"Are you going to kill me?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because there is no land of tolerance, there is no peace. Not here or anywhere else… your sacrifice will mean our survival."

Such a pity our survival was not secured on that night. If it had, if they had understood, then perhaps we would not be facing the possibility of the passing of the Mutant Registration Act, and the danger it presents to all mutants. That is why I still need her.

Mystique had gone to great lengths to find a mutant with powers such as hers. She had been scouring the country for months before she came across the small Mississippi paper that told her all she and I had wanted to know.

Immediately, I sent others to capture the mutant, but it was not until the girl had caught up with the Wolverine that they found her. I should have sent Mystique instead of those two brutes, as they proved incapable of capturing the mutant. Regretfully, they were more strength than cunning, and took off after their first taste of a fight, succumbing to the selfish decision to save themselves rather than the mutant population.

It was not until Mystique, who had had the splendid idea of using a situation gone awry to her advantage, had lured her out of the school had the opportunity to put her mutation to good use presented itself.

In the end, I lost her to my dear old friend Charles, his foolish X-Men, and his impossible aims. I had underestimated the bond between the girl and the Wolverine; I do not plan on repeating my mistake.

No doubt she has found comfort and acceptance at the school. I sincerely hope she realized how privileged she was to have found them both. She'd have a difficult time finding comfort and acceptance in a world full of men, women, and children who are fearful of her simply because she was born different. Regardless of whether or not she knew of the rare gift the school provided, she seemed to have adjusted well. I saw her with a young mutant when I had been forced to become allies with the X-Men during the fiasco with Stryker; oddly enough, it had been the same boy Mystique had impersonated. It was not the way she looked at the boy that had captured my attention, but rather, the way she looked at the Wolverine. I saw the silly longing she had for her hero. That boy of hers probably turned a blind eye to it.

Charles must have found the mystery of her skin a difficult one to solve. I have felt the effects of her remarkable power. It holds such potential. I have been tempted a few times to offer her a place with my Brotherhood, but the animosity between us is far too deep to overcome. It is no loss to me, as I do not need her or her powers at my side in a fight.

But I do need her if I am to achieve my vision.

Unfortunately, she is very well protected by Charles; he must know I have not given up on my original plan. It is not simply Charles I need worry about, but that animal as well. Whenever we cross paths I sense his suspicion of me. I doubt even the girl is aware of how watchful they are of her, of how they are prepared to defend her should she need it.

However, I am certain the way she looks at me escapes even their watchful eye.

While in the eyes of the other X-Men I see fear and anger, in hers I see only pity and understanding. Before my escape from that dreadful prison, Charles had paid me a visit and informed me of the effects bestowing my power on the girl had had on her. She now carries around the knowledge of my life. Every time she looks at me, she must see the tortured child I once was, the naïve child who learned all too soon of the cruelty of mankind, of the condemnation forced upon those who were different, of the sad truth that tolerance and peace were unattainable.

Yet when I see her, I see only the colorless strands of her hair.

Those despicable strands are a reminder of the failure of the night atop the Statue of Liberty. They constantly follow me, reminding me of what was lost that day, and what is still to be gained. In time, I will see my aims come to fruition.

The first thought through my head when I saw her had been: "Was she home schooled?" The expression on her face as Storm—or Ms. Monroe as we called her then—assigned her the seat next to mine had reminded me of a child starting school for the first time; she had looked equal parts terrified and excited. I also remember thinking it was odd for her to be so completely covered. The only skin of hers I had been able to clearly see was her face. It was such a pretty face too—still is.

The day she arrived at the mansion was interesting to say the least. Whispers and curious glances from the students had followed her; the X-Men had rarely gone on a mission back then, and we were all wondering how she had been involved. We had also been extremely interested in the other new arrival: Wolverine. Rumors about him circulated as well. Apparently he had barged into a class completely naked, but I've learned not to trust rumors, especially from Jubilee. Now that I think about it… I think I would have preferred to meet him like that instead of the way I did. I should never have frozen his hand. Back then, I constantly tried to impress her.

