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In Loving Memory

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He woke to a blinding light and a throbbing feeling behind his forehead, like something pounding against the inner walls of his skull. He shut his eyes, his lips falling back to reveal his teeth in a sneer. In the process of bringing his hands up to his face, he realized that there was something in his arm, tugging at it.

His eyelids fell open, his head frantically moving to get a better look at just what was protruding from his skin.

An IV?

He followed the tube that extended from his limb, up a stand next to him, and to its end, in a bag of clear fluid.

What happened?

The thought consumed him as he began to realize he could not, for the life of him, remember, and as time went on, he grew frustrated. Frustrated he could not remember why he was in a hospital bed. Frustrated he could not pinpoint the last memory he had. Frustrated to the point his heart rate increased, his breathing getting heavier by the second.

“Calm down, Logan.”

He responded to the name, recognizing it as his own, and his attention went from his current inability to conjure his past to the two men who were in the process of entering the room.

“You’ve experienced quite the trauma,” the blue-furred man stated, coming to stand at the foot of the bed. He placed his hands inside the pockets of his lab coat and gave his patient an assuring smile. “You’re lucky to be alive.”

Logan internalized this for a moment before letting his eyes fall upon the man in the wheelchair, a man he recognized to be Professor Charles Xavier.

“Why can’t I remember anything?”

The question caused the blue man’s eyes to widen as he turned to look at Charles.

The Professor gave his companion a short nod. He then focused his gaze back on the confused Wolverine, a small smile resting upon his thin lips. “You must understand, Logan, that what you experienced cannot go without consequences, especially with the injuries you sustained. That being said, what do you recall?”

Logan hesitated for a moment before answering, “…I remember my childhood, my namesake, my mutation, and, though some bits and pieces are fuzzy, I could tell you everything that happened to me up to the point of our meeting.”

He looked up from the cream sheets of his bed, his blue eyes falling on his doctor, “He looks familiar, though.”

“I’m Henry McCoy.” He rounded the bedside, his hand outstretched for Logan to shake.

Logan just gave him a crooked grin, shaking his hand with a strong grip, the one of a friend, “Hank. Sorry I was blanking on ya.”

“It is all right, my friend.” Hank grinned, patting him on the back. “Amnesia in your situation is normal, and I will not blame you for something you cannot control.”

“Speaking of situations…” Logan turned to look at Charles. “What is mine? What caused me to forget everything?”

The doctor and the Professor shared another glance, one that left Wolverine feeling slightly uneasy, but before he could point it out, Charles began to explain, “You time traveled. It was an experiment gone wrong.”

“And who was conducting this…wonky test?”

“S.H.I.E.L.D. had contacted me about a month ago, asking if anyone among us was willing to try a trial run on this time machine they had been working on. When you got wind of it…”

“…I volunteered,” Logan finished for him, knowing that it was something he would attempt. It was a second chance at making things right again, at giving himself a better life.

“Yes,” Charles sighed, his expression turning grave. “Unfortunately, something went wrong, and we were having trouble bringing you back to the future from the past. Communications went awry. In the end, we were able to return you to our future, which was the present five days ago.”

“And I’ve been nappin’ since then?”

Hank nodded, “When you returned, you were unresponsive, but alive. After examining you closely, I noticed that you had retained some injuries, deep scratches that only required stitching and were nothing your Healing Factor couldn’t handle. The damage to your head, however, was forcing you to remain unconscious.”

“And…now that I’m awake, Doc?” Logan asked, his gaze falling upon Beast.

“Well, it is obvious you are experiencing some memory loss, but anything else…I’ll have to monitor you the next few weeks. You may experience some PTSD, and your memories may return. I have no way of knowing, really. This isn’t a usual case.”

“That being said, I think it is important that you lay low for a while,” Charles interjected, folding his hands in his lap. “That means no training or motor biking.”

Logan rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest, “Sure, Mom, but last time I checked, I’m a big boy now.”

Charles just smirked at him, “It’s good to see you have retained your sarcastic humor. Now, why don’t you get dressed, and I’ll round up everyone for introductions, assuming you don’t remember them?”

“Sounds good to me.”


“You’ve really outdone yourself with this school of yours, Professor.”

Logan was amazed by the rich buildings and never-ending hallways as he walked through them with Charles by his side.

“A lot happened after you joined the X-Men,” Charles replied. “We now house over a thousand students, all of which gifted with special powers, and we’re trying to teach them how to control them.”

“Well, it’s nice to hear that your vision was realized. To be honest, I wasn’t sure this idea of yours was gonna fly.”

Charles simply chuckled. “It is strange hearing you say that, considering you helped in making this all possible.”

Logan went silent at his statement, and the Professor noticed, immediately apologizing.

“I am sorry, Logan. I shouldn’t have—“

“No.” He cut him off, “it’s fine. It’s…freaky for me, too, but Hank did say there was a chance of regaining my memories. I can’t imagine that being easy…”

“No,” Charles agreed, stopping in front of a large double door. “I suppose it can’t be, but you must know that we are all here for you.”

Logan scoffed, but his lips curved into a smile, “Don’t get all sentimental on me, Professor. I was never one for that mushy stuff.”

Charles chuckled, shaking his head, “A truer statement hasn’t been spoken.”

Then, he opened the doors, revealing a gigantic room that resembled a place someone would have a dance or wedding reception at, with its white and black marble floors and eggshell-paneled walls. But Logan didn’t notice that; what his eyes took in were the people.

The space was filled with people.

Logan’s blue orbs scanned the crowd, trying to pick out a familiar face…even a familiar feature, but no one stood out to him until his gaze fell upon a woman who stood towards the back.

She did not ring any bells or whistles within him; as far as he knew, they were strangers, but what really intrigued him was the smile upon her lips and how it didn’t reach her eyes. Man, those eyes held nothing but sadness.

“Allow me to introduce you to some people.”

Logan’s attention was brought to the group right in front of him. It consisted of three people, two being girls and the third being a guy with a pair of shades on.

“Logan, this is Ororo.” Charles pointed to the lady sporting long, bleached hair.

“It’s good to see you again, my friend.” Her ruby lips curved into a kind grin.

“This is Jean.”

Jean beamed at him, extending a hand for him to shake. “It’s good to see you up and about again.”

“Uh…thanks,” he responded, taking her hand gently to shake it.

“And this is Scott.”

Scott saluted him. “It’s been a while. You feeling any better?”

“I’m alive, so I guess that’s a start.” Logan snickered, making the man before him laugh.

“Yeah. It’s good to have you back, Logan.” Scott patted him on the back before placing resting his arm around his shoulders.

“Ororo, Jean, and Scott are all instructors here,” Charles explained. “They all can control their abilities…” He glanced at the man in sunglasses. “for the most part.”

“Hey! I resent that statement!” Scott exclaimed, leaving Logan’s side to argue with Charles while the girls laughed; Jean would insert a comment here or there, mostly proving the Professor’s point.

Logan, though a bit happy that these weirdos were his friends, scanned the area again, becoming slightly deflated once he saw that the woman with sorrowful eyes was missing from the hordes of people.

“Who you looking for?”

Logan nearly unleashed his claws, jumping back from the sudden face that appeared before him.

The girl giggled, her chestnut ponytail falling over her shoulder as she leaned towards him. “I’m Kitty Pryde, a student here.”

“Did I um…know you?”

Kitty pouted, placing her hands on her hips. “Of course you did! You trained me on multiple occasions.”

“And don’t forget me!”

Now, Logan did let his claws out, startled by the sudden appearance of a man with blue skin, pointed ears, and a devil’s tail.

“I’m Kurt.” He extended a two-fingered hand. “You also used to train me.”

“Jesus, Kid.” Logan extracted the blades coming from his knuckles. “Don’t scare me like that.”

Kurt grinned, looking at Kitty. “He’s still the same, old Wolverine.”

“That’s for sure,” she agreed, sticking her tongue out at Logan.

Logan scowled at their immaturity, crossing his arms over his chest. “Now, what is that supposed to—”

“Sorry I’m late, guys!” A woman ran over, clad in all black and combat boots.

“Ah, just in time, Rogue,” Charles spoke up. “Everyone was reintroducing themselves.”

The brunette turned to look at Logan, a shy smile on her lips. “Hey, Big Guy. It’s good to see you back on your feet!”

“Thanks…uh…Rogue?”

“Yup. That’s me,” she said, her southern drawl coming out.

“Shall we continue on, Logan? There are many other students here, wishing to greet you,” Charles asked, rolling himself up next to him.

“Sure.” He shrugged. “I got time.”

“Good.” Charles continued forward. “After we all get reacquainted, we’ll have some dinner, and then we’ll debrief you on some of the recent happenings.”

“Happenings?”

“Believe it or not,” Charles looked over his shoulder at Wolverine, pausing for a moment, “a lot has occurred since you left.”


“Sabretooth.”

Logan’s skin crawled as he saw the mutant in the hologram before him.

“He’s been showing up around here lately,” Scott stated, placing a hand on the back of Logan’s chair. “No doubt he knows you’ve been incapacitated, and without you around…”

Charles coughed, effectively ending Scott’s statement and raising alarms for Wolverine.

“Without me around…what? No one to make him into a shish kabob?”

“Um…sure…” Scott averted his gaze, ignoring the piercing glare Logan had turned in his chair to grace him with.

Anyway, we just wanted to make sure you knew his movements.”

“What about Mystique?”

“She’s still part of the Brotherhood.” Charles breathed, shifting the hologram to a group of mutants that Logan couldn’t recognize.

“The Brotherhood?”

“Yes, a group of mutants like us…”

“Except they believe we should have superiority over humans,” Scott finished for Charles. “Every once in a while they like to shake things up around here, but it’s nothing we can’t handle.”

“Still, it is important you are aware of our adversaries.” Charles pressed a button, turning off the projected pixels. “Do you have any questions for us?”

“Well…”

There was a bunch of things Logan wanted to ask, especially about his life before the…accident, but he couldn’t think of which ones he would like to pose first. None, except about that woman earlier, who had disappeared on him, and he didn’t understand why she was sticking out in his brain so much.

“Who was that woman?” he found himself uttering.

“What woman?” Charles blinked, folding his hands in his lap.

Logan looked up at him. “There was a woman in the room when you were introducing me to everyone, but you never brought me before her.”

Charles’ stare wavered, finding Scott’s anxious gaze before returning to Logan’s determined one.

“She had E/C eyes and H/C hair…”

“Yes.” the Professor sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know whom you are talking about. Her name is Y/N.”

“Y/N?”

For some reason, it didn’t feel foreign to say it. It was like his lips had memorized each syllable, knowing exactly how to form them, but the name did not resonate within him.

And for some reason, he felt even more frustrated.

Chapter Text

You entered your suite, welcomed by your baby’s cries and Rogue’s gentle hushes. You closed the white doors behind you, forcing a smile upon your face as you approached the nursery.

Rogue looked up from the little one in her arms when she heard you approach. “I think she’s hungry.”

“Yes.” You leaned down, taking the squirming babe from Rogue’s arms. “It is about that time.”

Rogue got up from the rocking chair she had been sitting in, and she watched you cradle your daughter in your arms. “How did it go?”

You looked up from D/N’s face to see Rogue’s eyes on your own. You let out a sigh, averting your gaze. “I couldn’t talk to him…”

“Did he see you?”

“Yes. We made brief eye contact,” you whispered watching your girl’s chubby hand play with the locket that rested on your chest, “but there was no recognition in his expression.”

Rogue’s face fell at your statement. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I—”

“It’s okay,” you cut her off, your E/C stare meeting her own. “You should get going to the ballroom. Charles is introducing him to everyone, and I’m sure he’s waiting for your arrival.”

“Will you be alright? Here? By yourself?”

You plastered a grin upon your face; it was something you were getting used to doing. “I’ll be fine, Rogue. Go on. I know he means a lot to you, too.”

“I’ll send Piotr,” Rogue said, leaving before you could protest, but maybe having him here would help.

When you heard the door click behind her, you walked over to the nursery door, closing it so it would only be open a crack, something Logan had taught you before…It was a protective measure, so no one could surprise you like they could if the door was fully closed.

You sat down in the rocking chair and exposed your breast to your child, and she immediately went to suckling it.

“You were hungry, weren’t you?” you cooed, trailing a finger down her plump cheek. “You have an appetite like your father’s.”

In response to your words, your daughter just closed her eyes and continued to feed, her hand resting on the skin over your heart.

A heart that was slowly breaking.

It had been so hard to learn that he didn’t remember you. You had been the first to learn of his amnesia, and when you did, it felt like your whole world fell apart. Everything you knew he no longer did, so in his mind, what existed wasn’t reality.

Seeing him tonight was a reminder, a cold-hearted slap in the face.

You knew only warmth in those blue eyes of his, but when the bore into your own only moments ago, they were frigid, distant. It hurt.

“Oh! Apologies, I did not realize…”

The voice brought you from your thoughts to find a very flustered Russian before you. He had peaked through the tiny crack you left in the doorway, and, now, he was blocking his line of vision, clearly embarrassed at having seen your chest exposed the way it was.

Rolling your eyes, you gave the big man a warm smile. “It’s alright, Piotr. The only sight you have seen is a mother nourishing her child.”

“Still…I will wait out here until you are decent,” he replied, turning on his heels and making his way to one of the couches.

You shook your head, but let him do as he wished. D/N had just finished, so you covered yourself up and grabbed a towel to throw over your shoulder while you burped her. You then joined Piotr in the family room, sitting on the loveseat and positioning D/N so that her head was over the washcloth on your shoulder.

“She is getting big.” Piotr was the one to break the silence, a smile stretching his lips.

“She is,” you agreed, beginning to pat her back. “She’s already begun to lift her head up, and she isn’t even a month old.”

“She is very smart girl. Not unlike her mother.”

You blushed at the compliment. “Thank you, Piotr.”

A comfortable silence then settled over the two of you, only broken once in a while by D/N’s petite burps and the rhythmic tapping of your hand against her back. Piotr watched the two of you the whole time, an unfaltering smile upon his lips.

And, though, you felt guilty about it later, you wished he was someone else, a certain someone else.


 

“The Professor and Ororo sent us ahead of them,” Jean explained as she sat down on the edge of your bed.

“They want to talk now?” you asked as you shifted through the clothes in your closet. “Isn’t it a little late?”

You had just put D/N down for the night, and, knowing her sleeping pattern, she liked to wake up, screaming at the top of her little lungs, at around three-thirty in the morning. Considering you still had work tomorrow, you would have liked going to bed around the same time she did.

“Well, Charles wanted to show Logan to his room, and Ororo is dealing with the after-dinner clean-up,” Kitty clarified, crossing her arms over her chest. She failed to notice the look Jean shot her way, meant to warn her about mentioning Wolverine.

You froze, hearing his name, clutching the silky fabric of one of your blouses between your fingers; it was something to hold onto.

Anyway, are you sure you’re still up to working?” Jean questioned, her brows furrowing in concern. “It’s only been three weeks since you gave birth to D/N, and with the current situation…”

You exhaled, letting your shoulders drop before taking the shirt off the hanger. “I feel fine, and Hank says I can go back to my job, since it will only be a few hours a week. Plus, I can’t be a burden on Charles.”

“But Charles doesn’t care about that, Y/N,” Kitty pointed out as you laid your outfit for the following day next to Jean. “He worries about you, and he only wants what’s best for you—for all of us.”

“I know.” You grinned at her, straightening and placing your hands on your hips. “But I care about it, Kitty. I don’t enjoy feeling like a freeloader.”

“Well, you shouldn’t feel like one.”

