Coming Home

      "You're back."
       There was no welcome to the voice, but the door opened wider and Wolverine -
  who knew his name was Logan, if he didn't know much else about himself - stepped into
  the large, paneled foyer of the mansion on Graymalkin Lane.
       In Westchester. New York.
       "Where's my motorcycle?" The door swung shut and eyes he couldn't see studied
  him from behind the safety of ruby quartz lenses. Safety for them both.
       "Bike's in the garage. Thanks for the loan." It was easy to riff casual, to act like he
  belonged here, but the truth was that he didn't know if he was welcome. When he'd left,
  eight months ago - had it really been that long? - he'd promised one person here that he'd
  return, to claim a token she was holding for him, but entropy had distracted him. After he'd
  searched the abandoned base the Professor had directed him to there had been a couple of
  leads to follow, but they all petered out and he'd drifted aimlessly back into his old ways.
  Then he'd happened to see a report, on one of those late-night tabloid shows that pretended
  to be about the news.
       Another bar, a few beers, getting late. He'd been in that town a couple of weeks,
  and caused no trouble. Not fighting, with money in his pocket from the last place, so he was
  left to himself, the way he liked it. A woman or two to flirt with, a shabby room to pass out
  in.
       Then this show, and a woman talking about Eric Lyncher. How he'd lost his parents
  in a Nazi death camp and survived Auschiwtz. Worked with other survivors after the war,
  helped them reintegrate into society. Came to America to find peace and become a bad guy
  himself.
       The female 'reporter' was strangely compassionate toward him, talking about his
  prison sentence, presenting the rumors about his captivity as fact. That he was drugged, and
  starved to keep him docile, that he wasn't allowed visitors or entertainments or clothing.
  She seemed particularly enthralled with that one.
       Wolverine had watched it, and remembered that he had someplace to go besides a
  shabby little room with a smelly bed.
       At least, he thought he did. Now, here, facing Scott Summers and the frown, he
  wasn't so sure.
       "I wanted to report it stolen, but Jean wouldn't let me."
       He quirked a grin, calculated to infuriate.
       "She may be yer girl, but she shore seems to have a soft spot for me."
       "No more than she does for any pathetic stray."
       Ouch. That was harsh. Maybe the punk had been more upset about his bike than
  Logan'd figured. Not that he cared.
       "I came ta see Rogue."
       "She's in town, with the others. Field trip to the museum."
       "You not an art lover?" With that single sentence he managed to imply that he
  thought Scott should have been, him bein' a pansy an' all. And Scott got it, he could tell by
  the way his scent changed. He was pissed, now.
       "You can wait in the den. You know where it is." Damn punk controlled his temper
  again. It left Logan to wonder, as he went and stood by a window, his pack heavy on his
  shoulder, why he felt the urge to rock his boat. Scott had Jean, he had no business getting
  riled up over anything.
       Oh, yeah - that was it. Why he hadn't come back right away. Aside from all that
  team nonsense, and saving the world - or the city, at least - there was Jean. Jean Grey. Dr.
  Jean Grey. Mutant, smart, and beautiful. He'd never met anyone that made him feel the way
  she did. Just being in the same room with her gave him a rush he couldn't explain. It was
  better than drinking, better than drugs - and he thought it could be just as addicting.
       He shifted his weight, waiting for the last vestiges of tenderness to fade. He'd
  blasted a corner, taken it too fast, and skidded out just a couple of blocks away. He leg
  hadn't broken, of course, not with the fuckin adamantium, but his figured he'd smashed a
  kidney to a pulp. The internal injuries, especially the ones to major organs, seemed to take
  the longest to heal, and often left him with an aching ghost of pain that could last for hours,
  or days. If he touched his head - which he did now, unconsciously letting his guard down
  fractionally in this place, where he had once been safe, or close to it - his fingers could trace
  the places his skull had been crushed, would have been crushed, where even the
  adamantium couldn't prevent all the damage. There were so many; he imagined a spider's
  web of scars lacing his body, hidden beneath the healed skin and coarse hair, above the
  metal
       "Are you well?"
       The quiet question made him spin, alert, ready for action, and it was only after his
  brain caught up with his reflexes that he could appreciate the careful wording. He wasn't
  injured, no, but that didn't mean he was well.
       "Best I can be, I s'pose." He answered, relaxing again. The Professor came closer,
  looking him over with a critical eye.
       "You've lost weight. Are you hungry? I was just going to the kitchen to start dinner.
  The children should be home soon." 
       "Did they all go?" Almost automatically he fell into step beside the chair. The quiet
  whine of its motor was oddly soothing to his ears, as was the stifled silence of the huge
  empty house. Idly he noted the Xavier was wearing slacks and a short-sleeved shirt -
  weekend clothes? Better than the suit.
       "With Jean and Storm and the other teachers, even the dangerous ones are relatively
  safe for a few hours. I'm keeping a connection with Jean - if there's a problem I'll be able to
  step in and help."
       "Step in - that's funny, Chuck." Why was he baiting this man? Did he want to be
  thrown out?
       Or did he want to stay? Stay here, be one of them - the 'X-Men'. What a stupid
  name.
       "I have my moments." No offense taken, again. There had to be a way to piss this
  guy off. Then again, considering what he could do to yer mind, maybe that wasn't such a
  good idea.
       "Sorry." He said it roughly, unsure. There was no reason to be mean to the man. He
  was ashamed, and it showed.
       "Don't be. I find your forthrightness refreshing. One is always certain where they
  stand with you, Logan."
       "That's good, 'cause it ain't gonna change anytime soon. I found out early on that
  I'm not cut out for subtlety."
       Xavier actually chuckled. They were through the hall and entering the large family-
  style kitchen. The appliances were industrial-sized but everything else was warm and cozy.
  Not cozy like his trailer had been, as Rogue had valiantly declared, but really cozy. Like it
  was a place people could sit and eat and talk, like people did.
       Xavier opened the steel refrigerator and eyed the contents. Logan saw what had to
  be a twenty-pound block of ground beef, and a half bushel of tomatoes, and groaned
  quietly.
       "Wouldn't it be easier to order pizza?" He suggested hopefully, but the Professor
  shook his head, again amused, and started giving orders.
       "We'll need the biggest sauce pot and the pasta cooker. You can brown the meat
  while I start the salad."
       "I just came back to get my tag from Rogue." He protested weakly, already taking
  the meat and opening it. The scent him him hard, full in the face - it had been thawing and
  was a bit bloody and saliva filled his mouth. "Um."
       "Here, have some crackers while I chop the onions." 
       With a start Logan realized that he'd been standing and staring at the meat for thirty
  seconds or more - not too long, but long enough to be noticed by someone as observant as
  the Prof. A tube of Ritz crackers was pressed into his hand and then Xavier was pulling up
  to a low cutting board, choosing a large knife, chatting as he worked.
       Logan stared at the crackers, then the man. 
       He was hungry. It had been a day or two since he'd eaten. Or had it been more?
  Without further internal debate he opened the package, not tearing it, and took two of
  them, and ate them, not greedily, but they tasted good, so he had a couple more.
       "You staying for dinner or you just going to snack?" Scott came in and began doing
  the things Xavier had asked Logan to; he opened cabinets and retrieved a large black skillet
  and stainless steel pot with a removable strainer, and put one on the stove and the other in
  the sink.
       There crackers were half gone.  He felt foolish, and put them down.
       "I kin wait outside. Thanks, Chuck." He'd left his pack on the floor in the de, beside
  the window. He was halfway to it before his steps slowed. 
       *Logan* The voice inside his head was dark and soothing, almost - comforting. For
  just a second, it made him want to cry. *You are welcome here as long as you want to stay*
       "I don't fit in here, Chuck." He said aloud, standing still. Holding himself, ready for
  a fight. 
       *You fit here better than you ever have anywhere else* There was certainty in the
  statement and Logan knew it was the truth. He'd never fit in. With his claws and his
  mutation and no past to call his own, he'd never stayed long enough to really try.
       "I don't know how to fit." It came out more angrily than he'd intended. What was
  wrong with him? His control was slipping. He hadn't been taking care of himself, hadn't
  been eating right or looking out. That was the only explanation for the accident. Had one-
  eye seen his bike yet? There was going to be hell to pay when he did. Frustrated, and aware
  that he was not, perhaps, thinking as clearly as he could have been, he snapped again. "I
  don't need to be saved, Chuck. Just ta get my tag back."
       *You start with coming back to the kitchen and helping me with dinner* Xavier
  ignored his last comment.
       Why? Logan wanted to ask. Why help me? Why care? But he remembered what
  he'd said to Rogue; that people who cared was a rare thing, and she should accept that.
  Only he wasn't a frightened teenager.
       He didn't know who he was.
       Xavier had tried once to help him find out. Maybe if he stayed he would help again.
       *Of course I will, Logan*
       Oops. He'd forgotten the man was there, in his head.
       *That could get annoyin'* He thought, to see if it could be done that way.
       *I'm leaving now* A hint of laughter, and suddenly he was aware that he was alone
  in his head again.
       He couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not. Instead he grabbed  his pack and
  went back to the kitchen, where Scott was browning the meat and the smell of onions and
  tomatoes rose up. It smelled good. Like a home.
       "Why don't you put that in your room and wash up a bit?" Xavier said, tearing
  lettuce into bite-size pieces that he tossed into a huge glass bowl, frosted green. It was
  pretty.
       It all looked rather overwhelmingly normal. Like a fuckin' sitcom.
       "I think Jean put some clothes in the dresser after you left." Scott volunteered, not
  looking up from the pan. "Some sweats and stuff, just in case you came back."
       "I got clothes." Stung by what he saw as an implied insult, Logan bristled, but then
  settled himself when Scott didn't fire a shot back.
       On the way to the room - his room? Maybe. - it occurred to him that they might feel
  sorry for him. That didn't set well at all. He'd give it a day or two, see how things played
  out.
       Just because he borrowed a pair of jeans - his size, and brand new? - and a nifty
  black Harley t-shirt he found in the second drawer didn't mean he was staying.
       There were a couple of pairs of jeans, a few t-shirts, black sweats and other stuff.
  Even underwear. It tickled him that Jean had bought underwear for him, but of course she
  knew what he wore because she'd doctored him.  
       He stared into the bathroom mirror for long minutes, trying to tell if he was lying to
  himself or not. Then he washed his face and hands, scratching at the thickness of beard he'd
  allowed to grow, and combed his hair back with his fingers, letting it settle into the pattern
  it habitually took.
       He didn't look bad. Not a pretty boy like one-eye, but not bad. Because none of it
  showed on the surface, unless you looked at the eyes.
       Well, he didn't have to. He had better things to do tonight. 
  

