From the control room, the wasted figure looked even tinier lying in bed, surrounded by machines. The small device that would give her control over the environment in the Danger Room blinked a steady green from its place on her left temple.

“We’re ready to begin.” The professor’s voice was low. Hank and Jean were there as monitors; I had no idea why Scott was there, but didn’t think I had any right to say who was present. I kept my eyes on her and waited.

The lights dimmed until only a soft circle surrounded the bed and Charles spoke, his voice being fed into the sound system. “Rebel? May I speak with you?”

For several long moments, nothing happened. When it did, I wasn’t the only one to make a surprised noise. The figure that appeared was sleek and deadly looking, a pair of mirrored shades hiding her eyes and a skin tight dark blue vinyl bodysuit making the placement of every weapon obvious. And there were a lot of weapons.

“Who speaks?” Her voice sounded mechanical.

“My name is Charles Xavier. I’m offering myself as your guide.”

She shook out the multitude of braids her blue hair was bound in with a tinkling sound and I realized there were tiny charms or such running the length of each. “Proper authorization is required to proceed further.”

“Fascinating,” Hank breathed. It was quiet for a few minutes and when I glanced at Chuck, I saw the expression that meant he was concentrating, using his telepathy.

The figure below spun into motion, hands flashing as she fought something invisible. She froze into a half crouch, her posture pure defense.

“Here’s my authorization,” the professor said. An image of me flickered into being before her. She rose to her feet, hands dropping to her sides and face blank.

“Authorization: Logan. Access…granted.”

“Tell me your name, please.”

“Please be more specific.”

Charles frowned slightly. “The name you received as a child.”

“Reba Rose Macahey.”

He nodded, looking pleased. “Very good, my dear. I wish to view your earliest memory.”

“You will have to be more specific, Charles Xavier. Do you wish to access the earliest memory of Rebel, Rose or Rebbie?” she asked.

“Rebbie,” he chose.

“Accessing; please wait.” The Danger Room went dark and we all traded glances.

A week passed by and I spent a lot of hours simply staring at her. Keeping a silent watch, waiting for her to wake up. The IV solution Jean and Hank had concocted was doing its work. Rebel was slowly gaining weight, the harsh lines of bone softening in her face and arms.

But her healing ability wasn’t kicking back in full strength and Charles hadn’t had any luck with his attempts to bring her out of the coma.

It was a Friday afternoon when he called a meeting, and the serious look on his face told me he’d made a decision he wasn’t sure was a good one.

“I want to try something rather unorthodox,” he began. “I want to use Cerebro to connect Rebel’s mind to the Danger Room.”

“For what purpose?” Hank asked, looking uncomfortable.

“I’ve been thinking the matter over very carefully, and I feel that if she’s allowed to relive her memories, they’ll fall into the proper order and she’ll wake from the coma.”

“Why haven’t you tried that with me?” My voice was hard; I felt like he’d been holding out on me.

“Logan, your mind is full of holes. Missing pieces. Until they surface, taking such action would be too risky.” Charles’ expression was apologetic. “Rebel’s mind has no sense of missing pieces. Hers is shattered, but I believe all her memories are present.”

“So you’ll try putting them back together like a puzzle?” Scott spoke up. Charles nodded.

“I will attempt to guide her into doing so. Exerting force may just drive her deeper into herself.”

“How dangerous is it?” I looked through the viewing window at Rebel, silent and still in her bed.

“As long as I don’t force her into it, I don’t believe the attempt will cause further harm. It will either work, or it won’t,” he replied. “Do I have your permission to proceed?”

“Mine? Why the hell would you need mine?” I turned around in surprise.

“You’re apparently the closest thing she has to family, Logan.”

“Maybe you missed the part where she said I left her to die, Chuck. You know, so it’s my fault she’s in this condition?” I shook my head. “I’ve no right to give permission about anything concerning her.”

“Then I’ll proceed, and perhaps we’ll discover whether or not that’s true.”

“She’s in a coma.” Jean’s fingertips delicately smoothed the bit of surgical tape securing the needle in the woman’s twiglike arm. “Test results indicate she has a healing factor similar to your own, but it’s been repressed due to starvation and…torture.”