You were startled by the voice, turning to find the Professor himself entering your bedroom with Storm by his side.

“Sorry I didn’t knock, but the door was open.” He beamed, placing his hands in his lap.

“Its okay, Professor,” Kitty responded, moving away from your dresser to stand beside Jean. “Jean and I were going to head out, anyway.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.” Jean waved before following Kitty out of your suite.

“Goodnight,” you called after them, still mindful of the sleeping baby next door, before giving your full attention to the man and woman before you. “Jean said you wished to speak with me?”

“Yes.” Charles cleared his throat, his expression turning stern. “I wanted to see how you are…after the day’s events.”

You let out a staggered breath, moving your arms to hug yourself, “I was in the ballroom when you brought him there, and I thought I could face him. But when he looked at me again, without any familiarity in his gaze, I couldn’t…”

Charles raised a hand to stop you, understanding that it was painful for you to talk about. Ororo was quick to your side, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“He asked about you,” Charles stated, causing you to raise your head in shock. “He could’ve asked me anything, but the first thing, in the forefront of his mind, was the need to know who you were. I think a small part of him still—I don’t know how to put it—understands that you are someone significant to him.”

Your eyes watered at the news, but you refused to cry.

“Does he know…?”

“I didn’t tell him, and I don’t believe anyone else feels it is their place to,” Charles sighed, averting his gaze. “I came here to give you some hope, Y/N. Things may look bleak, but I implore you to spend some time with him. Don’t avoid him.”

“It’s agonizing, Professor,” you whispered, wincing as you remembered the confused stare Logan had given you earlier in the evening; it was not unlike the gaze he greeted you with when he had opened his eyes briefly days before.

This time, Ororo spoke up, “We cannot imagine the suffering that you are going through, Y/N, but you must realize that this isn’t easy for him either. He is living in a house full of strangers, in a present that he doesn’t recall living towards.”

Her words held truth; you comprehended that, but you needed time.

“I promise I will talk to him…eventually.”

“That’s all we needed to hear.” A grin broke the strict lines of Charles’ expression.

You returned the gesture, though yours was a bit strained. “Thank you, Charles.”

“Please, Y/N, you are a dear friend of mine, and I want you to know that—and I think I speak for all the people residing in this mansion—we are here for you, to help you when you need it.”

You gave him a nod, anxious that your voice would fail you if you tried to speak.

“Get some sleep, my dear,” Ororo commanded, squeezing your arm fondly before walking over to Charles.

“Yes,” the Professor agreed, spinning his chair towards the door. “Sleep well.”

“You, too,” you responded, bowing your head slightly and hoping that their good wishes would be granted. D/N was not the only reason you woke to bags underneath your eyes.

Chapter Text

Earlier that Day…

“…and this is your room.”

The door to the suite slid open, and Charles removed his hand from the biopad.

Logan looked about the sitting room, not daring to enter until the Professor had wheeled himself in front of him. His blue eyes scanned the space. It was untouched, not lived in. The dull furniture had some wear to it, but the hardwood did not contain a single dent or chip in its glaze; to his left was a spotless kitchen, its quartz counters bare.

In some ways, he related to the condition of the suite too much.

“We had it cleaned for you. It got a little dusty in your absence,” Charles stated, turning his chair around to face Logan. “The fridge is stocked with your favorites, and all the towels and linens have been washed.”

“What about my clothes?”

“We had them go through the laundry, too,” Charles replied, leading Logan towards the back of a long hallway.

As he followed Charles, Logan noticed a closed door to his left, and it caused him to pause and inquire, “What’s in this room?”

“…that was a spare room of yours. It’s mostly empty except for a few boxes.”

The Professor wasn’t lying; when Logan cracked the door open and peaked inside, he saw yellow-painted walls containing russet cardboard within them. Nothing special, but he would be looking through the boxes’ contents at some point, maybe after Charles left him alone.

He then moved onto the room at the end of the hall, where Charles was waiting for him.

This space was no different from the living area—holding no trace of life. The bed was made as if it were in a military barracks, the comforter and pillows having been handled with a perfectionist’s touch. Besides the bed, there was a dresser, lacking any memorabilia on its wooden surface, and double doors that—Logan assumed—concealed a closet that was organized in a similar fashion as the rest of the bedroom.

Towels were folded at the base of the queen mattress in a stack that included two big ones, a hand towel, and a washcloth. At the top of the pyramid was an unopened box of soap.

It was like staying at a hotel.

“Is this really all that I owned?”

“Yes,” Charles answered a bit too quick for Wolverine’s liking. “You weren’t much of a homebody, and you rarely spent time here, except to sleep.”

“Then where did I spend time?”

The Professor leaned back in his wheelchair, his brown orbs wide as he shrugged his shoulders at the beige carpet, “You liked to train or disappear for a while on your motorbike.”

Logan could imagine why. From the looks of it, home didn’t offer much.

Another thing also occurred to him. He turned to look at his companion, “Did I have a job?”

“You do have a job. Here, actually. You’re a teacher at the school.”

That would make sense, considering most of the students earlier had spoke of memories that usually involved being trained under him, but all their powers were so unique, spanning the spectrum of mutant abilities fully from mental to physical talents.

“What subject?” He sniffed, using his one hand to swipe across the tip of his nose and placing the other on his belt.

“Defense, mostly.” Charles moved closer to him, placing a hand on the hero’s arm. “You’ve also inspired many with issues similar to the ones you had.”

Logan felt the corners of his mouth turn up at his words.

“Did I train Y/N?”

He didn’t know why he even vocalized the question. Sure, he had been curious about her since he first saw her, and even more so after he asked about her. Charles had acted so strange at the time, and even Scott had tensed behind him, as if he had been waiting for Logan to inquire about her.

“Yes,” Charles answered rather easily, surprising Logan a bit. Earlier, Y/N seemed to be a topic that the Professor hadn’t been expecting to come up, but, now, he carried himself calmly. “She trained under you for a short while, but her powers required more time with me. She has an intriguing mutation, but it manifests mentally.”

“Oh…” Logan sat at the foot of his bed, leaning forward to rest his arms on his legs. “Did I know her well?”

“I would say so.”

“What does that mean?” Logan frowned. He couldn’t understand why everyone seemed to be giving him calculated answers that danced around affirmation. Why couldn’t he get a straight up “yes” or “no”?

Charles let out a breath. “Logan, I do not feel comfortable talking so deeply about a woman you barely know.”

“But I did know her. You said so yourself.”

“And she knew you,” Charles pointed out, placing his hands on the arms of his seat. “You aren’t a stranger to her, so why don’t you talk to her? She is probably the most viable source when it comes to herself.”

Logan went quiet, knowing that the Professor was preaching logic, but the thought of approaching Y/N left an uncomfortable feeling in his gut. However, he knew he would have to encounter her sooner or later, especially when he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He needed to find out why.

“Where can I find her?”

“She lives here, but I am afraid you cannot visit her at the moment.” Charles shifted his gaze, and Logan was now positive that he was hiding something. “She is sorting through some personal issues, and it would be best not to disturb her.”

“But she was out and about earlier.”

“Her choice. You are important to her, but right now it is best that you don’t seek her out.”

“But—”

“Logan.” The Professor scowled, saying his name like a parent would when scolding his child. “Enough. There are some things I cannot answer, and there are some questions that I must not answer. You are not rea—”

Logan narrowed his eyes, growling through his teeth as he got to his feet, “What are you not telling me, Xavier? All day, the feeling’s been gnawing on me like a teething baby. There’s something you aren’t telling me.”

If Wolverine didn’t have control, if he wasn’t the mature mutant he was, and if Charles wasn’t a friend, he would’ve stained the carpet red because what Charles said next caused the animal in him to claw at him, trying to dig its way to the surface.

“It is not my place, Logan. I’m sorry.”

“Not your place?” he asked, his jaw squared. “What about my place? Don’t I deserve to know my past? Don’t I deserve to know who I am?”

“I didn’t say you didn’t…”

“But you’re keeping things from me!”

“Logan, you must calm down!” Charles shouted, yet still managed to seem very in control of his temper, a stark contrast to the mutant before him.

“I’m calm,” Logan hissed, beginning to pace the room because he knew his jeans would be practically incinerated from the lie he just told. “I’m calm…”

The space fell into tense silence as it seemed to confine the angered animal inside it, imprisoning it with the very thoughts that sent him on his fury.

“I must go, my friend,” Charles spoke up, sensing a decrease in the negative energy Logan was emitting. “I will leave you to settle in…and I will also let you know when Y/N will see you.”

Logan paused, hanging his head and bringing up a hand to the bridge of his nose. “Thanks…” He pinched the skin and cartilage between his calloused fingers. “How long until I can ride my bike?”

The Professor let out a light chuckle, which softened his companion’s demeanor. “That eager to leave already?”

You have no idea.

Actually, Logan, I do.

“Professor…” Logan rasped, sending a glare over his shoulder.

“Sorry. I could not help myself,” Charles grinned sheepishly before entering the hall and leaving Logan’s sight.

Once he heard the door to his suite close, Logan walked from his bedroom to the spare room next to it, his hands itching to get into those boxes. He was almost certain they contained something that would spark a memory within him.

He threw the door open, taking notice of the yellow walls for the second time. It was strange, the color. It differed from everything his suite was. The other rooms were painted in subdued hues with nothing popping or meant to catch the eye while these walls were as bright as the sun at noon on a cloudless day.

Did he choose this paint? He couldn’t picture himself doing it. It was so unlike him.

He also observed the carpet, which seemed brand new and was like walking on sponge cake. The flooring absorbed each step he took, and when he got to his knees, pressing his hand on the ground, the carpet held his print for a moment. It wasn’t foam, but it was close.

If this was an extra space, why was it sticking out like a sore thumb?

He got to his feet, his eyes moving to the double doors that, he assumed, held a closet behind them. He opened them and peered inside to find his suspicions confirmed.

Two, metal cans, one labeled “white” and the other labeled “daffodil” sat at the back of the small area. Both were previously opened, as evident by the dried paint on the sides. There was also a rolling brush and tray, clean but used.

This room had received its color recently. 

But why this tone?

Logan didn’t peg himself as a “daffodil” kind of guy. He also didn’t care if his “spare room” was lime green or bubblegum pink. He would’ve left it in whatever state it was when he got it, especially if its use was limited to storage.

He looked over at the stack of brown, his attention now moving from the peculiar décor to what he originally came here for.

He knelt down, grabbing the closest cube. He unsheathed his left claws, and, without thinking much about it, ripped through the cardboard to reveal what was inside.

What he found there certainly wasn’t what he was expecting.

Chapter Text

 

You were in the middle of changing D/N’s explosion of a diaper when Charles’ voice came through your head, disturbing the peaceful silence you now cherished; there wasn’t much of it after having a baby.

Logan seems to be waking up.

You paused after placing securing the Velcro, your hand resting lightly over your child’s stomach.

He’s what?

He’s opening his eyes! Come quick!

He didn’t have to say it twice. It took you less than a minute to put D/N back into her bee-themed onesie and less than five for you to get to the hospital wing.

You saw him before you reached him, through the glass of the door that led to his temporary room. He was stirring, his movements slight but still more than the stillness he had been exhibiting up to this point. Hank was at his side, his hands in his lab coat pockets, and Charles sat in his wheelchair next to him, his gaze focused on the man in the bed before him.

You adjusted D/N in your arms, squatting to open the door and let yourself in. Your attempt at being quiet with your entrance did nothing as two pairs of eyes—neither of which belonging to the mutant you loved—shot to you, taking in your presence.

That was fast.

You offered the Professor a slight smile, shaking your head as you slowly approached Logan. Charles had been right; he seemed to be coming to.

“How long has he been like this?” you whispered, your eyes falling to your lover.

“About fifteen minutes ago, I came in to change his IV, and as I was switching the bags, he murmured something,” Hank explained, shrugging his shoulders. “It was the first time he showed any signs of consciousness.”

You felt your spirits lift at Hank’s words, and you turned to look at Charles, holding out D/N, “Could you take her, Professor?”

“It would be my pleasure.” He grinned, taking the newborn from you with a firm yet gentle grip. “Hello there, D/N.”

After watching him with her for a moment, smiling at how adorable he was with your daughter, you walked around Logan’s bed to the other side of him. You took his large, warm hand between yours, lifting it slightly off the mattress.

“Logan?”

His expression changed, his nose wrinkling, and you caught his eyelids move. The reaction was so relieving, considering he did not show any response to the one-sided conversations you would have with him each day prior.

“Logan?” you tried again, stroking the soft skin on the back of his hand.

And then the blood in your vessels stopped; your heart halted when your E/C eyes met his deep blues. They were wide and doe-like, so contrary to the rough man that sported them; they regarded you, searching your face then trailing down your neck and chest to where his palm was sandwiched between yours.

Tears filled your eyes, as you waited for him to say something—anything.

His gaze roamed again, finding your face, and his features twisted into one of confusion. His chapped lips parted.

And, in that moment, you didn’t care what he said as long as you could hear his gravelly voice again.

“Who are you?”

Except that. He could’ve said anything except that.


You sat up in bed, a sob escaping you between short, uneven breaths.

It was a dream

But it wasn’t at the same time.

You relaxed your hands, letting the blanket that had been clenched between your fingers go as you brought your dominant hand to your face.

“Logan…” you whimpered, wiping your damp cheeks with the ends of your sleeves as your shoulders shook with your sniffling.

When your breathing returned to normal, you placed your hands in your lap and studied the vibranium bracelet that hung from your left wrist. Three rings, crafted from the same material, hung from it, two being simple bands and the third containing your birth stone.

You played with the cool metal loops, trying to distract yourself from the fact your shirt didn’t smell like him anymore. Nothing of his did. You had made sure of that, but you kept this button-down to sleep in. It was like having his arms, his chest, and sometimes, when the plaid collar tickled your neck, you pretended it was him nuzzling you with his nose; he would wake you up most mornings, tickling you like that.

A sigh escaped your lips as you swung your legs over the side of the bed, bringing yourself to your feet. You held the fabric of his shirt close to your body, ignoring the way the cold bit at your exposed thighs as you exited the room and entered D/N’s.

For once, she was sleeping peacefully, and though you longed for her to open up her baby blues, to greet you with her father’s eyes, you didn’t dare disturb her slumber. Instead, you watched her from the threshold, your hand absentmindedly playing with the locket that hung low between your breasts. You focused on the way her tiny chest rose and fell with her steady breathing. You admired her caterpillar fingers and the way they curled into small fists, and you smiled at the little wisps of dark brown hair that were starting to populate the top of her round head.

The serenity of the moment ended when her expression tensed and a wail emitted from her plump lips.

You hastened over to her, bringing her up into your arms and rocking her gently as you gave her your locket to hold.

She hushed instantly, and, while, you were hoping for a distraction, your mind went right back to your husband the minute her eyelids separated, looking from the heart between her digits to you.

Chapter Text

Logan groaned at the sound of the alarm clock as it filled the room. He let the damn thing ring for a bit before deciding he had had enough, reaching his arm out from underneath the comforter and slamming his palm down on the snooze button.

With the silence of the early morning restored, he rolled over onto his back, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before opening them.

It was finally his first day of work, after two long weeks of Hank and Charles watching him like a hawk. Neither of them thought it would be right for him to just return to the life he had led before the accident, not until they made sure he was not exhibiting any symptoms of trauma. At first, they wanted a month to pass before he began his normal routine, but Logan wore them down to half of that, stating that he wouldn’t leave the mansion’s grounds until they gave their okay.

That seemed to pacify them, and it disappointed Logan, considering they believed he would keep his word. In his mind, he could leave whenever he damn well pleased, and he had every right to take his bike with him.

