Archive of Our Own ^beta

Logan had lived a long time. He’d done a lot of things. He’d seen a lot of wars. He’d fought a lot of people. His whole world had changed in so many ways over the past week. He’d battled Magneto on Alcatraz Island and had killed the woman he loved. His life had never been straightforward, or normal, or easy, and he was always prepared to admit that he could still be surprised.

But this…?

Nothing had prepared Logan for anything like this, and he was both desperate for and dreading the man in the hospital bed front of him waking up.

But that’s not just any man, Logan reminded himself. That’s Scott Summers.

Looking at the man’s uncovered face - Scott’s uncovered face - made something strange curl through Logan’s chest. It had come as a nasty shock to discover that the beams were gone. It was clear from the first moment he’d spoken to a doctor that they had no idea that Scott had the power levels of a nuclear reactor behind each eye. When Logan had asked, subtly of course, they’d said nothing had been wrong; he’d had his eyes checked regularly to monitor his response levels.

Even so, Logan had brought a pair of Scott’s spare glasses with him. He wasn’t gonna take any unnecessary chances.

He kept staring. Scott’s skin had a greyish-green tint, reminding Logan of someone who had frostbite. A few weeks of stubble covered his face and there were a few thin scratches on his neck and jaw, along with a few faded bruises. Under the thin sheet, his body looked thinner, even thinner than he had done before. He had an IV attached to his arm, and Logan could smell large doses of codeine and paracetamol, as well as antibiotics and saline solution.

They’d all believed that Scott was dead. Chuck had said he was dead. He had been killed by Jean at the edge of Alkali Lake. Logan himself had found Scott’s ruby quartz shades hovering in the air by the water. Jean all but admitted what she'd done, later in the infirmary at the mansion. And then there was that terrible scream that had echoed through the halls, the one that had sent them flying at supersonic speeds back to Alkali Lake. There had been death in that scream.

But there was no doubt in Logan’s mind that this was Scott.

This. Was. Scott.

How did he get here? No one had a fucking clue!

Logan let out a growl of frustration. The Albertan police had done as much as they could, but still, the report told him next to nothing, just that Scott had been found unconscious at the edge of some woods, over a hundred miles from Alkali Lake, with only the clothes on his back and suffering from acute exposure. They’d found a crumpled and faded business card with his name on it in his jacket pocket, and called the school. Ro had nearly fainted when they told her. Hank hadn’t been that much better.

Logan growled again and this time it got a reaction. The man - Scott, this was Scott! - stirred, sighing gently, turning towards Logan, and he had to fight the urge to pull away from his gaze if Scott opened his eyes.

His beams have gone, Logan reminded himself. He assumed it was the cure, that he’d been given it at some point in the recent past. It was the only logical explanation, but how any of this had happened…? That was yet another question with no answer.

When he’d last spoken to Hank and Ororo, they’d agreed it was best to get Scott home as fast as they could. The fastest way was to get Summers to agree. And for him to agree, they had to “talk”.

That was something that Logan was not looking forward to, dreading having to break it to Scott that Charles was dead, and so was Jean… Really dead this time.

There was another soft, low sigh from Scott and his eyelids started to flicker, making Logan tense again. The man frowned, then opened his eyes, looking directly at Logan.

His eyes are blue, was the first thought that cross Logan’s mind.

“Hey, Logan,” Scott said. His voice was rough, but he still sounded like himself, same accent and inflection and it made Logan grin. There had been a time when he thought he’d never hear that that voice again.

“Hey,” he replied.

Scott relaxed back as if relieved. Logan sensed his heartbeat slow.

“You’ve no idea how good it is to see a familiar face,” Scott said, taking his time with each word, as if speaking was hard work.

Logan nodded. Fuck, this was really Scott, and the knowledge that he was really alive lifted a weight off his heart.

“It’s good to see you,” Logan murmured. At that, a flicker of pleasure passed over Scott’s face.

“Really?”

“Yeah, Scott. Really.”

They looked at each other in silence and eventually Scott frowned.

“Whatever's happened out there, it’s bad, isn’t it,” he said, searching Logan’s face with those amazing, blue eyes. It wasn’t phrased as a question and Scott look into his eyes, his gaze steady and intense.

Logan nodded. Bad was an understatement. Earth-shattering was an understatement. Scott had missed a week of world-changing events and now Logan was the one who had to explain it all.

“Yeah,” he said, with feeling.

Scott swallowed hard.

“Please tell me.”

Logan did, the way he’d rehearsed with Hank and Ro, sparing nothing. He told him about finding Jean by the Lake, of losing her when she fled the mansion, the fight with Magneto, Charles’ death at her hand, Leech and the cure, the fight at Alcatraz with Magneto and how Jean had died in his arms.

Outwardly, Scott didn’t react to anything Logan told him. He was calm and controlled, in exactly the same way that Logan would have expected of the Boy-Scout. However, to Logan’s enhanced eyes, small tells were everywhere. The twitches, the tension, the angle of his body, the rate of his breathing and his heartbeat.

Scott took the news better than Logan could have expected. Grief and regret rolled off him in waves, but there was no overwhelming pain anymore, not like there had been back at the school.

Finally, Logan ran out of things to say. He looked at Scott trying to figure out what the guy was thinking. Even though he was without his glasses or visor, his face was unreadable, but his body language indicated that he was still anxious and confused.

“I’m sorry,” Logan offered. “I know this is a lot to take in. The Professor. Jean.” His voice hitched, and he wanted to say more, even though there was nothing left to say. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

There was another long, awkward pause then Scott gave an unenthusiastic nod. He swallowed hard before he asked:

“And what about before?”

Logan hadn’t been sure how Scott would react to all of the news, or what he would say, but he hadn’t expected that.

“Before? What do you mean before?”

“Before the Lake. Why was I there? Why was Jean there?”

At the questions, a sudden stab of sinking cold and horror rose through Logan.

“What?”

“Why was I at the Lake?” Scott asked. “And which Lake was it? How did I get there? And what was I doing before?”

Logan flared his nose and inhaled. Scott wasn’t lying, the confusion was genuine. The sinking feeling grew more intense.

“Scott?” he asked carefully, “What’s the last thing you remember?”

At that, Scott looked away from him, down towards the floor. He furrowed his brow, as if it hurt to remember. Logan braced himself for the worst.

“Magneto,” Scott said. “I went with the… the P-Professor.” The stumble over the title was nearly inaudible, at least to anyone without enhanced hearing, but it was as loud as a shout to Logan. “He had wanted to talk about the attack on the President, so he visited Magneto at his prison. There was a fight with the guards. Someone knocked me out, a woman I think.” Scott closed his eyes tightly for a moment, and gave a short shake of his head. “But that’s all. I-I don’t remember anything else after than. Not until waking up here.”

It wasn’t a helpful way to react, Logan knew, but all he could do was stare, open-mouthed at the other man for a few seconds. He wanted to believe it was a joke, but there was no lie from Scott, just honest confusion and curiosity.

“What’s wrong, Logan?” Scott asked.

Shit, this was bad. This was really, really bad. How could Slim have forgotten it all? Forgotten he’d been kidnapped and used as a weapons against his friends; forgotten Jean’s sacrifice; the trip to the White House; and the dark, dark days of grieving. What the hell had happened to him? Logan hadn't been prepared for anything like this.

Scott was waiting patiently for an answer. Logan had to tell him something, and Scott needed Logan to be honest, so he made himself look into those uncovered blue eyes and say:

“Scott, that was nearly two years ago.”

Trying to find out how Scott had ended up so far from the Lake yielded no useful information beyond the single-page, joke of a police report. An old man walking his dog had found him and called for help. That was all they’d found, and Scott himself had no idea how he got so far from civilisation with no transport, no food, no weather-appropriate clothing and no money. It was as if he’d just materialised out of thin air.

Logan found out even less about Scott’s missing beams. Again, Summers himself was of zero help, which Logan was starting to find increasingly annoying. And his eyes were perfectly normal, according to all the tests. It was clear that the doctors had no idea that their patient was even a mutant, let alone one that was supposed to have uncontrollable beams of force that could punch through a mountain coming out of his eyes. Fortunately, the ruby quartz glasses helped a little with his headaches, so he kept them on, just in case.

As far as Logan was concerned, getting them both out of there and back to the school was his top priority. The staff were kind and caring, and had done a good job in helping Scott recover, but they could only do so much. Back in Westchester, they had the equipment and the expertise to help.

At first, the doctors at the hospital didn’t want Scott to leave, they were very concerned for his health and safety. He was recovering well from the exposure but also had crippling headaches and intermittent vertigo that had so far defied their explanation.