We aren't as close as we once were, but that's to be expected.

A few months after the Alkali Lake disaster, we broke up.

It wasn't that we didn't care for one another, but it never seemed to be enough. More like I never seemed to be enough.

I saw the way she looked at Wolverine or Logan as she called him. He was the only one who could touch her freely. I never saw her flinch from his touch, and I resented them both for it. She wasn't ready to get close to me, and I told her as much when I realized it wouldn't work between us if she continued to keep me at a distance. She tried to deny it, wanting to spare my feelings, but I knew the truth even when I wished I didn't.

I had hoped that given time she would realize how well we fit together, but she moved on.

I'm glad to say that after a while so did I, but she will always be special to me. After all, she was my first love.

I loved the way she would smile and how that simple action would make others around her smile as well. I also loved the way she would sing when she thought no one could hear her. She sang off key, but her enthusiasm made it entertaining. Her accent was something I had a soft spot for. It faded as time went on, but a hint of it is still there. When she'd get angry or excited it would come back strong and her eyes would start to sparkle. Her eyes are beautiful.

I never told her I loved her. It would have frightened her; she wasn't ready to hear those words, but I think she knew by the way she would shy away from discussing our feelings too deeply. There are times when I miss being around her. I miss the carefree way we would be with one another, too absorbed in our world to be bothered by the troubles around us.

We were different people then. Since our time together we have grown, matured, and learned quickly that life outside the mansion walls would never be pretty for us while we remained idle. The prospect of joining the X-team had been exciting, but once we learned there was more to being a hero than just glory and the chance to kick ass, we were forced to truly understand the responsibilities and sacrifices that would come from joining the team.

"Do you think what we're doing is worth it?"

"What do you mean, Bobby?"

"We've lost so much on this mission alone. Sure, what the Professor has going here is noble, but there's always a cost. Are you sure we aren't just reaching for something that's impossible?"

"No, I'm not, but we can't think like that. We need to try or else living in a better world will only ever be a dream. I never wanted to lose Dr. Grey, but we need to keep going. She made her choice, and it was made in order to give us all the chance to make a difference."

"I just don't know if I'm strong enough to make a difference."

"You are. I know you, and you are one of the most compassionate people I know. You hate seeing others in distress. You're a good guy. You wouldn't be able to stand by and watch even if you wanted to."

"That's true."

"Of course it is."

She was right. I couldn't just sit back and hope someone else took the responsibility out of my hands. I had to make a difference, so I joined the team—we both did.
We have a different dynamic as teammates now. Our relationship is more professional, restricted to missions and training, but underneath it all there's still trace of the friendship we shared. If I ever need someone to talk to I know I can go to her. It constantly surprises me how well she knows me. Part of it comes from absorbing me through our kiss.

I don't think I'll ever forget that kiss…

After our breakup, there were times when I'd fantasize about it. I'd imagine there had never been the agonizing pull of her mutation. We had both been scared when it happened. It doesn't seem right for our first kiss to be tainted with fear. Well, at least I got a kiss that was amazing while it lasted. Not many people—actually, there are only two others—can say they kissed her, mutation and all, but it won't happen again. Now, I have someone else to kiss, and the fantasies have faded to a memory, a memory of an easier time.

When I first met her I didn't think anything of her. All she was was just a mutant we needed to save, and afterward, she was just another face among a crowd of students. She was nothing special to me, but I knew she was special to Logan, and perhaps that was why I had never felt inclined to get to know her. I didn't think Logan would appreciate it if I tried to get too close to her even if it were just in a purely professional way. I was never his favorite person, and he was never mine.

Things changed between us after Jean died.