The alarm resumed again, breaking Logan’s peace, and this time, he got out of bed and shut it off. He then walked over to the dresser, reaching his hand in the top drawer and grabbing the first pair of briefs and socks he could find.

He then walked over to the closet, opening the double doors and stepping inside. He switched on the light, placing his fists on his sides as his blue eyes scanned the closet.

Despite his love for wife-beaters and jeans, Logan thought he should wear something a little more presentable, considering today was his first day of teaching and no actual training would be happening. The whole point of the first class, according to Charles, was to explain the curriculum. It wasn’t really Logan’s style. He much rather show the kids how the class is going to be run than lecture them about it, but this wasn’t his school…

He pulled a white-button down off one of the hangers, cursing as it fell to the floor, its white fabric covering a few shoes.

Logan bent down to retrieve the shirt when his eyes got caught on something…F/C?

Dark brows furrowed, he reached to the back of the closet and picked up the offending item to find himself in an even more curious situation.

It was a bra, size C/S to be precise.

What was it doing in his closet?

Good Morning, Logan.

He winced at the unexpected voice that filtered through his head.

Jesus, Xavier.

I apologize, but Scott and I are waiting for you in conference room 1B. Don’t worry about breakfast.

Yeah. I’ll be there in a sec.

He looked down at the piece of lingerie, wondering who it could belong to. No one had mentioned him having a girlfriend or something, so maybe it was from a one-night thing? He had no clue, to be quite honest, and a small part of him was kind of fed up with searching for his own answers. Within the fourteen days since he had awoken, Y/N had not gone out of her way to seek him out, and Charles had yet to inform him of her status.

And the mansion itself held nothing of his time in it, either.

The boxes in the daffodil room? They just contained some of his ancient possessions from the world wars and late eighteen hundreds. These items held some sentimental value; however, they contained stories he already knew.

But Logan hadn’t given up completely. He felt that, as long as he was patient enough, his memories would return to him.


“So I don’t know what the other kids at this school have told you about me…”

The room went silent at the gruff man’s statement. Even clad in a dress shirt and pants, Logan still gave off waves of danger, and it was punctuated with the firm and final click the door to the classroom had made behind him.

He let go of the knob, his right hand going to fiddle with the button on his left cuff, as he walked towards the desk.

“…but I don’t play games,” Logan finished, unleashing the blades out of his right fist and causing nearly everyone in the room to jump out of their desks. He let out a low chuckle, his piercing eyes sweeping across the room, taking in the bewilderment and slight fear that expressed itself on his students’ faces.

He could almost smell it.

As quickly as they came out, Logan’s claws retreated into his skin, and he leaned back against the desk, resting his palms on the edge.

“Normally, I would’ve started you in the simulation room today,” he continued, looking out the window, “but the higher ups suggested I take this approach.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, “Over the course of this semester, I will be training you in basic physical defense. The moves I teach you are only meant to defend. The moves I use against you, of which you will have to protect yourself against, are not meant to be learned in this class. You are not to use any of the positions and actions that are shown to you against your peers or any civilians.”

He fixed the inhabitants of the room with a stern stare, “Survival is two parts. Defense and offense. I will teach you the first half, and I will help you master it by the end of this semester. Offense will be taught to you in a different class when you’re mature enough for it.”

“Now, can anyone tell me which of the two are more important: defense or offense?”

A boy in the back raised his hand.

Logan nodded at him, “What’s your name, Kid?”

“Sal.”

 “Alright, Sal,” Logan gave him a toothy grin. “Tell me what you think. Offense or defense?”

“Offense.”

“Wrong.”

Sal looked utterly confused, “But isn’t that how you win?”

“Not everything in life is about winning or losing.” Logan lifted himself up onto the desk, letting his legs hang over the front of it. “That’s why you’re taking this class. The lessons given to you in this course aren’t just physical. Think about the reason you are all here. Why? Someone tell me?”

A girl with purple hair hesitantly lifted her palm in the air.

“Yes, Kid?”

“To control our mutant abilities?”

"Exactly. Control. It’s something we all have to learn.” He bowed his head, “Even me, but let’s get back to winning and losing. Sal said attacking is required to win, and I am not surprised he thought that. Many of you probably do, and Lord knows I thought the same at one point.”

Logan looked back at the crowd of naive mutants, realizing he had his work cut out for him, but at the same time, he was okay with that. He liked a challenge.

“You all always have something to protect. Your Beliefs. Family. Friends. Your peers. Sometimes, even your professor.” He smirked, scratching the side of his face. “Even when you’re alone, you have someone to preserve: yourself.”

“Understanding that is the first goal of this class,” Logan got off of his desk, turning to look outside once again, his expression faltering as his vision was filled with H/C locks and a bright smile, sitting among the green and sky.

He forced his attention back to his students, deciding he would end this quick, “So, I want you all to think about what you want to defend because it’s only when you successfully protect what is important to you that you, as Sal put it, win.”

After he dismissed the class early, Logan found himself fast-walking down the halls, a purpose in each of his steps as he looked for an exit point.

He had to get outside.

“What’s the rush, Wolverine?”

Logan nearly crashed into the blue mutant who had suddenly appeared in front of him.

“Kurt! What did I tell you about…?”

“Apologies. Apologies.” He waved off Logan’s anger like it was a cloud of smoke. “Bobby, Alex, Scott and I were wondering if you would like to join our team for a little bit of soccer. It’s boys versus girls.”

“Who’s on the other team?”

“Kitty, Rogue, Tabitha, and Jean.”

“Mutant abilities allowed?”

“Is there really any other way?” Kurt winked at him, throwing the soccer ball.

Logan caught it between his digits and looked up at the mutant, a grin tugging at the edge of his lips. “True, Kid. True.”


“You are so off your game today, Summers!” Jean shouted after stealing the ball from Scott and trying for a goal.

Lucky for the guys’ team, Kurt was an amazing goalie.

“Nice try, Jean Grey,” he teased before throwing the black and white orb back into play. “Scott! Get your ass into the game.”

“Jesus Christ,” Logan chuckled at the mutant’s misuse of the saying.

“It’s ‘head in the game,’ Kurt!” Kitty giggled, allowing Alex to kick the ball passed her and into the goal.

“Yeah, Alex!” Bobby yelled, jumping into the air. “Now we’re tied.”

“No fair.” Kitty pouted picking up the sphere from the back of the net. “Boys are naturally stronger than girls, so biologically you already have the upper hand!”

“Oh, please.” Scott rolled his eyes, resting his elbow on Logan’s shoulder, causing the shorter man to brush it off. “How can we make this easier for you? Before this goal, you were winning.”

“Let us get another player,” Tabitha suggested, placing a hand on her hip. “It would be a better match, and even more of a victory if you win.”

“Alright, but you guys can’t choose Ellie.”

“Fine…” Kitty groaned, Ellie having been her first choice. They would’ve mopped the floor with Negasonic Teenage Warhead on their side.

“How about…” Rogue placed a finger on her chin, scanning the expanse of the grounds. Her eyes fell on a certain H/C woman, who was currently sitting on a picnic blanket, playing with her daughter. “Y/N?”

“What? Now, you know that’s not fair!” Scott exclaimed, pointing a finger at Rogue.

She crossed her arms over her chest, glancing at Logan with a smirk that he didn’t miss.

It was obvious she was bringing Y/N into the game because of him, but he had no idea as to why. Sure, he was dying for the chance to talk to her, and he planned on doing it the moment this silly competition ended. He just didn’t see what Y/N would add to the girls’ edge; her power was all mental, wasn’t it?

“Hey, Y/N!” Tabitha called over to her, and she raised her head, her attention, for the first time, left the baby lying next to her. “Do you wanna play?”

Y/N gave the group a small smile, “Sure.”

She turned to look at Piotr, who was sitting next to her, his face buried in a book. She asked him a question, to which he responded with a nod. She then got to her feet, grouping the locks of her hair back into her hand to secure them with a rubber band she kept around her wrist.

Logan watched as she made their way over to them, her focus completely on her steps until she reached the playing field.

She placed her palms on her hips, looking from the girls to the boys, “Powers?”

“Is there really any other way to play the game?” Kurt asked from his goal.

Y/N’s gaze fell to him, a brilliant curve on her pink lips. “True, Kurt.”

“Alright,” Scott sighed, throwing his arms into the air. “Go easy on Y/N. Remember, she gave birth just recently.”

“Aw, Scott.” Y/N stuck out her bottom lip. “You shouldn’t tell them that. Then, I’ll kick your asses for sure.”

Logan would’ve snickered at her trash talk, but he was too caught up on what Scott had just said. He had thought the child she had been watching was a friend’s…not hers.

He glanced over at Piotr, who had the tiny tot in his arms, making faces at her and tickling her belly.

Was he the father?

Chapter Text

It was the day after you joined the soccer game—having your first interaction with Logan since he woke for the second time—that Charles sent Ororo to your suite.

“What does he want to talk about?” you questioned, placing folded onesies and socks into your daughter’s dresser. The task, usually nominal, was becoming difficult with your hands slightly shaking and your sudden need to finish it.

“I assume it would have something to do with Logan or your powers,” she replied, watching as D/N took her pointer finger in her tiny palms. “Or both.”

You froze, bent over the laundry basket.

He wouldn’t…

But the moment you stepped through the double doors of his office, your eyes meeting his calculating gaze, you realized…

He would.

“Good afternoon, Y/N,” he greeted you with a little smile, folding his hands under his jaw. “I took the liberty of making some tea, so won’t you join us?”

“Us?” you asked as you took hesitant steps towards the chair, across the table from where he sat.

“Scott will be joining us momentarily.”

The seat you pulled out screeched against the hardwood floor, and you cursed before apologizing to Charles.

“It’s fine.” He waved it off before leaning over the mahogany surface between you to reach for the tea pot. “Tea?”

“Please.”

Maybe the warmth of it would calm you because if Charles called you here for what you suspected, this conversation wouldn’t be an easy one.

Just as the Professor had finished pouring your drink, Scott ran in completely out of breath.

 “Sorry I’m late.”

“It’s nothing to worry over.” Charles shrugged, sparing a glance at him. “Would you care for some tea, too?”

“Uh…no thanks.” He walked behind you to take the chair next to yours. “I’m not much of a tea-guy.”

“Suit yourself.” Charles lifted the creamer and looked to you, his dark brows raised, “Cream?”

“Sure.” You nodded, shaking your leg as you turned to Scott. “So what have you been up to?”

“Playing soccer.”

“Why the sudden interest?” You grinned, already knowing his answer.

“Well, after our crippling defeat yesterday, Kurt has the group of us practicing.” He chuckled, giving you a fake glare. “It’s all your fault, you know.”

“I told you I would kick your asses.”

 “It wasn’t fair at all, though!” he exclaimed. “We had to go easy on you because you’re still healing, and Logan’s skill seemed to vanish once you entered the game.”

You remained silent upon hearing that. If the two of you were strangers, why did your presence stifle him?

Charles took the break in conversation to begin his own, “Speaking of Logan, I called you both here to talk about him.”

Here we go…

You sat up straight, your fingers already dancing across the side of your teacup for comfort. 

“Logan is getting impatient,” he began, fixing himself some of the hot beverage. “I told you, Y/N, a couple of weeks ago, that he was asking about you, but I did not go into detail as far as what he was asking…”

Your eyes fell to the dark liquid before you, both of your hands completely wrapped around the ceramic.

“What did he ask?”

“We had been talking about his job here at the school, and he had asked if he trained you.” The Professor paused as he saw a smile tug at your lips, but it was short lived.

You hung your head, trying to suppress the bitter sweet memories. “What else?”

“He also asked how well he knew you, and I didn’t know what to say, Y/N. All I could say was that I thought he did, but it’s becoming harder and harder to keep him from coming to you. That day, I told him to talk to you.”

Your head shot up, your E/C gaze meeting Charles’ firm stare. “Why would you say that? I thought I was going to talk to him on my terms.”

“I quickly corrected myself, telling him that he couldn’t see you at that time. Do you know how angry he got with me? He thinks that everything could be solved after a conversation with you, and you and I both know he’s right.”

“Yesterday, after the game,” Scott interjected, his tone a bit more controlled than Charles’, “he asked about D/N. He also was curious about who her father was.”

“And what did you say?” You kept your voice even, despite how badly you wanted to scream and shout at the insensitive men before you.

“That he was currently MIA.”

“The point is,” Charles brought your attention back to him, “we can’t keep doing this, Y/N. Eventually, something is going to slip. I think it would be best, considering all our progress with your abilities, that you attempt to restore his memories.”

“Are you insane, Professor?” You seethed, getting to your feet and ignoring the repeated shriek the wooden legs had against the floor. “Do you not understand that my husband and the father of my child doesn’t remember a thing about me? He holds no memories for me to manipulate, and, frankly, I don’t know if I’m ready to talk to him. When we were playing together yesterday, it was so painful to know that I couldn’t show any affection towards him, any inkling that our relationship had been more.”

“I don’t understand why you can’t just tell him,” Scott said the moment he saw he could, but you silenced him with a threatening look.

Because, Summers, he doesn’t love me. He has no recollection of loving me. Forcing that responsibility upon him, forcing a wife and a child upon him, is not what he needs right now.”

“Then what does he need? To be in a state of confusion? To not understand who he was or is?”

You looked away from Scott, the astonishment laced in his words stung you because, of course, Logan didn’t deserve any of the things he was currently going through.

“I think we’re missing something important,” Charles spoke up calmly, making eye-contact with you. “You only mentioned manipulating what he remembers, but you hold the memories of everyone you touch. I know you can give him his memory back; you have a copy of it.”

You hugged yourself, your palms finding your upper arms. “I can’t do that.”

“You won’t do that?”

“No.” You furrowed your brows. “I can’t do that.”


The next morning, you got up after another restless night.

You dressed yourself, not taking too much care in your choice of outfit because it was a weekend, and class wasn’t in session. You decided that a pair of jeans and a regular t-shirt would do, so you hurriedly put them on, checking the alarm clock next to your bed as you slipped on some flip-flops.

You then went to D/N’s room. She was awake, and she reached out her itty-bitty arms, kicking her legs as you leaned over the side of the white crib and lifted her from the daffodil bedding.

“Good morning, my love,” you cooed, pressing a kiss to her forehead and smiling until you got a whiff of something absolutely putrid. You immediately recoiled as she let out a gurgle.

You winced. “You need a diaper change…”

After she was cleaned and put into a different onesie for the day, you pulled down the collar of your blouse and pushed aside your satin bra, allowing her to feed.

Once she was sated, you placed her in her baby carrier and fixed yourself before leaving your suite and locking it behind you.


“She’s doing quite well for her age,” Hank remarked as he watched D/N play with her hands. His navy eyes found yours, his brows furrowed. “You said she rejected the pacifier?”

 “Spit it right out.” You sighed, a frown drawing on your features. It worried you because, supposedly, a pacifier could reduce the chances of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome.

“Hmm…” He scratched his beard, his attention going back to D/N. “She hasn’t shown any signs of mutation, has she?”

“No.” You shook your head.

“Well, the likelihood of her having the X-gene is high. Though, I can’t begin to guess how the gene will phenotypically express itself.”

“Would it be like mine or Logan’s?”

He shrugged, his gaze finding yours. “There is a chance, but, again, it’s not easily predictable. I wouldn’t worry about it right now, but if she does start exhibiting odd behavior, I want you to contact me immediately.”

You gave him a curt nod before he turned from you and walked towards the counter. He opened up the vanilla folder that rested on the grey surface, picked up his pen and wrote some things down. “Has she been sleeping through the night?”

