Everybody thinks they know what broke Logan. What made him the man he is now. Retreated, angry and bitter. Stalking along the corridors at night, muttering to himself, cursing silently, and constantly searching something that isn’t there. There are clear moments. Suddenly he stops and straightens his back, tilts his head, and one can almost see Wolverine, the man he once were. Ready and poised, expecting something, anything to happen. Then the moment is gone. His shoulders sag, head droops forward and he returns pacing and muttering.

*I have to keep them safe. Fucking nobody seems to realize how important it is to make sure that the windows and doors are locked. That there are no uninvited guests lurking around after curfew. I know how they look at me. I have seen the looks I get. Some of them curious, most filled with pity. They do not understand. We failed that night. Betrayed every fucking promise we had made for those kids. Had I been more alert, had other teachers been in here, outcome of that night could have been quite different.*

I follow him in the shadows. Not once has he acknowledged my presence, but I know he knows I’m there. He has to. He knows my scent. Knows the sound of my feet as they hit the carpet. There are nights I would like to go to him. Go to him and force him to stop and look at me. To see me and talk to me. But I know it’s useless. Even if I did that, stepped right in front of him, he would just walk past me like I was nothing more than a thin air. Sometimes it makes me angry. More often it makes me sad. Most of the times it makes me grateful, because I know the truth.

*If it were just the kids, it would be understandable. They’re more flexible and prone to forget than adults. And most of the kids today weren’t even here that night. Those kids have almost all graduated already. Like I said, if it were just kids passing on a rumor about my alleged breakdown, I would understand it. What I can’t… Won’t understand is that teachers like Summers, Xavier and Munroe treat me as if I’m somehow mentally challenged.*

He doesn’t sleep anymore, not before it’s absolutely necessary. He spends his nights prowling around in the sleeping mansion, muttering under his breath, eyes darting back and forth. Searching, observing. During days he sits in his room, on a chair near the window. Curtains are always closed, but there is a small gap between them. Thin sliver of sunlight falls to his worn boots. He just sits there and stares at that golden strip, rocking back and forth. Waiting for it to disappear so that he can get up and leave.

*I just want to make sure everything is okay, that everybody is safe before I go to bed. I can’t sleep if I don’t know if the doors and windows are bolted. I can’t sleep if I don’t know if there’s somebody prowling through the corridors. I can’t sleep before everything’s all right. If that means double-checking locks and latches, going through every nook and cranny, checking in to rooms to see if everybody is home, safe and secure, I’ll do it. I don’t get that much sleep, but it’s okay. I can live with that. I’ll take that little stupor the lack of sleep gives me every day, rather than face the nightmares about Stryker carting these kids to his lab.*

I can hear people whispering about him when I collect our meal from the food line. Hushed voices, rumors and blatant lies. They should know better. But they think they know. They think they know the truth.

*They think that I don’t notice how somebody is constantly following me around, like some fucking shadow. Especially when I’m around the kids. Watching me like a hawk. Like I could harm those little critters. I would fucking chew my arm off more easily than hurt any of them. Well, what could you expect from a bunch of people who think I’m so stupid that I would fall on to their little traps they try to set me up. Slipping sedatives to my food or trying to lock me up at night.*

I have given up the pretence long time ago. I don’t even stay downstairs to eat my meals. I take them to his room. It’s an effort to make him to eat. Usually he just sits there, rocking back and forth, faraway look in his eyes while I eat, then I have to feed him. He takes the food I offer if he’s hungry. He rarely is anymore. It feels like he’s slowly retreating from the real world.

*They tell me that I’m scaring the kids. Well, better to be scared than dead. It’s our responsibility to take care of them, to make sure they’re all right, and now it’s starting to look like I’m the only one who still remembers what happened when we slipped. All it took was one fucking night. One night, and Stryker was all over the place. Hadn’t it been the Tin man and couple of other older kids, there would be no Xavier’s School For Gifted Youngsters anymore. Stryker would have taken all the kids. All. And that’s not acceptable. Had there been even one kid that bastard managed to spoil, and that would have been a complete failure.*

Sometimes when I go to him, he has fallen asleep. It seems to be the only moment he’s completely still. Every muscle lax, breathing shallow and even. First time I saw him like that I thought he was dead. It would have been a relief. He looked so peaceful and relaxed, at ease with himself for the first time in two years. I could only stand there and stare at him, afraid to breathe or move. I still don’t know what gave me up, what alerted him, but his eyes fluttered open. For a moment he looked like he was going to say something, but instead he just shook his head and sat still.