       Back down in the kitchen. Scott was pulling out a pile of plates and a stack of
  glasses - all of it heavy-duty plastic in bright colors.
       "We got tired of replacing stuff."
       "Some of the children don't have too much control over their powers, and they tend
  to slip most when they relax."
       "Like when they're eatin'." Logan said to show he understood.
       "I'm going to set the table, Professor." Scott gathered up his various stacks and
  hoisted them. They balanced precariously, and he could barely see over them. Logan briefly
  considered sticking out his foot and tripping him as he passed by, but that seemed childish at
  best.
       "Good, you found the clothes." Xavier said. "We thought you'd make your way
  back and Jean wanted to be sure you were comfortable here." 
       "Pretty damn sure of yourselves." He said slowly, not entirely happy with the
  assumption they'd made.
       "We weren't sure, no. Just hopeful." 
       "Hope is your big thing, isn't it, Chuck?" He went to help, taking the glass shaker
  the man had filled with vinegar and oil and spices into and shaking it vigorously. A
  stoppered carafe was offered and he poured carefully. The smell was sharp and bit at the
  back of his nose.
       "They're back." Xavier said, his head turning. Wolverine listened, and heard large
  vehicles. Chattering children and above it all Storm's melodious voice. She was probably
  good with kids.
       "Could you drain the pasta while I slice the bread?"
       The pot was heavy with its load and he tipped it carefully into the left side of the big
  double sink. Focused on the task, he slipped when Jean entered the room - his nose
  twitched as he smelled her and the rush came again and he closed his eyes, just for a second.
  The pot tipped and he grabbed suddenly, eyes snapping open. They met hers, and he saw
  that she had stopped the pot from falling, and she was smiling at him. A smile of welcome,
  shadowed with hesitation. 
       "Welcome back." She said.
       "Thanks for the duds." There didn't seem to be anything else. Scott came in and he
  turned to him and he watched while they exchanged a quick kiss.
       "Any problems on the trip?" Xavier asked, putting slices of fresh garlic bread into a
  napkin-lined basket.
       "Nothing you aren't aware of. Some teenagers spotted Rogue and would have
  teased her, but Bobby handled the situation well."
       "Our resident icicle has taken your friend under his wing." She told Logan. "They
  get along very well."
       "She belongs here." He grunted, dumping pasta into three large bowls,  frosted grey,
  apparently set there for this purpose. He cut a few chunks of butter to stir into it. "This is
  done."
       "Let's get it to the table before they start eating the furniture."
       They all took up burdens and went into the dining room, which Logan had only seen
  in passing before. Now he paused, surprised at how the room could be filled. It was large,
  with three long tables and straight back chairs, most of them filled. But it wasn't noisy, there
  was just the hum of quiet conversation.
       "Wolverine!" Rogue's shout was softened by her accent, and he had to take a step
  back as she jumped out of her chair and ran to him. "You came back!"
       "Said I would." He responded gruffly. She stopped right in front of him, within
  arms' reach, and her big brown eyes stared at him and he grinned, opening his arms. After a
  brief hesitation she fit herself into them, her bare face safely padded by his shirt and
  over shirt, and he hugged her tightly. "How ya been?"
       "Good. Better now you're here."
       He glanced around and saw that, while they were interested in the reunion, most of
  the kids were more interested in the food that was being passed around.    
       "Hey, John, leave some for the rest of us!"
       "Have some salad, Jubilee, it won't bite."
       "Kitty, are you going to take all of the bread?!"
       "You better get some before it's all gone." He released Rogue and gave her a little
  push. "We kin talk later, you can tell me what you been up to."
       "Um, okay - I sit with Bobby, but I could move..." 
       "Go sit with your friend." He gave her another push, and saw that Jean was sitting
  with Scott at the second table, while Storm and some other adult female he didn't recognize
  were sitting at the third.
       There was an empty chair to the right of Xavier, and he took it. While eating two
  plates of spaghetti and salad, he listened to the talk around him.
       Dinner conversation was mostly about the museum trip. Comparisons were made
  between Romantic Era artists and Surrealism. And between 'stupid' art as well as 'cool' art.
       It seemed that most of the boys thought Monet was stupid and Dali was cool, pretty
  much the opposite of the girls.
       *Some things never change* The comment made him turn his head, a piece of
  sauce-soaked bread halfway to his mouth.
       *And some things need to* He didn't elaborate, but wasn't sure if the man could
  read any deeper than that without him knowing about it. He didn't like that idea.  
       The Professor didn't comment on the thought, so he assumed they weren't talking
  anymore. He finished the last couple of bites and stood, picking up his plate and glass.
                                                                                            "Let them get that, Logan." Storm
spoke from her table. "It's a regular chore." 
       "I don't like to leave my messes for somebody else ta clean up." He told her, taking
  the things to the kitchen, where he rinsed them and put them in the dishwasher. It would
  have to be run at least twice to get them all done.
       He leaned on the counter, head down, feeling the exhaustion that flowed through his
  veins. Healing took energy and he'd been hurt pretty bad when he crashed a couple hours
  ago. His belly was full, too, and that made him stodgy, one of the reasons he usually didn't
  eat much at a sitting. Being slow could mean being there when trouble arrived.
       He should talk to Rogue, to Jean. Tell Xavier what he'd found in Alberta, and what
  he thought about it. All of them would be willing to talk to him, would want to - with the
  possible exception of Jean. She might not want him anywhere near her.
       He closed his eyes and remembered the scent of her skin, the taste of it when he'd
  kissed her hand. 
       Then he opened them and gave himself a mental shake. Get over it, boy. She's got
  one-eye and she doesn't want you. Leave her with him, he's better for her anyways. At least
  he knows who he is.
       He didn't want to talk to anyone. He didn't know why he'd come back here. 
       He went to bed.
  

         "Logan?"
       The quiet little voice startled him. He sat up in bed, pulling the covers high so they
  wouldn't slip low.
       "I didn't mean to wake you." There she was, just visible in the light rom the half-
  shut bathroom door. He liked a light on, so what? 
       "I wasn't sleeping." That was the truth, at least. "But shouldn't you be in bed, kid?"
       "I'm not that tired." Small steps and she came closer. Her nightgown tonight was
  blue,  with long, tight sleeves and a hood. It reached her feet. "Can I sit here?" She gestured
  at the side of the bed. He shifted over and gave her plenty of room. Jean had said Rogue
  had a crush on him. That could get ugly if he didn't handle it right. Not that he'd ever been
  faced with a situation like this before. It was part of the human experience, though. He had
  good instincts, he'd fix things.
       Rogue sat on the bed, facing him, drawing her knees up and wrapping her arms
  around them, her chin on the upper arm. Her bare feet were a few inches from his torso
  beneath the covers.
       "You were gone a long time."
       "I came back, though." He pointed out, not liking the accusatory tone. "Have they
  been treating you nice?" 
       "It's okay. The school stuff is hard. Harder than I'm used to."
       "The other kids are nice? You made some friends?" Friends were important, he
  knew that.
       "Yeah, mostly. Bobby is great, and Kitty is especially nice."
       "She seemed like a nice girl when I met her." He hadn't exactly met her, but she'd
  smiled shyly at him before dashing through the dor of Xavier's office. Literally through the
  door. "Kinda shy, though."
       "She gets over it once she knows you." Rogue wiggled her toes and he smiled.
       "Watcha wantin here, girl? I need my beauty sleep, y'know."
       "You left after dinner and I didn't get to talk to you. I missed you."
       "We'll have time to talk before I leave again." He told her seriously. "The Professor
  said I can stay as long as I want."
       "So how long will you?" Her eyes seemed to suck him in, so big and brown.
       "Until I get another lead to follow."
       She took that in, looked around the room.
       "Jean took me to help pick out the clothes. I knew you'd lost everythin when your
  truck burned up."
       "You did good. Thank you." It was plain to see that she was nervous. Anxious
  about something. He wasn't sure he wanted to find out, definitely not tonight. "Get on to
  bed, Marie. I'll still be here in the morning."
       "You promise?" 
       He'd kept the last promise he made her, though a little late.
       "I promise. Go on, git."
       "Goodnight, Logan." Like a complete schoolgirl she climbed off the bed and padded
  out of the room, leaving him in his little bit of light, thinking about the way things stay the
  same. 
  

       "Logan."
       He startled awake, both hands grabbing the mattress tightly - some part of him knew
  that he wasn't in danger and he managed to restrain the urge to lash out and hurt, kept his
  claws in.
       "What?!" He snapped. Eyes open, he saw Jean standing over the bed, in a dark robe
  that covered her from shoulders to ankles. Brown, with a pattern of small flowers
  embroidered at the collar and cuff.
       "You were dreaming. I didn't want you to wake the kids."
       Again. The word reverberated in his head. The last time he'd had a nightmare here
  he'd almost killed Rogue.
       "Sorry." He said it roughly and used both hands to scrub at his face. God, he was
  tired. "'M up."
       "You need rest."
       He sat, saw her glance at his bare chest, considered making a crack about it, decided
  this wasn't the time or place. Flirting was one thing. Coming onto her when she was in his
  room in the middle of the night on a mission of mercy would force her to say something, to
  make some decision and he didn't think he'd like the outcome. So he kept his mouth shut,
  pulling the covers higher than he had when Rogue was there, feeling oddly vulnerable.
       "I'll try to get back to sleep." He assured her, but could tell that she didn't believe it.
       "The Professor could hep with this, you know. Not every night, but tonight, just so
  you can rest."
       "Help how?"
       "He can monitor your dreams and prevent the nightmares from starting."
       "Then he has to stay up, right?" It was mildly enticing; a night without dreams.
       "He won't mind."
        "You know what he's thinking, huh?" His body wasn't reacting to her presence, but
  that was because he had pretty good control over that, and he didn't want to embarrass her.
  It wasn't about that anyhow. What he felt for her - what she made him feel - was so far
  beyond sex he couldn't put it into words. To wait the rest of his life for her suddenly
  seemed like a blessing, an opportunity he wouldn't give up for anything. Even if she never
  came to him.
       "Most times." She smiled that little smile that meant she thought he was teasing her.
  "But we talked about this after dinner. And we've talked while you were gone, about how
  we could help you when you came back."
       "You knew I would?"
       Her hair was brushed back from her face and her eyes looked bigger than usual in the
  dim light. He heard and felt the soft sigh his words elicited.
                           "I believed."  
       "Good." Rough again. "Chuck - Xavier - he got anything important to do
  tomorrow?"
       "The Professor always has something to do." Now she was laughing at him. "But he
  can survive on less sleep than the rest of us for a day or two. Shall I call him?"
       "Does he have to come here?"
       "It works best that way."
       It was hard, to accept help. To admit needing it in the first place. His eyes ached and
  his body felt sluggish, his head thick, the way it did right after he'd been beaten to heck, in
  that few seconds before he could feel the healing making the difference. When the worst of
  the injuries were healed but the pain lingered as a reminder.
       The exhausted not-pain decided for him. He'd been feeling it for far too long.
       "Yeah. I'd be grateful."
       Her eyes half closed and he knew she was contacting Xavier. When they opened
  again she smiled.
       "He'll be here shortly. Scott's going to help him out of bed."
       He hadn't considered that aspect of it. Did Xavier need someone to help him in and
  out of bed every night? He'd never been around a crip before, he didn't know. But it felt
  like too much, he didn't want everyone in the house involved with his sleep problems.
       "He doesn't have to do that." He tossed the covers aside and stood. "Let me just
  grab a blanket and I'll crash on his floor."
       "You won't sleep well that way. He doesn't mind." She looked away when he rose,
  but he was decently covered, he'd worn sweats to bed. He scratched his back, low, over the
  healed kidney, where a phantom itch eluded him.
       "I'll be fine. I kin sleep just about anywhere."
       "I don't think -"
       He picked up the shirt he'd left on a chair and pulled it over his head, for her sake
  more than his.
       "This will be better." He said, deftly folding his bedspread into a compact bundle
  and tucking the pillow on top of it. He felt a little bit like a kid going to a sleepover, not that
  he'd ever experienced that. A least not that he remembered.
       "Logan, no, I don't think -"
       Ignoring her, he went into the hall and followed his nose. Xavier had a distinct
  scent, as all humans did. He wasn't surprised to find the man's room was on the ground
  floor, tucked away behind the kitchen, where he probably got a little privacy.
       Scott was just arriving. He stopped in the hall and looked Logan over with a
  jaundiced eye.
       "Camping out in the backyard again?" 
       "Scott, hush." Jean's voice behind him - she'd followed, as he'd known she would.
       Logan knocked on the bedroom door.
       "You know it's open, Scott." The Professor sounded tired but amused.
       "I know I aint' pretty, Chuck, but please." He drawled as he opened the door and
  stepped insode. It was a big room, with a table and desk and large television on one wall.
  The bed was a normal one, set a bit high, with rails and a bar hanging from the ceiling. The
  chair stood to one side like a sentry.
       "What are you doing in here, Logan?"
       "I ain't making you get outta bed just to help me out. Thought I'd crash here and
  you can do your thing an' stay comfy at the same time." He looked around. "Nice room."
  He looked for the best place to plant himself.
       The man used the hanging bar to pull himself higher up in the bed.
       "Logan, this is..."
       Bending over to spread the cover between the desk and the televison, Loan paused,
  looking over his shoulder. Had he intruded? Invaded the man's personal space? Maybe
  Xavier didn't like strangers in his room...
       Scott and Jean were both in there now. Scott was bare-chested - his skin was
  smooth and tanned, the muscles well-defined. Bulkier than Logan, actually.
                                                              Surprisingly, Scott took his side on this one.    
       "It's a better idea than you spending the night sitting beside his bed." He flicked a
  glance at Logan. 
       "Yeah. No sense you being up when ya don't haveta." Without any more fanfare
  Logan sat and then laid on the pallet, the pillow flat beneath his head. "This good for you?"
  He glanced over at the bed, his view partially blocked by Jean's legs. They were outlined
  beneath the fabric of the robe and he closed his eyes quickly. 
       *This is not an imposition, Logan* The sensation of Xavier talking in his head was
  familiar yet still strange. With his eyes still closed, he replied aloud.
       "This is best, Chuck."
       He heard footsteps - they moved away, then stopped.
       "Goodnight Logan." Jean said softly. "Sleep well."
       "If you find any bedbugs, have a snack."  Scott added with unusual humor.
       "I'll save 'em for you." He promised, and then lay still as they left the room. The
  door opened, closed, and then everything was quiet. He could hear himself breathing, and
  made an effort to calm. 
       "There's nothing to be afraid of." Xavier said. Looking up, Logan could see him
  again, see that he was sitting in bed, and had the remote control in hand.
       "Sleep an' I get along like me n' one-eye." He gave a half-shrug and closed his eyes
  again.
       "We'll have to work on that." 
       "Is there anythin special I should do?" Logan sighed, and wriggled his shoulders to a
  more comfortable position.
       "Just go to sleep, Logan." Xavier spoke kindly, as if to a son. It made Logan's
  throat tighten, it was suddenly hard to breathe. He couldn't remember anyone having ever
  spoken to him in that tone before. *I'll take care of you*
       It was the same thing he'd promised Rogue. And he'd done it - there had been a few
  snags, but he'd gotten her back safe. 
       *You've been too many years alone* Xavier must have followed his thoughts, for
  his tone was just as gentle and caring. *Let us - let me help you*
       *You* Feeling drowsy, wondering idly if it was Xavier's doing, Logan let himself
  start to slip down the slide to darkness. *I kin trust you* 
       *Yes - trust me, Logan, I will care for you* 
       The slide continued and the pool at the bottom looked sweet and inviting; promising
  rest and rejuvenation, a promise that had been broken thousands of times before.
       With trust he slid in and felt a new warmth enclose him; new, and strange, but
  welcome.
       He slept.
  

