Darkness outside and darkness inside, how fitting was that? He stood in one of the hallways, framed by a small patch of moonlight as he looked out over the lawn. Sleep was not something he wanted right now. He wondered just how long he could survive without it. Here he was trying to move on into the future and help these kids to survive; yet he was being dragged back into his nightmare of a past.
Chuck had said that trust, patience, and example were the essentials to teaching. Well, after he realized what must have happened and after he saw the look on their faces, he had sat them all down in the media room and had a talk with his students. It had hurt. He hadn't shared anything with anyone until Marie had asked him if it hurt when the blades came out. She had been sitting in front of him, trusting that he would answer the unspoken questions in her eyes. How could he refuse those beautiful eyes? So he told them what he could remember and what he couldn't. They had asked a few questions and he had given them as many answers as he could. He did not share the fragments of memories about the medical labs, the ones from his nightmares, with them. That would have been too much.
His instincts flared. Without moving, he growled, "What do you want?"
The wheelchair silently slid from the shadows and Charles joined him in the moonlight.
"It's two am, Logan. Are you having trouble sleeping?"
"I could ask the same."
"Touché."
"Don't beat around the bush."
Charles looked up at the troubled face beside him. No, he could not beat around the bush with Logan. This was one person who could *read* someone almost as easily as he could.
"Alright, I won't. I had an interesting office visit today. It seems a group of students are worried about their teacher. They asked me all sorts of questions and made me promise not to read their minds because they weren't going to explain to me what had happened to cause such curiosity. Now, I am as good as my word, but I do think I need to know if something is wrong. You are one of my teachers. You are on my team. I consider you a friend and I want to know if there is anything I can do to help you."
Logan finally moved. He turned and sat on the window seat so that he was eye-to-eye with Xavier. They sat in silence for a few moments, Xavier allowing him time to think. When Logan held up a fist and popped his claws, Charles was taken aback. Scott's words came into his mind and he realized he was alone with Logan, no one else was awake. He would have to protect himself with his mental abilities. As these thoughts raced through his mind, he realized Logan was simply watching him. And it dawned on him that he had failed the test. Sadness washed over him. It must have shown, for the claws were retracted.
"They were made for killing. You had every right to be afraid."
"I called you a friend and then I doubted you."
"You should. I can't trust myself. I've been having the dreams so much I can't get any rest and I fell asleep today when my class went in to watch some movies for Ororo's test. I dreamed about a war. I thought I heard...someone called me and I woke up standing in the media room, all of them looking at me like I was going to kill them. Thank God I hadn't popped my claws. I sat them down and told them about my amnesia and a little about what I've done since so they would at least know where I'm coming from. I don't think you really need me to stay here, Chuck. I'm going out of my fuckin' mind."
Two things hit Charles immediately: Logan had told the kids something he wouldn't normally have told anyone and he was as much as asking permission to leave. He would have to feel his way carefully on this one.
"Logan, I need you. The kids need you. I am not going to release you from your promise to teach. I will, however, work with you and try to help you through this."
A low growl was the reply.
"I don't mean rummage around in your head. I think we can solve this the old fashioned way, by talking."
"You're asking a lot."
"I understand. You said you were dreaming about a war. Have the dreams at night been about war, too?"
"No. The ones at night are mostly about....the lab...and stabbing M..Rogue."
"Rogue? You mean when...?"
"Yeah."
"How do you feel about her?"
"Next subject," the voice left no room for argument.
Charles took a breath. A thought was beginning to occur to him, but he would delve into it later. "What about this 'daymare'? Do you remember anything specific about the war?"
"Not really. There were dying people all around me. The smell of blood and the screaming is what I remember mostly. There was..." Logan paused. A faint, wry grin twisted his mouth slightly. "There was one other thing but I don't know what to make of it other than it was a dream. I saw some guy wearing a blue mask and carrying a bull's-eye. It was hard, kind of like a shield. He was bleeding. That's all I remember." He looked at Charles and was surprised to see a very serious look on his face. "What?"
"I don't know. Logan, I'll get back to you on this. You may have just given me another clue to help track down your past, but I... Just don't give up on yourself. You aren't losing your mind. If anything, your mind might be trying to get back to you after being lost for so long. Remember, you are going to teach those children to survive so I need you to survive, too. Stay with me on this." He turned and began to make his way down the hall, the wheels making very little sound as he went. As he turned the corner, he said in a low voice that he knew Logan would hear, "Good night. Get some rest."
Logan stood and looked out over the lawn one last time. He sighed and silently made his way back to bed.
"Remember the plan," said Samuel.
"How could we forget? We all came up with it," retorted Remy.
"Guys, shut up!" Jubilee hissed at them as they made their way to the study hall. "Don't forget his hearing!"