To say it had been a rough time in my life would be a gross understatement. Without Jean I had felt as if I were lost, desperately struggling to find my way back to a semblance of the man I once was; the man Jean had loved so much. Even now, years later, there are times when the subtle ache of Jean's death flares into such an all encompassing misery that it feels as if I were being strangled… God, I miss her.

Back then it had taken all the effort I had just to function, and sometimes even that wasn't enough. I was too busy trying to live without Jean by my side to notice she had been feeling guilty over crashing the blackbird. If I had noticed I'm sure it would have made me even more upset. How could someone so young begin to understand what I had lost? How could she even think to intrude on my pain? Her guilt had meant nothing to me.

But, looking back at it now, I must not have made matters any easier with my detachedness and very short temper. Eventually, after weeks of being shut in my room, I did tell her I had never, for one moment, blamed her for what happened to Jean. In fact, I had to tell her many times before she finally stopped apologizing. I knew what Jean had done was her choice—it was no one's fault.

In a way though, she did help me deal with the grief of losing Jean even if I didn't realize it at first.

She would stay after class to ask if I needed any help with my work. She was trying to lift a bit of the burden off of my shoulders. It was a nice gesture even though I'm sure it had been meant more as a way to ease her guilt than to help ease my pain. She had a warm and sweet smile that would brighten my mood considerably when I'd be having a particularly bad day.

There had been times, late at night, when we would find one another in the kitchen, searching for a snack, having been kept up by nightmares. She was an easy person to talk to as she never pressed for information beyond what I was willing to give, and she wasn't uncomfortable with long silences. I enjoyed her company.

In time we became friends and she joined the X-Men.

She loves to train which I think is due to her not wanting to be rescued so often. To be fair, she hasn't needed to be seriously rescued since she was a teenager, but Logan has never been able to forget the events of Liberty Island. I don't think that Logan knows just how much he is suffocating the poor girl—woman.

Sometimes her fearlessness does worry me. Being her leader, I know I should ask her to rein it in, but it isn't who she is. She has worked very hard to gain control of her mutation, and I know she wants to put that control to use. She's accomplished a lot, and I am very proud of her.

I don't try to protect her when we're out fighting for the cause, I'll leave that to Logan, but I do care for her. Yes, she's my friend, but she's also grown to be family, as have a lot of the others—she's very much like the younger sister I never had… or ever wanted.

"Scott? Are you asleep in there?"

"No—it's only three in the morning—why would I be sleeping?"

"What? I didn't catch that."

"No!"

"Good, because Jubilee and I wanted to know if we could borrow the car to buy some snacks."

"We have food here."

"Huh?"

"We have food here!"

"Oh, I know, but the cabinets are horribly under stocked when it comes to chocolate."

"Can't you wait 'til morning?"

"Ha ha, very funny, now where are the keys?"

"I didn't even give you an answer."

"You always say yes."

"Then why'd you wake me up!"

"You always say to ask fir—"

"—I didn't expect to be asked at this hour!"

"Gosh, you don't have to yell. I'll just look for the keys myself—go back to sleep."

"Urgh!"

Heck, she even knows how to push my buttons, but that's okay—it works both ways.

I was the one who taught her how to ride a motorcycle after much pleading on her part. I don't think Logan was too pleased to hear about that, but he was the one who left to search for his past—again. In exchange for riding lessons, I made her my temporary teaching assistant; she absolutely hates math.

I also gave her some private fighting lessons when she was still attempting to gain control; she was a quick study, but she complained constantly about the early hours. She'd say I was making her get up at the crack of dawn just to make her miserable, but the only free time I had was before classes—at least that was what I told her.

I think it's safe to assume she is definitely a night owl. Despite her lack of morning enthusiasm, she soon felt confident enough to use her mutation as a last resort. She didn't want to have more people in her head than absolutely necessary. I wonder if it would help if she had a woman up there to help keep the guys in control—they must give her a hard time—but if anyone can handle it it's her.

She has strength that goes beyond just her physical abilities.

She's a special lady and, whether Logan wants to admit it or not, she's important to the team and me as well.