       He woke swiftly, knowing he'd heard something, coming off the floor at the ready,
  but managed to keep his claws in.
       "I was trying not to wake you."
       "Xavier?" Logan blinked, memory coming back. Quickly he scanned the room,
  orienting himself. There was a hint of light coming in through the sheer drapes, he felt that it
  had to be close to dawn.
       "I'm an early riser." The man in the bed said. He was reaching for the back of his
  chair, only a foot away. "I would have stayed in bed and let you sleep, but I have too many
  things I must do today to lay a-bed."
       "An' I kept you up all night." Logan rumbled, rubbing his face with his hands. He
  needed a shave. He didn't do it frequently, but sometimes it was good to cut down the
  brush. 
       He sniffed. And a shower.
       "I can miss a few hours sleep once in a while. Until we decipher your dreams you
  will probably continue to need help. But I believe that once you become accustomed to my
  presence in your mind the dreams will taper off and you will be able to sleep on your own."
       "I thought this was just for one night." He protested, giving himself a shake, like a
  dog. Then he went to the bed and pulled the chair close. "Need a hand?"
       "Scott or Jean or Storm usually help me to bed at night, but I prefer to get up on my
  own." There was no censure in the reply, but Logan felt awkward nevertheless.
       "Sorry." He said that a lot around here.
       "Don't be." Xavier reached for the bar and pulled himself to the side of the bed and
  then shifted carefully to the chair. He was wearing maroon silk pajamas with black piping. 
       "I'll just - go back to my room now." He went to the bedspread and began to fold it
  up.
       "Put it in the closet beside you, for tonight." The Professor said, now in his chair.
  "Breakfast is self-serve and usually lasts until 7. If you hurry you might find Jean making
  pancakes."
       "Sounds good." After stowing the blanket and pillow where Xavier had suggested,
  he stood for a moment, at a loss. What was he going to do here? He wasn't cut out for a
  life of leisure, but he wasn't teacher material either.
       "We'll talk about it after classes begin." Xavier said, glancing over his shoulder. He
  seemed to be on his way to the bathroom. 
       "Yeah." Logan agreed, and got out of there before he intruded on the man's privacy
  any more than he already had. 
       Back in 'his' room he showered  - there seemed to be plenty of hot water - and
  dressed in oneof his own pairs of jeans, worn and faded, the knees whitened by time. With a
  t-shirt, faded grey, and his denim jacket, he felt more at home. Able to face the kitchen, the
  kids, and Jean.
       Or so he thought. When he walked in and the scents and sounds hit him he paused,
  and almost turned around and left. Running wasn't a big part of his makeup, but it was
  there. Suddenly it seemed like being here was a bad idea. Why had he come back?
       "Logan!" Rogue bounded up with all the grace of a young colt, all legs and arms
  and curves. She was beautiful in her happiness, youth and health emanating from her. "Sit
  down, I'll get you some food." She tugged on his arm with her gloved hands and he didn't
  resist. Some of the other kids were staring at him and he ducked his head, not wanting to
  meet their eyes. Most kids were frightened of him.
       "Bobby, this is Logan. He saved me."
       "I know." The handsome young man at the table smiled and offered a hand. "You
  don't have to sit with us - the Xmen usually sit together except at dinner."
       He glanced over at the first table. Scott was there, apparently studying schematics
  while he ate. Jean appeared with a plate of pancakes and was promptly mobbed, but lifted
  them above the crowd and laid them on the table in front of her paramour.  
       "More in a minute." She promised.
       "I guess I better sit with them." Logan said, thinking he sounded tired.
       "Will I see you later?"
       "Dontcha have classes?"
       "Yeah, but- "
       "Let me see what I'm going to be doing around here." He told her, gently removing
  his arm from her grasp. "They'll probably have me mowing the lawn or cleaning the pool."
       "There's a service for that." Bobby said helpfully. "Rogue, I'm sure the adults want
  to talk to him. He just got back."
       "You'll talk to me later?" Her eyes held his. He wasn't going to make any promises
  he couldn't keep.
       "Soon." He said, reaching hesitantly to touch her head, safely covered by a hood.
  "Best I can do right now, darlin'."
       "Okay. I know you keep your promises." He say and started talking to Bobby, who
  gave Logan what could only be called a glare over the top if her head. He grinned suddenly,
  wolfishly, amused.
       "Logan do you want some pancakes?"
       He looked around. About half the kids were eating the pancakes, the others were
  binging on cereal and muffins.     
       "That'd be nice, yeah. Thanks."
       "Tall stack or short stack?" She paused in the doorway. Scott swiveled his head to
  watch the exchange, and grinned a grin that told Logan he was thinking of something
  snippy to say.
       "Tall." He answered, eyes daring Scott to comment. The grin grew wider but he
  didn't say anything else. Logan sat down across the table from him.
       Scott didn't acknowledge his presence.
       "Watcha working on?" Logan asked at last, wishing he had a beer. That would go
  well with hotcakes, but he was betting they didn't have any here. 
       "I'm planning some modifications to the Blackbird." Scott answered without
  looking up. "With you taking over my physical conditioning class I'll be able to get to them
  sooner than I'd expected."
       "Taking over your what?" This was the first he'd heard about that.
       "I thought the Professor was going to ask him about that." Jean came in with
  another plate stacked high with pancakes. There were bottles of syrup and a dish of butter
  on the table. Logan pulled a couple of them close. "Scott?"
       "I figured he would have mentioned it this morning."
       They'd been talking about him behind his back. He wasn't sure he liked that. But he
  needed something to do, some way to earn his keep.
       "Wha kinda class is this?" Lots of butter, the real stuff, and then a half gallon of
  syrup. Some of the kids looked over and giggled. He gave them a mock-glare and they
  giggled louder. Not afraid. Seemed they knew he was kiddin'.
       "Basic conditioning. Three classes, really; one for the younger kids and one for the
  older, and one for the die-hards. There's a schedule already written for them, all you have
  to do it follow it." Scott ate with one hand and flipped pages with the other.
       "And encourage the kids to keep up - that's the hard part." Jean added. She sat
  beside Scott and picked up a fork, helping herself to his plate. "Yuck. You used the
  blueberry syrup again. You know I hate that stuff."
       "That's why I use it." He flashed her a smile and she rolled her eyes.
       "Have some of mine. I don't use that artificially flavored crap - it all tastes like
  chemicals to me." Logan pushed his plate over a few inches.
       "With your nose I can understand that." She answered, but didn't take him up on
  the offer, toying with her fork instead.
       "I ain't contagious." He drawled, amused. "Ya can take a bite."
       "Oh, alright. I ran out of batter and it seems that somebody snuck in and snatched
  the plate I'd set aside for myself." She looked pointedly over at the second table and a
  husky teenager, looked Native American, caught it, and blushed. 
       "Thunderbird?" Scott asked, lifting his head to watch her neatly cut a bite from
  Logan's stack of hotcakes.
       "Who else?"
       "He's a growin' boy." Logan ventured.  
       "He's going to grow himself right into the doghouse if he does it again." Scott
  glared at the teenager, who looked properly chastened, and then back at Logan. "Not
  contagious? I'd appreciate it if you'd clean up your language a bit around the kids."
       "It ain't nuthin they ain't heard before." He said, lowering his head and
  concentrating on eating, making sure he didn't accidentally bump Jean's hand or fingers as
  they shared the plate.  
       Xavier joined them just about the time the last kid left. He was neatly dressed in
  what Logan thought of as his school clothes, and seemed right at home in his home.
       "Scott told Logan about the classes." Jean told him. She was finishing the last bits
  on the plate and Logan was watching her with appreciation while Scott cleaned the table.
  Storm - Ororo - had appeared just in time to start clearing the table and doing the dishes,
  soon joined by several of the older kids.
       "I hope that suits you." Xavier said. "If you don't want to teach there's no
  requirement."
       "Nah, it's okay. I don't mind. Don't know how good I'll be at it."
       "All you have to do is run in circles." Scott said cheerfully. "It's not that hard."
       "Well, it must not be, if you've been doing it." 
       "Gentlemen." Xavier spoke firmly, but he wasn't angry. "I declare a truce."
       "Yes, Professor."
       "Whatever you say, Chuck." It was clear Scott really hated it when Logan called
  Xavier that. All the more reason to do it.    
       "Twenty-four hours, Professor?" Jean was teasing them, he could tell.
       "I'll settle for twelve today. Can't start them off too hard."
       "I'll give ya six." Logan said with a smirk. Cyclops rolled his eyes and grinned.
       "Ten." He replied.
       "Seven."
       "Nine."
       "Seven n' a half." Now they were all smiling, Jean almost giggling. He liked that
  sound.
       "Eight, and not a minute more." Scott snapped his book shut with a definitive
  thump. "Jean can show you the class roster and tell you which student can walk you
  through each class."
       "Trust me alone with her that long?" Standing, Logan gathered his dishes again. It
  went against the grain to let someone else do it for him.
       "If I didn't trust her, she wouldn't be my girl, would she?" Leaning over, Sott gave
  Jean a quick kiss on the cheek and sauntered out of the room.
       "I don't think I like that boy." Logan drawled, irritated by the way he'd staked his
  claim, and the fact that Jean had let him. Scott seemed to take her pretty much for granted,
  and that grated on him.
       "I never would have guessed." Xavier commented neutrally. "I have a class in a few
  moments - Logan, the class list is posted on the bulletin board outside the gymnasium - do
  you remember where that is?" When Logan nodded Xavier continued. "I imagine you can
  handle this without Jean's help. Just ask Kitty or Bobby or Dani to assist and you'll do
  fine."
       "Whatever you say, Chuck."
       "Jean, if you would walk to class with me, I want to discuss a few treatment options
  for Logan's nightmares..."
       Listening to them as they went down the hall, he thought he could detect the
  weariness in Xavier's voice, and thought for a moment that he should sleep in his own room
  tonight and let the man rest. There were other ways to achieve a dreamless sleep, and he
  knew most of 'em. All it took was a twelve-pack and determination....
  

