The time had come. The clock showed two. The other, older kids sat with Marie in the dining room, which served as study hall between classes. The others had disappeared, off to classes in math, science, or whatever. Here she was sitting with a schedule that only said a day and a time and a word.
"Specials."
They all spun around. No one had seen or heard him approach and that scared the crap out of them.
"That's what Xavier calls this. You can call it survival. Outside. Now." Logan grinned to himself as he walked away.
Nervously they followed. Even Marie had been startled to see him and the fact that he was the teacher made her wonder even more what this course was going to be like.
He led them to a large, spreading oak and invited them to sit by grunting and seating himself.
"I'm Logan."
"Mr. Logan..."
"Logan."
"Uh, Logan. What is this all about? I mean, we've all had training in first aid and pitching a tent and water safety and all that. I don't get it." Bobby seemed to be speaking for the group. Logan raised his eyebrows. The rest of the class nodded in confusion. Marie kept silent. She had entered this school at the end of last semester and had not had a chance to learn things the others obviously already had.
"I see." Logan noted that Marie had not nodded. "So you know the basics, huh? Then what do you need to survive?"
The class threw out answers of shelter, food, water, etc. Not what he was looking for.
"Yeah. You need shelter and your body will die in four days without water and around thirty days without food. But what do you need to survive?"
His question was met with blank stares.
"Your brain."
"But we've been taught all the basics with all the equipment..."
"What makes you think you're gonna have equipment? Almost anywhere you are, you will find what you need to survive. If you don't have it on you, you will have to make do. There are times when you don't want to lug around a bunch of stuff 'cause it'll only slow you down. I'm here to teach you what it's like to use your brains, your instincts, common sense, whatever, to save your ass when you are in real trouble and have no one with you."
Deathly silence from the group. Marie couldn't stop the butterflies that started in her stomach.
Now, walking in the forest behind the mansion, Logan's group had calmed a little. He raised a hand to stop them.
"I'm not going to treat you like kids. You have got to learn this stuff, but I'm not going to make you. Whatever you remember can save your life someday. If you forget, it's not my problem, but it will be yours. Find me something edible in the 20 yards around us." He calmly sat on the ground.
They scrambled around but all they came up with was a few acorns, a pine cone and some berries. The class laid their offerings at his feet and sat in front of him. He looked into their eyes, his own unfathomable. What was it Chuck had said? Trust, patience, and example were the essentials to teaching. He took a breath.
"Good." They visibly relaxed. "You can eat the nuts from a pine cone and you can eat acorns if you prepare them right. These berries, though, will make you very sick." He popped one in his mouth.
"Let's see what's really here." With that, he proceeded to collect a lot of what they had never given a second glance. As he explained what he found and how it could be used, the class found themselves fascinated. His terse descriptions and hard manner only served to focus them on the essentials.
"I can't eat bugs." This from Kitty.
"You will if you're starving," came the reply.
After tramping around in the woods for what seemed like hours, listening, seeing, tasting, and touching, they were worn out. Their minds were trying desperately to grasp all the information when someone asked about homework.
"Homework? There are books, sure. Do homework if you like, if reading and writing helps you remember this stuff. Whatever it takes. Tests won't be written, they'll be practical." He shrugged and walked away.
Slowly they started to follow him. It took them a moment to realize that he had disappeared. The class looked in all directions but he wasn't there. Not only that, they weren't really sure which way would take them to the mansion.
Thirty minutes later, after arguing, racking their brains, and discussing gender thought-processing differences, they emerged at the edge of the wood, very close to the mansion.
"Congratulations. You passed round one."
The class wheeled as one. Logan stood there, behind them. Evidently he had followed them the whole time. Some were outraged. Some were actually proud of themselves. Marie was glad. She knew he would not just abandon them. She thought she saw that ghost of a wink again.
"See you Thursday. Outside. Don't bring books." He passed them on his way to the mansion. Most of the kids sat there with their mouths open. Bobby thought to look at his watch. It was five o'clock.
That evening after dinner, the older kids met in Jubilee and Kitty's room.