“We think she will make a full recovery in time, but have no way of knowing how long that may take,” Hank said.

“Her mind is shattered,” Charles spoke up, having just completed an examination of his own. “Her memories are broken and jumbled, whirling around inside her like a maelstrom.”

“Did you get a name?” I asked from where I was leaning against the wall. I’d been standing there since we’d brought her in, trying very hard to remember anything at all about a blue haired woman. Nothing had surfaced. I thought maybe a name might trigger something.

“She thinks of herself as ‘Rebel’,” he answered. I waited, silently repeating the name and hoping something would shake loose in my brain, but nothing happened.

“Chuck, have you seen her in my head?”

“No, I’m afraid I haven’t. However,” he hesitated. “You seem to be a constant flicker in her mind.”

I gazed at her for a long moment. “Can you help her?”

“I certainly intend to try,” he replied.

—

I spent the night staring at her, willing myself to remember and trying not to get too excited by the thought she might hold some secrets of my past. Jean slept on one of the other beds, waking at regular intervals to check readings and switch out the IV bags. We didn’t talk; I didn’t even look at her.

The condition Rebel was in, and her accusation that I’d left her behind, had burrowed into me. I felt guilty as hell; not being able to remember her only made it worse. Chuck’s statement that I was a ‘constant flicker’ in her broken memories had to mean I’d been important to her. If I’d been important to her, she had to be important to me.

Had I been such a bastard back then that I’d just walked away and left her to whatever followed?

As the hours wore on, the more I thought it over, the more afraid I was the answer was yes.

The facility appeared to be deserted, and certainly smelled as though no one had been moving around in it for at least a week as I sniffed the stale air of the corridor. “Abandoned. We didn’t move fast enough.”

Scott sighed. “Let’s see if they left anything useful behind. Spread out, stay in contact.”

About twenty minutes later, Jubilee’s voice sounded in my ear. “I’m on the lowest level and have a locked door. I think I hear something on the other side.”

“Sit tight until I get there,” Scott replied. “Kitty, Remy, meet me down there.”

They confirmed; the rest of us kept snooping around without much luck until Scott spoke up again. “Jean, I need you down here. We’ve got a woman, and she’s in really bad shape. She won’t let anyone but Kitty near her.”

“On my way,” she responded. I scowled at the locker I was checking then shrugged. It was doubtful the prisoner was important, if she’d been left to starve to death.

“Any luck?” Scott asked the rest of us, and received a chorus of negative responses. “Okay. Logan, you’re demolitions.”

“On it.” I ordered Piotr and Bobby to help set the explosives. By the time we’d finished and reached the waiting jet, everyone but Jean, Kitty and Scott were present. “Where’s…”

Jubilee looked sick. “She freaked when Scott tried to pick her up. Remy tried, but she didn’t like that idea any better.”

The Cajun gave me a wan grin. “De petit, I t’ought she be dead at first look. Not’ing but scars, eyes and hair, dat one.”

“Jean tried to TK her, but she sort of, I dunno, slipped out of it,” Jubilee took up the story again. “She grabbed Kitty’s arm, so they’re walking her up. She can’t move very fast, so it’s taking a little bit.”

“Here they come.” Ro’s next sound was a soft, horrified exclamation. “Goddess.”

Three of the four figures emerging from the entrance were familiar; the fourth appeared to be a collection of mobile sticks and tangled sea blue hair. Kitty was walking backwards, arm out and horizontal to her chest. The woman had a death grip on her, tottering forward step by stumbling step.

We were all just staring in what I guess you could call horrified fascination. It seemed impossible that she was alive. That she could be upright in her condition. When Scott broke away from the group, heading for the jet at a jog, I moved to meet him at the head of the ramp.

“Jean wants the gurney ready. She says the woman’s in a lot of pain.”

“I’ll help.” We worked quickly to pull the gurney out and assemble the other things in preparation for their arrival. Finished, I followed Scott back to the ramp and we discovered the three women halfway up it.