Bobby looked over at Rogue. She had been the deciding factor. After the incident at the media room, they had met in Kitty and Jubilee's room to discuss Logan. She had told them about the dog tag, Logan's nightmares, how he talked her out of running away and why, and how he had lived out of a truck, fighting for money in Canada.
It had occurred to them that they had memories of family and friends, knew who they were, and had this school as their haven where teachers looked after them and they had each other. Remy and Samuel had been the most sympathetic, both having to grow up quickly and fend for themselves, Remy in the streets of New Orleans and Samuel in the coal mines of Tennessee, until the professor picked them up. They had all decided to try to find out clues and help Logan get some of his memory back.
Their first stop had been the professor, where they learned that Logan had possibly been in the Canadian military, but he was not sure when or how long he had served. All the other teachers had been helpful but could not add much information. It seemed Logan did not share his private life. This only made the students more determined, knowing that Logan had told them some things that he had never told anyone else.
Now the plan was to use Logan as the source of information, but unknowingly. The professor had told them that clues to a person's past could be found in how they talked, what they knew, how they did simple tasks, how they felt about things, whether they said phrases unknowingly, etc. They were now going to learn everything that Logan taught them with a new twist: they were going to turn all these wonderful lessons they had been taught in observation and detection on Logan himself.
As Logan entered the study hall to take them out for a lesson, Marie found herself studying him intently. He moved like a great big cat, all the metal in him not slowing him down or interfering with his movements. Her assignment had been to see if he showed any physical signs as to how long he had been in the military, or had any mannerisms that could be clues. She shuddered as the memory she could not get rid of surfaced. She knew how the metal had been put into him. She had not shared this information with her friends. They did not know about it or the claws. For some reason, she felt this was not the right time to tell them. Perhaps Logan should do the telling when it came to those subjects.
During the next several lessons, Remy managed to ask about or comment on certain big cities to see if Logan had ever been to them. Bobby received some feedback on literature in the guise of getting advice on an English paper. Kitty's musical detection found that Logan had a good ear for music and singing but could not play any instruments. She did not know if he could sing, yet. Samuel found that Logan knew a lot about the geographical terrains in western North America, eastern North America, northern and central Europe and eastern Asia. Either he would not comment on southern Europe and the Middle East, or he did not know much about them.
Jubilee had the biggest breakthrough, though, and it happened by accident. As they were ending a survival lesson on the edge of the Mojave Desert, they happened upon an old Native American who said something to Logan as they passed. Logan and the old man had a short conversation and the students later asked Logan what he had said. Logan looked confused and asked why ask him, since they had been standing right there. What Logan didn't seem to realize was that the old man had not been speaking English and Logan's replies had not been in English, either.
Jubilee did her homework and found that the language had been Navajo. That led her to test the theory that Logan might know more languages. Once or twice during a class, she would inadvertently slip in a phrase or two of a foreign language to see if Logan would respond. Sometimes he would cock an eyebrow at her and make her focus back on the lesson. Sometimes, though, if she caught him just right, he would actually respond. Foreign movies were sometimes played when Logan was around to see if he would react to them. So far, she had found that he was possibly fluent in French, German, and Japanese, and could understand some Italian and Spanish.
Logan, for his part, thought something was up but decided to pretend it was his imagination. After all, no one really gave a damn about him, did they? But he was going to give a damn about these kids. Their lessons intensified. He took them into big cities and taught them survival on a whole different level. He took them out into the country and had them do down and dirty machine repairs with whatever they had on hand. They learned to pick locks and break into and out of places of high security. His knowledge on this subject impressed even Remy. Marie finally gained an insight into who might have put the flowers in her bathroom and blushed happily, for some reason.
"I need your help."
Logan cut his eyes to the right and took Ororo into his peripheral vision. He grunted.
She had drunk one beer in preparation for asking help from Logan. She was at a dance and was not dancing. Not that the teachers were required to, but she wanted to, very much.
The study hall/cafeteria had been transformed into a dance floor decorated by the combined efforts of Kitty and Jubilee. Xavier liked to give the children opportunities to release some tension and take a break from studies every now and then. The lights were kept low, except for the ones highlighting the action in the middle of the room, where the kids were trying out the latest dance steps and enjoying a physical release from the books.
She turned to him. "I need to know if you can dance."
"Ask Scott."
"Taken."
"Ask Hank."
"No."
"No?"
"No."
"Ah."
"Just what do you mean by that? I came over here to see if you could dance and here you are insulting me."
"I didn't say anything. But you asked for my help, which means you have a plan." He snorted softly.
"I do." She paused. "OK. Here's the deal. I grew up in Africa and have rhythm in my bones. I need to know if there is one man here who could keep up with me on the dance floor and let me enjoy myself."
"Not good enough."
"What do you mean?"
"You aren't the type to let not having a man keep you from doing anything."
She blushed. "Would you believe me if I told you that I want to make Hank jealous?"