In the end, it took a phone call to the school, and a confidential “discussion” with Dr Henry McCoy to encourage them to change their minds. Assured that Scott had specialist care back at home, they relented. There were forms to fill out, and things to sign, then Scott’s local physician had handed over a large and incomprehensible amount of notes, x-rays and scans for Logan to pass on to Hank. He’d also warned Logan to stick rigorously to the medication regime, even though Scott had balked (then sulked) at the instructions.

In between talking to doctors and squeezing dregs of information out of the local police, Logan had little time for talking to Scott beyond checking in on him each day. And even when he was there, Scott was usually groggy from the meds and the tests and not very chatty. But even with their relatively limited contact, Logan quickly realised that their whole relationship had altered. The way Scott behaved towards him was best described as “affectionate”. There were the warm, eager smiles Scott gave him each time he arrived to visit. They often sat together in companionable silence. He let Logan into his personal space with no hesitation in a way that felt almost intimate. There was no tension or reserve when Logan took his arm and helped him to stand, or to stagger to the bathroom to be sick. Scott accepted physical contact with Logan without any of the resistance that Logan expected.

That wasn’t what he expected from Scott Aloof-And-Stoic-Are-My-Middle-Names Summers. As far as Logan knew, Scott hadn’t even let anyone hug him since he’d collapsed into Logan’s arms on the jet. It was as if Scott assumed that they were close now; that in the time that Scott was missing they had worked to put their multitude of differences aside and become the best of friends.

Logan wasn’t sure what to make of that.

Once the decision to release Scott was made, it only took a day before everything was ready. Logan had driven up in one of the many sports cars that the school had hidden away, as commercial planes and metal claws didn’t mix well.

Scott slept most of the way back on the drive back to Westchester, which wasn’t much of a surprise considering the amount of painkillers he had to take. He kept his glasses on all the time, and might have been pretending to be asleep, but Logan could tell from his breathing that he wasn’t faking.

On the few occasions they exchanged more than a couple of sentences, Scott had asked about the kids and the school. It felt strange, Logan knowing more than Scott. It was as if their relationship had been flipped over. Logan was the one who knew what was going on at the school, what was happening in the world of mutants. Scott was the one who had no clue.

Logan wasn’t sure what to make of that either.

He had plenty of time to mull it over, but that didn’t help. It wasn’t that he didn’t like this new, more friendly, attitude of Scott’s, but the abrupt change was jarring. Just over a week ago, Scott had been crippled with grief and they’d had a shallow, snippy conversation the the corridor of the School before Scott had walked out, leaving his life with the X-Men behind. They’d thought he’d died. But now, Scott was acting like Logan was a cross between his knight in shining armour and and his most trusted confidante.

Weird was an understatement. Every so often, much more so than he would have admitted to anyone, Logan would glance across at the passenger side of the car and wonder what the fucking hell had happened. Each time he did, the need to get home quickly grew a little bit more intense.

They arrived back at the school late at night, after two days of near-constant driving on Logan’s behalf. Logan had never been more pleased to be here.

Scott was asleep again, using one of Logan’s spare shirts as a pillow, and it seemed a shame to wake him when he looked so peaceful, but there was no way Logan was gonna carry him.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” Logan said, after turning off the engine. “We’re home.”

Scott didn’t move so Logan gave him a gentle prod in the arm.

“You’re home, Scott.”

It worked and Scott twitched and gave a wide yawn that morphed into a sigh.

He lifted his head and looked around.

“It’s good to be back,” he said, “even though it’s different. Y’know. Without them here.”

Other than the first day, they’d not really spoken about either Jean or Charles and what had happened. Scott had taken their deaths hard, that was clear, but it was a more obvious, honest grief than before, at least to Logan, because Scott hadn’t tried to hide it from him or pretend that nothing was wrong.

On impulse, Logan gave his arm a friendly pat.

“Yeah, different,” he agreed. “But it’s still yer home. And Hank and Ro will be waiting.”

Logan got out, opened the door for Scott, and carefully helped him out. He looked exhausted and sore, and nervous.

“It’ll be fine,” Logan assured him.

“Says you.”

“Yeah, and you don’t get to argue with me today. Not after I just drove hundreds of miles to bring you here.”

Logan hadn’t expected much of a response, but he noticed the warm, conspiratorial way Scott smiled as he spoke. Then he winced, sagged against Logan again, as he lifted his hand to his head. His heart rate spiked and all the colour drained from his cheeks. Logan recognised the signs of a vertigo attack.

“Let’s get you to the infirmary,” Logan said. “Ororo’ll be pissed if ya throw up in the garage.”

Patiently, Logan guided a swaying Scott through the back door of the garage and down to the infirmary.

Hank and Ro were waiting. Both of them stared, Logan imagined that was the look on his face when he first saw Scott too. Then they engulfed him in a warm embrace. Scott tolerated it, after all they were his oldest friends, but it was clear he felt awkward in a way he hadn’t been with Logan.

When Scott pulled back, he glanced round at Logan as if for reassurance. The implicit trust in his expression was unexpected, even after the time they’d spent together recently. He reached out to take hold of Logan’s arm, and gave it a quick squeeze.

“Thanks,” Scott said.

It felt as if Summers was going to say more, maybe even that he expected Logan to say something more in response. When Logan didn’t speak, confusion fluttered cross his face and he looked away abruptly.

“Thanks,” he repeated. “For coming to get me. For bringing me home.”

He turned and Hank ushered him through to a small side room.

Logan watched him leave, feeling strangely unsettled and out of place. He looked at Ro and she looked back. He could see the confusion, relief and wonder everywhere in her body language. Impulsively, he reached out and let her snake her arms around his waist and lean into a hug.

“It’s really Scott,” she murmured into his shoulder. “My God, Logan, that really is Scott.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “It’s Scott.”

They were quiet for a moment, and he felt her shaking, smelling the soft salty scent of tears.

“I didn’t let myself believe it,” she said, still speaking into his shoulder. “Not until I saw him, and hugged him. I’m still not sure it’s really true.”

“I know.”

There was a short silence. Then she pulled back so she could see his face.

“How did all this happen?” she asked.

Logan drew a long, deep breath in and shook his head. That was the real question that had been weighing down on him for the whole trip.

“I don’t know. But Hank will figure it out. You know he will.”

Ro didn’t look convinced at all.

“He will,” Logan insisted. “You know what he’s like. He won’t sleep until he understands.”

“What did Scott say?” she asked. There was a strong note of tension in her voice.

“Nothing,” Logan answered honestly. “It’s like his mind has been wiped clean of everything since he was kidnapped at Magneto’s jail. There’s not a damn thing he remembers about what happened. Not being drugged, or the lake, or the jet, the White House. Not the days after either.” He shrugged. “I dunno what to make of it.”

She looked steadily at him, eyebrows slightly raised, eyes wide open, her head cocked to the side.

“Is he lying?” she asked, and Logan recognised that she had to force the question out.

He shook his head, and Ro did hide her relief.

“No” he said firmly. “It’s the truth. Whatever happened took all his memories. He’s the man he was before Jean died.”

“Fuck,” she whispered. Logan grinned a mirthless grin.

“Didn’t take you for one who knew those sorts of words,” he said.

“Oh, you’d be surprised at the language I know,” she replied.

Logan’s grin changed into a yawn.

“Gonna catch some sleep,” he said, stretching. “Been a long few days.”

She nodded.

“Just to warn you, there’s a reception committee upstairs,” Ro told him. He blinked in surprise. “Rogue, a couple of others.” She frowned. “There’s been a lot of gossip and rumours. You should talk to them. Let them know Scott’s safely back with us. They’ve all been worried.”

“Sure.”

Logan walked off, took the elevator up to the first floor, and sure enough four of the kids were there waiting for him: Rogue, Bobby, Kitty and Jubilee. The moment she saw him, Rogue rushed forward and threw her arms around his neck. He pulled her into a tight hug.

There was an awkward beat of silence.

“Is it true?” Bobby asked. “Is it really Mr Summers? He’d not dead?”

“Yeah, kid. It’s him,” Logan replied. “He’s not dead.”

There was a collective gasp, and the four of them all looked at each other in wonder and happiness. It warmed Logan’s heart to see that they were all pleased and relieved.

“How?” Jubilee demanded. “And where was he? And what else happened?”

“I dunno the answer to any of those either, “ he said. “There are a lot of questions, and I don’t know if some of them will ever be answered.”

Kitty licked her lips, her gazing flicking to Jubilee then back to Logan.

“And is he okay? After, y’know? After Dr Grey and the Professor? Is he, well… as sad and…”

That was a totally different question and all Logan could do was shrug.

“I dunno,” he answered honestly, giving her a gruff smile. “It hurts, and he’s grieving. But it’s not like it was before.”

“Can we see him?” Kitty asked. “We’d like to see him. We kinda missed him.”

Inwardly, Logan gave a sad smile at the words. They’d all thought he was dead, and they were never going to see him again. The other three nodded, but Logan shook his head.