Kitty was crooning quietly, feeding the woman encouragement while Jean hovered nervously behind her, ready to break her fall if necessary. The woman’s face looked as though it had been worn down to bone; her skin looked like melted wax. It was painful for even me to look at.

She had quicksilver eyes that were focused on Kitty’s face as though the kid were her only reason for continuing to move. Scott whispered in my ear, “She bruises if you touch her.”

We backed away a step and the movement caught the pitiful creature’s attention. Those vacant silver eyes passed slowly over our faces, began to return to Kitty’s, then snapped back to mine. Something flickered in them: a bright, furious flame.

“Bastard.” The word was a faint rasp of sound. “You left me there, Logan.”

The accusation froze me in place as Scott uneasily shifted beside me. She continued to stare at me for a few seconds more, then her gaze went blank again and her eyes returned to Kitty’s face. Scott cleared his throat. “Do you know her?”

“As far as I know, I’ve never seen her before in my life,” I admitted. “But…”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I know.”

Logan’s Journal:

Twenty-one years before, I’d run away from a charnel house of my own making, knowing little more than that I was a monster.

For the past six years, I’ve tried to make reparation for the sins the nightmares assure me I’ve committed. I’ve become an Xman, working with others to protect humans from harm and build a future where humans and mutants can live peacefully together.

Most of the time, I don’t believe in that future. I pretend to, but there’s too much I’ve seen and done to believe that I might have a place in it. I’m the guy who gets things done. The one to whom all the dirty work falls on the shoulders of.

It’s what I do. What I was created to be: a weapon, a killer.

It’s why the woman I love married someone else. I killed her, Jean Gray, when the Dark Phoenix manifested. She asked me to and I did. Barely a year later, Remy LeBeau was recruited, and the Cajun thief brought the jewels he’d stolen in his last heist when he came to the mansion.

The jewels were Resurrection Stones, ancient gems holding a power none of us could’ve imagined. During an attack on the mansion, they ended up on the graves of Jean, Scott and the professor and the three were returned to life.

Jean hasn’t looked me in the eye once since her rebirth. She married Scott barely a month after their reappearance.

That’s okay. I’m not the kind of guy who gets the girl and lives happily ever after. I’ve accepted that.

It’s the way things have always been for me, or so I’ve believed, despite not knowing my past. At least not what happened in it before I left the Alkali Lake facility, blood smeared and sick to my stomach, my only possessions a pair of dog tags with ‘Wolverine’ engraved on them and nine inch metal claws.

Oh, and my name: Logan.

He had a truck. And a trailer. So very everyday, considering how this particular day was turning out. We loaded up, and headed for what he said was the nearest town.

Me….I was NOT going to freak. Just wasn’t. He could have taken advantage of my lights out moment, and didn’t. We were cool, as far as I was concerned. If I’d woken up to find him…well….I’d have used my unexpected additions to convince him that had been a really bad move, that’s all. Somehow.

“Okay, I’m just going to kind of think out loud here. Ignore if you like,” I informed him as we rolled along.

“Sure,” was his easy answer. A girl could come to really like a guy who agreed with pretty much everything she had to say, you know? Destiny…shut it off, for crying out loud. Horn dawg. Geeze.

“Right, so…I wake up here. Not here, but back there, by the water…is that considered a pond, or what?” I asked him curiously.

“Guess so, yeah.” He grinned slightly.

“Okay…so, and I woke myself up yelling ‘Do it!’, plus I vaguely remember being in pain, like…dipped in acid kind of pain, and some guy there. Called him a schmuck, I did.” I grinned to myself. “Not sure why, and I guess he wasn’t the reason I was in Agony Hall, or I’d have been calling him a lot worse things than schmuck, right? Anyway, so, there I am, middle of nowhere, naked as the day I was born…huh…assuming I was born? Was I born? Surely I was, everyone gets here by being born, don’t they? Into life, I mean,” I was muttering, I realized. “Right, so…I wake up, remember that much, and check mys…uh,” I blushed as he glanced at me with a raised eyebrow,”decide, what the hell, it’s hot, I’ll have a swim.”

“Right.” His eyebrow went back down. Nice profile, I thought.

