“Logan, do you ever think about your mother?”

He shifts his back against the bench, takes a swig of his beer. “Don’t remember my mother.”

Rogue nibbles the end of a nail, tilts her head at him. “But do you *think* about her?”

Logan rolls his eyes. “What part of ‘I don’t remember’ do you not understand?”

Rogue gives a gentle laugh. She lies down on the bench, settling her head on his thigh and propping her feet on a planter box. “I know, Logan. I know you can’t think about *her*, exactly… But sometimes I like to just think about the fact that you had a mother at all, you know?”

Logan looks down at the young woman on his lap. For once, the sarcastic smirk disappears from his face. When she raises her eyes to his, he just keeps looking at her, not knowing what to say.

“I mean, you were born and were this little thing,” she continues. “Surely a very *hairy* little thing [grin], but you were a little baby and your mother took care of you. And you grew into a little boy. I like to think of your mother feeding you pieces of hot dog, and pushing you around the aisles in a grocery cart, and tickling you on the lawn. She probably got mad at you a lot, too, of course – ‘cuz you had the devil in you, that’s for sure.”

Logan takes a big swallow of beer, then lets out a loud burp. “The devil in me, yep, sure did.”

“Aaagh, gross.” Rogue sits up, turns toward him, and grabs the beer bottle from his hand. Takes a swig. Hands it back, but won’t let go until he looks her in the eyes again. “Logan, you make yourself crazy trying to remember. Why?”

“I don’t know who I am”.

“You’re right here. You’re - *you*.”

“Maybe I’m not.”

“Logan. I know who you are.”

“Stryker – “

“Stryker was an ass and doesn’t matter.”

Logan sighs and looks into the bushes. Rogue lets go of his beer. “The way I see it, even if you don’t *remember* your past, that past made you what you are now. And I do know what you are now, Logan. So do you. You’re okay, Logan. And you’re making new memories now.”

She stand up in front of him. Reaches her hands up to his wild hair, rests one on either side of his head, and turns his head to face her.

“Remember this.” And she plants a gentle kiss on the top of his head. “I know you. And I have faith in you.”

He sits frozen and speechless.

“And now - I gotta go!” she cries, and turns to run toward the mansion, late for class again.

Logan shakes his head. “Crazy kid.” He pulls a cigar out of his shirt pocket, sniffs it. “Me in a grocery cart.” Puts the cigar in his mouth. Then breaks into a lopsided, shit-eating grin.