  
       "I can't. I'm too tired."
       Standing still, hands on his hips, Logan stared down at the boy sitting on the
  ground. The others gathered around, waiting to see what he would do.
       They were at the beginning of the third mile of a three-mile jog. He'd recruited
  Bobby Drake, Rogue's friend, to help him with this class of younger kids, ranging in age
  from ten to fourteen.  He'd been surprised to see the ten-year-old, the youngest in the
  group by two years, but he'd kept okay the first two miles. Some kids just hit puberty
  earlier than others, he supposed, though this one didn't look like he had any hormones to
  speak of; skinny, pale, so fair that his thick black hair was like a shock against his skin. Then
  he'd sort of faded, a sensation Logan recognized, and now he was sitting stubbornly on the
  ground, refusing to move.     
       Bobby has kept them at a much slower pace than Wolverine would have adopted on
  his own, which was probably a good thing, but now he was hanging back, standing with the
  others, obviously wanting Logan to deal with this, or see what he'd do. Heck, he was
  probably reporting it all back to the Professor right now.
       "C'mon, Time," He used the codename with a bad taste in his mouth, "You're two-
  thirds the way through. You can finish this."
       "Hy should I have to? I can teleport anywhere I need to go - I can even get there
  before I need to get there!"
       Logan had gotten a quick rundown of powers and temperaments from Bobby, and
  he knew this kid could teleport through time, minutes into the future, but that wouldn't
  always help him.
       "Suppose you can't 'port?" He crouched in front of the kid and asked sternly.
       "Why not? I can always."
       "Suppose you're too tired. Or yer sick or hurt and can't concentrate. Or you don't
  have a safe place to t'port to. Or you don't really know where you are."
       "That's not gonna happen." Time seemed pleased by the attention, and seemed to
  think he was going to get his way. He drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around them.
  "I wanna go back inside."
       "Nope. You're gonna get up off yer butt and run with the rest of us."
       "You can't make me - you're not even an X-Man!"
       Anger rose and Logan quashed it with the ease of familiarity. After a few deep,
  cleansing breaths he tried another tact.
       "You like piggy-back rides, Time?"
       Cocked head, suspicious eyes. Had this kid been a runaway too? So many bad things
  happened to little kids on the street.
       "Never had one." 
       "But you know what I mean."
       "Yeah, so."
       "Would you like a ride, Time?"
       "Sure." Cautiously enthusiastic. Kid knew there'd be a price for it.
       "Tell ya what - you get up and run another half mile, and then I'll carry ya the rest of
  the way. Deal?"
       "You're gonna take it back."
       "I will not." Logan turned his head, singled Bobby out with a crooked finger.
  "Drake - you're Rogue's friend. Does she say I keep my promises?"
       "Yes, sir, she does."
       "Come on, Time, I want to get back before lunch!" Another child protested.
       "I won't take it back." Logan told the boy, holding out hand as he rose.
       He could tell Timeslip didn't believe him - but he wanted to. He out his hand in
  Logan's and let himself be pulled to his feet.
       "Okay - but I'm not gonna run fast."
       "If Sabretooth was chasin' you ya would." Logan told him. "Let's go."
       This time he hung back, running beside the boy, who was in pretty good shape for
  his age. It seemed harsh, to make little kids do this, but Logan understood; their bodies had
  to be honed to let them hone their powers. Physical stuff he understood very well.
       When they passed the halfway marker Time slowed, and the others with him
  everyone watching to see what he'd do. Instead of stopping Logan just trotted past the boy,
  reaching with one arm to grab him and toss him onto his own broad boack, which made the
  kid squeal and laugh. He wrapped his skinny legs around Logan's waist and his arms around
  his neck and held on tight while Logan kept running. At the quarter-mile he sped up, hitting
  a sprint, and the kids behind him all groaned or moaned in protest, but tried to keep up.
  Bobby Drake was the only one that managed it, and he was winded by the time they
  stopped by the gym.
       "Don't you - doesn't that hurt?" He gasped, winded.
       "Sure. But it heals as fast as it hurts." Logan shrugged and shook himself hard,
  making Time laugh and wriggle down to the ground. He turned the boy to face him. "This
  week we'll do it this way, but next week you're gonna haveta go to the quarter. Got it?"
                                                                   "Then I won't be able to ride as long." Time pouted.   
       "It you finish the run I'll do an extra mile with you on my back, okay?" Considering
  everything, he could use the extra work. He'd made a living as a fighter, but it hadn't done
  much for his endurance. Without his healing power these kids would have left him in the
  dust.
       "That was pretty good, Wolverine." Bobby told him as they went inside. "Cyclops
  usually just bullies him into finishing.
       "He does this every time?"
       "Each and every." Bobby gave him a grin that proved he knew he'd been a brat.
       "Little shit. You could have mentioned that." Logan snapped him with a towel.
       "And miss that? No way, man. You looked like Quasimodo." Bobby trotted in to
  shower, leaving Logan to ponder that. He knew he wasn't the most attractive of men - too
  short, too hairy, too rough. But Quasimodo was cutting a bit deep.
       The second class was mostly the same. These were older kids, though Kitty Pryde
  was only fourteen and the others older. This was the bigger class and they worked a bit
  harder. A hour of weights and then a four-mile run. By the end of it he had more respect for
  Cyclops - if the guy did this every day, and the advanced class as well? Ouch.
       There were moments of amusement, like when one of the boys - Thunderbird, he
  was called - pointed out that Kitty was running with her feet not touching the ground,
  'phasing' through the air. Logan agreed that that wasn't fair and she apologized and said
  her concentration slipped sometimes and she forgot. But he saw a twinkle in her eye that
  made him wonder.
       Lunch was taken in shifts, sandwich stuff set out and everyone making their own,
  cleaning up after themselves. Logan had a couple of hours free afterwards and wandered
  around a bit, then took refuge outside by the pool, where the younger kids were playing,
  and he sat in a lounge chair, the sun warm on his face.
       It was nearly fall, there wouldn't be a lot more warm days, he decided.
       The next thing he knew was a strong hand gripping his wrist painfully tight, and he
  came awake sharply, his eyes inches from Scott's visor.
       His claws were extended. He pulled them in with a thought and a tiny wince.
       "I - " What did ya say to a guy you hated after you almost gut him in front of a
  bunch of drippy kids.
       "You were dreaming." Scott said. "Awake now?"
       "Yeah."
       Scott released his arm and straightened slowly.
       "I didn't know if we should wake you." An Asian girl - she was called Jubilee, he
  remembered - was standing on his other side, just out of reach. "I mean, like, with Rogue
  and everything that happened there." She popped a strand of gum and grinned at him, not
  shy at all. "So I called Cyke here and he did it."
       "Thanks." He meant it. He never wanted to wake up skewering someone again if he
  could help it. Unless that someone was after his wallet, or worse.
       "You did the right thing." Scott told her. "Wolverine, I think it would be best if you
  only slept inside until the Professor gets things straightened out in your head. In your room
  or, you know."
       "Much as I hate ta admit it, yer right. Sorry, kids." He heaved himself out of the
  chair. "It's about time for the last class anyhow. You really do this every day, Cyke?" He
  used the same nickname the girl had but the other man didn't seem happy with it.     
       "No, of course not. I'm no masochist. Jean does the younger kids, I do the older
  class and Storm does the advanced." He was laughing silently at Logan as he gaped
  momentarily. "We just wanted to see if you could keep up."
       Logan considered flipping him the bird, but decided that it wouldn't be cool with so
  many kids around. They might laugh, but it would undermine Scott's authority, and these kids
  were more Scott's than they were his. It wasn't his place, and they needed Scott.
       "Storm will do the other class, we were just giving you a hard time."
       "Nah, I got it." He waved a hand as he turned to head back to the gym. "Tell her she
  can have a few weeks off."    
       Or however long he stayed. If he didn't start sleeping soon drastic measures would
  be called for.
  

  
       The advanced class was a surprise.
       "We training for a marathon here?" He asked. There were only four kids. "What
  makes you guys work so damned  hard?"
       "We've all decided that we're going to stay and become X-Men." Bobby Drake
  answered.
       They were standing at the start of the three-mile trail that circled the estate, the one
  Logan had already run twice today.  He'd changed socks but was otherwise wearing the
  same things he'd worn earlier.
       The advanced workout for the day was scheduled to take two-and-a-half hours,
  and included weights, running, swimming, and gymnastics. They'd already done the
  gymnastics, and Logan, though his reflexes were far faster than theirs, found he wasn't as
  limber as they. His balance wasn't the best, either. He'd never really concentrated on
  working out; the healing factor allowed him to do almost anything he wanted to. If it didn't
  work, if he got hurt, well, hell, it healed. But now he was feeling slow and a bit disgruntled.
       "Why the hell would you want that?" He snapped, finished a stretch-lunge. 
       The Native American girl, whose name he had learned was Dani - not Danny, a boy,
  as he had originally thought when Xavier said to ask her for help - answered him while the
  others exchanged glances.
       "My people were taken from thier lands and driven onto reservations. Thousands
  were slaughtered like animals. I won't see that happen to anyone else just because they are
  different."
       "What about what's gonna ta you?" He snapped, irritated. They didn't know - how
  could they know - how hard life was. They should learn to use their powers and then
  fuckin' run and hide. Get real jobs and pretend.
       He'd wanted to do that once. Well, a couple dozen times. Sometimes it worked for
  a little while. He'd driven a truck, worked as a roustabout, dug ditches. It always ended,
  though, when somebody pissed him off or he had to rescue some damn fool and then
  everyone knew and he had to leave again. After a while he stopped trying.
       "It's what I want to do. They took me in and took care of me. I need to give
  something back."  She met his eyes with a steady gaze. There was a sense of peace about
  her that he didn't understand, but he felt it.
       "All of us may decide to do something else when we're older." Bobby spoke up.
  "But this is what we want to be doing now."
       "And it's out choice." The blond boy, John, spoke. He stank of fire, and Logan
  could guess what his power was. But that wasn't the most important thing around here.
  These kids were more than just what they could do. Maybe that was a good thing. They
  could just be kids.
       "Let's git started then." With a sigh he straightened, stretched, and began jogging.
       It quickly became clear that jogging wasn't what these kids were used to. They ran,
  and ran fast. He was hard-pressed to keep up with them after the first mile, and by the
  fourth his endurance was waning. 
       "You okay?" The third young man was shorter than Logan himself, and stockier.
  His face was disfigured by burn scars and Logan made a mental note to ask about that -
  Jean or Xavier. The kid called himself 'Trade', it made the older man wonder what his
  power was. Another shape-shifter? He'd had enough of those to last a lifetime.
       "I'll make it." The kid was breathing hard but steady, he was used to this.
       "We only do the long routine twice a week." 
       "Good." He grunted, reaching inside and seeking resolution. He found it, and a bit
  more speed, and caught up to the others. Dani and Bobby were head-to-head, each trying to
  get the advantage on the other, but it seemed they were evenly matched.
       Cyclops was waiting at the gym, watching them as they came around the last curve
  in a bunch, thundering like a herd of elephants. Logan was trailing, struggling to keep up.
  The months of neglect were taking their toll. Just about the time Bobby pulled ahead of
  Dani - he was watching them, distracted - he stepped off the path and his foot went the
  wrong way and he wiped out, going down hard, rolling, hearing the familiar snap-and-
  crunch that meant he'd broken something, and then lying still, gasping, as the pain hit.
       "Logan!" Shit, he had an audience. Cyclops was running to him, the others doubling
  back, and all he could do was lie there and stare up at the blue, blue sky and wish he were
  somewhere else. That were someone else.
       "Are you hurt?" Scott's face over his, the red glasses hiding his eyes - what color
  were they anyhow? - and competent hands touching him, checking him for injury.
       "Leg's broke." He was lying on, it, needed to get it straightened out, it was already
  healing crooked. Re-breaking it would be even less fun than the frst time. "Kin you
  straighten it out?" He struggled to sit, surprised when his rm refused to cooperate, but he
  insisted and raised up.
       "Bobby, help me out." With brisk calm Scott directed the teenager to lift Logan's
  lower body so he could pull out the broken leg. Logan bit his lip, feeling the blood drain
  from his face, and then Dani was behind him, her arms over his chest, supporting him with
  her own slender weight, and he felt, well, just pathetic.
       "It's settin'." He warned Scott, his hands digging into the grass at his sides.
       "Hold him." Scott said, and both the kids tightened their grips. Logan expected
  some sort of warning or something, but Scott just pulled - slow and steady, but hard, and
  the leg cracked again, then lay straight and smooth, only the hole in his sweats and the
  bloodstains proof of his clumsiness.
       Dani lay him back down gently and he looked up at her and the others as they
  gathered around.
       He felt stupid, and clumsy, and deeply unhappy.
       "I gotta go." It was hard to get up - he hurt, and the leg wasn't quite healed. His
  movement was significantly less than graceful.
       "Mr. Logan -" Bobby spoke, and he turned, knowing he looked angry, knowing too
  that they wouldn't understand why or who he was angry at.
       "Thanks for leading our classes today." The teen shrugged, and looked away.
       "You guys get inside and clean up - there's homework time before dinner chores
  start." Scott told them.
       Logan kept walking. He stumbled a bit at first, but the leg healed and then he
  walked. Everything healed outside, but inside he was numb. No pain, nothing.
       His stomach rose into his throat when Scott caught up to him, and he waved an arm,
  telling him to get back.
       "Logan -the professor wanted to see you before dinner."
       "Fuck that, one-eye. I'm outta here." He plodded on, determined.
       "That's it? You fall down and run away again?"
       If he turned, Scott would have his hands on his hips. Those red glasses would be
  staring, accusing.
       "Fuck you, too." He didn't turn to look. His goal was his room, his knapsack, and
  the open road, in that order. There was something to be said for a simple life, and it didn't
  get much simpler than his had been before he ran into Rogue. 
       So what if he never found out anything about himself? He probably wouldn't like it
  anyhow. There was little chance, he figured, that he'd been a happy man or a good one. An
  accountant or a schoolteacher. No, probably a criminal; a thief, a killer. A bad man.     
           Scott gave up. He heard the footsteps following him stop, and continued with a sense
  of relief. They just had to let him go.
  