“Right…where was I? Oh…and then I pulled a super cannonball, came up, and, boom, there you were. Next was the end of the world as we know it….or you know it, because I’m pretty sure this isn’t my particular world…you know…let’s not go there, I’m getting a headache trying to figure that one out….and then the stuff about what mutants are, which was so not what I expected, nothing like the movies, actually, better than the movies, I think….pretty fucking cool, really….I’m getting off track here. Where…oh….so you show, and then I show, not that I even knew I had anything like THAT to show, and lights out for Destiny.”

I paused, thinking it all over. “You know, I don’t think I run around fainting like Scarlett O’Hara constantly. I don’t know, just doesn’t seem….me-ish, if you know what I mean. And there we have it, folks, the sum total of what the newly named Destiny is aware of, therefore confirming the dumbness of blondes everywhere. Thank you, I do try.”

“Not knowing doesn’t mean you’re dumb,” was his response. “Might not be much, yeah, but still, you do know some things.”

“Yeah…well equipped for survival, ain’t I just?” I was disgusted. “Of course, I have Ginsus now. Not that I know what to do with them.”

“Are you worried about survival?” He glanced at me quickly, turned his eyes back to the road.

“Uh…shouldn’t I be? I mean…you know…empty of life except movie rejects?” I considered how *that* sounded. “And you, I mean..you’re not a movie reject. You’re nice. Not crazy after all.”

“Thanks. I do all right, you know.” Another quick, from the corner of the eye, glance. His eyes were a really great shade of blue. Wait…was he?

“Um…was that like, uh, an invite kind of thing?” I asked curiously.

Very quietly, he answered,”Yeah.”

Oh. I started to answer him, but we were pulling into town, and a horrified fascination snatched control of me.

“Oh. My. God. Are those…oh….stop, stop…I’m going to be sick!” I was scrabbling for the door handle before he got us stopped completely. It was the small skull that did it, honestly. Not that I seemed to have anything to barf up as I retched spasmodically, holding myself from hitting the ground by hanging onto the truck bed with one hand. The truck went quiet, his door opening and banging shut, then he was behind me, hovering. “Oh..don’t…touch me. I’ll…oh, god…start crying.”

Since trying to throw up my guts wasn’t doing any good, the retching died off after another minute or so. I started to straighten up, caught another glimpse of the little skull, and that was it. I started crying, let go of the truck, sinking to the ground and he decided to ignore my previous order. A strong arm caught me around the waist, pulled me back against a warm, solid chest as the other arm joined the first.

Devastation. No life. Buildings, and…bones. Here, there. Bones that had once been living, breathing people. That skull had belonged to a little kid. A little kid, for fuck’s sake!

Unreal. Completely unreal. He hadn’t been lying. Had tried to tell me. Just had to be hard-headed, see for myself. I was alone, in a world gone…just gone, not even crazy, just gone. Wait, no…he was here, too. I wasn’t alone. He was real.

“I so could have done without this,” I choked, getting myself under control. “Really.” I wiped my face on the end of the much too large sweatshirt, and his grip on me loosened a little. Of course, then, to add insult to injury, I got a major case of hiccups.

“Oh *hiccup* fuck me,” I groaned, thought how that had sounded, and added, “I mean *hiccup* shit! Just…*hiccup*….shit!”

“Are you….all right?” he asked, loosening his grip a little more.

“You know, *hiccup* the normal *hiccup* phrases used *hiccup* just don’t seem to fit this situation at all,” I finished in a rush. *hiccup* “I’m still breathing.”

I also had this mad, terribly inappropriate to the situation urge to turn, rip his clothes off, climb on and ride until one of us screamed ‘uncle’, to prove that I was, in fact, still breathing, alive and kicking, but I resisted that urge. I went with option two that popped in my head.

“Remember when I said I wouldn’t be shy about saying when I’d had enough?”

“Yeah.” He let go completely, stepped back. I turned around, fixed my eyes on his face and refused to look elsewhere.

“I’ve had enough. Need to do something else, not stand around out here. I’m going to need some stuff, right? So…do I sound like a complete cold psycho bitch if I say a little shopping’s in order right now?”