“Not yet,” he said. “Look, he’s not-” Logan paused, pursing his lips. “He’s not the same as when he left.”

The four exchanged a look.

It was going to get out soon enough, and telling them straight up sounded like a good idea.

“He’s lost a chunk of his memory,” he said. “So you need to give him a bit of time. Understand?”

Bobby, Kitty and Jubilee nodded. Rogue hesitated and gave him a long, keen look.

“Was it like that for you?” she asked. “Your memories? When you lost them?”

Again, Logan shook his head.

“Look, we ain’t gonna stand around here in the middle of the night talking about it,” he told them. “Scott’s back, and he’s staying back, but it’s gonna take a while to get it all straightened out.”

“Will you let him know we say hi,” Kitty said. “When you see him? Can you tell him?”

Logan gave a gruff sigh and nodded.

“I will. Next time I drop in.”

That was enough for them to drift off back to their rooms, no doubt to spread the news around the rest of the kids. They must have thought he was an easy touch for information. But they did deserve to know something. It wasn’t every day that someone came back from the dead.

Logan yawned again, hit by a wave of exhaustion. He was too tired for this shit right now. He was home. Scott was home and safely installed in the infirmary where Hank could look after him. That was enough for tonight.

What Logan needed was a drink. He had some beer stashed in the kitchen, assuming no one else had discovered it, but he wanted something a lot stronger than that tonight. He headed through the school, towards the Professor’s office - his old office - and went inside with barely a hesitation.

The bottle of expensive whiskey was where he expected to find it, hidden at the back of the bottom drawer of his desk.

“Don’t imagine you’d begrudge me it tonight,” Logan said out loud to the empty room.

There was no answer.

He gripped the bottle more tightly and headed out, and up towards his room, to try and get some peace from the questions in his head, and to try and relax enough for sleep.

He prayed there would be no nightmares.

For a couple of days after getting back, Logan mooched around the school, covering a few classes, and dodging loaded questions. Everyone was talking about Scott, and everyone was speculating about what had happened and each person had their own theory.

Logan heard them all, even if he didn’t want to. His enhanced hearing meant that he heard them whispering, discussing or talking all the time. It never seemed to stop. At first, it was funny, some of the wild ideas that they were putting out there. Reincarnation, time-travel, space-travel, aliens, zombies, space warps, black holes, clones, AIs, dopplegangers, evil twins… everything under the sun was suggested at some point by somebody.

After the first few hours, he began to get increasingly annoyed. It wasn’t that he blamed them. No one knew, there were no obvious answers. They were all just excited and grateful.

But more often than not, the speculation turned back to Jean, her choices, her immense powers, and that set Logan’s teeth on edge and made him want to pop his claws and drive them into the nearest wall.

He didn’t want to think about Jean like that, in that form, ever again. Not wreathed in flame and light, power cascading out of her like she was a tsunami. That wasn’t Jean, that was the Phoenix, that was the corrupt power that had tried and failed to lure him in. That was something that he hated more now than he had at the time, the being that had stolen the woman he loved away. The creature that had forced his hand and made him a murderer. Again.

His mood dipped a little lower ever time someone mentioned Jeannie. Not even the delicate, smooth taste of scotch could stop it sliding downwards. He started to snap and growl at the constant questions and everyone quickly learn to leave him alone.

And that suited him just fine.

He also made a point of staying away from the infirmary, and as far away from Summers as he could. Even so, the delicate scent of the man started to thread back through the mansion; the scent of the Scott Summers he’d known before. There was no way to fake a personal scent, at least no way Logan could think of. This was scent of the person Scott had been after Liberty Island, and the man he’d been when Logan returned from his search. This was the man who had met him in the garage and tossed him back the bike keys with a barbed comment. That was the person in the infirmary at the moment, and he was very different from the broken-hearted man consumed by grief who had bailed on the school (and Logan himself) with a “not everyone heals as fast as you do” tossed over his shoulder. That man had gone.

But it wasn’t just that the old Scott was back, it was the fact Scott now assumed they were close. Logan decided that fact was the strangest part of the whole scenario.

He and Scott were never friends. They’d butted heads from the first. They’d wound each other up, insulted and ignored each other, deliberately pushing the other’s buttons.

There had been a moment, just a brief few days not long after she’d sacrificed herself at the lake, when there had been a fragile truce between them.

After Logan had held him on the jet, and after he’d watched Scott keep himself together at the White House, he’d tried to talk to the man, just to see how he was holding up. They had had a couple of beers. They hadn’t really talked, not as such, but they had shared time in the same room without being dicks at each other. They had shared an understanding and a small part of their pain. Scott had even given a half smile at one point.

Then something had happened.

Logan still wasn’t sure what exactly it was, but that night he had heard Scott talking to someone, even though Logan couldn’t make out the words. And there had been arguing, and the scent of anguish that had seeped out from under the door had been powerful enough to almost make him gag. When Logan had asked the next day, he’s gotten no response. Scott had looked like he hadn’t slept. Worse, after that night, Scott could hardly bring himself to talk to Logan. It was as if he was afraid, a child having been told off and punished for bad behaviour and terrified it would happen again.

Each day it had gotten worse. And before that week had been out, Scott had stopped speaking to him altogether. They had barely managed a conversation at all since then, their final exchange had been the most they’d talked in a month, and probably the most Scott had spoken to anyone.

All of that had been erased for Scott, but Logan still remembered and it made him uncomfortable. So he kept away.

He still knew how Scott was doing without going to see him. Knowing how corrosive gossip and speculation could be, Ro kept the whole school as informed as she could. She confirmed that Scott was back, and it was definitely Scott, and that he was missing some of his memories. It worked well enough, even though there was still a lot of talk, and people still asked Logan for the inside line. But they eventually figured out he knew as little as they did.

Nearly a week after they arrived back, early in the evening, after dinner, Hank caught up with him in the kitchen and asked him to drop in to the infirmary first thing the next morning for an important meeting. He had that suspiciously earnest look about him, and Logan could sense that he was anxious about something.

“You don’t ask about him,” Hank observed.

Logan sniffed and rolled his eyes. No shit!

“He asks about you,” Hank added.

That was a genuine surprise to Logan. Okay, he’d treated Logan like his new best friend at the hospital and on the way home, but deep down, Logan had assumed that was mostly the drugs and the fact he was the only familiar face. He hadn’t thought it would last when they got back home.

“So?” he said with a dismissive shrug.

“Logan, he asks about you a lot. Every day,” Hank said. He frowned, suddenly looking more serious. “What did you say to him? Did you say something to him? Imply anything?”

“Imply anything? Like what!” Logan snapped.

Hank didn’t answer, and looked pensively up at the ceiling, tapping his chin with his index finger.

“I think it might do him some good if you popped in to see him before the meeting tomorrow,” he said eventually, blatantly avoiding the question. “Just to say hello.”

“What good would that do?”

Hank sighed, as if he was tired of having to explain simple things to stupid people.

“Logan,” he said with strained patience, “you were the first person he saw that he knew, after waking up from what must have been an exceedingly traumatic event. You told him what happened what happened to his fiancee and surrogate father. You sorted out his discharge from St Michael’s and accepted the responsibility for his care. And you brought him safely home to his family and friends. I know him well enough to know that he feels grateful towards you.”

“It was nothing.”

Hank gave a mirthless smile, narrowing his eyes.

“I know that,” he said in a sharp tone. “Scott is much less adept at understanding other people’s reasoning.”

Y'snide bastard, Logan thought. You’re just trying to wind me up, aren’t you?

He and Hank looked at each other, then Hank shrugged and sighed.

“Fine,” he said with a growl in his voice. “You’re right of course, Logan. Don’t go and say hello. Don’t go and support your fellow teammate and team leader who is struggling with the death of his father-figure, his fiancee, and the loss of his powers. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

With that, Hank turned and stalked off, leaving Logan staring after him in surprise. Who knew Hank could be such an under-handed, manipulative shit if he needed to?

Logan resolved to ignore him. It worked for the rest of the night, thanks to more whiskey, which was also the reason Logan missed breakfast the next day, and wasn’t able to arrive on time for Hank’s so-called “important” meeting.

As he approached the infirmary, there was the low-key scent of pain, as well as Hank, Ro and Scott. It grew more intense the closer he got. He pushed open the door without knocking to find the three of them waiting for him.

Ro smiled at him when he came in, Hank scowled at him, but Logan guessed he kinda had that coming.

“You’re late,” Beast snapped.

Scott was in bed, and had showered and shaved, and looked better than he had the last time Logan had seen him. But he was hooked up to an IV again and not wearing his ruby quartz glasses or his visor. Logan looked at him in surprise, blinking at the startling blue colour of his irises. He was never gonna get used to seeing the whole of Scott’s face. He let himself stare.

"So what’s goin’ on, McCoy?” Logan asked, dragging his gaze away. “What’s with the secret meeting?”