       Ten minutes later he was in his room, stuffing his things into his pack. Not the new
  stuff they had bought for him, but his things. 
       He paused, scenting, then turned before the door opened, to glare at the visitor.
       "Thought you'd send Jeanie."
       "Jean is busy in the lab. One of the older girls has a very specific mutation that
  requires careful monitoring of her blood chemistry. Jean's been trying to find an alternative
  treatment for her since she arrived here."
       Logan grunted. He didn't want to face Xavier, to see the lines on the man's
  forehead, the circles beneath his eyes from the sleep he'd sacrificed to help.
       "Say what ya gotta say." He grumbled, but the pack slipped from his hands and he
  sat heavily on the bed. 
       Xavier came closer.
       "I know better than anyone how hard it is for you to accept help."
       A gentle hand rested on his knee and he stared down at it.
       "From monitoring your dreams, I could venture a guess that the people who hurt
  you may have promised help, and that's still in your subconscious somewhere, making it all
  the harder.'
       The hand looked strong, with muscles at thumb and wrist. He hadn't always used
  the electric chair. 
       "If you leave now, I very much doubt that you'll ever come back, and I would hate
  to lose you."
       "Why?" He challenged, raising his head, staring into the brown eyes that studied him
  with such compassion. "What good do you see in me?"
       Logan spread his arms and released his claws, the familiar sound loud in the
  bedroom. He didn't flinch when they came out, hadn't flinched in years.
       Xavier flinched for him.
       "You don't have to hurt yourself to prove anything to me." The hand on his knee
  squeezed. "All I'm asking is that you give me a chance. Give us a chance."
       Snikt.
       He popped the claws back in, and leaned forward. There was something there,
  beneath the smells of shampoo and deodorant and laundry detergent....
       "Logan. You need to rest." That voice - how could it be so soft and still so
  insistent?
       "I'm too fucking tired to rest, Chuck."
       "Come to my room. I have paperwork to do, you can sleep in my bed while I
  monitor you."
       "I can't sleep in your bed." It would be rude.
       "I don't mind." The hand left his knee, took his hand, and pulled on it. Logan rose,
  surprised, and found himself standing. All the fight had drained out of him and now he was
  just exhausted. "It will take more than one night's sleep to start paying off the debt you've
  built up."
       "I stink." It was true - his nose was just as sensitive to his body odor as anyone
  else's, something he'd never had opportunity to be thankful for.
       "You can bathe." Xavier released his hand with a squeeze, and led him out of the
  room. Together they went down the hall, to the elevator, and to Xavier's room. Everything
  seemed oddly empty. He wondered of the telepath had sent everyone away.
       *They're having dinner* The thought came gently, on tiptoe feet.
       "You need ta eat." 
       *Jean will bring me a tray later. Truly, I'm thankful for the opportunity to spend
  some time alone. I badly need to catch up on the paperwork, and something always seems
  to interrupt me. You're an excellent excuse to hide in my room and work*
       *If you say so* He doubted that, but was willing to go along with it.
  

       Once in the bedroom, he stood inside the door, uncertain. It wasn't a  feeling he was
  comfortable with.
       "I need a shower." He said at last, watching Xavier go to his desk and power up his
  computer.
       The look the man gave him was sympathetic.
       "You've used the last of your reserves, I think. I'll run you a bath, that will be more
  soothing for tired muscles."
       Logan stood dumbly while the man went into the bathroom, then followed him
  belatedly. By the time he got there the large tub was half full, and there was a mild scent of
  heather. He saw the bubbles on the water and winced.
       "Trust me - it will help you sleep." Xavier must have seen the reaction.
       Logan looked around. There was a large shower-stall opposite the tub, with a chair
  in it, and the walls were festooned with the various bars and handholds required by a crip. 
       He was definitely intruding. There was no scent here of anyone but Xavier.
       "I'll bring you some clothing in a little while." The man in the chair watched him for
  a moment, then backed out and left.
       Logan sat on the toilet, one hand rubbing up and down the slick steel handrail beside
  it, and wondered what the hell he was doing here.
  

       The water was perfectly hot, and the bubbles smelled good. They tickled slightly. He
  eased into it and lay back with a sigh as a thousand little aches vanished. With his head on
  the little pillow at the back, he decided he could just sleep there. Tucking both arms in at
  the sides, where his claws wouldn't hurt anyone if he got woken suddenly, he closed his
  eyes and let himself drift.
  

       He woke with a start, and for a moment couldn't remember where he was or when it
  was.
       The Xavier appeared in the doorway, with a smile on his face.
       "Good timing. Jean just brought some food. You've got clothes and towels there -"
  He pointed at the shelves beside the tub, where a stack of both had appeared, "Get dressed
  and come join me for dinner."
       "How long-?"
       "You slept about an hour. I added some hot water a little while ago, but your skin
  would probably appreciate the chance to dry out now."
       Added hot water? And he hadn't even woken. 
       "Oh. Thanks."
       Xavier's smile widened and Logan knew the man could tell what was bothering him,
  but he let it go, and left again. With both hands Logan heaved himself out of the tub, then
  saw the mess he'd made on the floor and regretted it.
       After he was dressed - sweats, no shirt, he felt too warm after that bath - he mopped
  up the floor with the towels he had used and hung them to dry on a higher rod. In the
  bedroom Xavier was propping a book in one hand and using the other to eat something that
  smelled really, really good.
       "Scott does a mean stir-fry." Xavier said, glancing up at him. "Jean thought you
  would be hungry, so she brought extra."
       "I'll have ta thank her." He sat on the other side of the small table, where a spot had
  been cleared. The plate was heaped full, and he started in eagerly, then his eye caught sight
  of the two bottles sitting by the plate. He picked one up, and smiled. 
       "It wasn't a hard guess." Xavier commented, and he watched as Logan opened the
  beer and took a deep swallow.
       "I'm gonna get spoiled here, Chuck."
       "You helped us when you didn't have to. It's the least we can do."
       There was more to it than that, Logan wanted to say, but he decided that the
  telepath knew that and was just sparing his feelings.
       He began to eat, eagerly, but with his best manners. Xavier was almost finished and
  so chatted to keep him company, not seeming to mind that Logan only grunted or mumbled
  in response.
       "I have to pay attention or the kids get ahead of me in class. There's nothing more
  embarrassing than realizing you haven't read the assigned reading and your students have."
       He was taking notes as he spoke, plate and silver set on the tray pushed to one side.
       "It's been a very long time since I took high school physics myself, and that was in a 
  rather backwards school, so it's almost as if I were learning it for the first time. At
  University I didn't spend much time studying science."
       Logan finished the second beer and regretfully stacked his dishes on the tray as well.
  He stood, intending to take it to the kitchen, but Xavier's hand on his arm stopped him.
       "Leave it. Someone will come for it later."
       Unsure, Logan paused. Xavier's hand was warm and - comforting.
       "Go lie down. I'll be up for several more hours, and I hope by then you'll be deeply
  enough asleep that you won't need my help."
       "Where do ya want me?" He asked, glancing at the floor where he'd slept the night
  before. It was still relatively early.
       "Just take the bed." Xavier gave an exaggerated sigh. "Really, Logan, it's okay. Lie
  down, go to sleep. I'll watch over you."
       Looking down at the man - not too far, since he was so short himself - Logan tried
  to think of something to say. Did he want to warn him, to thank him? What did Xavier want
  from him? There was a sense to the conversation, a feeling that he couldn't quite identify,
  perhaps he was missing something, or maybe he was getting it and just didn't want to
  consider it....
       Either his confusion showed on his face or the man was still in his head, because
  Xavier patted his arm and spoke with that surprising gentleness.
       "There will be plenty of time to talk after you're rested."
       "We got something to talk about?" He asked gruffly, taking a step backwards. This
  was something he hadn't been faced with before. Not that he remembered, at least. He
  didn't know how to react or respond to the offer he thought he was maybe recieving, or
  even if he was getting the right message at all.
       "Go to bed." Xavier was laughing at him, but still with that gentleness. "We'll talk in
  the morning."
       "What about you - when you need to sleep?"
       "I can either wake you and make you move or find another solution." Xavier
  reached out and gave him a push in the middle of his back. I have never seen a man so tired
  so unwilling to sleep. You're like a stubborn two-year-old." 
       Another solution.
       Fuck it. He was too tired to deal with this now. Maybe after he slept.
       Without any more conversation, Logan went to the bed, where he paused, thinking
  about last night. Xavier had been sleeping on the right. So he went around to the other side
  and folded back the covers, sliding in with a sigh.
       Xavier followed him over and pulled the covers up, their eyes almost even.
       The telepath's hands rested lightly on his chest.
       "Goodnight, Logan."
       "Goodnight, Charles." He closed his eyes. Right away he felt Xavier's presence in
  his mind, but it was soothing, like his aching brain was washed with warmth and care,
  blanketed, cocooned. 
       With a last sigh he surrendered and let sleep take him.
  

       "Hmm? Chuck?"
       Logan rolled over and opened one eye, peered blearily around the room. There was
  a warm, solid weight beside him, and he stared at it for a moment.
       Judging from the darkness outside the windows, it was deep in the night. He
  couldn't see a clock from his position.
       Xavier was wearing the maroon silk pajamas again, and the covers had slipped to his
  waist. He was breathing slowly and steadily, but after only a minute of Logan's surveillance
  he twitched slightly, and woke.
       "What is it?" He whispered, and one hand came up, reaching for Logan's face. It
  seemed that he changed his mind, and lay it on his exposed forearm instead, with a squeeze.
  "A dream?"
       "I don't remember." The sense of urgency he'd woken with was fading, leaving
  other things in its wake. Mildly embarrassing but potentially interesting things. "Sorry I
  woke ya."
       Without saying anything else Xavier extended the arm over the pillow Logan had
  been using. It was an invitation, and he hesitated.
       Their eyes met. He didn't know how well the telepath could see in the dark, but
  Logan could see the soft lines of near-sleep, the half-closed eyes, and smell only the faintest
  stirrings of arousal - mostly his own.
       "Sorry." He said again, confused. Had he misread things so badly?
       *You keep apologizing when there's no need* Charles spoke in his head, his mental
  voice fogged with sleep. *Just come here and go back to sleep. It doesn't have to mean
  anything*
       Gingerly he shifted closer, and lay his head on the silk-covered shoulder. The muscle
  beneath his head bunched and he froze, but the arm merely slid down a little, the hand on his
  back, a light embrace.
       He sighed, releasing his breath slowly, and closed his eyes, gradually allowing his
  body to relax and absorb this new sensation. He could not remember the last time he'd been
  held outside of casual sex, and that had been seldom itself.
       *Go to sleep, Logan*
       There was a hint of warmth, of moisture, on his forehead and he only recognized it
  as a kiss after it was over but, oddly, it soothed him further rather making him tense.
       He was warm, and he was safe, and there was someone close enough to him to be
  willing to hold him and guard him against his demons.
       As he drifted off he thought he might have moved closer, and he vaguely hoped he
  didn't impose too far, and then he was sleeping, dreamlessly, his body and soul truly resting
  for the first time in forever.
  