It seems as though all of the mansion's shenanigans started with her arrival. Of course none of the highly unusual events that have come about since then are to be blamed on her. The steps Erik took in order to bring about his plan of mutant dominance are to blame. His actions fueled the already burning conflict between humans and mutants. A conflict, or rather a war, I suspect he will continue to put forth his best efforts to win.

I had been tracking a mutant, with some unexpected difficulty, through the minds of Erik's accomplices. He had always been exceptionally resourceful, and, for a reason unbeknownst to me at the time, I was not able reach his mind. It was Mystique who proved to be an invaluable informant; she had always been especially easy to read even without the aid of my telepathy. I quickly sent Scott and Ororo as soon as the mutant began to head on a stable path, leaving Jean on stand-by should medical attention be needed.

When they returned from intervening in Erik's attempted kidnapping, I had been surprised to see not one but two mutants.

Naturally, I assumed Logan was who Erik had been after, given his unique metal-coated skeleton. I should have known Erik would not want a mutant for such a superficial reason. He already had countless metallic weapons at his disposal. There was no need for him to invest so much time in chasing down another. My foolish mistake nearly cost us her life. If it had not been for Logan she would have died atop the Statue of Liberty. The lengths Logan was willing to go to in order to save her surprised us all.

In all the time I have spent at the mansion not once had I had the pleasure of witnessing the beginning of such a special relationship.

They are an odd pairing. A practically immortal, violent man suffering from amnesia, and a young untouchable girl thrown out of her home by the ones she had called family. They did attract quite a few curious stares during their first few days here. I'm not sure Logan noticed them; he is not so easily fazed, but she did, and her adjustment period was considerably greater.

Much has changed since then. She has grown in maturity and confidence as I am sure Logan has noticed. Logan, a man I once believed to be stable, has also gone through his own changes, many of which he probably would not admit to.

Strangely, they are the only non-telepathic mutants with whom I have to make a great effort to read.

Logan has the barrier of his Adamantium skull, the same metallic alloy that coats the helmet Erik uses to keep his thoughts hidden. I am sure it comes as a great comfort to Logan to know that his mind cannot be so easily penetrated; he highly values his privacy.

The cause for her mental barrier, however, is much more complex. Her mind is not just her mind. It is a collection of various people housed within a single body. In order to enter her mind I must go through a difficult mental trek which entails spending a great deal of time sifting through all those she has absorbed. It can be done, but it is a tedious task that ends in severe headaches and exhaustion on both sides. It is only with the aid of Cerebro that I can easily pull the diverse sets of minds apart.

I find it much less demanding to simply talk with her.

I am grateful she returns the sentiment.

Through our many insightful conversations I have learned that she truly is a remarkable young lady.

I have entered the minds of many throughout my lifetime, and I have learned the ability to feel compassion, compassion without a hint of selfishness, is a rare gift. One she possesses. One all of the X-men possess. It is why they put the needs of others above their own. It is why they risk their safety to help bring harmony between humans and mutants. However, simply being compassionate does not mean she is without her flaws. It is no secret that she has her moments of, shall we say, unbridled fury, but it is never in an attempt to cause another pain. Whatever distress she might cause another is purely accidental, as the young Mr. Drake can attest to.

It was after one of her sporadic outbursts that I learned of another rare gift of hers.

"Now, would you care to inform me of the events that transpired downstairs?"

"No."

"No?"

"No."

"Are you certain? Scott tells me you seemed distraught. Perhaps I can help."

"You want to help?"

"Of course I do."

"I'm sorry. It-it never seemed like you wanted to before."

"What do you mean?"

"You're just our professor."

"Go on."

"You haven't done anything to help students in the past. If we have a problem we usually go to one of the other teachers. It was never an option to come to you for help."

"It is always an option, my dear. You do not, nor do any of the other students, need an invitation to ask for my assistance."