"Of all the nerve..." began Jubilee.
"Cut it out. You know you're just mad because he got the better of us," said St. John.
"He could have had the better of us many times, I think," mused Remy.
"Where is he from, anyway?" Kitty looked at Marie. "You seem to know him better than anyone. You both came to the mansion at the same time."
"Well..." began Marie.
They all kept quiet. She was not as vocal about her past as the others. All everyone really knew was that the night Marie and Logan had first spent in the mansion, a commotion had happened in Logan's room, her nightgown had been torn, he was out cold on the floor, which had something to do with her ability to absorb powers from others, and she had later run away. She came back a couple of days later with a bad attitude and thirst for fighting that kept them all on their toes for a few days. The teachers never explained if she had anything to do with their mission at that time and Logan left a few days later, leaving Marie with a dog tag-like necklace.
Marie wondered just how much she should tell, since both she and Logan were very private about their lives.
"Ah guess Ah'll tell you the short version. Ah ran away from home when Ah found out Ah could hurt people just by touching them. Ah made it up to Canada and ended up in a bar." Should she tell them what he was doing? She licked her lips. "Logan was in a fight in that bar and Ah ran outside and hid in a trailer that was hooked to a pickup. It turned out to be his and he stopped down the road when he realized Ah was stowed away in his stuff."
"How did he know?"
"He has," she paused. "He has the ability to hear and smell better than any human, more like an animal."
"Maybe that's why he's so hairy, " Kitty giggled. Glares were shot her way.
"Go on, Rogue," said Bobby. Samuel and Remy nodded.
"He made me get out of the trailer, he started to drive off, and then changed his mind and let me ride with him in the cab of the truck. He gave me something to eat and we were talking when..."
"What?"
"We hit a tree that fell right in front of the truck and I was held in by my seatbelt, but he flew out the window and was thrown down the road."
"What!"
"Yes. Well, he got up and ..."
"Wait a minute, 'chere. You don't just get up after something like that."
"He heals really fast. Ah mean really fast. You can see it happen. This big huge guy attacked us and Ah couldn't get out of the truck and Logan got hurt and well... we ended up here when Mr. Summers and Ms. Munroe rescued me from the truck before it exploded and flew us back here." There. That was the short version and she didn't tell anything that she felt he wouldn't have wanted her to.
They took a minute to digest this.
"Did he ever try to touch you? I mean your nightgown was torn that first night," Samuel had been wondering if Logan might have picked her up for a specific reason.
"We have really touched only twice. That night my gown was torn because he woke up from a nightmare, didn't realize who Ah was, and stabbed me so Ah borrowed his healing power by touching his face. And then the second time he hugged me and touched my face to save my life when Ah was dying. He almost killed himself doing that."
They were silent for a moment, the indignity in her voice having warned them that she thought better of Logan than they did.
"He can't be all that bad, then," said Kitty, her romantic mind racing over the possibilities of self sacrifice.
"I don't know. He still seems like a lunatic to me," Bobby muttered.
There were several nods of agreement.
Wednesday afternoon's meeting in the staff breakroom traveled along the same lines.
"I have been sensing your discomfort about Logan teaching. I want to air this matter out and get it under control." Charles looked around the breakroom, meeting all eyes.
"Some of my students told me what happened on their first day. I don't know what he's up to, but he's going to get them lost, or poisoned, or killed and I think we need to stress responsibility to him. I know this class is something you came up with, but..." began Scott.
"He is under my orders to expose them to this kind of information and these kinds of situations. And we know how good he is at following orders, especially if he sees what the results will be. Believe me, he is taking this very seriously and the children are in good hands. Next."
"I have never really met him, but have heard a great deal about him from you, Professor Xavier," said Hank. "I suppose that makes my opinion biased. I will say that some of my students have shown a greater appreciation of my teaching methods, though."
"He hates humans. Doesn't that go against what you are trying to promote to these students? What if he infects them with that sort of dogma?" asked Ororo. She couldn't forget the vehement lecture she had once received from Logan about the dangers of treating humans like ignorant children.