       "I don't understand this at all."
       The quietly angry voice woke him, but Logan didn't move, recognizing it.
       "You don't have to understand it, Scott. I am asking you to accept it, and to help
  me achieve the goal I'm trying to accomplish."
       "In your bed, sir? He could kill you in his sleep."
       "That's why I'm monitoring him so closely. He's suffered for fifteen years, Scott -
  don't begrudge him a little rest."
       It was uncomfortable to lie there and listen to them talk about him. Logan noticed
  that he was curled close to Xavier's side, and his ankle was hooked over his, and he had an
  arm folded to his own chest, the hand touching Xavier's.
       It felt warm, and intmate, and he thought that maybe he liked it.
       "I've never thought of you this way, sir." Was Scott-boy having more trouble with
  the fact that Xavier was in bed with Logan or that Logan was a guy?
       As a matter of fact, why wasn't he himself having more trouble with the guy part? It
  would be a helluva thing to just now find out he was gay. After fifteen years of not looking
  at men, he didn't really think it was possible. Surely his chemistry would have told him that
  before now?
       *Go back to sleep. I'm not getting up for another hour or two*
       *What about him?*
       "Scott, you are as important to me as any son could be. I trust you to make your
  own decisions, and to respect mine." Xavier shifted slightly, and Logan felt an arm slide
  around his shoulders and tighten gently. He relaxed into it, letting his mind drift.
       "I'm not comfortable with this, Professor."
       "I'm aware of that."
       "It won't set a good example for the students."
       "It will help Trade immensely."
       Logan thought sleepily, I was right about him. I'd always heard 'trade' as street-
  slang for boy prostitutes. How sad, to be gay and a mutant.
       *He's a remarkable young man, and you should take the time to get to know him*
       *I will* He made the promise just as he fell over the edge and sleep claimed him
  again. If the discussion between Xavier and his favored student continued, he wasn't aware
  of it.
  

       *Logan I need to get up now*
       The voice inside his head was becoming more normal. He might even start to like it.
       But he didn't want to move, and the body he was holding onto seemed determined
  to do so.
       He held on tighter. 
       *Logan, I have got a class to teach* There was amusement there, and affection.
  Where had that come from?
       He opened his eyes and found that he was wrapped rather securely around Xavier's
  body, an arm, a leg holding him, his free hand slipped up behind the man's neck. And
  Xavier was propped on an elbow, looking at him.
       *Good morning* The thin mouth curved into a welcoming smile. A strong hand
  touched his face.
            No time like the present.
       His brain was fogged with sleep, his body pliant and soft from same, and there was
  an chance to act without thinking about it, so he took it.
       Raising on an elbow, using the hand behind Xavier's neck to tug at him, Logan
  pulled him down into a kiss. He initiated it hesitantly, just barely touching his lips to
  Xavier's, but the telepath smiled and leaned in to press more firmly, and then it was a real
  kiss, with heat and texture.
       After a minute Logan opened his mouth to groan, and they both offered tongues,
  still hesitant, and then it was really a kiss, and he was pushing Xavier back down on the bed,
  onto his back, and leaning over him, resting his weight on his torso and following the kiss
  down.
       *Let me breathe, dear* Charles sounded amused but serious, and Logan realized that
  he was squashing him and propped himself up a bit, then pulled away and broke the kiss.   
       He didn't say sorry this time. Just traced his fingers over Charles' mouth and then
  his face, touching as gently as he knew how, trying to express his need to be tender, to
  show affection.
       *I never been with a man, or a man like you* He didn't know how to say it, to ask.
  *Tell me - what ya like. What you can do*
       *I don't want to worry about details right now* Xavier captured his hand and kissed
  the tips of his fingers and Logan had to swallow past the lump in his throat. 
       *I'd like to touch you* He thought, and got a small nod in response.
       The buttons on the pajamas were small and slipped through the holes easily. Logan
  sat up on his knees and used both hands to push the shirt open. Underneath was evidence of
  weight-lifting and an effort to keep the upper body strong. Probably to move himself around
  without help.
       Bending, he kissed along the ridge of muscle above the flat stomach, and then
  upwards, hearing the changes in breathing, the soft exhalations, smelling the rise of musk that
  told him what he needed to know.
       Xavier wanted to be touched by him. Found him attractive.
       As he kissed and nuzzled the broad chest, risking a taste with his tongue, Xavier's
  hands came up and brushed through his hair. They were shaking. He caught them in his own
  and sat back, staring at the man he was sharing the bed with.
       "Nothing you don't want." He said, hearing how rough his voice was and startled by
  it.
       "I don't know what I want, or don't want." Charles brought both of Logan's hands
  to his mouth and kissed them in turn. "I can see what you want." It was gently teasing and
  Logan was suddenly painfully aware of how hard he was, and the fact that sweats weren't
  designed to hide that.
       "Yeah." He didn't know what else to say. It had been a while since he felt like this.
  Wanted and wanting. 
       *Unfortunately I do have a class*
       "Oh. Yeah." As carefully as he could, Logan withdrew his hands from the grip and
  slid off the bed, then stood, considering his options. He knew that Charles usually got
  himself up in the morning, but didn't feel right just leaving the room. "You got time for a
  shower?"
       "I bathed last night, before coming to bed. But, since I am behind schedule, I won't
  object to a lift." Charles tugged at his lifting bar and Logan smiled crookedly.
       "I gotcha." He went around the bed. Xavier tossed the covers back and pushed
  himself into sitting position, which had to be hard with no legs for leverage, and reached for
  him. Logan wrapped an arm around his back and slid the other beneath his knees and then
  paused. "Get yourself set, then say when."
       Xavier slid  both arms around his neck and leaned forward, then chuckled.
       "When."
       "Literalist."
       Logan lifted him carefully and set him in the chair beside the bed, then turned to the
  closet. If this man was going to take care of him, the least he could do was provide care
  back.
       "Which suit did you plan on today?"
       "The dark grey pinstripe. I have an appointment with the school board later today."
       With an eye to color, Logan took out the requested suit and chose a pale grey shirt
  to go with it, then held up a couple of ties he thought would do.
       "Too bright." Charles told him. "The red-and-grey stripe, please."
       He tried to not watch while the man stripped out of his pajamas, but came over and
  took them once they were off, folding them and putting them on the bed.
       "I usually do that myself." Charles said, and Logan heard something in his voice. He
  turned back and met the brown eyes, saw the uncertainty there.
       It took an effort, but he made himself look at the body in the chair. Separated it in
  his mind from the man it housed, and just looked at the body.
       His chest was muscled and smooth, shoulders also bulky.
       He wore plaid boxers that fit a little tight. The legs that extended from them were
  very pale, and thin, but not completely without muscle. Logan knew he must do exercises
  designed to keep some muscle tone, and wondered who helped him with them.
       *Jean or Scott or Ororo - whoever is available*
       *I do it from now on*
       *Becoming possessive already, Logan?*
       A smile graced the intelligent face. Charles held out a hand and Logan went over,
  took it, leaned over to kiss him. It was meant to be affectionate, but he found himself
  making it something more. Charles had to put a hand on his chest, where it caressed briefly,
  and then pushed him away.
       "We will have tonight for that." It seemed that he wanted to say something else, but
  he held the words back and Logan let him. He had things to think about as well.
       "I'll keep the conditioning classes, and be more careful today." He said, taking the
  shirt off the hanger and handing it over.
       "Please do. Not only does it upset the students, but I hate to see you hurt."
       He felt like he should leave. The clock showed that he was late for the younger kids'
  class.
       "I better go."
       Buttoning his shirt, Charles looked up at him, his face open and tender.
       "Then go."
       "I don't wanna."
       "Logan."
       He crossed back and stood very close. It would be rude to rub his erection on the
  man's legs or waist, but the urge was there, just as the arousal was. He wanted Charles to
  see it, to smell it.
       Gripping the curved chair back, he leaned in and kissed him, with his eyes closed,
  tasting him, drinking him in.
       Then he backed off, pleased by the flush on Charles' face, the look in his eyes.
       "I'll see you at lunch."
       *Perhaps we'll go to bed early tonight*
       The thought, accompanied by masculine mental laughter, followed him out of the
  room.