"But we do need to know it is an option. We've all heard stories of how you've helped students in the past master their mutations, and we want that. We need someone who knows about the nature of mutations; who's studied them, and to be honest, as great as Hank is, he isn't here nearly as often as we'd like, and he's always busy in the med lab anyway."

"Have you always felt this way?"

"No, just since… just since we came back from Alkali Lake."

"I see."

"Maybe… maybe if I'd been able to help—"

"But my dear, you did help. You helped us all greatly. I truly am sorry I haven't offered you my assistance sooner, my apologies."

How remarkable is it that I, a man with the gift of knowing the deepest thoughts of those around me, can fail to see what is right before me? During our brief conversation, she helped to make me realize how truly blind I had become. My mutation had always been of great benefit to me, but I had come to rely on it for far too much, and, in the process, I neglected to see how the students needed me.

She helped to remind me of my purpose in creating the school.

Soon afterward I made the resolution to shed my political exterior and return to my teaching roots. Teaching had always been a passion of mine.

She has a way of unknowingly changing a person for the better. That, I believe, is her true power.

"Marie, what the hell do you think you're doin'?"

"What does it look like? I'm suiting up."

"Yeah, I see that, but what I mean is why. You weren't assigned to this mission."

"Neither were you, but I figured since the mighty Wolverine can get away with disregarding the Professor's orders then I can do the same."

"That's different. You need—"

"I need to what? What do I need to do that is so important I can't back my friend up when he's stupidly going after someone who can easily kill him, huh? I fail to see why I need to still be treated like a scared teenager when it comes to Magneto."

"Damn it, Marie! Just stay!"

"Don't shout, Logan. Anyway, you're wasting your breath. I'm coming; I already traded assignments with Kitty. She always preferred the technical side of missions anyway, so she doesn't mind."

"Why are you so willing to risk your safety? Just stay home like a good kid."

"Logan, open your eyes; I'm not a damn kid anymore! I'm going with you because I can't stand to wait around, going crazy while wondering what's going to happen to you."

"And I can't have you with me! You heard the Professor; Magneto might still be after you."

"I'm coming."

"The hell you are—"

"You can't tell me what I can and can't do, Logan! I will not stay while the man I love is in danger of getting turned inside out. I still remember what he did to you on the train."

"Uh…"

"Logan… damn it Logan, what is it?"

"You love me?"

"What?"

"You love me."

"I—wait—I—no—"

"Yeah, you did."

"I didn't mea—no, that's a lie. I did mean it. I'm sorry."

"No, don't apologize."

"Alright, I love you, Logan. I'm not sorry for it."

"Okay."

That was the first time she told me she loved me.

Actually, come to think of it, that's the only time she told me she loved me. After that day she started doing her best to avoid me.

You see, I haven't said the words back.

To be honest, I'm not completely sure I do love her. I care about her. I'm certain of that, but love? Even when I had my sights set on Jean I wasn't sure I loved her. Anyway, what can I compare my feelings to? I don't remember ever being with anybody longer than a few nights. I never felt the need to.

Before I met Marie, I was a brutal and selfish bastard who didn't give a damn about anybody.

I was the fuckin' Wolverine.

Somehow she managed to turn me soft with one look into her innocent eyes through my rearview mirror, and that was before I got to know her.

Kid turned me into a pansy like the damn Boy Scout.

I never thought I'd be the one to protect anybody when I'm the one they usually need protecting from, but something changed when I met her. I didn't feel the need to be such an animal. I put down some roots and got comfortable.

I'd be lying if I said protecting her wasn't a key factor in my staying at the mansion. If she was going to join the X-team than I sure as hell was going to. I couldn't just let her walk into danger unprotected.

Protecting her isn't a job; it's just... natural. I don't do it because she's a kid and needs protecting. I'm not as blind as some of her friends like to say I am. I've noticed she stopped being a kid a long time ago. Trust me, kids don't look like her. I've never needed to do anything. I protect her because I want to.