"Yes."
"So, will you help me?"
He hesitated. Did he really care? Yes, he knew what it was like to want someone. At least she was doing something about it. He could respect that. Maybe he could help her, but did he know how to dance? A thought struck him. "I'll be right back."
He went over to Scott, who was playing deejay in leu of lack of talent. He made a request that caused Scott's eyebrows to rise alarmingly, but he nodded and shuffled through the CDs to find the music. At the end of the last song, there was a long pause in the music, which the kids took for a snack break so the dance floor cleared.
Logan grabbed Ororo's hand and dragged her, somewhat stunned, into the middle of the room.
"There's only one way to find out if I can dance."
"What!?" she cried. "You mean you don't know?"
The pulsing throb of a fast-paced big band swing filled the room. Logan closed his eyes and let the music course through him. Ororo's face was flushed with embarrassment when he opened them. As the music pulsed in a wonderful jitterbug beat, he found himself moving and dancing, pulling Ororo into an intricate and primeval series of steps.
Ororo found herself barely keeping up. The jitterbug was not a dance she was completely familiar with, but the way Logan was dancing it made it seem like the most natural thing on earth. Man, could he dance. She threw herself into the rhythms and blessed fate for making her take a chance on him. This was exactly what she needed.
Hank's jaw, along with everyone else's, dropped. Wow. He felt like he was watching poetry in motion. Sensual, sexual poetry that flowed and moved like dancing moonlight. Stunned, he began to see that there was more to Ororo than met the eye and he found himself wondering if Logan could teach him to dance like that.
Marie was fervently wishing she was in his arms, before she took a closer look. She was watching Logan's face as well as the dance and realized that he was enjoying dancing but still had a somewhat somber expression; as if he knew what he was doing wasn't for real. She saw Ororo glance away from Logan for a second, over her shoulder, and Marie looked in that direction, too. Then she knew. Logan was dancing with Ms. Munroe so she could get professor McCoy's attention. There was nothing to this. For all the power and grace, and God was he graceful, displayed between them, he was being used and he knew it. She felt her face burn. She wished again to be in his arms, but now for a different reason.
The music ended and everyone clapped their appreciation for such a wonderful demonstration. Hank went to Ororo's side to congratulate her. The hook having been snatched up, Ororo and her prey began discussing things, other than teaching, for the first time in weeks.
Logan slowly went over and picked up a glass of punch, which he drained and threw away. The music started up again and couples rushed to the floor, eager to try out some of the moves they had just seen. He looked around and saw Marie standing near the wall. Come to think of it, he had not seen her dance more than twice. He smelled Jean's approach and braced himself.
"Smooth."
"What?"
"Ororo. Look at him eating out of her hand."
He turned to Jean. That feeling hit him again that he knew her from somewhere and he found himself drawn to her involuntarily. Physically, he did not move. "She usually that crafty?"
"No. She's smitten."
He grunted a response.
She looked at him. Something was up, she could sense it, but she couldn't put her finger on it. "Want to dance?"
"What about Scott?"
"The best he can manage is a slow dance."
Something clicked in his brain. He walked over to Scott, who had been keeping an eye on him since Jean's approach.
"I have another request."
"You can't dance with her."
"I can dance with anyone I damn well please. You want to stop being a dick and listen?"
He laid out his request. Scott stopped frowning and grinned.
A few moments later, Logan came up behind Marie and cleared his throat. "Want to dance?"
Dumbfounded, Marie nodded and held out her hand. She realized he was wearing gloves. At her puzzled expression, he replied, "So you don't have to." She slipped hers off and tucked them into her belt. The slow, soulful music and song of "Feels Like a Woman," by Zucchero filled the room. She let him lead her on an intertwined tour of the dance floor, listening to the words of the song as tears filled her eyes.
This is a man who needs a woman.
I'm not afraid to say what I feel.
I'll never be unfaithful,
But I've been (wandering) land these lonely nights.
Silence is loud without her whispers.
My body craves her touch.
Such are my prayers at the break of dawn.
To open my eyes and see her by my side.
(chorus)
When the stars shake and the tide breaks,
Feels like a woman.
So much power takes my breath away.
When the sun beats sad and blue,
She feels like a woman.
I done swear then, begging her to stay with me.
She smiled up at him and he whispered, "You should dance more often if it makes you this happy." Her throat was too tight to respond so she just nodded. She glanced over and saw Mr. Summers and Dr. Grey slowly circling the room. She sighed and dreamed of being a couple, too, with Logan. What had been a bummer evening was turning into a wonderful night.
"This is where you take your final exam."
They looked around, taking in the Pacific coast beach, the rugged rocks and cliffs, and the deserted atmosphere. Sixteen weeks of survival training had them all assessing possible shelters, food sources, and escapes in an offhand way.