“Not yet…”

“Well, she’s still young. I was just curious, considering she started to pick up her head at three weeks…Developmentally, though, her weight and growth are completely normal for five weeks.”

“That’s good to hear.” You leaned over the carrier, adjusting the blanket D/N had managed to kick from her feet.

 “How are you feeling?”

You let out a sigh, “I think I’m fine. Work and D/N have been keeping me busy…”

“That’s good. You are you getting enough sleep?”

“No. I’ve been having trouble with that.”

“Falling asleep or staying asleep?” he inquired, pausing in his writing and glancing at you over his shoulder.

“It depends…”

“Is D/N the one to wake you?”

“Not always. No. Sometimes the past resurfaces in my dreams, and I…” You stopped yourself, biting your bottom lip. “It’s hard.”

Hank moved from the cabinets that lined the front wall of the room, placing a hand on your shoulder as he looked down at you. “If you ever need to talk, I am willing to lend an ear.”

“I know.” A smile tugged at your lips. “Thanks, Hank.”

“It’s no trouble.” He grinned. “So…we’ll meet here again next week, same time, for your six-week checkup?”

You nodded.

“And you can bring this little one with you.” He looked over at D/N, who regarded him with her blue eyes. You knew she couldn’t see him at that distance, but she could hear him. It was cute to think she understood.

“Alright, Hank.” You got off of the examination table, the paper below you crinkling as you moved, before gripping the plastic handle of the car seat you used to carry D/N. “Thanks for everything.”

“It’s a pleasure, Y/N, really. I love seeing you and D/N,” he said, placing his hands in his lab coat pockets.

You offered him a sincere grin before opening the door and coming face to face with Logan.

His mouth was agape, as if he had been about to say something, but his jaw clenched shut as he took in your presence with a blank expression.

“Logan?” Hank called from behind you, his voice an octave higher. “What are you doing here? Your appointment isn’t until an hour from now.”

“Charles said I should go now,” he answered dryly, his eyes not leaving your form.

Charles…I could kill you.

But you won’t.

You gritted your teeth at his retort, realizing that it held truth. You could never kill anyone, but in that moment, you wished you could. Be it Charles or yourself.

Chapter Text

“Can I carry the kid for you?”

It had to be the stupidest question he ever thought up, and for a moment, Logan wondered if he was a schoolboy again. He was never good at wording things; he knew that, but he liked to thing he had grown better at talking to women.

Can I carry the kid for you? Even hours later, the question, in his gruff voice, would echo in his mind, a constant reminder on how he could have handled the situation better. His first words to Y/N would definitely not be the ones he chosen. But there was one thing he did not regret about saying that, despite how silly he knew he sounded, and it was the laughter that escaped the firm line of her lips in an unintentional burst.

He watched, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, as her E/C eyes widened, and she brought her free hand to the lower half of her face, attempting to suppress the fit of giggles that was emitting from her. Within moments, she was calm again, but her stoic expression had melted away to something gentler. Her features were softer now, and her lips curved slightly as she finally answered his ridiculous question, “Thanks for the offer, Logan, but didn’t you come here to see Hank?”

Now he felt like even more of an idiot.

“Yeah…” He averted his gaze, his palms finding his sides only for one of them to be moved to run his fingers through his messy, black hair. “Sorry I asked. I…I wasn’t really thinking.”

She let out an amused hum that could almost be mistaken for a chuckle, “You don’t need to be sorry. I appreciate the offer.”

“’s no problem…”

She moved both her hands to hold the handle of the plastic carrier, and for the first time, Logan got a good look at the baby in it.

Slowly, he squatted down and grinned at her. “Hey, Bub.”

The little girl stopped in her fidgeting, her hand frozen on her tiny foot as her blue orbs moved to the source of the sound.

“What’s her name?” Logan asked, his gaze finding Y/N’s as he rested his elbows on his upper thighs.

He noticed the sudden drop of her smile, her lips returning to a stern line. “D/N.”

“That’s a beautiful name,” he replied, his attention returning to the little girl. “She’s beautiful.”

To his utter surprise, D/N’s petite lips separated, curving up and causing her chubby cheeks to become more prominent. It was the most adorable thing Logan had ever witnessed, and he angled his head to look up at D/N’s mother to make sure she was seeing it, too.

Y/N’s mouth was agape, her focus trained on the smiling baby.

“What’s wrong?” Logan asked, coming to stand, his dark brows furrowing in concern.

“That…that was her first real smile,” he heard her utter incredulously, and Logan really didn’t know how to respond.

“Is that normal?” he found himself asking and mentally slapping himself for ruining the moment.

“It’s a bit early, but it’s not a bad thing” She offered him an assuring grin. “You better not keep Hank waiting. He has a busy day, and Charles probably sent you here before your appointment because of it.”

Logan gave her a short nod, glancing at D/N, who was now preoccupied with the white, fuzzy blanket that covered her. “Yeah…”

Y/N walked passed him, and, although Logan felt inclined to stop her, to draw out the conversation he had been waiting for two weeks to happen, he let her go.

“We can talk later, if you want.”

It took a moment for her suggestion to register in his mind, but when it did, he spun around to stare at her. “We can?”

“Yes.” She breathed, her entire body relaxing with the word as she paused in the hall. “I’ll come find you.”

“Sounds good to me.”

And it did. In fact, it sounded wonderful to him.


“I wonder what she’s like.”

“What who’s like?” Logan asked, lowering the cup of coffee from his lips and scanning through the comics section of the newspaper.

“The new girl,” Jean replied as she got up from the break room table and made her way to the sink, her dirty plate in her hand.

“Probably no different from the rest,” Logan grumbled. He placed the ceramic mug in the sink, earning an annoyed glare from the red-head, and folded up the paper.

“You always say that.”

Logan looked to Scott, his eyebrows raised. “Am I ever wrong?”

“You were wrong about us,” Scott pointed out, pushing his chair back and getting to his feet.

“No. You’re just too persistent for your own good,” Logan stated with a fond grin before he began to walk out of the small space. He held the door open for the two mutants. “We better get going. Professor said one o’clock.”

The three made their way down the corridor to the grand foyer, where every new housemate was welcomed on their first day, and when they entered the spacious room, students and teachers were already gathering, eager to meet the new addition to the X-Men family.

Logan entered and stayed on the sidelines while his two companions made their ways to the front of the gathering crowd. He crossed his arms over his chest, watching the people in the room interact, which was what he often opted to do rather than actually joining them.

“Charles will be here any minute.”

The voice didn’t startle Logan; he heard Hank from down the hall, and he turned slightly to glance at him. “They’ll be quieting down.”

“Yes,” the blue-furred man agreed, looking from Logan to the horde of mutants. “They always do.”

As if right on cue, the loud conversations that were occurring quieted to hushed whispers, and the doors to the mansion opened. Ororo, dressed in a black dress-suit, entered first, followed by Charles, who paused on the front walk and stretched his neck behind him. “Come along, now. There’s no need to feel shy.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed as Charles entered the house with a young woman at his side. She looked to be in her late teens or early twenties, and she sported a pair of dark-wash jeans and a monochrome sweatshirt that nearly reached her knees. Her H/C was down and wind-swept, and she hugged her arms close to her, hands swallowed in the fabric of her sleeves. Her large, E/C eyes swept across the many faces that came to welcome her, and one corner of her mouth lifted.

“Everyone,” the Professor spoke, looking from the crowd to the girl next to him, “this is Y/N L/N, and she will be staying with us from now on.”

With almost a practiced precision, the room erupted into greetings, and Jean was the first to walk up to the H/C woman, pulling her into her arms in a friendly welcome.

“She seems like a nice girl,” Hank remarked from beside him. “Shall we?”

Logan let out a sigh but nodded his head, “Sure.”

The midnight-colored mutant led the way to the small break in the sea of people, where Y/N was now listening to Scott talk about the school.

Charles spotted them before anyone else did and interrupted, “Ah! Logan. Hank. I’m so glad the two of you could make it.”

“We wouldn’t miss a new arrival,” Hank grinned, turning to look at Y/N and holding out a hand. “Hello. I’m Henry McCoy, but you can call me Hank.”

The girl hesitated for a moment before offering a timid smile and shaking his hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Y/N L/N.”

“The pleasure is all mine.”

Logan rolled his eyes, knowing that Hank was easily charmed by anyone who so much as said something polite, but he did follow the blue mutant over here. The least he could do was be civil.

“I’m Logan,” he introduced himself, keeping one hand in his pocket and outstretching the other one for her to take.

She seemed a bit more comfortable, immediately moving to return the gesture, as her E/C orbs found his. “It’s nice to meet you, Logan.”


Wolverine’s lids separated, allowing his eyes to roll over to the digital clock on his nightstand. When he saw the time flashing back at him—fucking two-sixteen in the morning—he sat up in bed and rubbed the slumber from his face. After that dream, he wasn’t going to be able to fall back asleep. His mind was too busy, tussling with the very idea of Y/N coming to the mansion being a product of his overactive imagination. 

Chapter Text

Who are you?

You woke with a start, your chest heaving in and expelling air out as you sat up straight in bed, your clammy hands gripping onto the cream-colored fabric of your bedspread. Realizing that it was simply your unconscious torturing you again, your labored breathing began to return to normal, and you buried your face into your palms, “Why?”

Using the sleeve of Logan’s button down, you wiped your tear-stricken cheeks before getting out of bed and adding a robe to your form. You walked over to your nightstand, picking up the baby monitor that rested on its dark brown surface. With the white device tucked under your arm, you exited your room and suite until you were in the main hall of the western wing.

You decided the best thing to do when you couldn’t sleep was to take a stroll about the building. You had tried it one night, finding that after two or three complete circulations of the mansion, you were ready to attempt going back to bed. Five times out of seven, you found yourself nodding off to a dreamless sleep, so the method was worth trying.

You were a quarter way through your first round when you realized you were by Logan’s suite—the space the two of you used to share. You slowed as you came to the double doors, recalling just how much of a hassle it was to completely eradicate any trace of your existence in the set of rooms.

First, you had to move all your stuff back to the area you had used when you arrived at the school. You could remember double, triple checking that all the items that remained were Logan’s. Then, you had to get all of D/N’s stuff out, which was probably the easiest part, considering most of it was contained to a single room, a room that you and Logan had converted from a storage space to a nursery when you were about six months pregnant.

The last step involved sterilizing…everything. The walls, ceiling, furniture, his clothes. All of it. There could not be a trace of your or D/N’s DNA. If there was, Logan would be able to sense it with his over perceptive nose. At first, the scent would be unfamiliar, but the moment he interacted with either you or D/N, he would be able to match the aroma. He would wonder why, and it would lead to a conversation you were too afraid to have.

That was when you thought of the promised chat.

Why did you offer to talk? Were you truly ready to? If Logan walked out of his room right now, would you be able to give him the answers he sought?

“Y/N?”

You froze, about two yards passed Logan’s door, and the low, tired voice was unmistakably his. Knowing you couldn’t just run away, you closed the opening to your robe, tucking the baby monitor under your arm, and turned to look at him, an amiable smile on your lips. “Hey, Logan. What are you doing up this early?”

He was silent for a moment before lifting an arm to run his fingers through his bed head, “…Just couldn’t sleep, and I thought I heard footsteps.”

You stared at him for a moment, barely able to make out the features of your husband in the dark of the hallway. He was clad in a grey t-shirt and sweatpants—ones that were familiar to you—and you realized he must have been awake for a bit at this point. Logan slept in the nude, and he only ever put on clothing when he realized he’d be up for a while.

Feeling a bit sorry for him, you decided to indulge him, “You know…whenever I wake up in the middle of the night, I find a few times around the mansion tires me out real fast. Why don’t you join me?”

You could just see the muscles of his face contort into an expression of surprise, his eyes wide and eyebrows high on his forehead while his jaw nearly hit the floor.

“Are you sure, Y/N? Charles said you were dealin’ with some personal stuff, and I…”

He trailed off when you nodded your head, beckoning him to come to your side. “It’s fine, Logan. I’m inviting you, and I did promise a talk.”

“Well, alright…” he said, heading over to you.

And just like that, you felt as if you were starting anew with him. Blood was pulsing through your body, your heart practically skipping at the fact the man you loved was now beside you. Feeling silly, you crossed your arms over your chest, careful to keep Logan’s shirt hidden from his view, and after a few moments of silence, you cleared your throat, “So…Charles mentioned you having some questions for me.”

You dared a glance at him, just catching him lifting his head to look back at you.

“Um, yeah…” He sniffed, rubbing the tip of his nose with a knuckle. “I’m just not too sure where to begin…”

You chuckled lightly, your eyes moving to what was in front of you. “Take your time. I’m yours for at least the next hour.”

I’m yours? Really, Y/N? That didn’t sound weird at all.

“Well, I guess I should ask how you’re doin’. You gave birth recently, so…”

You looked at him, lips parted and brows arched; you did not expect him to ask that.

“I’m fine.” You grinned. “Just a bit tired. D/N can be a handful sometimes, but everyone here has been so helpful. I really couldn’t ask for more.”

Just you. I would ask for you.

Logan licked his lips, his arms twisting in front of his torso. “If you ever need me to…y’know…help watch the kid or somethin’, tell me.” He turned his head towards you. “I’d be happy to help.”

“That’s very sweet of you,” you responded. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

And the conversation came to a stop, but the quiet of the night was soothing, in a sense. You felt nervous next to him, like you had when you first met him, but at the same time, you loved being near him again, talking to him again. You couldn’t let it end here.

“Charles told me that you asked if I had trained under you,” you started, and, almost immediately, Logan’s attention was on you, “and I just want to say that you were my favorite teacher. I know that probably sounds weird, a grown woman with a baby telling you that she enjoyed being your pupil, but I did.” You let out a shaky breath, the memories being a bit heavier on your heart than you had thought them to be. “You taught me everything I know, so when I…when they told us of their issues with contacting you during the experiment, I could hardly believe it. I was terrified, and I didn’t know when or if you would return…But you’re here now, and I’m happy that you’re alive and safe...back where you belong.”

Your E/C eyes rested on him at the end of your tale, and he was gazing back at you, his face unreadable, which was nothing new for him. You were used to his ability to conceal what he was thinking or feeling, but kissing him or holding him close would do nothing to unseal those lips, now. You couldn’t utilize your knack at getting him to open up.

“Y/N, I want to ask you something, but I’m not sure how…” He exhaled, his whole body relaxing only to tense again as he continued. “Since I woke up, I felt like everyone’s been keepin’ something from me. Something big.”

You swallowed, trying so very hard to cover up your anxious ticks. Logan’s mutation allowed him to sense fear, and, although you could never be afraid of him, you knew he could notice the alarm in the way your body was responding to his words. Your palms were clammy as you clutched onto the soft fabric of your robe, and you had to force yourself to move, to keep the same pace. You didn’t know what to do with your eyes, but having them dart back and forth in confusion was definitely not what you should be allowing them to do.

“I have to know, Y/N, what I was to you. Were we friends? Were we…?”

You wet your lips, pausing in the hallway and comforting yourself with the fact that your suite was a few doors down, “Logan…” Your E/C orbs locked with his, “you were, and still are, my best friend. That will never change.”

And then you were crying, hating yourself for it, too. You told yourself that you would never shed a tear in front of him because each little droplet held gallons of your complete adoration for him. You knew he would see it, and the questions they would bring about terrified you more than the one he just asked.

Suddenly, the sounds of your chocked sobs were overpowered by a loud scream from the white speaker that rested between your upper arm and torso. D/N was awake.