“No. Whatever works, right?” was his answer. “Yes, you’ll need some stuff. Clothes that fit, for one.”

“Right. So here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to ignore the…them, and yeah…shopping. Shopping’s good. No limit, right?” I nodded a little frantically. Shopping was normal. Normal would be nice.
____________________________________________

Call me callous, or call me a normal female, whatever, I don’t give a shit. Shopping without having to worry about paying the credit card bill or going over the limit?

Pretty fucking awesome. Definitely take your mind off…I don’t want to go back there, so I’m not, you know?

“Hey, what about these?” I popped out, did a quick turn. “Fit okay?”

“Great,” he agreed, looking around again. It was starting to bug me, the alertness thing he had going on.

“You did say you hadn’t seen anyone around here, right? So why are you like on super alert status, Logan?”

“Someone could have come along. Doesn’t hurt to be watchful, Destiny.”

“Right. I’m the grasshopper, you’re the teacher. I’ll try not to be so loud, then.” I went back in the changing room. I did have to learn about that, after all. I was used to being careful…I thought, but careful of different things. Holy shit…were there such things as brain eating zombies around? Isn’t that what happened, in that one movie? Radiation caused people to die and come back as brain eating zombies?

Oh. Surely not?

Shopping, more shopping!

____________________________________________

“Hey, Logan. I saw a stereo, what about a TV?” I was looking at the electronics section.

“Didn’t get one.” He was doing a slow pace around the aisle I was in.

“Oh. Uh…can we? Or…” Probably was a reason he didn’t have one, I thought to myself.

“If you want, yeah.”

“Are you sure, I mean…” Not trying to upset your life, or anything. I snickered silently. Already done a bang up job of that, Destiny!

“It’ll run. I’ve got electricity, hauled a generator up. I don’t care for electric lights all that much, not there. TV’s okay, if you want.”

“Okay. Big one?” I smiled hopefully at him.
____________________________________

“Haven’t seen this one, or that one….I love this one.” I was filling up a cart with DVDs, while he watched with what I was pretty damn sure was complete amusement. “Popcorn. Definitely need some popcorn. Think any of the candy’s still good? Probably not the chocolate, huh? Damn. I’m going to miss chocolate. Oh, shit…no butter, huh? Wait, they made some kind of sprinkle flavoring stuff.”

“Don’t know, we can take a look.” He managed to get a few words in between my rambling.

“Oooh…Series sets! Awesome! Buffy, Hercules, Xena, Angel…you have any favorite shows? I hope they have all the seasons.” My attention went over the top of the aisle to the next one.” Ooooooooh. Look. Games. Playstation 3. Fucking A, man! You a gamer, Logan? Good way to waste time.”
________________________________________

“Uh..no. You can like…watch from…somewhere else, okay? Or go have a look and make sure nothing’s hiding under anything, or whatever, but this section’s off limits while I’m in here.” I held up a wad of plastic shopping bags. “Personal stuff, okay?”

“I’ll look around, first.” He did a quick check of the aisles. “Okay, you’re clear. I’ll just…..go wait over there, okay?” He pointed to the end of an aisle two over.

“Good deal.” I pushed my new cart into the world of personal hygiene with a sense of relief. Clothes had been one thing…though I still had to hit the undies section. I was NOT going to be picking out panties, bras and sleepwear with him looking over my shoulder. Though…he’d probably see it all, eventually. There you go again, Destiny!

Well, I thought, as I bagged up deodorant, razors, toothpaste, toothbrushes, mouthwash….there was a trend there, definitely wanting fresh breath, wasn’t I?…..come on, let’s get real. He is a man. A damn hot man, too. I’m definitely hottie material, myself. We’re alone. We’re going to be living together. End of the world shit going on. There is no one else around.

Except maybe radiated, brain eating zombies.

Ewww. Think less scary thoughts.

Sex is going to occur, sooner or later, right? I mean, I’m pretty sure I don’t want to die a virgin. Check that. Hey…am I virgin?