       Dinner was long over. He'd sat with the teenagers, listening to them chatter about
  music and clothes and the upcoming election. They had some pretty well developed views
  on politics and the way things worked in the US, which he didn't. The general feeling seemed
  to be that now that the mutant registration act had failed public opinion would swing back
  to some other minority group and it would be their turn to be tormented. Some thought it
  would be immigrants again, others gay people. Mostly they hoped it wouldn't be them.
       He'd expected Charles home earlier. If there had been trouble, someone would have
  told him, right? He thought so. Or maybe he wasn't important enough to be told. They
  weren't in a relationship - he'd never *had* a relationship. As far as he remembered.
       Jean had gone with Charles, and Storm was having a study group for the algebra
  classes. He'd finished all three classes today, taking it more slowly than he had yesterday.
  And he'd given Timeslip a ride again, as promised. The kid had only whined a little bit. His
  solution seemed to be working.
       The advanced class had done their short day, which was gymnastics, swimming and
  a short run. Again he'd been shown up in the gymnastics department, and though he didn't
  know why he'd ever need it, he found himself wandering down toward the gym with a
  vague intention to to work on it a bit. Perhaps practice the little bit of martial arts he'd
  picked up over the years.
       He was startled to enter the smaller gym and find Scott working out on the rings.
  He paused at the entrance, watching, and then went on in, still in his workout clothes.
       Scott went from an Iron Cross to a sitting hold, then deftly flipped himself over and
  off, landing on his feet but wobbling a bit. 
       Logan applauded briefly.
       "I was good at that until I grew ten inches." Scott said, mopping his face with a
  towel.
       "Then I should get good at it and stay that way." If the kid was willing to be
  friendly, Logan wasn't going to argue.
       "What are you doing down here? Didn't get enough of it today?"
       "Thought I'd see if I can't catch up to the kids. They got me beat hands-down in
  some places."
       "You don't need this stuff. You need to learn to fight." Scott walked up to him, his
  footsteps muffled in the padded room, bare feet thumping almost soundlessly. Logan
  crossed his arms over his chest and stared.
       "I fight just fine."
       "Against a barroom brawler, sure. But what about someone who actually knows
  how to fight, who's better than you? You kill him?"
       "It's an option, yeah."
       "If you learn how to fight then you have more options."
       Scott stopped and they faced off a few feet apart. Logan crossed his arms over his
  chest. He couldn't tell if Scott was still pissed at him or what, not with the other man's eyes
  covered.
       "What color are yer eyes?" He said it roughly. 
       "What?"
       "What color are your eyes?"
       "Brown. Is that relevant?"
       "Nah. I was just curious."
       "You wanted to know what color my eyes are." Scott spoke flatly, and took a step
  forward, his weight shifting onto the ball of his forward foot. Logan saw it, saw the lunge
  coming, and avoided it neatly, side-stepping out of reach. "Good. You know what to look
  for in a slow opponent."
       "Never ran into a fast one." Now Scott advanced and Logan backed off, one step
  each.  He glanced over his shoulder and saw that there was a wrestling mat spread on the
  floor to the right, and steered them in that direction.
       "Two falls out of three?" Scott asked, dropping his towel. He lifted his arms and
  stripped his sweaty shirt off, and Logan followed suit, then stepped onto the mat.
       "I'm game."
       They exchanged feints. Logan quickly realized that, while he was fast, Scott was
  experienced. He couldn't seem to get a grip on him. He took the first fall, going down with
  a leg sweep after Scott rolled out of a grab, and came up angry.
       The younger man just grinned, cocky.       
       "What are you going to do now?" He taunted. "Use your claws? Cut me up? Th
  Professor would like that - show him what he's sleeping with."
       "That's yer problem? That's he's sleeping with me?" They circled and Logan felt
  more comfortable now. He knew what was really going on. "You got Jean, you want them
  both or something?"
       "I'm no opportunist taking advantage of a kind man."
       They circled. Feint, linge, grab, and Scott slipped away again.
       "I was invited." 
       "You left once - you could leave again." With a rush Scott went around him. Logan
  turned, but not quickly enough - his arms were trapped behind his back in Scott's
  surprisingly strong arms. "Now what you gonna do?" The man taunted in his ear.
       "Sacrifice the batter." Logan grunted, and wrenched himself sideways, breaking the
  left arm badly, bone jutting through skin. The pain was momentarily blinding, but Scott was
  so shocked that he let go and Logan had a chance to turn back and tackle him to the mat.
  Placing a knee firmly between his shoulder blades and holding him there while the arm
  healed, held straight to one side to get it right.
       "Uncle." Scott said quickly, but Logan was too angry to let him back up.
       "See, one-eye, I don't need to know how to fight. If you're willing to make a
  sacrifice you can get out of almost anything." 
       "We're tied at one each, don't you want to finish the round?" Scott turned his head
  from side to side and Logan wondered if it hurt to have the visor pressed to the floor like
  that. Reluctantly he stood and backed off, the arm nearly new again.
            "Bet your ass I do." He gave himself a shake. 
       "Stop this!"
       They both turned at the new voice, and Logan felt heat rush his face.
       He hadn't wanted Charles to come back and see him like this - sweaty and bloody
  and fighting this kid Charles thought of as a son. But he hadn't been thinking of that when
  he came down here, had he? At least, not after Scott's challenge.
       "Professor." Svott put his hands behind his back and nodded, as if this was a
  completely normal situation. "I was sparing with Wolverine, trying to get an idea of where
  he stands in hand-to-hand training."
       "I'll speak with you tomorrow." Charles snapped, his voice low. After watching him
  for a moment Logan realized that he looked tired, and smelled unhappy. "Jean has gone to
  bed. It was an unpleasant board meeting."
       "I'll just go see what I can do to make her feel better." Scott answered, stepping
  past Logan with another nod. He seemed cool and unruffled, which perversely raised him in
  Logan's estimation. 
       For himself, he just stood, and looked at the floor for a minute.
       *Logan*
       He looked up.
       "I am very tired. Was there anything else you wanted to do before bed besides give
  yourself a compound fracture?"
       "Didn't know you saw that." He didn't seem angry, so Logan walked over to him,
  gathering the two abandoned shirts and Scott's towel as he went. 
       "You have a strange penchant for hurting yourself more than your opponent."
       "Sometimes it's the only way." He shrugged. 
       Charles stared up at him, and Logan couldn't read his eyes.
       "There will be other times to discuss this." Charles sighed. "At the moment I would
  like to bathe and go to bed." The soft whir of the chair motor propelled him toward the
  door, around several pieces of gym equipment. They must have been really wrapped up in
  their battle to miss his arrival.
       Controlling the disappointment ruthlessly, Logan nodded.
       "I'll just drop these in the laundry and try to sleep myself."
       Charles stopped and looked back.
       *I was hoping that you would bathe with me. A soak in the whirlpool would be
  welcome, but I cannot use it alone*
       Logan blinked, wondering how stupid he looked at that moment.
       *You are not 'stupid', my Logan. Only untrusting*
       "If I can't see it, smell it or taste it, it's not real." He answered, catching up to him.
         "But you can taste it." Charles reached up and tugged him down until Logan bent over,
  and then kissed him, with gentle passion. *I find it hard to believe, but thinking about you
  being here when I came home made the day more bearable somehow*
       *I don't usually trigger that kind of reaction* The thought was almost lost beneath
  the pure physical pleasure of kissing someone who was kissing him back. Someone who
  seemed to like him, to want him, to welcome him.
       *You don't give anyone a chance* The tone was mildly chiding, but he let it slip
  because Charles' mouth tasted so good - the aftertaste of good wine, a tang of spice, and
  something that had to just be the taste of him. Logan wanted to taste all of it, he strained to
  make the kiss deeper, hungry for contact.
       After few minutes Charles pulled away, his hand staying on Logan's chest, fingers
  stroking soothingly.
       "You are a man of simple appetites. I hope I can be enough to satisfy them."
       Searching his face with his eyes, Logan saw the uncertainty again. He didn't know
  where it came from, and knew that he wanted to make it go away. But that would take
  time.
       "You're everything I want, right now."
       "Then we should go."
       They walk together through the silent mansion. Logan can hear children sleeping,
  and a few whispering, but decides to not mention it. It was something kids did. They'd sleep
  eventually.
       There was a whirlpool in the back training room, and a hot tub outside by the pool.
  Logan followed Xavier to the men's locker room, where he watched for a moment while
  the man undressed, a bit awkwardly. He leans to get at his shoes and Logan goes to
  his knees in front of him, pushing his hands out of the way and taking over.
       "Let me."
       Charles sat back, looking at him. Logan paid attention to what he was doing, getting
  off the shoes and argyle socks, and then carefully worked off the slacks, leaving the boxers
  behind. Still on his knees, he lay them on a bench and rested his hands low on Charles'
  thighs, feeling the coolness of the skin there, the crispness of the scattered hairs.
       He kept his eyes on the other man's as he leaned forward and kissed his left leg
  softly, lingering.
       Charles sighed.
       Logan kissed the other leg, letting his fingers trail along the cool skin, from thigh to
  ankle.
       He whispered against the skin, lips pressed to a rounded curve of knee.  
            "Can you feel any of this?"
       He looks up as he kisses, and Charles' reaches for him, pulling on his shoulders to
  bring him forward, between his legs.
       "Not there. But -" He takes Logan's hand and brings it to his waist. "Here. And
  somewhat, lower."
       Logan stroked long the line of the boxers with one finger, the other hand still
  rubbing one thigh.
       "It doesn't matter, if I can feel it. I enjoy being touched." 
       "Then I'll touch ya." His voice was getting rough again and he had to rein himself
  in. "Anywhere you want." It had been so long since he touched anyone with any meaning.
  With an effort he made himself stand and take a step back.
       "I'm gonna - I'm just gonna go change. You can handle it from here?"
       "Yes." A quiet answer. Maybe they both needed time to take a step back, to think
  about this. Not that he was going to change his mind - and he hoped Xavier wouldn't either.
             There was a stack of swimsuits and towels, he picked a likey one at random and
  ducked into a changing booth. It didn't take long to strip the sweats and slide on the suit,
  which was tighter than he'd expected, and then he sat on the short bench and waited,
  wanting to give his friend - lover, friend? - plenty of time to get comfortable.
       *I thought we would go outside. It is a lovely night*
       *Not many men could ger away with sayin' that and still sound butch* He thought
  in reply, quirking a smile as he came out.
       Charles looked up at him as he came out, waiting right outside the booth, a towel in
  his lap covering whatever it was he was wearing.
       "That is a word I do not believe was ever applied to me." He smiled as he said it,
  seeming to like the designation.
       "You're tough, and nobody with eyes can miss it." Logan said, dropping his hand to
  a bare shoulder as they left the room, going out the back to the pool. He could smell the
  whirlpool from there, the heated chemicals.
       "I started it earlier." Charles noticed his actions. They were on the patio that
  surrounded the pool now, and he stopped. Logan walked to the front and leaned to kiss
  him, once, softly. "I need assistance getting in and out."
       "I gotcha." 
       This time he felt easier lifting the man. If he was going to take him as a lover, he'd
  have to get used to the differences between Xavier and those who had come before. But the
  warmth in those eyes and the voice in his head made him feel that wouldn't be hard to do.     
   

       The towels were shifted to Xavier's lap and he saw that the man was wearing trunks
  similar to his own, only a darker blue. There was nothing he saw that changed his feelings
  about this.
       And it seemed that they were going to become lovers shortly. He thought that was a
  good idea. Strange, but good.
       Charles held onto him without desperation, seeming at ease in his arms. He rested
  his head on Logan's shoulder and his breath was warm on bare skin.
       As he walked across the patio, the stones still warmed from the day, were rough
  under his feet, textured for safety, he figured. Charles was a comforting weight in his arms,
  more solid than he had expected. The chair made him look frail, but he wasn't, really. And
  he was actually taller than Logan, something he'd realized in bed that morning.
       *Your thoughts are wandering*
       "They're all good thoughts." He answered gruffly. They were almost to the hot tub.
  He slowed his steady pace and paused to gaze down at the man in his arms. "Just want to
  be sure we're doin' the right thing. Taking the right steps."
       Charles shifted and brought a hand up to stroke his face, the fingers ruffling through
  the thick sideburns.
       "I don't believe that either of us are particularly spontaneous. And we have good
  instincts; if this was wrong, or somehow bad for us, we would know it."
       Leaning into the touch, Logan felt as if he were the fragile one, despite the fact that
  he carried the other man. He tried to express what he was feeling, though the words did not
  come easily.
       "This isn't what I expected, when I decided to come back. I thought - Jeanie, maybe, 
  or I could wait for her. The thought o' falling for you - that never crossed my mind."
       "Have you fallen for me?" The calloused fingers stroked his lips as he spoke and he
  kissed them before answering.
       "That's the thing - I don't know. An' I don't want to lead you on or make any
  promises I can't keep. I still feel things for her, I can't deny that. But I don't think she's
  going to leave one-eye fer me." The words were laced with his awareness of who and what
  he was, of his failings and shortcomings. They made Charles frown, his fingers stilling on
  Logan's face, free hand coming up to frame the other side.
       "I am not asking for promises. I will ask that you do not think so badly of yourself. I
  doubt I would feel as strongly about a man with a lesser sense of honor."
       "Is that what ya call it?" He began walking again, allowing himself to playfully bite
  at the fingers, nibbling. Charles laughed softly, seeming to enjoy it. "I like that sound."
       "It's not something I get to do as often as I'd like."
       "Got to be the boss." Logan nodded, moving his tongue down the playing fingers.
  THey reached the edge of the hot tub and he stepped down slowly, hissing as the water
  foamed around his knees. "Will this be too hot for you?"
       "I can't stay in longer than a half-hour." Charles sounded wistful. He wrapped an
  arm around Logan's back as they descended the steps, holding tightly. 
       "I keep ya warm later." Logan promised with a half-smile, settling onto a seat. He
  loosened his grip on Charles and the other man pulled himself to a seated position by his
  side. His legs floated slightly, and Logan leaned back, slipping an arm onto the edge, hand
  lightly stroking a damp shoulder.
       *I'm very warm now* Charles sighed beside him, and Logan scooted a little closer,
  pressing their hips together, using the arm to draw him closer. Sitting down, side-by-side,
  Charles was once again taller, and they came together slowly, hands searching, stroking
  bare chests, mouths tasting and testing. Charles seemed fascinated with his abundant chest
  hair, running his fingers through it and tugging on it gently. Logan rumbled gently, enjoying
  it, and leaned back, letting Charles' weight press him down, into the hot water, the hot tiles
  under his back. There was so hardness at Charles' groin, but his hands were busy and his
  mouth was eager and Logan was hard enough for both of them. In between making little
  rumbling noises to express how much he liked this, he wondered if Charles could get an
  erection, or maintain one if he did. This wasn't the time to ask, and he decided that this was
  something he could learn as they went along. It was nice to think that they would have
  other chances to do this.
       *You taste like the water* 
       *Do you like it?*
       *Very much. I like the way you taste and the way you feel, and the way your arms
  hold me*
       Logan tightened his hold slightly, making it more of a hug, and Charles pressed
  closer, his legs sliding between Logan's, pulled down by the water. Logan crooked a leg
  around them and used that to pull him even closer.
       The water foamed around them, buoyed them and cradled them. He had to work a
  little to keep his face out of the water, it tickled. 
       Charles moved his mouth, sliding it over his face and down his neck, stopping to
  suck at the pulse. With a moan he arched, holding tighter, and resisted the urge to thrust,
  tilting his head back to make more of his neck available.
       The moon above them was half-full, glowing gently in a dark night sky unblemished
  by the pollution of the city.
       Pleasant, random thoughts filled his mind - Charles' observations; on the night, his
  skin, the warmth of his arms.
       *I haven't touched anyone like this is such a long time - I worry if I'm doing it right*
  There was amusement, and a darker tone of plaintive need in the mental voice. Logan
  shifted, one arm still around the other man's back, the other slipping between them. What
  with the water and the swimsuits he couldn't feel much detail, and his own hungry erection
  was distracting, but he could feel some weight and substance as he slid his hand up the
  smooth leg and into the curve of inner thigh. Not a hard-on, exactly, but maybe awareness
  of his touch.
       *You're doing it just right* Bolder, he stroked over the groin and sought the shape
  and feel of the man.
       Using his hands on Logan's shoulders, Charles pulled himself up too look down into
  his face. They smiled at each other, both a little embarrassed, a touch shy. Logan cupped the 
  testicles and penis he held through the silky material, rubbing them gently.
       "More- to the right." Charles encouraged, and he obliged, changing the shape of his
  cupped hand, now pressing knuckles in deep on the right side, just above the testicles, and
  Charles moaned softly.
       "You can feel that." Logan said, pleased.
       "There are - a few spots." Using his upper-body strength, Charles pushed harder
  against him. They kissed and rubbed a while, breath quickening, bodies growing tense.
       Logan broke it off, worried that he would lose control and end this before he'd
  found a way to please his partner.
       "We're past your half-hour deadline." As nice as it would be to continue this here, he
  wasn't going to risk Xavier's health.
       *And there is always the chance of being interrupted*
       *This would give Rogue fits* From what he knew of her background she was fairly
  conservative in her views, her upbringing rather traditionally southern.
       Regretfully he sat up and Charles moved away, anchoring himself on the ladder, and
  smiling.
       "We left the towels back there." He nodded toward the chair.
       "I'll get them. Don't want you gettin' cold." He heaved out of the water, and thought
  about covering himself, or turning away, but in the end didn't, thinking that Charles would
  like to see what he had touched and the effect it had on Logan. So his erection, long and
  firm, was clearly visible, outlined in the tight, wet fabric, and he paused a minute, and they
  looked at each other, and everything felt right.
       "Be right back."
       "I'm not going anywhere."
  