“I’m sorry, Logan,” your voice cracked, and you inwardly cursed as you lowered your head. “That’s D/N, and I—”

His touch cut you off, and it took everything in you to stop yourself from shivering at the sweet contact…even if it was only his fingers around your wrist.

“Don’t apologize, Bub.”

Bub.

How you missed that name; you loathed it, at first, but now…now you would do anything to hear his mouth make the word again.

“I’m the one who should be doin’ that.” He sighed, letting his eyelids close for a moment. “I shouldn’t have…It’s obvious you care about me just as everyone else here does.”

You’re wrong.

You wanted to say it, but a small part of you was worried about what he would reply with. What would transpire?

“I’m sorry I can’t remember. I really want to.” His grip on you loosened. “You must know that.”

You nodded at him, but there was no energy in it. You were worn out, emotionally and physically; neither were the walk’s fault, and the thought of dealing with D/N for the next hour seemed to add to the invisible weight pressing down on your eyelids.  

“Good.” He gave you a half-hearted grin. “Do you need some help with…?”

“No,” you answered a bit too quickly, shaking your head. “I can handle D/N, but thanks for the offer. I’ll see you tomorrow, Logan.”

“If you’re sure, then…thanks,” he murmured as you turned away from him, heading for your rooms.

“You’re welcome.”

Once you were inside your suite, you rested against the front door as if your life depended upon its support. The only thing that willed you to move were the ear-piercing cries coming from the nursery and the piece of plastic in your hand.

As you went through the motions, feeding and changing D/N, your whole body begged for sleep, for some time to recoup, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to give it what it needed.

Not tonight. 

Chapter Text

Logan practically dragged himself into the gym the next morning, his eyelids drooping over his blood-shot orbs.

“Wow.” Alex winced, stilling the speed bag with his gloved hand. “You look horrible.”

“Thanks,” Logan muttered, resting his fists on his hips. “Where’s Bobby? I promised him a match.”

Alex shrugged his shoulders before starting to hit the bag again. “Beats me.”

Logan sighed and picked up the cylinder of cotton, unrolling it slightly before spinning it around his hands. The spar was supposed to be without powers since it was going to take place in the gym instead of the simulation room, and Logan was grateful for it, considering how his body ached for the warm sheets of his bed.

“Sorry I’m late!” Bobby’s voice echoed throughout the large space. Logan looked up from his hands to see him running towards him, a gigantic duffle bag flying behind him.

“It’s fine, Kid. Just go get dressed,” Logan nodded towards the locker room, “and I’ll be here waiting.”

Bobby did as he said, rushing over to the metal door on the other side of the gym. It took him all of six minutes to get his gear on. When he returned to face Logan, his hands were already wrapped, but Logan crossed his arms over his chest, kinking a dark brow at him.

“What?”

“You know what,” Logan replied, his features drawing down into a scowl. “Where’s your head protection?”

Bobby rolled his icicle orbs at him. “I don’t need it…”

Logan dropped his hand on the mutant’s shoulder, the impact making him squeeze his eyes shut. “I’m not going to fight you unless you are wearing head gear and a mouth guard. Understand?”

Bobby looked up at his opponent’s stern face before bowing his head. “Fine…”

“Good.” Logan released him, taking a step back. “Now, hurry up. I don’t have all day.”

When Bobby disappeared for the second time, Alex peered over at Logan, a stupid grin lighting up his expression.

“What?” Wolverine sent a glare at him, twisting his upper limbs in front of his chest.

“Nothing. Just happy the whole incident with S.H.I.E.L.D. didn’t change you.”

With what he felt he needed to say said, the older Summers boy returned to his training, leaving Logan to ponder his words. He didn’t feel different, if he always felt this…empty, but he had nothing to compare it to. There was a vast hole in his memory, and he felt that was enough to alter a person. Because of that, he couldn’t agree with Alex; he was a changed man, in some aspect.

It was just as Logan came to this conclusion that Bobby emerged from the locker room for the second time, wearing everything Logan had insisted upon.

“Alright, Kid.” Logan grinned, cracking his neck. “You ready?”

“I am, but what about your gear?” The blond before him frowned.

“Don’t need it.”

“What?” Bobby’s mouth fell open, a line forming between his two brows.

“Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not insulting you,” Logan began. He was unable to keep the corners of his mouth from turning upwards. “I have healing factor, remember?”

“Go easy on him, though,” Alex interjected but didn’t pause in his training. “He looks like he hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep last night.”

Bobby turned to give Logan a smug look, raising a bright brow. “Really? What were you up to last night?”

Alex’s snicker filled the room. “Yeah, Logan. What could make you this tired?”

Wolverine rolled his eyes and managed to suppress the laughter piling up at the back of his throat. Who did these guys think he was? He wouldn’t…would he? Was he bringing back girls to the mansion before? The thought was unsettling, even though he could see himself capable of doing such a thing. He remembered being lonely most of his life before the X-Men, so sex seemed like a logical solution…He also didn’t pin himself as an unattractive guy; he could probably pick up a girl or two at a bar or something.

But why did the thought repulse him so?

“Wow.” Bobby glanced over his shoulder at Alex. “He’s not even denying it!”

“I know.” Alex chuckled, peaking over at the two of them.

“Okay.” Logan gave the both of them a pointed look, but his smile subtracted from the stern look in his eyes. “That’s enough. Bobby, are we going to do this or not?”

Bobby bent his knees, getting into a starting position. “Bring it on, Old Man.”

And Logan did, despite his lack of sleep and being over one-hundred years old. By the end of the session, Bobby had his palms pressed just above his knees, heaving air in and out as sweat dripped down his face.

“So…what were you and Alex…saying?” Logan asked, slightly out of breath.

Bobby just smiled in response while Alex remained quiet, continuing to punch his speed bag.


After a shower in the locker room, Logan changed into something more comfortable. He didn’t have to a class to teach today, so he opted for his usual white wife-beater and jeans.

He was on his way back to his suite, his bag over his shoulder, and contemplating going out on his bike when he saw Y/N exit her room, clad in a charcoal pencil-skirt and v-neck shirt. Her low, pointed heels clamored against the stone floor as she turned to lock her door before heading his way.

When she saw him, she greeted him with a small smile, slowing down to stand before him, “Hey, Logan.”

“Hey.” He couldn’t seem to stop staring at her outfit, but when she acknowledged his presence, he brought his eyes to meet her E/C ones. “Where you off to?”

He wanted to tell her that she looked amazing. He didn’t know why he couldn’t.

“Class,” she replied, tucking a loose strand of her H/C hair back.

“Class?” Logan furrowed his brows.

“Yeah.” Her face brightened. “I’m a professor here.”

Logan’s eyes widened at that new bit of information, but then again, it did make sense. She was living here, and he assumed that she had graduated from the school a while ago because, from what he gathered, Charles usually took on students who were past the basics unless their powers demanded immediate attention.

“What do you teach?”

“Power Suppression and Control,” she answered, but when Logan didn’t respond, his face showing his confusion, she added, “It’s just the basics, but a lot of people’s powers, both mental and physical, manifest in high-stress situations or through emotions. My job is to help my students learn techniques to keep their powers in check during those times.”

“Like how to deal with anxiety?”

“Yeah. Kind of, but I’m not a therapist.” She chuckled, and Logan grinned.

“Where’s the little one?” he found himself asking after a moment, truly curious.

Y/N’s face fell at his question, but she answered it, “With her godfather.”

“Godfather?”

She nodded, “My h—D/N’s father got to choose her godfather, and I got to choose her godmother. We both felt it was important that she have someone…should anything happen to us…”

“That’s good thinking. Who’s the godfather, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Charles.”


“Ah. Logan. What a surprise.”

“As if.” Logan grumbled beneath his breath as he closed Charles’ office door with a soft click, seeing as D/N was asleep in her baby carrier on the mahogany desk.

“Is there anything I could help you with? It’s not often you come to visit me.” Charles remarked with a grin, placing his book down on the end table next to his wheelchair. “Or, perhaps, you aren’t here to see me…”

Logan’s icy eyes darted over to the sleeping baby. He studied her for a moment, taking in the way her little chest rose and fell with her even breaths. Her expression was peaceful; her features were adorable: red mouth, chubby cheeks, button nose, and wisps of dark hair peaking out of the knit hat she wore. He could see you in her, but he also saw someone else, someone he either didn’t know or couldn’t recall. He wondered which was the case with D/N’s father. Forgotten or never met?

He took a few steps towards the tot, as if he was entranced, but he fought back the urge to reach out a hand and touch her. He didn’t want to wake her, especially if she was dreaming something good.

In that moment, he didn’t know why he felt the need to—maybe it was because he could sympathize with someone who wasn’t going to know her dad—but he was going to protect her, just as much if not more than he was going to defend everyone else under this roof. He would never admit it, but, even after being here for a bit over two weeks, despite not remembering and having such difficulty with trying to, he understood why he resided here before the incident.

He stayed because the X-Men were his family.

Chapter Text

“Well, everything seems to be healing properly,” Hank remarked as he straightened.

You closed your legs and sat up. “That’s good to hear, especially after all the trouble she gave.” You smiled at D/N, who was in her baby seat on the floor next to you. She was returning your grin, her tiny lips causing the apples of her cheeks to rise.

“Yes. That was a difficult birth.” Hank peered over at her, his blue hands finding the pockets of his lab coat, before turning back to you. His brow creased. “How are you mentally, though? Are you sleeping better, now? I remember you mentioning having trouble last week.”

“I have been.” You nodded. “D/N’s been better about sleeping through the night. She just wakes up early.”

“Any trouble with dealing with D/N? Breastfeeding going all right?”

“Yes. I haven’t had problems with either.”

“And the whole thing with Logan…How is that going?”

You hesitated in answering this one because it was getting easier to interact with him. It was no longer painful to see him or hear his voice, and you could carry conversations with him. It was almost like it was before…before the two of you became romantically involved with each other.

But at the same time, you still missed him.

You let out a sigh, shaking your head. “It’s just been…a bit of a challenge getting myself to realize that things will never be the same…or the way I pictured they would be.”

Hank crossed his arms over his chest, the thumb of his right hand finding his furry chin. “I can imagine, but I’m sure that I’m not the only one who wonders…why not tell him? Wouldn’t you feel better if he knew the truth?”

Your gaze met his. “You know how he is, Hank. Before me, he was the most eligible bachelor, bringing home girls nearly every night of the week. To this day, I still don’t understand why he chose me to settle down with, but he did. That decision didn’t happen right away. Marriage and D/N? Both took a lot of discussing, and I don’t blame him for having been reluctant about either. He wouldn’t act the same towards me if he knew the truth; he wouldn’t know how to act because he is back to his old self.”

“I suppose you’re right.” The right corner of Hank’s mouth curved up in a gesture of pity. “But what do you intend to do? What if he brings home another woman? What if he moves on?”

To be honest, you didn’t know the answers to any of those questions, and you weren’t ready to think about them at the moment.

“I’ll cross that bridge when I have to.”


Y/N?

You winced at the volume of Charles’ voice as it ripped through your mind. It was a stark contrast to the silence you were currently maintaining in hopes of getting D/N down for a nap.

Yes, Professor?

I hate to ask this of you, as it seems you are occupied, but I need you to come to my office as soon as possible.

You felt your body deflate at Charles’ request, but whatever it was, it had to be important. You ceased the back and forth motions you were making with your feet, causing the white rocking chair you were currently occupying to cease in its movements. Getting to your feet, D/N half asleep in your arms, you headed over to her crib by the window.

Will you get someone to come look after her? Someone reliable…

Of course.

Within moments, a knock resounded from the doorframe to your daughter’s room, causing you to spin around. “Oh, Logan.”

“Professor said you needed a babysitter.” He smirked, entering the nursery.

Really, Charles?

He was the closest, and considering he is the father…

You fixed your expression so that it was somewhat welcoming as you walked over to him. “She’s asleep, so all I really need you to do is to watch her.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard.” He shrugged his shoulders, his eyes taking in the space. “Yellow, huh?”

You kinked a brow at him, wondering why he was suddenly fascinated with the wall color. “Yeah. Daffodil, actually.”

His gaze found yours, his orbs almost ice. “Daffodil?”

“Yeah.” You bent over to pick up the little stuffed bunny your daughter favored from the cream carpet. “Like the flower.” You placed the toy in the corner of her crib before smoothing back the hair covering her forehead. “Why?”

“No reason,” he replied, avoiding your curious stare. “Now, get going. Charles is waiting for you.”

You rolled your eyes at him but failed to suppress the urge to throw a smile his way as you walked passed him. “Thanks for doing this, Logan.”

“Any time, Bub.”


“What is he doing here?” You wished your eyes were actual daggers because the way you were stabbing him with your glare would surely kill him several times over. At your question, the offensive man turned, his hands folded behind his back and his brown orb taking in your form.

“Now, Y/N. You know it wasn’t…” Charles began from his spot behind his desk, but you were quick to shut him up.

“I apologize, Professor Xavier,” you turned your head, jaw clenched, “but the last time I saw Mr. Fury, he was telling me that he had lost all contact with my husband.”

“Y/N…”

“It’s fine, Charles.” Nick was away from the tall window, now, and he touched the Professor’s shoulder before placing his attention on you. “I understand that the circumstances surrounding our last meeting were…unfavorable, but I am afraid I had no choice but to seek you out, Mrs. Howlett.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, your voice sharp as you asked, “And why is that?”

“We know you can see the past of anyone you have physical contact with,” Fury began, walking over to you. “We have a suspected Hydra member in our custody, but he won’t respond, even after we have used some of our…persuasive techniques. Of course, S.H.I.E.L.D won’t look good if we really start questioning him, and, well, that’s where you come in.”

“So you want me to invade this man’s privacy for you?”

“This man doesn’t reserve the right to privacy if he’s done what we believe he has,” Fury countered, leaning against the desk, his brows furrowed.

You looked to the Professor, hoping he would step in for you because he knew how you felt about using your powers.

You can hear my thoughts. I know you can.

Charles closed his eyes for a brief moment, his shoulders slumping. This is your choice, Y/N. I won’t let him force you into anything.

You turned your attention back to Fury, “Give me some time to think about it.”

“You have twenty-four hours.”

You gave the director a nod before spinning on your toes and leaving the room, and you didn’t let your mind dwell on the meeting, knowing you would be later tonight.


When you got back to your suite, D/N was still fast asleep, and you had caught Logan looking through one of the baby books you had gotten her. He was quick to pretend he hadn’t been reading it, stating he just thought the artwork was funny, but you knew your laughter was signal to him enough that you didn’t believe his bullshit.

Shortly after that, he went on his way, but it wasn’t the last time you saw him. In fact, you encountered him on your midnight walk while mulling over Fury’s request.

“Can’t sleep?”

You shook your head, debating whether or not to confide in him. Before the time-travel incident, you wouldn’t even hesitate in asking for his input, but now…he was just a friend. He wouldn’t hold you close or kiss your temple. He wouldn’t say, “You’re over thinkin’ this, Darlin’.” He wouldn’t roll over in the morning, giving you his opinion, one that he spent all night thinking about.

But a small part of you wanted to know if he would, even at the risk of being disappointed.

“I met with Nick Fury today.”

“Who?” He glanced at you as the two of you began a stroll.

“He’s the director of the organization that you volunteered for,” you whispered in answer, refusing to remember the late afternoon Logan told you he was going to be S.H.I.E.LD.’s guinea pig.

“Oh…What did he want?”

“My help.” You sighed, hugging yourself as you trained your eyes on your fuzzy slippers. “He wants me to use my powers to get information from a Hydra suspect.”