Hmm…seem to remember some sweaty action at some point in time, but that was…ooh, headache material. Before. Let’s just say Before, and leave it at that, right? This is Now. Now…hell if I knew, I could damn sure be a virgin, here.

Wow. I stopped picking out bodywash to think about that. Now, that was fucking mind-blowing. Haha…you’re such an idiot. All the shit that’s gone on today, and you’re getting thrown out of whack over the thought of being a virgin? Again?

Stupid blonde. Scrungies. Hair things. Make up? Naw…I don’t need no stinkin’ make up. Do need those, though. What about disposal of them…not like I want him seeing them, natural part of life or not. Shit…when would I have a period? What kind of cycle was I on?

Oh. What about…birth control. Would any of that stuff still be any good? How long did condoms and the other stuff keep for? Gotta check that out. Which aisle? Oh…there.

This is double bagging stuff. Muy certaino.

The only thing keeping Rachel from completely enjoying the intense heat rising between herself and Logan was Remy.

Remy would be…long term. A steady, dependable, satisfying thing; that’s what a relationship with him would develop into. She liked him, cared about him, respected him, and even trusted him. The idea had a charm for her; Remy was definitely a luscious, lovely example of maleness. They made a good team, on the job and as friends. She imagined the sex would turn out to be passionate and quite satisfying between the two of them.

Logan, however….there was just something about having a man look at you the way he was. Like he was wondering how she’d taste. He was a force of nature – like her. Full of primal instincts on fire. He was a hurricane, an earthquake. He’d be short term, would be returning to his own reality eventually. It’d be hot, beyond intense, a true meeting of equals. Damn, she thought, short or not, it’ll be worth the price no matter what it is. She glanced over her shoulder to see him staring at her ass.

Too right.

_________

Scott was watching the unspoken currents rushing back and forth between Logan and Rachel as Jean and Charles compared histories of the respective realities. Logan was oblivious to anything but the woman.

Bet you’ve never met a woman like her, Scott thought gleefully. I’d stake the jet on her being able to dish it out just as much as you can, Mr. I’m Too Sexy for a Shirt.

That thing Logan had, the thing that made women drool over him at the slightest glimpse of him, this Rachel, she had it too. Scott realized he was finally getting a taste of it from the male perspective and that he probably owed his lovely wife an apology.

If it weren’t for Jean, he admitted silently, I’d probably be panting all over Rachel like a dog in heat myself. She’d chew me up, spit me out, and kick dirt over what was left, he ruefully added. You can’t not notice her. Not so much her looks, though she is lovely, but her presence. Like she carries a cloak of pure, raw sensuality, like every move, every look was a promise of…

Whoa, definitely didn’t want to go there. That way lay madness, and an ass kicking from his dear wife. Scott tore his eyes away from Rachel, wondering if the action was audible to anyone else, and found himself meeting the mournful face of Remy.

Aw, damn, he thought, studying it.

I was going to enjoy this, too. Was going to sit back and watch the fur fly.

Poor guy, you’re in love with her. A casualty, and it’s barely begun.

I should do something about this.

“Hey, Remy, why don’t you show me where Stores is here, and I’ll grab us some clothes?”

“Sure t’ing,” the Cajun agreed, looking grateful for an excuse to leave.

Just having some fun, now that I’ve a name for that new arrival

Adult language. Don’t own Logan. Just drool over him. This one was featured over at Fan Frenzy (07/07/08)

___________

The nearest bar seemed like a great idea. Nothing like a little whiskey to drown the old sorrows.

Okay, a LOT of whiskey. Normally, Logan appreciated his healing factor, but when he wanted to get drunk wasn’t one of those times. Got expensive, real quick.

Why? He could never understand that. When he had a woman, it was always one of two things that resulted: Either she became a target, and ended up dead, or she cheated.

I’m not a bad guy he told himself. Not to my girl, I ain’t. So, why am I always endin’ up bein’ made a fool of or alone?

The whiskey was doing its job by the fifth bottle, quickly sucked down to help the matter along. Logan nodded at the bartender, who was used to seeing him in here. “One of those nights?”

“Just shut up and serve, bub,” Logan snapped.

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