True, there are times when I get close to wishing I hadn't taken on that responsibility. No, I've never regretted making the promise to take care of Marie, but there are times when she annoys me so much I want to just wring that pretty white neck of hers.

I'm the type of guy who needs things to be in their place. If something were to happen I need to get what I need swiftly; not that I ever had to rely on anything, but it's always good to be prepared. Being aware of my surrounding gives me the upper hand over my opponent, even if I don't need it. But that kid, that kid is extremely disorganized. I try to tell her, "Be prepared," but Marie just insists she knows where all her crap is. I don't want another night like the one we had with Stryker, and that's what I told her, but she just said she could take care of herself before telling me I needed to lighten up.

I know Marie is capable of taking care of herself; she never would have made the team if she couldn't, but I need her to be safe. Fuck, if she had been kidnapped like some of the other students… well, there would have been hell to pay.

Did I also mention she's stubborn? Any other person would have relented after the glares I shot her in an effort to persuade her to get her shit organized, but Marie just brushed it off and continued on throwing her clothes on her bedroom floor and stuffing items in her closet. She doesn't change for anybody; not even for me. It damn well better stay that way.

Okay, there is one thing I wish I could change.

Marie has always had the bad habit of chewing with her mouth wide open. Ordinarily chewing like hers wouldn't bug anyone too much, but with my keen ears I hear her chomping loud and clear like a damn cow. It drives me insane. And people wonder why I don't like eating with everyone else. I've told her time and time again how much the noise grates on my nerves but it never makes any difference. Damn, I'm starting to sound like her father.

Well, bub, I'm not.

I've said before that I haven't been completely oblivious to her, um, maturity. No, I've noticed her. It would be hard not to.

That girl can wear leather better than anyone I've seen, and I know I'm not the only one who's noticed. I've caught that new recruit leering at her. That smooth-talkin' buffoon is so obvious that I'm surprised Marie hasn't slapped him yet. All she does is stand there, smiling and soaking up the attention.

Damn it.

As luscious as her body is, there is more to Marie than just her sensual curves. I don't know how to put it in words, but that girl sure is something special.

Before meeting her, home for me didn't exist. Since I couldn't remember ever having one, I didn't mind my nomadic existence. The first time I came back to the mansion I was surprised at how much I had come to miss it, at how relaxed I felt to be back.

Of course that sense of relaxation barely lasted twelve hours.

Marie makes the mansion feel like home. She gives me a reason to come back, a reason to want to come back. I still don't understand why she would even want me back.
Our relationship is of the push-and-pull kind. I push her away. She pulls me in.

I've lost track of the amount of times Marie's absorbed me. The first time wasn't pleasant. It was agony, and it was one of the few times I thought I was going to snuff it. The second time was life-changing. Luckily, all the times after that have been much less exciting. It never mattered to her all the shit I've done. Even after absorbing all of me, knowing all of me, she still managed to care for me. Maybe I should ask the Fur-ball to double check her sanity. No way can someone so… so good feel that way towards me.

I've killed without thought or remorse. I've let terrible people do even more terrible things to innocent bystanders without doing a damn thing to stop them.

Marie does all she can to help others. She risked her safety to help the younger students during Stryker's raid on the mansion. She even fell behind to save me.

She's seen me as the Wolverine. Hell, that's how we met.

Maybe that's part of why I love her so much. I can be myself around her without… without…

Oh! But I-I can't love the kid.

That's who she is: "The Kid."

Marie's a little sister, a friend, a—

No, that isn't right.

What kind of pervert looks at their sister the way I look at Marie?

What kind of asshole abandons his friend for months at a time without as much as a phone call?

What kind of man treats the woman he loves as simply a kid?

The man who only says "Okay" when she tells him she loves him, that's who.

Damn it. I've fucked things up.

I need to go find her.

I need to tell Marie I love her.

It's about time I said the words back to her.