"He has good reason to hate humans, Ororo. But look at the 'dogma' he is supporting by being at this school. And you, Jean?"
"My students are confused and wonder about his sanity."
Scott snorted.
"We all wonder about our own at times, don't we? I ask now that you reserve further judgment until you see his first 'lesson' to the younger children, which will be held on the lawn this Saturday and attended by everyone in the school." With that, he wheeled out of the room.
If Logan knew he was on trial, he did not show it. Saturday morning proved eye-opening for many. He had geared the lesson toward an intensive acceleration of the younger children's natural ability to observe their surroundings and read the body language of others. He also took them on a miniature version of the 'lost in the woods' lesson he had taken the older kids on, with emphasis on hiding, survival, and simple ways to navigate through the woods. He showed no temper, never growled, and treated the children with patience, but let them know they needed to pay attention and they did. Their eyes and ears were on him at all times and it became a one-on one session, totally ignoring the others around them.
The other teachers were impressed with the focus he achieved from the children. They also noted that he treated them much differently than they did, not as a teacher to a student, but as a master to an apprentice. He expected nothing less than their undivided attention to a very serious subject and they delivered.
The older students also had a revelation. The lesson he had put them through had been much rougher, more like adult to adult. It dawned on them that he thought they could handle a whole lot more than they thought they could and that made them both proud and nervous. They knew Xavier had requested that Logan teach them how to survive. Now they knew that Logan was the perfect person for the job, but they wondered if something horrible was coming in the near future.
By the time next Saturday afternoon rolled around, Logan needed to work off some energy. He needed to rip something apart. Hadn't he been good for two weeks now? Didn't he deserve a good bloodletting? The problem was he couldn't scoot off and go cage fighting. He couldn't get away with punching someone here, either. Turning the corner he almost ran over Scott in his attempt to go outside for a run.
"Whoa!" Exclaimed the startled team leader. "Where's the fire?"
Logan only growled and started to go around him.
"Hey, wait," said Scott. "You might be just the person I need." The professor had warned him that they needed to come up with some way of venting Logan's aggressive nature and he had come up with what he thought was the perfect solution.
The expression on Logan's face darkened. Scott quickly went on.
"The professor has had me install a new training device in the Danger Room. Would you test it out for me?"
"Why can't you test it yourself?" But the animosity was only half-hearted. New training? He had already put himself against everything in the Danger Room section and was not challenged enough to go back.
Scott, sensing weakness, forged ahead. "It's virtual reality training. My eyes have a hard time with it." He played his trump card by sighing and saying, "Maybe I can get Ororo to test it."
"S'okay. I'll do it."
A few minutes later, Logan stood in the center of a 20-by-20 room with padding on the floor and walls. He was wearing some sort of body suit with sensors imbedded in it. The gloves on his hands also had sensors and a helmet was on the floor in front of him. Scott was in the control room at the ceiling level with a window that allowed him to look down on Logan.
"OK, the computer's locked in all the sensors. Put the helmet on."
Logan reached down and picked it up. "What is the keypad on the wrist for?"
"That's for entering in your opponent. I have downloaded several fighting styles and the known fighting skills of some of the Brotherhood. You can choose an imaginary opponent or a real one."
Logan began playing with the keypad.
"Hey!" Scott noticed that the opponent he picked was 'Summers.' "Just what do you think you're doing?"
"Can it. You programmed the computer. It makes sense that you would go into more detail on your own skills. If you want this tested, we need to use the most information possible." Logan hoped that sounded logical as he put the helmet on.
Scott watched as Logan began to circle the room. "Don't forget that every hit you receive is a point against your life. And whatever you do, don't pop your claws, you'll ruin the gloves."
Logan had a little trouble getting used to not feeling his fists deal out the blows the computer registered. He compensated and, in a few minutes, it was over.
Scott looked at the mangled mess that was left of him on the computer monitor. "Feel better?"
"This is harder than I thought it would be," admitted Logan.
"How so?"