“Sounds fun,” Logan chuckled, shoving his hands into the grey pockets of his sweatpants. “How does he expect you to do that?”

“I can go through his memories,” you answered, stopping in the middle of the hall to look at your husband, gauging his reaction.

His bushy brows lifted at your words, his electric blue eyes wide. “You can see a person’s memories?”

“Yes,” you breathed, “through physical contact. I can also manipulate them.”

Logan’s mouth opened, but he must have thought better of what he was about to say. He paused for a minute, before speaking. “So what’s the trouble, then? Why don’t you just help them out?”

His tone was neutral; you knew he had no intention of swaying you either way, and you were grateful for it.

The edges of your lips curved upwards. “I guess there really isn’t anything wrong with it…I just don’t like to use my powers.” You looked down at your palms, spread open before you. “There’s a lot of things I’ve seen…unintentionally.”

“But this time wouldn’t be an accident.” You felt Logan’s gentle touch on your shoulders as his gaze found yours. “You’re in control, and if you don’t like what you see, you can come to me, have a good cry.” You snorted at his suggestion, and he shook his head, his fingers falling from your form. “You’re overthinkin’ this, Darlin’, but something tells me that it’d be bad if you weren’t.” His mouth slanted in a smile. “I won’t blame you if you say don’t agree to it, but don’t say no because you don’t think you could handle it.”

A short laugh escaped you as you bowed your head, nodding it. “Thanks, Logan.” You looked to him. “You’ve somehow said exactly what I wanted to hear.”

“It’s also what you needed to hear.”

And he was right, though he would never fully understand why.

             

Chapter Text

Logan didn’t think about his conversation with Y/N until late afternoon the next day. He had a busy morning, consisting of sparring with Alex, class, lunch, and then sparring with Bobby. And after a quick shower, there was nothing more appealing than his motorcycle, so Logan decided it was time he go for a ride.

Logan had gone short distances on his bike since waking up, staying mostly in the area of the mansion because he wasn’t familiar with the roads around it, but he was feeling adventurous and getting out for a bit seemed like it would be relaxing.

He was on the tree-lined road leading away from the mansion when he began to wonder if Y/N could use her powers to help him. It didn’t seem so far-fetched, not when she could see his memories if she touched him; didn’t that include the ones locked away by his mind? The very possibility excited him enough to cause him to turn back around, heading straight for home, but as he approached, he also felt a churning in his stomach—like he was nauseous or something. The feeling chipped at him, making him wonder, if Y/N would be able to make him remember, would like what his life once was.

When Logan returned to the mansion, he only made one other stop before heading to Y/N’s suite to put his bike away, along with his helmet. Using one of his motorcycle’s side mirrors, he straightened out his dark hair before leaving the garage and heading for the main house. Once inside, he made a beeline for Y/N’s rooms.

As he approached her door, he heard the sound of music, music he didn’t expect a woman Y/N’s age to be listening to. He rapped his knuckles hard on the wooden door, knowing it would probably be difficult for Y/N to hear him over AC/DC’s TNT.

Within moments, he was facing her. Her hair was up in a messy ponytail, but her face showed no signs of tiredness. She wasn’t wearing any make-up—something he typically saw her in. Her form was clad in a grey sweatshirt, the navy of her short-shorts just peeking out from underneath it. His eyes wandered from their to the smoothness of her upper thighs; the thought of what it would be like to touch them came onto him quite suddenly, and it appalled him. He quickly brought his gaze back to her own, effectively ending the startling train of thought.

“Hey, Logan.” She gave him a smile, adjusting D/N in her arms. “I’m just making dinner. Why don’t you come in?”

“You sure? I can come back later if you’re busy…”

She shook her head, the stray strands from her ponytail moving with her. “It’s fine. I could use some conversation.”

She turned away from him going back into the living room before picking up a remote from the side table and pointing it at the stereo beneath the mounted flat screen. Bon Scott’s voice lowered significantly.

“So…what’s cookin’?” Logan asked, placing his hands in his jean pockets as he walked further into the space. Y/N headed for the kitchen, placing D/N in her carrier on top of the counter.

“Nothing special…just spaghetti with meat sauce,” she replied, glancing over her shoulder at him. “Is there a particular reason why you came to see me?”

“Yeah, but could I use your John first?” That’s what he gets for drinking two beers with lunch.

“Sure,” she said from her spot in front of the stove. “It’s down the hall, last door on the right.”

“Thanks.” He walked straight ahead, down a narrow hallway that could probably be a tight squeeze if two of him were walking side by side. To his left was D/N’s nursery; the door was opened a crack, so he could see the pale yellow walls. He found it odd that he painted a room in his suite the same exact color, but maybe Y/N had some left over paint and offered it? It was plausible, but it was unlikely he would’ve gone through the trouble of changing the color of his spare room.

The door straight down the hall, at the end of it, was closed. He assumed it was the master bedroom and quickly put down any thoughts of snooping around. Y/N was close by, and it would be rude of him to enter her room without permission…

After he had finished his business, he headed back to the main living area to see Y/N setting the table for two.

“What’s this?”

She straightened from putting a plate down, her lips curved, “I had some extra sauce and pasta, so I just thought…” She shrugged her shoulders, averting her gaze, and her bashful expression was quite adorable. He would place the blame on her charm; it coaxed him into staying, even though he really didn’t have anywhere else to be. He hadn’t even thought of dinner.

“Can I get you a beer or something?” she asked once he sat himself down at one end of the rectangular table.

“Sure. Thanks,” he responded, resting his forearms on the table.

It didn’t take her long to get him a bottle, and then they were both enjoying their meal.

It seemed like forever since he tasted something that was homemade, and for some reason it left him feeling warm on the inside. It wasn’t the temperature of the food or the fact he was slightly nervous to eat dinner with Y/N. It was something else, something familiar that made him smile.

“It’s good.”

“Thanks. It’s a recipe I’ve been modifying ever since I found it.” She swallowed a forkful of spaghetti. “I’m pretty close to getting it just right, but it’s still missing something…”

“I think it’s perfect the way it is.” Logan spun a few strands about his fork.

“You always say that…” She grinned but then seemed to realize what she had just said. Her E/C eyes widened for a moment before she looked back down at her plate.

“You’ve cooked for me before?” He took a sip of his drink, keeping his face emotionless, as if he wasn’t the least bit curious by her reaction.

She nodded. “Yes.”

All was silent again, save for the scraping of metal against pottery and AC/DC. Now, Back in Black was playing.

“You like this music?” he questioned, his stare moving from the woman in front of him to the stereo.

“Not initially,” she paused to swallow, “but my husband is pretty fond of it. AC/DC, Whitesnake, Aerosmith…He likes hard rock, so it was always on. It grew on me, I guess.” She looked back down at her dish, a string of spaghetti already twirled and ready for her, but she just continued to spin her utensil. “I put it on for D/N sometimes. The baby books say music is good for them, but she doesn’t respond to anything except for this.”

Logan let out a light chuckle, bringing his attention to the smiling babe in the chair next to Y/N. She was kicking her little legs in the carrier, her hands darting in the air above her.

“Like father, like daughter, huh?”

“You can say that again.” Y/N laughed, her gaze falling to her child. Her face relaxed. “She looks just like him…” After a moment or two of silence, she turned her head to face him. “You said you had a reason for coming here. What was it?”

“Oh…” Logan straightened in his chair, his chest constricting. He felt no different from Fury, asking this of her, but they were friends…right? She would help him. “I was wonderin’ if you could…help me remember? By usin’ your powers?”

Any hint of happiness disappeared from Y/N’s face. Her brows drew down in a troubled expression, and she winced, bowing her head, “I’m sorry, Logan, but I can’t…”

“Why not?” He hated himself for pushing the issue, but what else could he do?  

“I don’t have your memories in me, Logan. As we became friends and I was better at controlling my powers, I didn’t want to invade your privacy…or anyone’s, for that matter. Also, I don’t know if I could access what your subconscious isn’t even willing to allow you to see, and even if I did, if I were to return them to you it would be like watching yourself experience things…like a movie. It wouldn’t feel like a memory, just a projection of one.”

Logan sighed. “So…there’s no way you can help me?”

She shook her head, her orbs glazed over. “I’m afraid not. I’m sorry…”

“Hey, Y/N.” He felt like an asshole. A complete an utter asshole. “Look at me.”

She lifted her head slightly, her eyes just meeting his own.

He softened his expression, offering her an assuring grin. “It’s fine. I’ll just have to find another way to get ‘em back. Alright?”

She nodded, one corner of her lips lifting.

And while her smile eased some of his worries, it didn’t rid him of them all.

Chapter Text

You waited on the roof of the X-Men mansion, clad in a beige dress suit and matching heels. Logan stood beside you, his arms crossed over his chest as his eyes scanned the grey sky above.

“He’s late.” The words came from Logan’s lips and nipped at the chilly air.

“He always is.” You sighed, adjusting your cuff link. You turned to look at Logan. “He was late when he picked you up for the experiment.”

You remembered that morning quite well. There were more people on the roof, and your husband was arguing with you as he held you in his arms, insisting that you return to the warmth your suite offered. Of course, you being the stubborn woman you were, insisted on seeing your husband off, even if you were pregnant and shivering.

“Something tells me I’m not gonna like this guy.”

You snorted. “Believe me, you didn’t.”

Your companion glanced at you before walking over to you and taking your arm gently. “You look cold.”

That was an understatement, but the last thing you wanted was to inconvenience him.

“Do you want me to go get you a thicker jacket?”

Your lips curved into a smile as you shook your head. “Its fine, Logan. I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.”

Logan remained silent, staring at you intensely. You knew this look; he would wear it when he was deep in thought or considering how you would react to something. Before the incident, you would either just ignore it or kiss him when he was acting this way, but, obviously, you couldn’t do either.

“What?” you asked, placing a hand on your hip.

Logan opened his mouth, seemed to think better of it, and then looked away, his dark brows furrowed. “Nothing…Never mind.”

Before you could question him more, a chopping sound filled the air, and the wind picked up. You looked at the sky above you, lifting your hands up in an attempt to control your whipping hair as a black helicopter began its descent. The flying machine was barely a few inches from the pad when the door opened, revealing Fury, donning his usual dark garments and eye patch.

“Good. You’re on time.” He reached out a hand.

You threw Logan a lop-sided grin over your shoulder before letting Fury pull you into the copter. You moved passed him to take the seat next to his before looking at your husband once again.

“Good to see that you have recovered, Mr. Howlett,” the director shouted to him.

Logan squinted at him, his hand hovering above his eyes. “Thanks, I guess.”

“I hope you don’t mind me stealing your wife for a while.”

You felt your heart stop in that moment. When those words passed Fury’s lips, you had no idea how to respond, but your body did. It decided to freeze in the moment and allow your brain to use all of its energy to process what just happened.

Then, your eyes went to Logan, who shook his head.

“What?” He shouted back, but he didn’t sound surprised. All the alarms that had been blaring a moment ago quieted in the realization that the noise from the blades was too much. Logan couldn’t make out what Fury had just said.

“I hope you don’t mind,” the man beside you repeated, and you were shocked by how fast your muscles could tense and relax.

“Oh. As long as she doesn’t, I’m fine with it.” Your husband shrugged.

Fury chuckled, settling back into his seat. He pointed at the mutant and yelled, “You’re a good man, Logan.”

He didn’t respond, and you knew it was because he, himself, didn’t believe he was. That, unfortunately, was one of the few things that didn’t change about Logan when he accepted you into his heart. It was something you spent—and enjoyed spending—every day reminding him of.


“Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters.” Fury opened the door that led from the stairwell to the top floor of the tower.

He allowed you to walk ahead of him, into the room that, you assumed, was the center of the operation. People were bustling about or typing away on keyboards. Secretaries, clad in similar outfits as your own, rushed about the room, arms holding manila folders and stacks of papers.

“I’ll introduce you to the Avengers in Conference Room 10-B. Miss. Hill will escort you,” the director explained before turning to greet a sharply dressed woman. “Miss. Hill, this is Mrs. Howlett.”

You smiled at the name, having missed being referred to that, and extended a hand for the brunette to shake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss. Hill.”

“Likewise,” she responded, letting go of your hand. She huffed out a breath before giving her boss a polite grin and turning to you. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way.” You stepped aside to give her some room, and she took it, guiding you down a long hallway before stopping at a door. She entered the room with you at her tail. “This is Conference Room 10-B.”

You gave her a nod before taking a seat in one of the black leather chairs that encircled a large, rectangular table.

“Director Fury should be back with the team soon. Can I get you anything to drink in the meantime?” Miss. Hill asked, folding her hands before her.

“No. That won’t be necessary, but thank you for the offer,” you replied while opening the handbag in your lap. You pulled out a pen and notepad, placing both on the white marble surface before you. 

“Alright. Have a good first day, Mrs. Howlett. I must be getting back to work.”

You looked up from your purse and beamed at her. “Thank you so much.”

She offered you a curt nod before taking her leave.

Now, left alone and to your own devices, you looked about the plain room, taking in the light slate paint and bright, florescent lights. Above the table was a projector, pointed at a gigantic screen at the far end of room.

“Finding anything interesting?”

You turned at the question, a smile tugging on your lips as you rose to your feet. You rounded the table and threw your arms around the red-head, ecstatic to see her.

“Fury didn’t say that you’d be here!” You exclaimed, drawing back to look at your friend.

She chuckled, letting her hands fall to her side. “Well, I am part of the Avengers, so I guess he figured you knew.”

“How long has it been, now?” You asked, shaking your head. “Three…four months?”

“That long, huh?” Natasha frowned, her scarlet brows lowering. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around, especially with what happened to Logan…”

Your kept your smile, despite the clenching feeling in your chest.“It’s alright, Nat. I know you’re busy, and you’ve had your hands full, keeping an eye on Tony.”

She scoffed, placing her hand on her hip. “He was more trouble than he’s worth, but, lucky for us, he won’t be around today.”

“Oh?”

You both took a seat, her across from you and close to the door.

“He had some press conference he had to be at,” Natasha replied, relaxing into the leather of her chair. “Thor won’t be here either. He’s in Asgard on important business.”

“So who will be here?”

“Just about everyone else.”

“Ah.” You nodded your head at the vague answer just as the sound of metal against metal filled the air.

“Barton!” Natasha hissed, looking at the assassin that suddenly appeared in the chair next to hers.

“What?” He shrugged his shoulders. “I was in the vents…”

You looked up at the ceiling above him to find that there was an opening in it. He must have dropped in. Literally.

“Sorry about that, Y/N.” Natasha sighed, one side of her ruby lips curving up. “Clint likes to show off.”

The male agent pouted at her words, crossing his arms over his chest. “I do not.”

“He also likes to whine like a child.”

You grinned at the two of them, grateful that they were the first people to arrive and not Fury, but alas, all good things must come to an end.

“Good to see you here, Agents.”

The two turned to look at their boss, their expressions turning grim.

Your attention, however, was on the two men standing behind him. One of them was clad in a white lab coat and rectangular glasses that he adjusted under your gaze. The other, who stood a bit behind him, wore a dark blue, striped button-down, khakis, and chocolate loafers. His blond brows furrowed when he noticed your gaze, and, mortified that you had been caught staring, you forced your eyes to settle on Fury.

“Mrs. Howlett, I see you have already met Mr. Barton and are familiar with Miss. Romanoff.”

You nodded your head, sparing another glance at the duo behind him.

Fury moved into the room, stopping at the head of the table. He then turned to look at his two companions, “I would like to introduce you to Dr. Banner and Mr. Rogers.”

You got to your feet extending a hand to the doctor before shaking Mr. Rogers’ hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet both of you.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Ma’am.”