Hank ignored the question. He moved round to the far side of Scott’s bed, tucking his hands behind his back as if he was about to start a long speech. Logan didn’t bother to hide his eye-roll. To his surprise, Hank came straight to the point without any preamble.

“Scott has given me his consent to discuss his condition with both of you,” he started. “It’s more convenient this way than going through it multiple times. Considering what’s happened and what we know,” he glanced at Ro, with a look that Logan didn’t understand, “I think it’s important that we all have the full facts.”

He turned to Scott.

“Thank you for agreeing,” he said. Scott gave a short nod. He didn’t look happy about it, Logan noticed.

“I don’t need to explain what we can all see,” Hank said, gesturing at Scott’s face. “Scott’s eye beams are no longer functioning. I’ve confirmed that he’s not been exposed to the cure.”

“What?” Logan said, breath hitching. “Not the cure? Surely that’s the only way?”

“I have checked thoroughly,” Hank said. “I’ve gone through the test results multiple times. Scott hasn’t taken the cure. In fact, he’s still very much a mutant.”

“So what about his eyes?” Logan demanded

Hank raised his eyebrow and said caustically:

“Well, perhaps if you had been here at some point during the previous week, you wouldn’t have quite so many questions, or feel such a strong need to interrupt.”

Logan growled and might have snapped back, but he caught sight of the expression on Scott’s face, the hurt and pain in his bright blue eyes, and held his tongue.

Hank glared at him for a moment more before continuing.

“Although Scott can’t remember what happened, I think now I can fill in a few of these blanks. At least in part.”

Logan saw the way Scott shuddered at the words. It was small, nearly imperceptible, but was accompanied by a tiny sigh.

“So?” Logan asked. “What happened?”

Hank glanced at Scott, who nodded his approval.

“His DNA is unaffected, so Scott’s still a mutant,” Hank said. “Therefore he’s not been exposed to the cure, and his X gene hasn’t been turned off or knocked out.”

“Okay,” asked Logan slowly. “It’s not the cure. So…?”

“It seems to be based on a form of telekinesis.”

Scott flinched at the implication. It was caused by Jean’s powers.

“How?” Logan asked.

Hank flicked a tiny glance in Scott’s direction before saying to Logan:

“I’m going to assume that you know nothing about inter-dimensional portals and trans-dimensional physics.”

“Good guess, bub,” Logan drawled, pulling a face. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Where do you think Scott’s powers come from?” Hank asked exasperatedly. “Eyes don’t normally produce beams of percussive force for no apparent reason, Logan.”

He had no reply. He’d never really thought about it more deeply beyond knowing that force beams came out of Scott’s eyes, in much the same way that he’d never spent much time thinking about the why and how of his health factor. It worked, and that was all he needed. Besides, the science of mutant powers was very far from the accepted mainstream.

After a pointed pause, Hank kept going.

“I will try to keep this simple. Reducing the science down to it’s base level, there are trans-dimensional apertures within Scott’s eyes. They are like holes in our universe, portals is perhaps a more accurate description, and they connect him directly to a completely different dimension, one of pure force. Now, the resonant frequency of the force beams are the same as ruby quartz, and usually the beams are kept in check by either Scott’s eyelids or by his glasses. So when Scott uses his powers, he releases the beams directly from a different dimension.”

Logan blinked. Okay, so that was a lot more weird and complicated than he’d been expecting. He glanced towards Scott, who wasn’t making eye contact with anyone. His head was turned slightly to the side. He seemed unsettled and nervous, and Logan couldn’t blame him.

“There’s clearly something different now,” Ro said gently.

Hank nodded, but drew his mouth into a tight line and frowned.

“In a sense there is. But not the way you think. Scott’s powers are still functioning, they aren’t suppressed. The apertures are still within his eyes and they are still open.”

“So where are his beams?” Ororo asked.

For the first time in the conversation, Hank looked uncomfortable, as if he didn’t want to explain the next part. Logan braced himself for bad new.

“Whatever else happened,” Hank said carefully, “beside Alkali Lake, Jean encased those apertures in telekinetically created spherical films that have the correct resonant frequency to suppress the beams of energy.”

Logan thought he understood: Jean had cover up the holes in Scott’s eyes with her power. No holes meant no beams.

“So those apertures are closed?” he asked.

Hank frowned and shook his head. Scott tensed, and Logan’s chest felt a little tighter. This was clearly a difficult subject.

“Scott can’t fire beams out of his eyes. But the apertures are still very much open. Energy is still being transfer between dimensions.” Logan looked blankly at Hank, who gave an annoyed huff. “It means that energy is still coming through the apertures, and into Scott’s eyes.”

There was a short silence. Scott had a deep frown on his face.

“That’s not good, is it?” Logan asked.

This time, Hank nodded.

“Because of the films, there’s nowhere for the energy to go, and it’s building up. And that is causing the pain, the migraines and the vertigo.”

Logan inhaled very slowly, letting his senses dissect all the different scents. There was a sharp and distinct smell of pain, that was everywhere all over Scott.

“Slim?” Logan asked.

“It keeps getting worse,” Scott said softly. For a moment, it looked liked he was going say something else with the way his mouth twitched, but he didn’t speak.

“We’re controlling the pain symptoms with medication,” Hank said, as Scott wrinkled his nose at the word. “And I’ve been able to absorb a little of the excess of the energy. Potassium iodide and diethylenetriamine pentaacetate have been partially effective in dealing with some of the radiation.” He shook his head. “But it’s diminishing returns, I’m afraid and will only buy us time. I’ve worked through a number of simulations and tests to get a suitable dose rate and frequency, but it is not a long term solution.”

The unhappy, upset look on Scott’s face said that he hated the way he had to take treatment at the moment. Hank noticed it too.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know your opinion on this matter but you can’t just ride this out, Scott. You are at least functioning and able to sit up at the moment. When you tried yesterday with no meds you where throwing up every time you turned your head and I was worried that your brain was about to start leaking out of your nose.” Scott opened his mouth to speak, but Hank talked over him in a stern voice. “And I know what you’re going to say, but as you’re physician I can overrule you if I deem it necessary. This is serious, Scott. Very serious.” He sighed and his tone softened and he placed his hand on Scott’s shoulder and kept it there. “I know you hate medication, and I understand why, considering your past experiences.” The phrase piqued Logan’s interest and he filed it away for later. “But this isn’t going to go away on its own. Untreated, it will most likely kill you.”

There was a long silence, Scott refused to meet Hank’s eye but he occasionally flicked a glance towards Logan, who tried to give a supportive smile. He wasn’t sure it worked. It was Ororo who broke the stalemate.

“Hank, what do you recommend?” she asked.

Logan could nearly hear the grinding of Scott’s teeth. His scent was screaming his frustration at top volume, but on the outside he appeared much calmer after Ro spoke.

“We need to figure out how to stop the energy building up.”

“Stop?”

Hank glanced at Scott again, who was still trying to pretend that none of this was happening.

“There are two options,” Hank said. “Either we find a way to close the apertures permanently, or we find a way to undo the shielding around them and bring back his powers.” Hank stiffened, the hand on Scott’s shoulder tightened. “I’ve made urgent enquiries to the relevant scientists. But unfortunately both options are currently beyond our capabilities.”

Ro shifted, trying to get Scott’s attention. They were old friends, and knew each other very well, so Logan saw that she quickly realised how uncomfortable he was, and how much he did not want to be having this discussion. Logan’s empathy had often been in short supply when it came to Boy-Scout Summers, but the scent billowing off him was hurtful to be close to, and Logan understood how tough the man was finding all of this. He was alive unexpectedly but with a chunk of his important memories missing, with no powers, and now that situation could kill him, slowly and painfully.

“We should also talk about how this happened,” Ro said firmly, ignoring the baleful look Scott gave her. “What happened with Jean. After all, she blocked his powers in the first place.”

Scott wasn’t the only one who shuddered as Ro spoke.

“Have you had any luck retrieving your memories, Scott?” she asked.

He shook his head, his mouth down-turned in a deep, unhappy frown.

“There’s nothing. No flashes, no hints, it’s like it never happened.” Scott sighed. “I can remember Logan coming back, and we spoke about my bike.” Logan had to smile at the memory. They had bickered about putting fuel in, after Logan had asked if he was going to welcome him home. “I remember going to the prison with the," his voice hitched, "the Professor. And a fight. But then it’s the hospital. There’s nothing in between.”

Ro looked expectantly at Hank, but he shrugged, and put on his most scientific type of expression.

“We’ve done tests. From his MRI scans I can conclude that the memories are not in there any more. Whatever memories were made, they have been wiped from Scott’s mind. I don’t even think there is anything in his subconscious about what happened. There’s no latent imagery, no shielding or hidden parts. It’s all gone. Everything that he experienced during those months, it’s as if he was never there.”

