

“Stealthy quietly? Like Uncle Logan showed me?”

Olivier’s smile grew wider. “Exactly like Uncle Logan showed you.”

She crossed her arms, her expression quizzical. Apparently she looked exactly like her Momma when she did that. “Do I have to skin a squirrel first?” she asked him.

“No-”

“But you said exactly like Uncle Logan-”

“He just means you have to go to bed, little darlin’.”

And she and Olivier turned to look at Logan, who was grinning at the, his arms crossed around Mommy. Beccah half expecting him to be mad at her for snooping, but he so wasn’t: He looked way too happy with his hands curled up in Mommy’s hair, holding her close while the guitar rested at his feet. Out of force of habit Beccah darted forward, taking the guitar and laying it against the wall like you were meant to do if you didn’t want the neck to warp. She shot Logan a disapproving So There look so he’d know that that’s how you were supposed to take care of an instrument and Mommy giggled.

“Well that told me,” Logan muttered, grinning.

“That it did,” Mommy said.

And then acting on impulse Beccah raced over, climbing onto the arm of the chair and hugging him and Mommy together. Giving him a little peck of a kiss on his cheek like she used to do- Like she used to do before Papa went away. She heard Mommy’s indrawn breath, saw Logan’s eyes widen at what she did but he didn’t tell her off or anything. Just let his big, heavy hand rest on her head for a second, the weight reassuring. She got the feeling he’d never done that before. “Thanks, little one,” he whispered.

“You’re welcome.” And then she darted back towards her brother, standing behind his legs though she wasn’t sure why. Peeking from behind him at the grownups and feeling Olivier’s hand in hers. Knowing she’d done the right thing.

A beat.

Beccah let her brother lead her back to bed then. Climbed under the covers with her favourite bear- he was bright blue, so he was called Hank Bear, naturally- and waited for sleep to come. Wondered for the first time if she was ever going to find someone she liked the way Mommy liked Logan and Olivier liked Sooraya- Because there must be something to this kissing business if it could make Mommy as happy as that. She turned onto her tummy, staring into the darkness and waiting for sleep to come. Those questions still echoing through her head though something told her they were for another day. She held the Hank Bear tighter, smiling in the darkness and then-

Then, from far away, she heard her Mommy playing. One chord, then another, her gentle, warming voice lilting through the house. Singing a song she hadn’t sung in so long that Beccah had been afraid she’d forgotten the words. The little girl sat up, listening, smiling brightly as she heard a bass growl murmuring beneath the soprano-

And in the darkness, she crooned the words along with her mother. Holding the bear to her chest, a feeling like happiness and tears smushed together exploding in her heart.

“Hello blackbird,” she sang, “Hello starling-Winter’s over, be mah darlin’…

Long time coming- But now, the snow is gone.”

Beccah fell asleep with a smile on her face.

She’d never know it but after she heard her daughter sing with her, Marie did the same.

THE SNOW IS GONE Josh Ritter