“Now that introductions are out of the way—Would you close the door Rogers?” Fury’s gaze met yours. “I would like to keep the conversation in this room.”

You moved to sit down again, tucking your skirt beneath you.

“As most of you know, Mr. Rogers is a vital asset to the Avengers team as Captain America.”

Your eyes widened, your head snapping so that you could gape at the man sitting at the far end of the table.

Captain America knew Logan, but whether or not he remembered him was a different story, considering he was supposed to be dead, by all accounts. He probably didn’t, though, considering he didn’t show any reaction to Fury calling you “Mrs. Howlett”.

“How are you still alive?” It wasn’t eloquently put—Clint’s snicker told you what you already knew—but it was what you were wondering. “I’m sorry,” you started, shifting in your chair. “It’s just, from what I thought I understood about the serum, it didn’t grant you immortality…”

The captain grinned. “It didn’t…I was preserved in ice…”

You looked to Dr. Banner, a brow arched because, frankly, that sounded like a bit of a long-shot.

“It’s true.”

“It’s undoubtedly true,” Fury spoke up, calling all attention to focus on him. “That’s why we need you, Y/N. Mr. Rogers has top-secret information in that head of his, but he can’t remember every single detail of his life in the service. That’s why I need you to—”

“Pick his brain,” you finished for him, your gaze meeting Captain America’s. “So he was the supposed Hydra agent you captured?”

“Please, Mrs. Howlett. You can’t expect me to give you the details of a mission without knowing if you were going to participate in it or not.”

“You didn’t have to tell a complete lie,” you pointed out, crossing your legs under the table.

“But I didn’t. There is a Hydra agent we are after, and the key to finding him is by looking through Mr. Rogers’ memory.”

There was only one Hydra agent you could think of that went as far back as Captain America. You knew of him because Logan would randomly go looking for him…this “Winter Soldier” who assassinated countless people, including your husband’s first wife, Itsu.

“You’re the only one we know that can,” Fury reminded you. He liked to use this tactic, knowing that you had a heart, a heart that cared a bit too much.

You were sick and tired of it.

“Mr. Fury,” you began, sending a glare his way. “I feel the need to remind you that you have said very similar things to me before when trying to convince me to allow my husband to leave me while I was eight months pregnant and act as your guinea pig for the good of our country. You assured me that no harm would befall him, that no pain would come to me or him as a result.”

“I could not promise—”

“I know you couldn’t, but Mr. Fury, here I am again, without a husband and the pure joy he gave me. I have suffered both mentally and emotionally while trying to care for a newborn without her father by my side.”

“He’s still alive, isn’t he? You speak as if he were dead.”

“The man that woke from his coma is living without the effects of what he went through after meeting the X-Men. He does not have the same understanding, beliefs, or memories as the man that left only two months ago.” You took in a breath and exhaled, attempting to slow the blood that was now coursing like fire through your veins. “I am not saying I will not help you, but I have come to realize that my husband and child are more important to me than any country. They need me more than any country ever could, so if I feel their safety or my own is being compromised, I will drop whatever it is I am doing and leave. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Fury?”

The space was silent, and the tension was thick as you finished. Fury just stared at you, the corners of his mouth twitching a bit before spreading into an amused smile. “Alright, Y/N. I will abide by your request simply because I know Mr. Rogers’ memory isn’t a happy place.”

“I can attest to that,” the Captain interjected, a fabrication of pride on his face.

“That all being said,” Natasha’s voice filled the room, her forest eyes finding yours, “are you in or out?”


“So how do your powers work, exactly?”

“It’s simple, really,” you replied, shrugging off your suit jacket and placing it on the lab desk. You looked over your shoulder at the Captain. “All I need to do is touch you.”

Your companion went silent at that comment, his pale cheeks turning a touch pink, which you found adorable as well as comical.

“I didn’t mean in a sexual way,” you chuckled, walking over to him. “Your arm will suffice.”

“Oh…” He averted his gaze.

“Are you disappointed?” you asked, unable to help yourself. You rarely ever got a rise out of Logan; he was too far from innocent to turn bashful at your flirtatious comments. In fact, you were the one left blushing most of the time.

His head shot up, his chin nearly on the tile floor, “No!”

You threw your head back, laughing. “I’m joking. Relax.”

“I should hope so, especially after that speech you gave during the meeting,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back in his chair. “And you’re married to a good man.”

“So you do remember him.” You smiled, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Of course. I fought alongside him.” He stared at the floor, silent for a few moments, recalling his time with him, before meeting your eyes. “I never thought I would meet his wife. He was always a bit…standoffish. Not to say he wasn’t popular with women, but…I couldn’t see him keeping a relationship with one for very long.”

“Yeah, well, he’s changed a lot since World War II…”

“It would be nice to see him again, see someone familiar in this time…”

You frowned at his words, realizing how hard it must be for him to be in a time so far off from his own, “He’d be happy to see you…and you’re always welcome at the mansion.”

“Really?” His blue, puppy-dog eyes gazed up at you.

“Yeah.” You nodded. “Just make sure you call me Y/N, not Mrs. Howlett.”

“Oh…then, you can call me Steve. That’s my real name.” He grinned.

“Well, Steve, I think it’s time we start. Are you ready?” you asked placing your hand on his forearm.

“As I’ll ever be…”

“Good.”

You allowed your eyelids to fall closed, activating your power with a long breath, and when you opened your eyes again, you found yourself in the middle of a war zone.

Chapter Text

“I thought I would find you out here.”

Logan looked up from his bike, removing the washcloth from the gleaming metal as he peered up at the voice. “Yeah, Kid? What’s it to ya?”

“Oh…nothing…” Scott shrugged his shoulders, but Logan didn’t like the smug grin on his lips.

He simply grunted before getting back to waxing his baby. “Was there something that you wanted?”

“No…Just looking for some company.”

“From me?” Logan scoffed, glancing back at Scott.

“Yeah. You’re a cool guy, Logan. I thought we could have a nice conversation.”

“About?” Logan peeked up at the sky, rubbing his nose with the back of his wrist before turning his attention back to the bike.

Scott leaned his head back, placing his hands in his jean pockets. “What is so interesting up there that you keep looking for?”

Logan paused in his work, chuckling lowly. He should have known Scott caught him, but he wouldn’t admit it. “Nothin’. Just a nice day.”

His companion took in an exaggerated breath and let it out with an, “Ah…You’re right. The sky is a light blue, not a cloud in it. It’s clear enough that you could almost see anything…Wait? What’s that?”

“What?” Logan’s head shot up, his gaze scanning the sky.

“Gotcha.” Scott laughed. “I knew you were watching for Y/N.”

“Fuckin’ know-it-all…” Logan grumbled to himself before getting to his feet.

“What was that?”

“Nothin’.” He sighed, wiping his hands on his old, worn jeans. “Now, is that all you came out here to do? Make fun of me? ‘Cause I think you’re done.”

“Aw,” Scott placed a hand on Wolverine’s shoulder. “Don’t be such a stiff, Logan. I actually did want to talk to you.”

“What about?” Logan looked to the hand on his shoulder then at its owner.

Scott got the hint, letting his arm drop to his side. “Well…how’s teaching going?”

“It’s goin’ good.” Logan nodded, leaning down to pick up his case of wax. “They’re good kids, and they’re getting better every day. I’m thinking of taking them out for a little…real life simulation…”

Scott laughed. “Oh really? This ought to be good…”

“What? Have I given real life simulations before?”

“Oh, yes. Tons of them. Even Kitty and Kurt have been on them.”

“And…?”

“Well, let’s just say a lot of students feigned sickness when one was coming up…”

Logan smirked, tucking the washcloth in his back pocket. “Oh yeah? Well, thanks for letting me know.”

“Logan…why are you making that face…?” Scott asked carefully, his eyebrows rising in concern.

“I just thought of maybe giving a pop real life simulation instead…”

Scott groaned. “A lot of people are going to hate me…”

“Scott!”

Both mutants turned around at the shout to see Rogue running from the house, D/N in her arms.

“What’s wrong?”

“Is she okay?” Logan frowned, rushing to meet Rogue half way, his eyes on the child she was holding.

“She’s fine,” she managed between breaths, “but I have class in five minutes, and it’s Scott’s turn…”

“Oh, no. I already talked about this with Y/N and Jean,” Scott backed away, putting his hands up. “I am not good with babies.”

“Come on, Scott!” Rogue hissed, holding out the bubbly babe in her arms. “I have to go to class. Charles is busy. Jean is teaching right now. Ororo is nowhere to be found. Piotr is out on a mission. Kitty and Kurt have class with me…You’re the only one available besides…”

“Oh for Christ’s sakes.” Logan stepped forward, rolling his eyes as he outstretched his arms. “Just give the kid to me.”

“Are you sure, Logan?” Rogue questioned but handed him D/N anyway.

“Yeah. I’ve watched after her before,” Logan replied, holding the small girl to his chest. D/N regarded him with bright blue eyes, her lips curving upwards as she let out a gurgle.

“Thanks, Logan!” Rogue said before running back to the house.

“Well, I best be going…” Scott murmured as he slowly walked away.

“Whatever, Kid.”

D/N let out another sound as Logan lowered himself onto the grass, under the shade of a tree. He was grateful that she was dressed in an outfit that covered her up, including a hat that hid her little head. The last thing he wanted was for her to get sunburned.

“Don’t worry, Bub. Your mom will be home soon.”

D/N, as if responding, reached out a hand, uncurling her fingers to touch the stubble on his face.

“I know I need to shave. Thanks for the reminder.” Logan let out a chuckle, beginning to rock her a bit. “You know, your mom says you look just like your dad, but I do see some of her in you.”

She made a noise, a cross between a squeal and a screech, as she began to kick her legs.

“Yeah…I do. You have her expressions, and the same eye shape…” His eyes scanned her face, his smile faltering. “Huh…I guess your dad must have my eye color because your eyes are definitely ice blue.”

D/N cooed, moving her head slightly closer to his chest, and causing the tips of Logan’s lips to curve. “I’m sorry your dad’s not around, Bub. It’s not a fun thing, not knowing your father. Believe me, I know.”

The girl blinked up at him, her eyes becoming lidded.

Logan brought his finger to her cheek, stroking the soft skin as he continued their conversation. “Your dad might not be around, but you got your godfather Charles and your godmother Ororo. And you have Kitty, Jean, Rogue, and Piotr. You have your mom, who I know loves you a lot…and you got me, Kid.”

At this point, the babe in his arms had her eyes closed, and her breathing had slowed to show she was in peaceful slumber.

“You got me, Kid.”


Charles notified Logan the moment he heard Y/N’s thoughts nearby, and soon after, the two of them were standing on the roof of the mansion. Logan cradled D/N in his arms; she had just woken from a nap and was still a bit out of it, but the roar of the helicopter blades caught her interest. She surprised Logan, who expected her to start bawling, by opening her bright eyes wider to peer over at the source of the noise.

“She’s a curious one,” Charles remarked with a proud grin.

“Seems like it,” Logan responded before looking away from the baby to see her mother step down from the copter.

The instant her E/C eyes met his, Logan knew something was wrong. She had a smile on her crimson lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes. The woman before him was the woman he saw in the ballroom three weeks ago.

She walked over to Logan, reaching her arms over his to take D/N from him. The baby beamed at her mother, and some genuineness went into Y/N’s content expression.

But Logan still saw the slight tremble that wracked through her hand as she lifted a locket from behind her collar to give to D/N to play with.

Without giving much thought to his actions, Logan took her wrist in his hands, his eyes finding her wide ones.

“Are you okay? You’re shaking…”

Y/N avoided his gaze, keeping her attention trained on her daughter.“I’m fine, Logan.”

With that, she pulled her hand from his grasp, causing him to regret not holding onto her tighter, and left the rooftop.

Logan then looked to Charles, who had been watching after her.

“What did you hear?” He asked, taking a step towards him. “When you heard her thoughts approach…what was she thinking?”

Charles stared at Logan for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh and bowing his head. “I cannot say exactly what was going on in her mind, Logan. It’s an invasion of her privacy.”

“But she is obviously shaken up!” Logan growled before turning from the professor and making his way to the floor below.

Unfortunately for him, Y/N had disappeared.


It was nearly midnight when Logan found himself walking towards Y/N’s suite.

He had tried getting some shut-eye, but knowing that she was probably still in the same state she had been when she returned made it impossible.

Still, when he made it to her doorstep, he hesitated, his fist centimeters from the wood of her door.

What if he woke her?

What if she didn’t want to see him?

Those two questions made him furrow his brow. He wanted to offer her comfort, but he wasn’t certain Y/N wanted it from him. In times like these, he could imagine her wishing for her husband’s words or embrace, not his, even though he did think of his relationship with Y/N as being a close one.

But Y/N’s husband wasn’t here, and she was obviously going through something.

The look on her face from earlier came to the forefront of his mind, and it was what caused him to tap lightly on her door.

There was a pause before the word “coming” reached his ears in the form of a choked sigh.

A moment later, the door to the suite opened, revealing Y/N.

Unable to help himself, he took in her form. Her almost bare legs, the silk fabric of her robe stopping mid-thigh, the dip in the collar teasing him with the top half of the valley in the middle of her chest, her locket being lucky enough to reach that skin…It was all suddenly enticing to him. However, his desire faded into concern when his eyes locked with her puffy, red ones.

“Is there something you needed, Logan?”

She was hiding behind the door, one manicured hand holding onto it and poised to slam it shut should she feel the need to.

“You’ve been crying,” he whispered, his blue orbs searching her face. “Why?”

The crack between the door and the threshold narrowed.

“I was watching a movie, and I—”

“Bullshit,” Logan uttered before moving to force his way into the living room. He took her hand in his, shut the door behind him, and pulled her to the beige couch. He glanced at the dark television mounted above the gas fireplace before arching a brow at her, “You were watching a movie, huh?”

Y/N didn’t respond; she just hung her head as Logan took a seat and pulled her form to rest beside his.

“Now, what happened at S.H.I.E.L.D.? You’ve been down in the dumps since you got back, so I know somethin’ must have happened there.”

Logan was prepared to argue with her, to get her to open up about what was making her hurt so much, but she willingly began her story, much to his surprise.

“I met the Avengers, a group of mutants and agents that were put together as some sort of task force.”

“Did one of them hurt you?” The question came out in a growl that he had failed to keep back, but he didn’t regret it; she turned her gaze on him, the corners of her lips twitching to form a smile.

“No. They’re all very nice, but…Fury had lied to me. It turns out that he wanted me to look into Captain America’s memory to find a Hydra agent.”

Logan frowned. “Captain America? Y/N, he’s dead; there’s no way—”

She cut him off with an explanation, one that he found he couldn’t believe until he saw the guy with his own two eyes, but he humored her, knowing that this was only the beginning of her tale.

“So…I remembered that you were in World War II and that you had mentioned working with Captain America. The minute I said your name, he lit up. He said that there were very few from his time still alive now, so it would be nice to see you…”

Logan’s lips rounded at that. He knew the loneliness that the Captain had been feeling, and seeing him again would be a pleasure; they could catch up and talk about old times. And Logan could forget, for a little bit, that he had a lapse in his life, ripped pages in his memory. He could pretend, just for a moment, that he could remember everything.

That would be if this guy actually was Captain America.

“Then…” She sighed, her shoulders drooping. “I began to look into his past, and there…I found…you.”

His eyes widened, and, although he had many questions about what she saw that involved him, ones that looked for details, he remained silent as she continued. Tears welled up in her eyes, and he squeezed her hand, only realizing now that he was still holding it.