The three of them look towards Scott, who didn’t look back at them.

Logan felt the urge to fidget with something, or start pacing around, the feeling of discomfort coming from deep in the back of his mind. Scott had suffered so much. He’d been kidnapped, tortured, mind-controlled then used as a weapon to attack his friends and family. He’d lost the woman he loved only minutes after getting free. And in the dark months that followed he’d slipped away into grief and a black pit of loss that no one really understood.

“That leaves us with a significant problem,” Hank said. “Apart from everything else we don’t know about how Jean survived, we also don’t know how she managed to cover the apertures and block Scott’s powers. And without those memories, we might never know.”

There was an unspoken thought that they all shared, that if Charles was here, he could take a look, and see what had happened, he could open up places inside Scott’s mind and perhaps find out how that had occurred.

But there was no Professor to help. He was gone.

“What about another telepath?” Ro asked, looking directly at Hank. He frowned and shook his head, and the scent that came off his fur was angry and upset.

“No,” he said firmly. “No. That’s out of the question. Completely out of the question. We are not doing that.”

Scott didn’t react, which Logan wasn’t surprised about considering, but he wanted to know more.

“What aren’t we doing?” he asked. The expressions on Ro and Hank’s faces didn’t fill him with any confidence.

Again, there was a pause before Ro spoke. When she did, Logan sensed that she was choosing her words carefully.

“Charles wasn’t the only telepath we know,” she said. “There are others, and at least one of them might consider helping us in our current situation.”

“There’s a but-” Logan said. “You don’t all react like this if there wasn’t a “but” at the start of the next sentence.”

Hank nodded.

“Emma Frost is perhaps not the most reliable of people,” he said. “She is undoubtedly the most powerful, but certainly not the most trustworthy.”

Logan snorted.

“Yes,” Hank said curtly. “Miss Frost is, well, is-”

Hank glanced at Ro, but Logan was watching Scott.

His face was blank, but his eyes were filled with an emotion Logan hadn’t seen in there before. Then he drew a long deep breath, and then let it out slowly.

“Scott?” Logan asked. Summers looked up, his eyes shinning blue and bright. “Ya okay?”

He shrugged.

“I don’t like Emma Frost,” he said.

“Who is this Frost woman?” Logan asked Hank.

“It’s complicated,” he said evasively. “And in other circumstances I would never suggest this, but she is at least as skilled as Charles or Jean. If the memories are there, I’m sure she could find them.”

Logan couldn’t help but look sceptical.

“But they are not,” Hank insisted. “As far as I can tell there’s nothing to see. And I don’t want to subject Scott to more procedures than is absolutely necessary.”

There was a short, uneasy silence.

“What’s the next move, Hank?” Logan asked.

“Telepathy is a last resort,” he said firmly. “And I don’t think it will be necessary. There are a number of approaches to dismantling the telekinetic films so that is where I will start.” He leaned over, looking at Scott and swallowed hard. “In the meantime, Mr Summers, you are under strict doctor’s orders to remain in here under supervision at all times. Because it’s going to get worse.”

Scott closed his eyes and didn’t agree. But he didn’t disagree either and Logan had a feeling that Hank could be relied on to enforce the rules.

“I’ll need to spend my time on research,” Hank said. “Ororo has her responsibilities with the school. So Logan, you are in charge of making sure Scott does what I tell him to do. I suggest you ask the older students to help from time to time, I’m certain they will be willing.”

From the expression on Scott’s face, Logan guessed he’d already known that, and he looked resigned to his fate rather than pleased about it.

Hank patted Scott’s shoulder in a way that had probably been meant as paternal but came off as more patronising. Logan saw Scott try and shrug him off.

“He won’t be any trouble, Logan,” Hank said. “Because he’s going to be too heavily medicated to do more than lie still.”

Scott pursed his lips.

“I assume you will help, Logan,” Hank said. “You’re would be the best choice. Even if Ro and I could, it would still be you.”

“Course I will, Beast,” Logan said thickly. “Getting to boss our fearless leader around? I wouldn’t pass up that chance.”

Amazingly, that got a slight twisted smile from Scott.

“So it’s payback?” he murmured. “”Always knew you held a grudge.”

“Y’d better believe it, Summers,” Logan said. “I’m gonna make sure you do exactly what Hank wants you to do. No exceptions.”

Hank looked pleased.

“Good. I’ll go and get his next dose ready.”

With that, he left for his lab next door. Ro paused, hesitated, then gave Scott a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“We’ll work it out, Scott,” she said. “I trust Hank to find the answer. You should too.”

She gave Logan a quick, grateful smile, then headed out as well.

That left Scott and Logan alone.

Scott didn’t move for a moment then nervously reached out to take hold of Logan’s wrist. It would have been easy for Logan to make him let go, his grip was weak, his skin cold and clammy. Instead, Logan waited.

“I need to ask you this right now,” Scott said.  “I got it wrong, didn’t I? That’s why you’ve not been down to see me. I got it wrong. I assumed that we... that you..." He gulped in an unsteady breath, "I got it wrong.”

Although Logan shook his head, Scott clearly didn’t believe him.

“You’re stuck helping me, so if I need to say sorry to clear the air, I will,” he continued. “It’s just-” he paused, trying to find the right words.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Logan assured him. Scott clearly didn’t believe that either.

“Logan, I assumed that Jean had said something to you. She said she would when you got back from your search she said she knew what to say to fix it. And you were there when I woke up. You came to take me home and tell me what happened. You helped, you cared and I just thought that we’d all-”

Scott stopped abruptly.

Logan stared at him, he couldn’t help it. Jean was going to say something? Say what…? He forced himself to think back to their conversation outside the jet, before they headed off to Alkali Lake, their last private conversation before she died. She said she loved Scott. But she also admitted her attraction to Logan, and Logan had pushed her to choose.

Maybe but maybe she hadn’t wanted to chose between them. The idea made Logan give an uncomfortable start, and Scott noticed immediately.

“Shit, I did get it wrong,” Scott muttered. “And I’ve made it all awkward and…”

He winced, and the movement sent a shudder through the whole of his body. His eyes flickered and he swayed, suddenly turning pale. Logan heard his heartbeat slow and realised he was about to pass out.

“Hank!” Logan bellowed.

There were rushing footsteps and Hank was there in an instant, moving faster than Logan had given him credit for, a small plastic cup full or pale blue liquid in his hand.

“Help him drink this,” Hank said. “All of it. And when he’s asleep, we’ll got through what he needs.”

Logan nodded. Taking the cup, he placed it against Scott’s dry lips and said:

“Time for your meds.”

Fighting against unconsciousness, Scott let Logan help him drink, and when he finished Logan guided him back to lie down on the bed.

“It’s okay, Scott,” he said as Scott’s eyes began to close. “You didn’t make it awkward. But Jean didn’t get a chance to ask me anything.”

“Oh,” Scott breathed. “Then forget it. Don’t mention it. Ever again. It doesn't matter. Please…”

Whether he had more to say about it, Logan never found out, as the moment Scott finished the final word of the sentence, he fell asleep.

For Logan, the next week was filled with bursts of frenetic activity, punctuated but long periods of sitting next to a sleeping Scott in the infirmary. 

Hank gave him an intensive crash course in how to look after Scott, but in reality it was very simple. Make sure Scott did what Hank told him to do.

Logan was there in the infirmary with him for eighteen hours a day. Bobby, Rogue, Kitty and Jubilee helped occasionally during the times he was away, and they made sure it was when Scott was definitely going to be asleep. Hank also took a two hour shift over lunch.

That week, Scott slept a lot due to the painkillers, and was only awake long enough to try and eat, and take a occasional shower.

They didn’t speak about Scott’s “assumptions”, they never got the chance. Logan mulled over what had happened at every opportunity he got, but just went round and round in circles. Scott and Jean. Jean and Scott. Jean and… what if she hadn’t wanted to choose?

But Logan always stopped that train of thought that that point. There was no use dwelling on what could have been, Logan had learnt that a long time ago. And so, he forced himself to forget about what Scott had implied, just as Scott has asked him to.

At the start of the second week, Hank had made good progress, and changed Scott’s medication. After a day of transition, Scott looked much better. Hank took out the IV, and let him get out of bed, just for a few minutes at a time, and always with Logan there to keep an eye on him.

“How do ya feel?” Logan asked.

Scott was only about a foot away, standing upright with his back against one of the walls, trying to stretch out his cramped muscles without getting dizzy and falling over. At the question, Scott gave a half-hearted shrug. For a moment Logan thought that he was gonna be pissy about it and start sniping at him. But instead Scott said:

“Not much different. I’m less tired, so I suppose that’s good. And it’s nice to be vertical again, even for a few minutes.”

“And y’can string a whole sentence together now too,” Logan added with a wolfish grin. “Ya even managed real clothes.”