*To even think about what could have happened that night makes me sick. We came so close to loose everything. I came so fucking close to loose everything. If it hadn’t been Marie, outcome would probably have been quite different. She, Bobby and John were the ones that pulled me out of there. Without them I would have stayed and faced Stryker. That would have been the end of me. End of everything I had thought I could have.*

He’s not a burden to me. Far from it. But there are those moments I told about. Clear moments. When he can pull his act together long enough to take a good look around him. Just before his concentration breaks disgusted grimace crosses his face. At that moment he’s perfectly aware of what he’s become, and I don’t think he likes it.

*Marie. She comes to see me every day. She’s not like the others. I would like to talk with her sometimes. Ask her how she’s doing, but I can’t. I have to keep it all locked up, inside. I can’t afford to make any more mistakes. I can’t afford to break my concentration. It’s hard enough to stay alert during days, when there are so many voices around. Kids scurrying back and forth, going classes or back to their rooms, people shouting and laughing outside. Cars passing. I have to keep listening so that I can tell the owner of each and every one of those voices.*

He once promised me to take care of me. It was long time ago, but I don’t think he has forgotten that promise. He has just extended that promise a little. He is taking care of us all now, for the best of his abilities. It’s his duty. Has been ever since Stryker invaded the mansion.

*It’s easier at night. Not so much noise. But there are plenty of places to hide. Dark corners, closets and unused classrooms. I have to stay alert. It’s getting harder to stay awake, but I don’t have time to sleep. Last time I made that mistake. Let myself believe that everything was okay. If I hadn’t gotten to bed that night at all, I would have been ready long time before Stryker’s team had even landed. Would have gotten those kids out faster. I know I could have gotten all of them out before Stryker captured them if I had stayed sharp enough.

We already lost enough those days. Those kids lost a piece of their childhood, Scott lost Jean… Too much. Unacceptable losses. I’m not planning to let it happen again. They can try, but I’ll be ready. Ready and waiting. There will be hell to pay for the next person who’s going to try to lay their hands on these people.*

Eventually we all forgot. All but one of us. Forgot the sound of choppers and stun guns. Forgot the night when this all almost ended for all of us. Even I forgot. All but one of us.

As years passed, even Logan seemed to get better. He even left his room during days occasionally. Of course at that point we all wished he had stayed up in the attic to where Professor had let him move. There was not a soul among us who wouldn’t have been afraid when shadow dimmed the sun momentarily, and you just knew what you would see if you turned your head. Logan, standing behind your back, lurking over your shoulder, observing your every move with those empty, predatory eyes of his. Just observing, watching. Never touching or speaking. Never smiling. Never sulking. Just those empty eyes staring from the blank face.

We tried to talk to him about it. How it would be better if he kept his own company. Easier would have been communicating with a brick wall. When ever somebody tried to talk to him, he would return to his old habits, pacing and rocking, and would start muttering incoherently, not stopping before the other party made their retreat and left him alone.

I guess it’s fair to say nobody was as surprised as I was, when I woke up one night and found him from my room, standing at the doorstep. He was swaying nervously, shuffling his feet. His gaze was darting back and forth between my face and the toes of his boots.

“Logan?” For a moment he looked like he was going to run. Then he shook his head. Cleared his throat.
“Tell Professor to evacuate. They’re coming.” And with that said he was gone. Disappeared to the darkened corridors.

I don’t know how he did it, but I think Professor had a hunch.
“And the circle is closing…” He said when I run to him and told him what Logan had said. We got everybody out in time. Almost everybody. Thanks to Logan we were all sitting safe and comfortable in a fleet of minivans, waiting for a signal from Scott, when I suddenly realized one of us was missing. Logan. I couldn’t see him.

“Scott, wait! I’ll have to go and get Logan! We can’t just leave him behind!” I shouted.
“Rogue!” I could hear Professor shouting after me. I let him shout. It would take only a minute to go in and grab Logan.

Night was silent around me. It wouldn’t be long before this calm would be shattered, but we weren’t going to be here when that happened. Logan had given us an option. I don’t know what made me so careless and giddy. Perhaps it was the fact that I had seen Logan, only for few seconds, but he was back. I was going to get him. We would hop in to a minivan, and leave this place together. No more scary stalker, just Logan.