  
       The walk back to his room was quiet on the surface, but their minds were engaged
  in lazy conversation. Logan had spread a towel over Charles' legs and wrapped another
  around his shoulders to keep him warm in the air-conditioning, but had goose bumps
  breaking out on his own arms and legs. 
       *I'm not gonna get used to having somebody pick up after me an' all* He thought
  about the clothes they had left in the locker room.
       *If it bothers you, you can go down in the morning and clean it up yourself*
       *I ain't a very tidy person. You might get tired of that*
       *I'll nag* Charles was laughing at him and he joined in, silently.
       The laughter faded when they got to the bedroom. Charles parked his chair beside
  the bed and began to lift himself out of it. After a moment, Logan began gathering the wet
  towels, taking them to the bathroom to hang up beside the ones from the night before,
  which were dry now. When he came out again Charles was in the bed, under the covers,
  and his wet swimsuit was hanging on the arm. 
       *Here's a chance for you to practice* Propped on pillows, Xavier looked nervous
  but happy. Logan grinned and took the suit back to the bathroom with him. He stripped off
  in there, and then, with a deep breath, walked back out into the bedroom nude. His arousal
  had been lessened by the cold air and the wet suit, but it was showing great willingness to
  make a comeback.
       Xavier flipped down the covers on the left side and he climbed in, the warmth
  welcome. Rolling onto his side, Logan propped up on an elbow and laid a hand on Charles'
  chest, under the covers, feeling the steady beating of his heart.
       "You scared?"
       "Actually, yes. A bit." Charles' hand covered his and squeezed. "Are you?"
       They weren't looking at each other.
       "Yeah. Don't know why." He shrugged and looked up at him now. 
       "Because this is new to you."
       The way he said it made Logan stare, and reach for him.
       "Not new to you?"
       Charles came willingly into his arms, and they fit together well enough that he was
  surprised. He waited for an answer.
       *I have been in love twice in my life. You have met the man I loved*
       "Magneto?" He wasn't too surprised. From the way Xavier had talked about him on
  that first tour he'd suspected a deeper relationship between the two when they were
  younger.
       "He had survived Auschwitz, and the loss of his parents. We were working together,
  in a medical center for other survivors; he did physical labor, I worked with the most badly
  damaged to heal their minds. We were young, but we were determined."
       "So ya fell in love."
       "We were in love. But he became so bitter and angry - it hurt me to be around him."
       "I've never loved anyone." Except Jean, he thought, and knew the thought was read.
       "I'm sure you did. You had years before your memories were taken, I would never
  believe that you didn't love anyone during that life."
       Cuddling Charles closer, Logan kissed his bald head and felt the smile he got against
  his chest.
       "Ya think so?"
       "I know so. The kindness you have shown me tells me so." Charles lifted on his
  elbows and kissd him lightly.
       "I ain't bein' kind. I'm too selfish for that." He framed Charles' face with both hands
  and pulled him closer for another, deeper kiss.
       *No matter what you want other people to believe of you, I will always know
  better*
       "Hmph." It was past time to stop thinking and start doing. His body had been patient
  and wanted its reward. With that in mind he rolled the two of them over and kept going
  until he straddled Charles. They were still under the covers, he pushed them down to his
  waist and  half-sat, careful not to put too much pressure on the other man's chest,
  wondering briefly why that was dangerous.
       *The spinal cord injury was severe enough to affect my lungs - I spent several
  months on a respirator learning to breathe again. It was an experience I do not care to
  repeat*
       *I worry about hurtin' ya.* His hands were shaking slightly as he traced the chest he
  straddled. Charles caught them and brought them up to kiss the palms, and he smiled,  his
  eyes dark with the beginnings of a passion Logan was gratified to see.
       "I have not known you as long as I'd like, but I do know that you are not a man
  who would hurt anyone accidentally if it's within your power to prevent it."
       "I hurt Rogue. Almost killed her." He drew their clasped hands back to his own
  face, bending to return the gesture. Then he lay them down on Charles' stomach and began
  trailing kisses across his chest. The other man slipped his hands to the tops of Logan's
  thighs and shivered as he kissed his way to a nipple and licked a circle around it before
  latching on and suckling gently.
       Charles moaned.
       Logan growled quietly, and pressed down harder, sucking more vigorously, but not
  hard. He wanted to stimulate, not mark.
       He felt so alive, and good, especially when Charles slid his hands further up his
  thighs and then down, stroking Logan's straining erection slowly, with just his fingertips.
  The caress prompted Logan to writhe slowly, letting a bit of his weight settle onto Charles'
  legs as he arched to give more room and licked a path to the other nipple, nibbling at the
  tiny nub and then sucking again, feeling a great contentment in the act, and in scent of his
  lover's need in the air around them.
       Charles pressed his chest up into the pressure and Logan ran one hand down his side,
  slowly to give him plenty of warning, and then slipped it into his groin. He wasn't surprised,
  but there was a little sadness when he found only the lax penis and warm testicles - there
  was no reaction to his touch at all.
       *But I know you're touching me* Charles' voice inside his head was sad as well,
  but accepting, and pleased. *And that's more than enough to make me feel good*
       *Think I can do better than good enough* The retort was mild, and he shifted to
  kiss his way down the smooth chest, dipping his tongue into the well of navel, hearing a
  sound suspiciously like a giggle. Ticklish? Something to remember for later. When he
  snuffled noisily at the join of hip and thigh Charles moaned again, his hands coming to
  stroke Logan's hair.
       *That's - good*
       *It gets better* He promised silently, and then made a similar promise to himself, to
  study up on this and find out what else he could do with this man; safe things that would
  make Charles feel attractive and wanted, the way he made Logan feel. He'd never studied
  anything that he remembered, but he could read, and he could find a library. Or perhaps the
  internet - Rogue was hooked on that infernal machine. Not that he'd ask her help with this
  particular project....
       He'd found that one spot earlier, where the nerves still worked, and now he hunted
  for others. With his nose buried in soft pubic curls that smelled faintly of powder and
  treated water, he nuzzled and tasted, tongue flicking and pressing, under the testicles and
  soft organ, around to the perineum and back up the other side, making a mental map of the
  places that made Charles twitch, and the ones that made his hands clasp tighter, made him
  moan and gasp a name - Logan's name.
       He'd never had anyone gasp his name like that; tender and loving, needy,
  beseeching.
       "Logan - oh, right there - Logan, please, Logan..."
       After completing his map he returned to the spots that seemed the most sensitive,
  letting Charles guide his mouth to just the right angle, pressing harder and opening his
  mouth to suck in a patch of salty flesh, feeling the blood beneath the skin, mouthing it,
  sucking on it, lying more heavily, moving his legs to the side to keep his weight off Charles.
       With one hand he stroked the hip above his head, knowing his touch could be felt
  there, and with the other he petted and cradled the penis beside his cheek. Though it didn't
  respond he felt like touching it, getting to know this part of him as well.
       The only thing he was unsure about was how far Charles could go. Without an
  erection he couldn't ejaculate, and how else would Logan know he'd had enough? Could he
  experience an orgasm at all?
       This wsn't the time to be asking those questions, and his actions were driving his
  own arousal higher - the scent and sound of his lover, writhing on the bed as much as he
  could, his hands rubbing almost frantically at Logan's head, alternately pushing him closer
  and pulling him away, developing a rhythm with his mouth that his hands quickly picked up.
       "Dear god - oh, god - Logan, yes, just like that, right there - I -"
       It was clear Charles was on the verge of something, but he didn't know what it
  could be, or how to get him there. Regretfully he released the penis he was petting and
  reached above his head to tweak at a taut nipple, rolling it between his fingertips.
       Charles almost shouted, he heard the first bit of it before the man clamped his mouth
  shut, and the rest of it in his head.
       *God! Yes!*
       The body he played with arched, back coming off the bed a couple of inches and
  then Charles was tugging at his head, pulling him away from the sensitized skin, and laying
  back on his skewed pillows, laughing and gasping with tears in his eyes.
       "That was - you are - I never realized - it's been so long..."
       Logan crawled up the bed and took Charles in his arms and kissed his head and his
  face and his leaking eyes and held him as close as he dared.
       "You were great. You were hot, and you tasted so good." He kissed his mouth,
  sinking his tongue in deeply, wishing he had a more vibrant taste to share.
       *Thank you* Charles' lay in his arms until his breathing calmed, and then he kissed
  Logan's chest, rubbing his face on it in a sensuous movement.
       *Yor welcome*
       In truth Logan was as surprised by his success as Charles seemed to be, and twice as
  pleased. He realized then that he'd been afraid this would be a one-sides relationship in
  which he got to receive pleasure but wasn't able to give it, which would have destroyed it
  almost before it began.
       *Logan I -* Charles pushed himself up to where he could see Logan's eyes and
  finished the sentence aloud. "I care for you deeply. Anything we did together would be
  enough to make me happy, but this was - remarkable."
       "I wanted ta make you feel good. It was important to me."
              "I feel better than I have in a decade or more." Charles' laugh was shaky, as if he
  still didn't quite believe. He gripped Logan's still-throbbing erection tightly and pumped it
  slowly. "Allow me to return the favor?"
       "Please." 
       He let Charles direct him lying on his side when encouraged, hooking a leg over
  both of his lover's to help him keep the same position so they could kiss while Charles
  stroked him, one arm around him, the other covering Charles' on his organ, showing him
  the right stroke, the right pressure, and the man had it right so fast that he suddenly found
  himself thrusting helplessly, biting at the cord of neck, hands grasping convulsively, befor e
  he remembered to be gentle and bit his fist instead, and the orgasm burst through him like an
  electrical charge and he was undone.
       There may have been tears in his eyes as well, because he lay there and let Charles
  pet and sooth him the way he'd done for Charles, and they used a corner of the sheet to
  clean him up and they found that if Logan held him, spooned behind him, Charles could
  sleep comfortably on his side, something he sleepily confided that he had missed for many
  years.
        Then, blessedly, they slept, Logan without dreams.
       There would be problems, more confrontations with Scott, and probably with
  Charles himself, but he had found the one thing he hadn't realized he was looking for when
  his heart prompted him to return; a home. Whether in the mansion or Charles' arms, he
  belonged here. The person he was now.
       For now the rest could take care of itself.
  

  End.

                                                               saraid@wf.net