Scott’s mouth clamped shut, but Logan could nearly see the words “fuck off” sitting on the tip of his tongue.

Logan kept grinning. He’d missed winding up Scott. And since Slim seemed in better spirits, he decided to do it some more. He waited for a minute in silence, watching Scott try and keep upright.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, taking Scott by surprise. “Let me see yer eyes.”

Scott’s frown of confusion was an amusing sight.

“C’mon, Slim,” Logan said. “Y’ve been hiding them for days by being asleep.”

“Logan-”

“Now yer back in the real world again, let me see yer eyes.”

In response, Scott carefully turned his head and looked right at him, eye to eye. Logan could see all the details of his irises, the slight differences in colour, the different shades of blue. They were beautiful eyes.

As he looked he found himself wondering about what Hank had told them, the enormous power that was being held back inside them, behind a thin shield of telekinetic energy. He’d seen what an unimpeded look from Scott could do, the train station had never been the same. Now he was looking right at the source of all that power.

“Wow,” he said at last. “Y'look strange with real eyes. Did y'know that?”

Scott gave a soft, amused laugh.

“And you look strange in colour. Did you know that?”

Logan hadn’t really thought about it like that. Somehow he’d thought that Scott would still only be seeing in red.

“Y'can see colours?” he asked. “Since when?”

“I don’t think it’s real colour, not like you,” Scott said. “I’m not sure my brain can recognise all the differences after all this time. But it’s not just red anymore. I think I can see yellow. And green. It’s been slowly coming back since Hank changed the dose.”

“When did you last see everything in colour, before this?” Logan asked, caught up in his own curiosity.

For a moment, it looked like Scott wasn’t going to answer, or at least deflect the question.

“I think it was when I was ten.” The was a beat of silence. “Maybe eleven. Over a decade anyway.”

“Wow,” Logan said again.

Scott closed his eyes for a second and sighed.

“I’m not sure I can recognise blue any more. Or purple. Or tell the difference between orange and brown. Everything looks odd.”

“What about white?”

“No,” Scott said. “That’s still pale pink.”

“Maybe it will get better,” Logan suggested.

“Doubt it.”

“So what colour are your own eyes? What do you see when you look at yourself.”

Scott gave him a strange frown, a smile at one corner of his mouth.

“It think they’re brown,” he said.

“Brown?” Logan repeated, slightly incredulous.

“Yeah. I think so. Are they not brown?”

Logan grinned shaking his head.

“They’re blue.” A gorgeous shade of sky blue, Logan added to himself.

Before Scott could reply, an alarm went off beside Scott’s bed.

“Time’s up!” Logan said. “Drugs then sleep.”

Scott groaned.

Logan watched as Scott pushed himself away from the wall and took the few slow shaking steps back towards his bed. As he walked, Logan had to shove his hands into his pockets, fighting the urge to go over had let Scott take his arm. That wasn’t what Scott wanted, not at the moment. He’s said so earlier. He wanted to try it himself.

When Scott slumped down onto the bed, Logan gave him a friendly nod.

“Y'make it look so easy,” he said.

He’d hoped to continue their playful bantering, but instead Scott looked miserable again and Logan wondered if he’d gone too far. He waited to see if Scott would speak. When he didn’t, Logan came over and sat next to him on the bed.

“Y’ok?” he asked.

It took Scott two short controlled breathes before he could say “No.” After two more he added “Hurts”.

Scott had his fists clenched tightly at his side, and his whole body was now rigid with pain.

“Rubbing it, does it help with the pain?” Logan asked.

“Might,” was all Scott could manage to say. It was clear that it didn’t matter, Scott was in too much pain to move.

“How about I help?” he asked.

Scott stared, a look that Logan interpreted as meaning: Why the Hell would you want to do that?!

“How about I get your next dose from Beast, you take it and lie down, and I can give you a neck massage.”

Scott’s eyebrow flicked slowly up, an incredulous look on his face.

“I’m not hearing a no, Slim,” Logan said. Scott’s expression didn’t change. “Look Scott, it’s not fun watching someone just sit there in agony, and not try to do something to help. So how about y’humour me, just this once.”

There was a beat of silence, the but Logan saw Scott blush at the suggestion. That was as close to yes as he was gonna get.

“Good,” Logan announced.

So, after he’d found the next dose and made Scott take them all, he told Scott to lie on his side cuddling a couple of pillows, with an extra one under his head. Logan sat by his back and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“You’re gonna sleep soon,” he told Scott. “Try your best to relax.”

He slid his hand down to Scott’s spine, at the place when his neck began. At first, he kept he pressure light, rubbing small circles round the bump of each vertebrae as he worked his way up towards the base of Scott’s skull, then up into his hair, always careful to keep it steady and smooth. And little by little, Scott started to relax until within ten minutes he was sound asleep.

Another week went by.

The massages became part of their routine, much to the amusement of everyone who saw it. Hank approved, and he said it stimulated the three occipital nerves, as well as relieving any pressure on the parietal and temporal bones of the skull. Ro approved to, but she said it looked cute.

Scott thanked him each time he woke up after, but it became clear that any relief it brought was only fleeting.  It was also clear that Hank’s experiments were progressing, but the lingering smell of anxiety from Beast told Logan that he wasn’t sure they were progressing as fast as he wanted them to.

So it came as no surprise to Logan when, near the end of that week, Hank broached the subject of telepathy.

Hank picked his time well, Logan had been upstairs finding some much-needed food and so didn’t hear the full argument, but the moment he got back down to the infirmary he knew there had been a bitter disagreement.

Scott was lying on the bed, turned away from the door, curled up on his side and pretending to be asleep.

Logan inhaled. Angry Hank. Angry Scott. Those two scents drowned out almost anything else. Not bothering to play along at all, he came straight in and plonked himself at Scott’s back.

“You gonna tell me about it?”

“Go away.”

“I don’t want Hank pissed off at both of us.”

Scott pushed himself further round, and didn’t speak.

“The sooner y’tell me, the sooner I can go and shout at Hank for upsetting you.”

Scott stayed quiet.

“Was it about that Frost woman?” Logan asked after minutes of silence.

The tiny, annoyed grunt that he got told him it was.

“How did you know?” Scott asked after another long silence.

“That’s the only thing that could have caused Beast to get so angry,” Logan said. “I take it y’told him to fuck off.”

“Yes,” Scott replied.

Logan choked out a half-laugh.

“Really? You actually told Hank to fuck off?”

“Well, I didn't use those exact words,” Scott said. “But that was the main idea. I don’t want another telepath trawling through my mind,”

Logan laughed more loudly, startling Scott and he carefully turned around to look at him.

“Can’t believe I wasn’t here to hear it," Logan said. "Damn!”

As he laughed, the scent of anger and hurt from Scott started to fade and Scott relaxed a little. The continued to talk, about nothing in particular and by the time Scott was tired enough to sleep again, the distraction had worked and the anger had almost gone.

Not long after, Hank appeared at the door, looking rather sheepish and unhappy. Logan’s protective instinct flared.

“Well?” he demanded. Hank put his finger to his lips and pointed at the lab door. They both moved through but Logan left the door ajar, so he could hear Scott breathe.

“Well?” he asked again, sitting opposite Hank by his desk. “What the fuck was that all about?”

Hank held up his hand in acknowledgement.

“I know, Logan, I know,” he said. “I knew what he was going to say. But I had to ask.”

“This Emma Frost?” Logan asked. “She doesn’t seem to be top of anyone’s Christmas card list.”

“True,” Hank conceded. “But that’s probably because she used to be a close friend of Erik.”

“Lehnsherr? Magneto? She’s a member of the Brotherhood?”

No wonder Scott reacted the way he did. Logan would have as well, there was no way he wanted a member of Magneto's murder squad anywhere near the school, let alone someone in Scott's position. It was a crazy suggestion. 

“She's been away from them for a long time,” Hank said. “But… still. Let’s just say that the few times we crossed paths she made a memorable impression on everyone.”

“So why suggest it?”

Hank gave an evasive shrug.

“C’mon, Hank!” Logan said.

“Scott doesn’t like telepaths," Hank said.

That wasn’t the answer Logan expected. He wasn't even sure it answered his question, but it was intriguing enough to push for more.

“Scott doesn't like telepaths? Ya do remember that his surrogate father as well as his girlfriend were both telepaths, right?” Logan asked with a sneer.

“Don’t be flippant.”

“Don’t be so evasive.”

Hank paused, still looking unhappy.

“I can tell you this,” he replied eventually. “Scott has had a lot of people traipsing around in his mind, most without his permission, and those didn’t take a great deal of care. I’m not at all surprised that he’s wary of someone else. It took him a long time to accept Charles’ presence in his mind.” Hank arched his eyebrows. “And even longer to accept Jean.”

“What do you mean?” Logan asked, surprised and slightly shocked at this new information.