"When I fight, I use all my senses. I can only use sight for this." He pushed up the helmet and looked at the keypad for a better test of his skills. "How come I'm not on here?"
"We don't know that much about you. Want to try an imaginary opponent? Or a different fighting style? Weapons, maybe?"
Three hours later, Scott had to admit he was impressed. The computer indicated that Logan knew at least seven different fighting styles and had successfully defeated all opponents that had been conjured up. The biggest surprise had been the sword fighting, where Logan's movements had been devastatingly lethal.
"Had enough for one day?"
Logan nodded. Really, he hadn't. He had unleashed some energy, but had not had the satisfaction of ripping into a real adversary of flesh and blood. He was challenged by only using one sense instead of many, though, and considered the experiment worthwhile. At least he felt better. As he turned and reached up to take the helmet off, a sudden feeling of deja vu hit him. The room closed in and the feeling of being a lab rat in a horrible experiment flooded his brain. He quickly tore the helmet off and pushed his fighting instincts back down as he left the training area, unaware that the computer registered the whole event.
"Not one of us could go against him one-on-one and live." Two days had passed and Scott sat in Xavier's office giving details. "According to the computer, no matter what we threw at him, he would eventually shake it off and win." Scott had tested the virtual reality trainer on Ororo, Jean, and Hank and pitted them against the information the computer had compiled on Logan, not letting them know who they were fighting. None of them survived.
"Interesting."
"Is that all you can say?"
"You seem to be worried by this information."
"Yes."
"I am, too. Only because it shows me that whoever took him apart and put him back together wanted to create just such a perfect killing machine. An unstoppable assassin, if you will. All that programming, medical experimentation, and testing invested in one person. Don't you think they would eventually want their investment back?"
This hit Scott from left field. He was going to argue that Logan was a danger to them. Now he was confronted with the possibility that Logan may be in danger.
The end of the first of three six-week sessions of school was coming up fast. Major tests were involved and the students were studying like crazy. The older kids began looking forward to Logan's classes. They were hard, but when they were over, they were over. Logan tested as they went. He had been true to his word about homework and practical exams. At least he would not be giving them a major test. At least, they hoped not. Logan noticed how well his students had been doing and had commented accordingly to Chuck, saying that the survival training should be either pass or fail, just like life. Charles agreed and even talked Logan into giving the kids a break on the last class of the six weeks.
"You mean we get a free lesson?"
Logan led them to the library. "I didn't say that. I said that we will not be doing survival today, you can use this time to study for another test." He sat in a chair close to the entrance of the media room and picked up a book from the table beside it.
They stood there for a moment too stunned to speak.
"Well," Bobby ventured. "We could watch a few of the videos Ms. Munroe recommended for history class." They all agreed and trouped into the media room. Ms. Munroe's tests were exceedingly hard and any amount of work they could do to pass them was a good thing.
Logan read until his eyes ached. He was still having sleepless nights, or worse, ones filled with nightmares. He drifted off in the chair.
They popped in the last movie. "She said to only watch the first few minutes. It shows just how horrible a battle in World War II could be."
The opening scenes of "Saving Private Ryan" came on screen. As the movie progressed, they were drawn into the battle on the beach and only became dimly aware that someone else had entered the room.
"Turn it off. This is terrible," exclaimed Jubilee and she reached back to turn the lights on in the room. She screamed.
They all turned around to discover Logan standing in the doorway. Only this wasn't really Logan. His body stood there, nostrils flared, every muscle straining as if to try to break free of something. Sweat was pouring down his face and a low growl escaped his lips. It was his eyes that spooked them. Tears were running down his cheeks, but his look was vacant, like a dead person. Logan wasn't there.
Quickly they stopped the movie. The muscles relaxed.
"Logan?" Marie stepped tentatively forward, glancing down quickly to make sure the claws weren't out.
He blinked. She repeated his name. He blinked again and shuddered, as if tearing himself back into the present. He looked around and realized something had happened. He looked at their faces and smelled their fear. What in God's name was going on?
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000