I threw open the front door of the mansion and barged in. That was my first mistake. Second mistake was to scream and run when Wolverine leaped from the banister above and came roaring through the air towards me. Third mistake was to keep running to the wrong direction.

He was hunting. I was the only available prey at the moment, and got his full attention. Had I used even half of my brain, I would have run straight out, and in to the garage. I could have tricked him in to one of the empty minivans. Close the door, sedate him from the front seat and keep driving. But no. I just had to do it the hard way. I took the stairs to the second floor.

It took me a while to realize I couldn’t hear him anymore. No heavy footsteps. Just complete silence. From that I knew I was in trouble. He was close enough. He didn’t have to run anymore. He could be waiting behind any corner. He could be hiding in any shadow. I stopped running. Closed my eyes. Strong hands grasped the front of my jacket, and he hauled me against the wall, pinning me there with his body.

“Oh, God…” One hand grasped my hip while the other traveled higher, ending under my jaw. I could feel his hot breath tickling my throat when he leaned to whisper.
“God’s not here…”
“Logan?”
“I told you people to leave for a good reason. I can’t do my fucking job if I have to watch out for you!”
“Logan, please… You’re scaring me…”
“Good…” He murmured, turning his head so that our lips nearly touched. An almost kiss from an almost friend.
“You’re supposed to be afraid…” Hot, moist breath caressed my lips. I wanted to lean in, but I couldn’t. Not if I wanted to get out of here alive.
“I’m fucking terrified.” After that confession his tongue sneaked a quick lick over my lower lip. Quick enough to fool my skin. Yet I could feel tremble racing through his whole body.

“Now, get the fuck out of my face. Go to my room and lock the door. I’ll come and get you later. If there is such thing as later.” He breathed and let go of me. I turned to go.
“Marie?” He called after me.
“Thanks… Thanks for caring.”

For the next hours I laid huddled on his bed, hiding under a blanket, listening screams and gunfire from downstairs. At first they were not so loud, coming from three floors down, but they kept gaining volume. Logan was retreating towards upper levels. I didn’t know if his retreat was planned, or was he forced to it. But every inch he gave up he made them pay.

When the mansion finally grew silent again, and I could hear only engines of the choppers from the outside I threw off the blanket and sat up. There was no way of knowing who would come through the door of Logan’s room. If I were lucky, it would be Logan. If not… I would end up dead, or in to a lab.

It was Logan. Still twitchy and shaken, covered to blood and nasty looking bits and pieces of innards from head to toe. His hair was sticking to every possible direction, caked with clotted blood. He looked like he had gone through the meat grinder. And that grinder hadn’t survived the encounter I found out when Logan pulled me after him. He led me through the mansion to the garage. I will never forget those last minutes I spend under that roof.

There were bodies everywhere. Well, they weren’t exactly bodies anymore. You can’t call shredded pile of flesh and bone a body. A carcass would probably be more appropriate label. Pools of blood. Deep gouges and bullet holes on the walls. Almost exactly like the night when they came for us for the first time. Only back then Logan had had to be more careful, because of all the children around. Now there had been nothing to restrain him, and it showed. Carcasses strewn carelessly everywhere, mangled limb there severed head here. Some of them looked like he had tried to skin them alive. I nearly puked, but Logan didn’t let me stop for it, so I had to force away the nausea.

We walked past the kitchen. I heard a small moan coming from there. Logan stopped, changed direction and we walked in. One of the soldiers was still alive. Badly wounded, but alive, laying on his back in the middle of the kitchen. Logan walked to him and stepped on his face, grinding his skull to a pulp under the heel of his boot.

“Now it’s later. Did Xavier tell you where they were going?” Logan asked from me when we sat on his bike. I think he knew I lied when I told him no. There was no way in hell I would let him near those people anymore.

I still keep waking up in the middle of the night. I can still smell the coppery, red scent in the air; taste the metallic tang of it at the back of my throat. But the worst part is when I hear the bones snapping, and wet, squishy sound when Logan raises his feet from the mess that used to be somebody’s head just few seconds ago. At those moments I’m kind of glad Logan really isn’t with me anymore. He’s gone back to the place in his mind he created while he waited for the next attack. At first it was just few minutes at the time. Then he kept relapsing for longer periods. I think I last saw Logan, talked with him… Must have been nearly a year ago.

But I’m worried, too. Because he’s slowly waking up. Clawing his way back to the surface. And that can mean only one thing. Something’s coming. Something’s going to happen. Again.