“You’ll need to talk about this with Scott,” Hank said and resolutely refused to be drawn into any further discussion about it, no matter how hard Logan tried.

Hank left soon after, and Logan went back to keeping an eye on his sleeping friend. But the conversation with Hank weighed on his mind, and served to remind him of how little he actually knew about Scott’s past and his life before the school. Hank, and probably Ro too, both knew Scott in a way he didn’t. That made Logan feel uncomfortable.

And that was probably why he let himself think back to their first conversation after they'd got back to the school. Scott had asked him to forget about it, and although Logan hadn’t actually agreed out loud, that was only because Slim had been asleep before he could reply. It was obviously an uncomfortable subject for him, and he had enough to cope with without Logan adding to it, especially since he was the one Scott needed to rely on at the moment.

But that speaking to Hank brought it to the forefront of his mind.

He didn’t get a chance to speak to Scott later that day so, the next morning, Logan decided to mention it. He almost changed his mind when he saw Scott. He looked more tired than he had the day before and although he tired to disguise it, it was clear his was in more pain.

Scott knew immediately he was wanting something. He gave a wan smile, the only kind of smile he had left in him at the moment. Logan hated seeing Scott like this. However, Scott didn’t beat around the bush.

“You have that look,” he said.

“I do?”

“Yeah.”

“What look?”

Scott managed to smile again.

“The look you get when you want something, when you are worried about someone and want to ask how they are.”

“I do not have a look like that,” Logan insisted.

“You get it when you talk to Rogue.” Scott pursed his lips. “You sometimes got it when you talked to Jean.”

The name came as a surprise, but also the muted emotional response from Scott surprised him. But Logan was not going to let himself get derailed.

“I don’t get a look.”

Scott shook his head, his shoulders sagging.

“I’ll give in. You don’t get a look. But you do want to ask me something. Please don’t make me guess.”

“Okay,” Logan said with a huff. “But remember you told me to ask.”

“Am I going to regret it?”

“Probably.”

“At least you’re honest.”

There was a short pause and Scott looked at him. Logan saw the redness around his eyes, not caused by his powers but by the medication he was taking.

“I wanna know what happened to ya,” Logan said, as casually as he could.

“I’ve not remembered any more,” Scott said.

“Not that,” clarified Logan. “Before.”

“Before?” Scott was wary, but still open to a conversation.

“Before Charles,” he said. “Before you came here.”

Scott tensed, then winced, and for that Logan was sorry. But he didn’t back down.

“What did Hank say?” Scott asked, a hurt tone in his voice.

“He’s not told me anything,” Logan explained. “Nothing except you don’t like telepaths.”

“Oh.”

They sat side by side for a number of minutes, and Logan could tell that Scott was considering his question from the way he tilted his head to the side. While he did, Logan forced himself to wait. While he wanted to know, he wasn’t going to force the issue if the Slim didn’t want to share. He wanted to know, to understand, but he would respect Scott’s decision.

He looked up, and saw Slim giving him a half-smile.

“Hank’s got a big mouth sometimes,” Logan said. "But he's worried."

“I know he is,” Scott replied. He went quiet again, and Logan waited, hoping he would speak, growing more interested the longer Scott stayed quiet.

“Charles found me,” Scott said suddenly.

“Found?”

“I supposed you could say he saved me.”

Logan couldn’t help the sceptical look.

“Yeah, I know how it sounds,” Scott said. “But it’s the truth. He did save me. I was on the streets. I couldn’t see, not with my powers. I was easy prey.”

“Shit-”

Kids alone on the street were in enough danger, without being functionally blind as well.

“I fell in with a gang,” Scott’s voice became tight with emotion and Logan had the sudden irrational urge to put his arm round his shoulders. He stifled it, but it was very clear that whatever this gang did, it was not good at all. And Scott had hated every moment of it.

“Jack, the leader, he was a telepath, at least a low level one. As well as being a grade A psychopath.”

Logan nodded. Scott sat there, still looking uncomfortable, as if he had more to say.

“And, before that-” Scott swallowed hard. “When I was a kid, after my parents died, I can’t remember much about that either. But I was at an orphanage. And that, well, that wasn’t very nice either.”

He stopped, and sat quietly beside Logan, but the silence wasn’t unpleasant, in fact it felt like Scott took comfort in Logan’s company.

“I know you don’t remember much,” Scott said. “That you’re missing years of your life, that they’ve just vanished and it is all darkness. I know what that feels like. Some memories start and then just stop half way, like they were a dream. The Professor,” Scott stopped and swallowed hard again. “About the orphanage, the Professor said that the doctor who looked after me was a telepath too. That he changed some of my memories. And that he twisted the things I did remember.”

“Fuck,” muttered Logan.

Scott snorted his agreement.

“Yeah. So I think you can see why I’m kind of wary about other people in my head, ya know.”

Logan nodded.

“But Jeannie?”

He couldn’t help but ask, and Scott didn’t close up in the way Logan half expected him to.

“I trusted her.”

Again, Logan nodded, but he was also thinking about the depth of grief that had consumed Scott after she had sacrificed herself at the Lake. It hadn’t seemed natural, and Logan wondered if Jean had been just one more telepath to use up Scott for their own ends.

They were quiet again, then Logan said “I'm sorry,” although he wasn’t sure what he was sorry for, bringing the subject up in the first place, or all the things that had happened to Scott in his past.

“It’s okay,” Scott said. “I just don’t like to talk about it. People don’t understand. Well, most people.”

Logan nodded. Having large chunks of your life missing, seeing places and people and things without context or understanding wasn't the usual for most people. But he did understand.

“Thanks for trusting me,” he said. “And thanks for telling me.”

“Sure,” Scott replied. “I mean, after all you’ve helped me with it would be kinda mean. And I know I sound paranoid when it comes to asking Emma to help me out with my memories. And I know it might be my only chance. But I just can’t.” He shivered. “I just can’t.”

“It’s okay,” Logan said, trying to sound reassuring.

Scott shook his head.

“Hank needs to know more,” he said. “He’s worried that he’s not going to be able to get it right in time, and he is annoyed at me that I don’t want to help, or do something that will help and make it easier for myself. But I just can’t.” He looked directly at Logan. “You understand, don’t you? You see why I can’t.”

Logan nodded.

“But I also see it from Hank’s side,” Logan said honestly. “Hank’s real worried about you. He just wants to help. If remembering can help find out how Jeannie did this, then, I can see why he’d want you to take that chance.”

Scott sighed, and again Logan had the sudden, intense urge to put his arm around Scott’s shoulders. Logan fought it for a moment, then a moment more, but then he gave in, hoping that Scott wouldn’t punch him for his trouble. He didn’t, but he barely reacted. Instead he sat, very tense.

“I don’t know if I could stand it,” Scott said. “And I don’t trust telepaths.”

“Ya trusted Jeannie and Chuck.”

“That’s not the same. I knew them, I got to know them and trust them.”

Logan didn’t speak. He wanted to know how much Scott had known about what Charles had done to cage the Phoenix in Jean’s mind. How powerful she had really been. How deeply they had been in his head. He hesitated to ask as he didn’t want to make Scott any more unhappy.

“I dunno what’s best,” he said at last. “But I do know that if ya don’t want to meet Frost, then I’ll make damn sure that your wishes are respected.”

Scott gave him a surprisingly sweet smile.

“I know you will, Logan. Thank you.”

Weeks went by, and all that happened was Scott slowly felt worse. He tried to hide it, but Logan could see it and smell it. He also knew from their conversations that Scott was trying to protect himself from disappointment. He’d not let himself hope, and Logan had tried to do the same. Not least because he’d grown very used to seeing Scott’s eyes, seeing the way they would light up when they talked, or the way Scott would always look at the most mundane things with something close to awe.

Sometimes Logan would catch him looking at pictures of Charles or Jean, he would see him do it, but not say anything. It must have been hard to know that he had never seen Jean in real colour, with his own eyes.

And sometimes, Scott would look at him, really look, as if trying to memorise his face and the colours, and it would make him feel something odd in his chest. It was something he hadn’t expected or anticipated, and it was something he found that he liked. And it seemed that Scott liked it too.

The medication was having less effect each day, Logan could smell the increasing levels of pain, and saw that Scott was eating less and being less able to move without nausea and vertigo. He helped as much as he could, Scott found the head massage helpful, even though it didn’t lessen the pain much anymore.

So, when the breakthrough came, it took everyone by surprise, and especially Scott.

That afternoon, not long after they’d eaten lunch, Hank rushed in, disturbing them both. The flash of annoyance that Logan felt at Hank’s presence vanished when he saw the look on his face.

“I think I have an idea,” Beast said breathlessly. “And I need to test it out.”

“Now?” growled Logan protectively.

Hank nodded.

“Right now,” he said firmly.

Logan looked to Scott, who struggled upright. He swayed, and Logan instinctively grabbed his arm to keep him steady, slipping his arm around his waist.