"We are on our own this time, no?" asked Remy.
"Yes. I'm only here long enough to make sure the shelters are adequate for a small storm, you have your instructions and you know where the rendezvous point is. That's a French word, Jubilee."
She blushed and they all grinned. Logan had finally caught on to the subterfuge and had been impressed by all they had learned about him. The kids had discovered, as Marie already knew, that Logan had a wicked sense of humor and a deadpan delivery that, once you knew him, made him kind of fun to be around.
A rumble came to his ears. "Alright, the rain is coming faster than expected. Get to it."
A beach could be a dangerous place in a storm, they now knew, and they flew to their tasks. Out of habit and training, each person had developed a certain knack for a particular task and practice had made them incredibly fast. The camp was up in no time.
Logan surveyed it with pride. They had really come through this course with flying colors. It looked shabby, almost blending in with the surrounding cliffs, but he could tell it would protect them well and not call attention to itself. A loud crack sounded close-by and Logan frowned. This was not supposed to be a big storm. Maybe he should stay. Then reason intervened and he remembered he was a danger to be around if the storm took a turn for the worse. Looking up, he realized it had. The afternoon sky darkened and cloud lightning could be seen flitting from one place to another. Dammit, Ororo, your forecast was off by a mile.
"Get under cover, now!" The wind whipped his words away, but they could tell what he meant and dove for shelter. A funny feeling washed over him and the hair on the back of his neck started to prickle. Quickly he shucked his boots and tore off his leather jacket, throwing them in the direction of the camp. Puzzled faces stared at him.
"Stay!" he yelled. "Don't follow!" With that he ran down the beach, away from the kids, as fast as he could. Would he make it? The air crackled as raindrops began to pelt him. He had to. It hit him just as he cleared a large rock in his way. His world dissolved into a great ball of whiteness as fire coursed down his bones and the smell of burning flesh smacked him in the face. He crashed into pain and oblivion.
How long would she sit here? As long as it took, of course. The stars were beautiful overhead, but her attention was on the figure in front of her. She and the others had come in this direction after the storm was over. They had seen lightning hit over here at least three times and she had a good idea what its target was. When they found him, the skin on his back was still charred enough for all of them to see the glints of metal on his bones. That had shocked them and she could see that they might not face this well. She had told them to find something to eat while she watched over him and they had left, pondering over the sight. His back had healed and now it was dark. Marie sighed.
Logan sat up quickly. Marie let out a yelp and found herself looking into those wonderful eyes again. She lost herself in their depths.
He took in the sight of her, watching over him, of all things. He began to dust off the sand on his face and chest, shedding what was left of his shirt. "Marie, how long have I been out?"
"Ah don't really know, Logan. The others are getting some supper together. You probably could use something, seeing what you've just been through. You should know that we all came looking for you and your back wasn't completely healed. They saw the metal."
They stood and she offered an arm. He thought about shrugging her off, but couldn't resist the temptation and ended up putting his arm around her shoulders. She felt the heat, even through her sweater. On such a cold night, he would be a great asset. They approached the camp.
"How did you know about the metal?"
"When Ah touch, Ah absorb more than just someone's abilities and personality. Ah also take in their memories and thoughts. Not many people know."
"Then you know how they put the metal…" He broke off when she nodded mutely. He flinched. That meant she knew all the worst in his life. If he had known, would he still have touched her to save her life? He looked down at her soft hair, pretty face, and big brown eyes. Of course, dummy.
"I'm sorry to put you through that, Marie. I never meant to hurt you." A thought struck him. "I guess you know why I touched you that last time."
"The professor helped me get rid of most of the memories of people Ah have touched. That's one of the few memories Ah kept. On purpose." She smiled up at him.
He pulled her in tighter to him. "Thanks."
"You're welcome."
Their final exam turned out to be much worse than they expected. On a lonely beach, lit by the flickering light of a fire, Logan told them everything. He even shot his claws out so they could see the extent of what had been done to him. He was a killing machine, he explained, created to destroy. Only the final programming had hit some sort of glitch and he had escaped. True, he didn't have his memories, but he also wasn't being used to kill others, possibly mutants, against his will. Some of them wanted to throw up. Others could not grasp the magnitude of the cruelty and sat there numbly. Logan explained to them that the professor was right about humans, for the most part, but that the whole purpose of the survival training was to keep them out of the hands of humans who thought nothing of using mutants for their own ends and or killing them outright.
Their eyes were opened to the real world and they realized they had to deal with it. They'd all decided to give humans a chance for the professor's sake, but cautiously, reserving judgment and anger until really knowing what kind of human they were dealing with at any given time. Seeing what had been done to Logan only made them wonder why he didn't go out and hunt every human down.
"I think I already killed the ones who did this," he replied when asked. "If any of them are still alive, maybe I made them think twice about doing it to someone else."
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