“Let’s go, bub,” he said, not letting go. Scott leaned into him.

In the lab, Hank immediately got Scott into the MRI scanner.

“I’ve re calibrated it,” he started to explain. “I was thinking about the resonant frequencies that the film-energy produces, and how that correlates to both the energy output and the dispersion spectrum.”

“Of course,” Logan muttered.

Hank ignored his sarcasm and flicked some switches on the side of the machine, and Logan took a look to Scott, lying as stoically as he could in the cold soulless machine. His body was tense with pain, and suddenly Logan’s heart ached to see him like that, so unhappy but trying so hard to hide it.

“You see, it’s the relative energy matrix in phase space that I’ve been considering,” Hank started to say, turning a couple of dials. A low hum in the room began to build, making the hairs on the back of Logan’s neck stand up and his skin prickle. “Of course, it was only natural considering Scott’s powers and the dimensional dynamics involved, but I think that a wider basis of exploration will… ah!”

Hank grinned suddenly.

“Scott?” he called.

Scott gave a grunt in reply.

“How do you feel now, Scott?”

“Um, the same?”

Hank grinned more widely. Scott couldn’t see him, but Logan could and was about to ask what the fuck was going on, when Hank frowned.

“You’ll need to leave, Logan,” he said abruptly. Scott heard and began to protest, just as Logan said, “No way am I leaving, bub.”

“It’s the metal, the adamantium in your skeleton,” Hank said briskly, using his no nonsense doctor’s orders tone of voice, a tone that Logan disliked. “You’re interfering with the machine. It’s a delicate instrument and the metal in your body is causing stray electrical impulses in the main body of the scanner. You’ll really need to leave so I can test my theory.”

Logan hesitated, the look earlier on Scott’s face showed how much he appreciated Logan’s presence, even if he didn’t or couldn’t say it out loud.

But Hank was in an implacable sort of mood now, and he wasn’t going to take no for an answer, so after telling Scott he’d be right outside, Logan went to wait.

He sat at the far end of the infirmary, and waited, and waited, listening to the low hum of Hank’s machines, hoping for the best, hoping Scott would okay and they'd find a way to help him, all the time lamenting the fact that sometime in the future, he might not see Scott's real eyes ever again.

“It’s going to work,” Hank announced to Logan, Ro and Scott the next day as they sat in the infirmary. “I have run the simulators, and it’s definitely going to work.”

“How?” Scott asked. That wasn't what Logan would have asked, not for a first question, but he didn't interrupt. 

“It’s actually very simple,” Hank started in an excited tone. “We’ve not been considering the response of psychic energy in phase space!”

“No?” Logan chipped in.

“No!” Hank replied, far too excited to notice sarcasm. “Because the necessary energy fluctuations are unquantifiable. Except,” he pointed at Scott’s eyes, “they have to be quantised! The films are self-contained spheres of energy! They can only exist in a few configurations that will fit in that pattern. When we find the correct one, we’ll know the negating frequencies to use!”

“And that’s good because-?” prompted Logan

Hank huffed in frustration.

“Because," he said with and a roll of his eyes, "then we can use a high intensity beam, tuned to the correct frequency, and it will dissipate the telekinetic film around the apertures and that will be that. No more films around the the source of Scott’s beams! He’ll be fine!”

Hank clapped his hands together.

“There’s a lot to do,” he said. “We’ll have to set it up in the Danger Room. And automate the process so-”

“Automate?” Logan snapped with a growl. “You mean you are gonna shove him in the Danger Room, on his own, and let a robot blast radiation through his eyes!”

What a fucking stupid plan! No fucking way was Logan gonna sit back and-

“Logan, calm down!” Hank said. “We have to do it like this.”

“We do?”

“Yes.” The voice was Scott’s and he was staring at Logan with an expression of… something… on his face, a something that made Logan feel like never looking away. “When my powers switch back on, they’ll released the energy that’s been building up. The Danger Room is the only place strong enough.”

“And automated?” Logan said. “I could-”

“No!” Scott said firmly. He pursed his lips. “It’s a lot of energy. Please, I don’t want you to risk it.”

"But."

"No!"

The next three days were torture for everyone.

Ro was a strong, calming presence that held everything together. She told the kids what was happening, and said everyone but Hank, Logan and Scott were going be out of the school grounds, just in case.

Hank ensconced himself in the Danger Room, testing, calibrating, adjusting, obsessing. He kept checking on Scott and Logan, but no one else saw him.

Scott himself projected an outward air of calm to everyone. Except Logan. Whenever Logan was in the same room be became fidgety and nervous around him, unable to settle down or look him in the eye

And Logan. He felt like doing something similar, as if there was deadline to meet. He struggled to concentrate on helping Scott, and on more than one occasion found himself standing, just watching the other man.

Of course, he realised what the source of his uneasiness was. He wasn't completely unself-aware: He'd started to fall for Scott.

It had been obvious for a few weeks, probably to everyone in the mansion, but Logan had resolutely decided not to dwell on it, to keep it tucked at the back of his mind, and to concentrate on helping Scott any way he needed. But now, all of this was coming to an end. Scott was going to recover. He believed Hank had got it right, and it would work. Scott would get his powers back, but his eyes would vanish again behind a shield of ruby quartz. Not only that, this little world where he'd been Scott's lifeline, protector and best friend would vanish as well. And Logan knew with equal certainty, that he didn't want to lose this connection they shared.

The morning of the operation, Logan realised he needed to act. He couldn’t help thinking about Scott’s eyes, the expression he could see in them, the way he reacted. And though he’d stuck to his resolve not to mention that conversation, Logan suddenly realised that he was desperate to ask more, and he wanted to see Scott's eyes when he did.

Scott was in bed, awake and nervous. He started when he saw Logan, then smiled.

Under other circumstances Logan might not have been so blunt, but there was no point in wasting more time. He came straight over and sat on the bed next to Scott.

“You thought we were lovers, didn’t you,” Logan said.

Scott started again, looking up at Logan in shock, a blushing forming on his cheeks. After a few moments hesitation, he gave a tiny nod. when he next spoke it was halting and unsure.

“Jean liked you," Scott said. "And she knew I liked you. We’d talked. It was a stupid fantasy, but she said I shouldn’t just dismiss it out of hand.” He sighed. “So when you were there at the hospital, and it felt like you cared so much, I assumed.”

He chewed his bottom lip, eyes downcast.

“And now I know a bit more about what I’ve forgotten about, I realise it must have been a-”

“Surprise?” Logan suggested. “Yeah. It was.” Scott looked away, trying to shield himself with his shoulders. But Logan gently placed him hand on the side of Scott face, encouraging him to look back.

“It was a surprise at the time,” he said. “But not now. Not after being with you here so much. Not after getting to know you.”

Scott blinked in shock.

“Lo-” he started, but Logan brushed his thumb over Scott’s lip, and as he did, Scott heartrate sped up, his skin radiated heat.

“You’re gonna be back behind those glasses in a few hours,” Logan said. “And I don’t think I’d be able to forgive myself for not doing this before your eyes are covered again.”

Logan leaned down and kissed him, hoping that Scott would response. He did, and their mouths molded together as if that was just the way they were supposed to be. Logan drank in all the sensations, the feel of Scott's skin, the rise and fall of his chest, the texture of his hair, and the delicious taste of his mouth.

Their kisses went on and on, neither wanting to break apart, but every so often Logan would open his eyes to look at Scott, and admire his naked face and his uncovered eyes. Every so often, Scott would open his eyes too, and pull away just to look. And Logan knew he was trying to memorise all the colour and details he could.

Eventually, Scott pulled back with obvious reluctance. Tugging on Scott’s arm, Logan encouraged him to try and relax. 

“Tomorrow, you’ll be different,” Logan said. “You’ll be back hidden away behind those damn glasses.”

“If it works.”

“It will,” Logan told him forcefully. “I know it will.”

Scott pursed his lips, but didn’t nod.

“And then?” he asked. “What then? It’s all changed. I didn’t let myself consider a future. And now, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“We can do anything you want,” Logan said.

“We?”

“Yeah. We.”

Scott grinned.

“We could be X-Men together again?” he suggested.

“Yeah.”

“We could move to a cabin in the mountains and hide from everyone.”

“Yeah.”

“We could travel round the back roads of Alaska with you doing cage fights and me fixing cars?”

Logan wrinkled his nose.

“Na. Done the fighting thing before.”

“So not anything, then?” Scott said, a teasing tone in his voice.

“Nearly anything,” Logan corrected. “And wherever it is, I’ll be right here with ya.”

Scott's heartrate bounced again, but he didn't let it show on his face.

"And if it doesn't work?" Scott asked, his voice shaking slightly.

"It will," Logan said. "I know it will."

And, to no one surprise except Scott's: Logan turned out to be right.

The End