“I saw you on the battlefield, being reckless and nearly getting yourself killed!”

By the time she finished the sentence, she had gone from narrating to scolding him. She turned on him, fierce water in her E/C orbs.

“Why would you do anything so careless, so—so dangerous?”

Logan didn’t know how to answer the question. He didn’t know what she had seen; there were many instances Logan could recall that involved him nearly dying. He was in a war, and, well, he was…himself, thoughtless and obstinate…

“Steve was even telling you not to do it, but because you are just so…reckless and—and stubborn…you just go against orders!”

Why did he feel like he had this conversation before?

“And then you do something completely heroic but stupid and it makes me realize that you haven’t changed a bit, and it scares me to death, Logan!”

He closed his eyes for a split second before staring at her again. She was still beautiful with tear-stained cheeks, her nostrils flaring with the rhythm of her chest’s rises and falls, and the glare she regarded him with.

Without putting much thought into the action, he brought his hand to cup her right cheek, and he almost laughed at how her body seemed to completely relax in reaction to his touch.

She’s married. He reminded himself, but…Was she happy with her absent husband?

He couldn’t imagine her being so.

“First off, you need to calm down, Bub. You’ll wake the kid, if you haven’t already,” he said, wiping a stray drop from her red face.

Her brow lifted in a moment of horror, and only the hum of the air conditioning could be heard as they listened for any noise from D/N. When Logan was sure she was still sleeping, he continued.

“Second, don’t get upset about the past. What’s done is done.”

“But what if it happens again…”

He hushed her. “I don’t know what you saw, Y/N, but I can assume it was pretty gruesome…”

She nodded, resting her cheek into his hand and causing him to gulp down the urge to hold her. He let his fingers fall from her skin but took her other hand when a look of disappointment crossed her expression.

“I can’t promise I won’t do anything life-threatening because that’s just who I am.”

She shook her head, sorrow shaking her voice. “I know, Logan. I know, but…”

“I will promise this, though.” He cut her off, watching her fingers, that had been playing with his, pause. “You’ll always have me.”

His palms suddenly became empty as one of her hand went to fist his white tank-top and the other found the shoulder opposite her. Her eyelashes wet the flesh of his shoulder as she buried her face into the hard contours of it.

Sobs wracked her body, and, although he probably would’ve felt uncomfortable in this situation, he didn’t. It was almost like clockwork, the way his right arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her a bit closer to his warmth. He didn’t say anything as she spent the next several minutes crying, and when she became silent, he peeked down at her face, chuckling when he realized she had fallen asleep cuddled up against him, essentially trapping him in the suite until she woke up, but he didn’t find himself minding.

It was funny how close he felt to her, even though he couldn’t remember her three weeks ago. They must have been good friends…At least, that was the impression he got, and it would explain how easily and quickly he had become used to her presence, even eventually coming to seek it. It would also be a reasonable cause for the curiosity he felt towards her.

Maybe his brain and body just knew something he didn’t.


The next morning, Logan woke up to a cooing sound coming from the baby monitor on the end table next to him. Realizing that D/N was up, he looked to the woman who was still holding onto him in her sleep. He felt his skin heat up when he saw that her robe had opened during the night, dropping a little lower and revealing a red piece of plaid fabric. Had it not been there, he would be seeing a bit too much to be considered decent.

But the fabric made his eyebrows furrow.

It looked so familiar, but…

Just as he began to ponder it, the beginnings of a bawl came over the monitor, prompting Logan to turn from Y/N. Carefully and while moving slowly, he lifted the slumbering woman from his form and rested her down on the cushions, smiling when he saw her lips curve upwards.

He then left the room, his focus completely on satisfying whatever D/N needed attending to.

Chapter Text

The stench of what could only be described as the start of rotting flesh filled your nostrils, accompanied by the metallic scent of blood. You stepped over the bodies, making your way to the only one still standing.

Steve.

He was frantically looking for something—someone.

At first, you wondered if it was the Hydra agent, the person you were searching for, but your heart fell to the pit of your stomach when you saw the shorter man Steve attempted to support.

“I told you not to.”

Crimson dripped from the mouth of the wounded soldier. It saturated his camouflage, and from the tears in it, you quickly counted six—no nine bullet wounds, some in vital places.

The man coughed, his eyes opening slightly to regard the person supporting him, and there was no mistaking those eyes.

Blue. Shocking blue. Like his daughter’s.

You cried out, finally understanding who this man was.

This stupid, idiotic, too stubborn for his own good, man.

“Sorry, Captain.”

The respect was absent from his voice; he practically spat the words out. It was all sarcasm, laced with pain.

“We got to get these bullets out of you or else you’ll heal over them.”

Your husband scoffed, but he made no protest.

And you made no move.

You couldn’t alter this memory. It would do no good because all it would do is change Steve’s perception of that day.

It wouldn’t change the reality of it, what really happened.

It wouldn’t stop Logan.

And the reality of that tore you apart.


You woke up to find yourself resting on your couch. Logan was gone; you noted this with a frown as you brought yourself up into a seated position.  Bringing a hand to your head, you recalled the events of last night. Chewing on your bottom lip, a vision of Logan’s chest came to you, the sound of your own sobs echoing in your ears as you clung to him in need of his comfort, his embrace.

He had given it to you, like he had so many times before, and for a night, you pretended that everything was normal. The experiment, the accident…neither occurred. You were just in your suite, crying yourself to sleep in his arms because you were worried about him.

Normal.

But the cold from his absence was enough to shock you back into the truth of the situation.

Last night, he was comforting you as a friend...nothing more.

A sigh escaped your lips as you adjusted your robe and leaned forward to pick up the remote from your coffee table. With a flick of your finger, the news was on your flat screen.

“Looks like your mom’s awake, Bub.”

You shifted on the couch, looking over the back of it to see Logan enter the room with D/N in his arms.

A smile stretched your lips as you reached over to take your baby’s hand in your own. At the feel of your touch, her eyes flitted from her father’s face to your own.

“Good morning, Sweetie,” you cooed, bringing the back of your fingers up to her chubby cheek. “Did you sleep well?”

She only continued to stare at you, offering no indication that she understood what you were asking. And what were you expecting? She was only approaching seven weeks…

You turned your attention to Logan, who had also, you noticed, been staring at you.

Ignoring the butterflies that suddenly made themselves known, you asked, “Did she just wake up?”

He nodded. “About fifteen minutes ago, I heard her on the monitor.”

“Oh…”

The two of you locked eyes for a moment, but just as you were beginning to get lost in the blue of his gaze, D/N started to wail.

“Uh…she must be hungry,” Logan quickly asserted before handing her to you.

“Probably.” You grinned down at your fussy daughter as you began to position her against your chest. You then moved your opposite hand to bring down the collar of your robe and the shirt underneath it, attempting to reveal your breast to your baby.

“I better get going…”

You immediately paused in what you were doing and looked over at Logan, who was making his way to the front door of your suite.

“You’re leaving?”

Logan froze, his hand on the door knob; he refused to look at you. “Don’t you want some privacy?”

You felt your temperature rise a few degrees, and you were almost certain your face was red. Normally, you didn’t mind breast feeding in front of others; you didn’t look at it as something indecent, and this man was your husband for heaven’s sakes! He knew your body better than you did, but…of course, he didn’t remember…

Still, you had no idea why he was acting all embarrassed.

It was no secret that you weren’t his first; he’s seen many different variations of the female form. So why was he acting like an innocent virgin?

Smiling to yourself, you looked down at D/N, who had already latched on and began suckling.

“You can stay, if you like. I’ll even cook up some breakfast for us.”

He was silent for a moment, and you thought he would actually agree to stay.

But he surprised you.

“I have class in a bit, so I have to go get ready.”

And with that, the door opened and closed. Logan was gone.

You were laughing as you watched your daughter eat. “Daddy is silly, isn’t he? There aren’t any classes on Saturday.”

Chapter Text

It was a week after Logan had spent the night with Y/N that he found himself standing on the roof of the mansion, waiting for a helicopter. This time, however, he would be boarding it with Y/N.

A growl pushed passed his clenched teeth as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Doesn’t this guy realize some people don’t like to be kept waitin’?”

The woman beside him let her eyes wander from the grey sky above them to his own fierce gaze, a smile pulling at one end of her poppy red lips. “You’re just as bad sometimes, you know.”

His face relaxed a touch as he turned his head towards her. “For example…?”

“Well, when I was your student for a brief time, there were several class periods that you’d saunter in fifteen, twenty minutes late to find most of the desks empty.”

Logan remained quiet for a moment, coming to the decision that he would not let her know that that had already happened twice since he had woken up about a month ago. Instead, he asked the first question that occurred to him.

“Did you leave?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Not even when you were thirty minutes late.”

Her response made him grin and led to more conversation about the past he couldn’t remember. It distracted him in pleasant ways, getting to watch Y/N become giddy as she reminisced. Nick Fury had her to thank when he didn’t get an earful from Logan about showing up thirty-five minutes late.


The doors to the top floor of the S.H.I.E.L.D. helicarrier slid open, allowing Logan to peer passed the bald man in front of him and get a glimpse of the place for the first time. It was pretty dull, to say the least. Grey walls, grey tile floors, even grey ceilings. But the design was sleek, simplistic, something Logan could appreciate.

“Mr. Rogers should already be in the lab.” Nick stated, leading them down a long hallway. “I don’t know if Dr. Banner is around, but I do believe Miss. Romanov and Mr. Stark are somewhere in the helicarrier.”

“Stark?” Logan found himself asking. He only remembered one Stark…Howard Stark.

Anthony Stark,” Y/N clarified for him. “Howard Stark’s only son.” She looked over at him, a slight curve to her mouth. “You and Tony have…an interesting relationship. He’ll definitely be excited to see you.”

Logan arched a brow at her, but before he could attempt to get her to explain, Fury spoke up: “This is where I leave you.”

Logan looked at the room in front of him, its walls made entirely of glass. He could see in, tables full of various objects and chemicals. One side of the space was completely organized while the other had a half-eaten meal that looked a few days old, a pillow and blanket strewn about, and papers scattered around. Two men were standing on the chaotic side of the lab, one he didn’t recognize at all and the other…seemed a bit familiar. The duo stood face to face, the one wearing glasses with his arms crossed over his chest, and the older one avoiding his gaze, his eyes trained on the tablet in his hands.

The head of S.H.I.E.L.D. turned to leave, and Y/N stepped forward, placing her hand on a pad next to the doorway. A second after, the doorway opened, allowing  them to enter. The slight swoosh the door had made both men to peer over at the couple, Steve turning slightly and brightening visibly.

“Well, well, well.” The man with the goatee smirked, placing his electronic device down on the table next to him. “If it isn’t the Wolfman and his lady love.”

What the fuck? Logan turned to look at Y/N, his brow furrowed.

She refused to even spare him a glance, her glare focused on the man who had the audacity to call him by such a nickname. “Shut up, Stark.”

“Make me,” he taunted, sauntering over to the two of them. This caused the muscles in Logan’s body to tense and his knuckles to itch.

The anger in Y/N’s perfect features dissipated with a roll of her eyes as Stark pulled her into a hug.

“How are you, Sweetheart? It’s been a while.”

Now, Logan’s blood felt like fire, burning him deeper the longer he stood and allowed this asshole to live.

Y/N returned the hug, and Logan felt his chest constrict.

“I’ve been okay. Thanks for asking.”

“No problem, Y/N. I was worried about you...”

They let go of each other, and the cocky bastard beamed over at him, silently laughing at the obvious discomfort he was causing Logan.

“Oh, calm down, Wolfy. Y/N is just a good friend of mine.” He pulled the female into his side, squeezing her arm.

Logan felt his body loosen, allowing him to breathe. He didn’t dare look at Y/N, not wanting to know what she thought of his behavior or Tony’s words.

Just then, the door to the lab slid open.

“Sorry we’re late,” a man with sand-blonde hair said as he rushed into the room.

“Is Steve here?” asked the red-head who accompanied him.

“Not yet,” the other scientist in the room spoke up.

“He’s just finished up his daily workout,” Tony explained as he fiddled with something on his tablet. He looked up and over at Logan. “I’m assuming you don’t remember any of us besides Capsicle, so I think some introductions are in order.”

Logan just arched a brow at “Capsicle.” What was with this guy?

“Hi, Mr. Howlett,” the red-headed female stepped over to him, a polite smile on her lips. She extended a gloved hand for him to shake. “I’m Natasha.”

“No need to call me ‘Mr. Howlett’,” Logan responded, taking her hand. “Logan’s just fine.”

“Call me ‘Nat.’” Her grin widened as she moved out of the way, allowing the blond man to introduce himself.

“Name’s Clint,” he said, shaking his hand with a firm grip. “Also known as Hawkeye.”

Logan just nodded, and then looked to the only other man he wasn’t familiar with…the guy in the lab coat and glasses.

“Hello, Logan.” He kind of reminded him of Charles. He shook his hand. “I’m Bruce Banner.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“So…I think this is as good a time as any to invite the two of you to the party I’m hosting next Saturday,” Tony practically sang as his eyes went from Y/N to Logan. “There’ll be your favorite beer there…”

As much as the promise of his favorite drink enticed him to accept the invitation, a party was not Logan’s idea of fun. Parties usually consisted of too many people, pointless chit-chat, and annoyances like dancing or mingling.

However, Y/N seemed to think differently…“Sure. I wouldn’t mind coming.”

Logan glanced over at her, fighting back a scowl. Why does it bother me so much if she goes without me?

He could probably answer his own question, but that would mean analyzing his feelings towards her. That was not something Logan was prepared to do, especially because he had a gnawing feeling that they would only lead to trouble and pain.

Now everyone was looking at him, awaiting his answer, but from the knowing sparkle in each of their eyes, Logan could tell that they knew his answer. Finally, he let out a sigh. “Fine, I’ll go.”

“Good!” Tony clapped a hand down on Logan’s shoulder with a wide, cat-like grin. “You’ll be Y/N’s date!”

Y/N’s face must have turned twenty different variations of red, so when she began sputtering and looking to him for help, Logan stayed silent, loving her flustered reaction.

And it became ten-times more satisfying when Steve came in and asked, “Hey, Y/N? Are you doing okay? You’re looking a little flushed…”

 The group burst out laughing. Logan just watched, with silent amusement, as Y/N turned into a tomato and Steve’s blue eyes darted around like a confused puppy’s.

However, when the room returned to silence, Steve’s attention was focused on him. A smile broke out on his face as he stepped towards him a hand extended.“It’s been a long time…Logan.”

Logan grunted, taking the hand with bone-crushing strength as he shook it. He knew it wouldn’t hurt Captain America.“You look exactly the same.”

And it was true, Logan reaffirmed as he studied the face of his old comrade.

“That’s what happens when you’re frozen in ice,” Steve chuckled, stilling his arm before breaking the shake. “It’s good to see someone familiar.”

“Same here.”

“I hate to break up the reunion, but we do have a job to do,” Natasha pointed out, crossing her arms over her chest.

Steve looked to the only two women in the room before returning his gaze to the shorter man before him. “We’ll catch up another time.”

Logan just nodded; he would enjoy reminiscing about days that were farther back in his past, yet clearer in his mind than more recent memories.

“Shall we get started, then?” Y/N asked, heading passed them and towards another part of the lab that was sectioned off by thick glass.

“Sound-proof glass,” Tony spoke up from beside Logan. He smirked when he saw the briefest hints of shock in Logan’s expression. “They don’t call me a genius for nothing.”

Y/N rolled her eyes at Tony before smiling and heading into the room with Steve. She then closed the door behind them, and Logan could see her happy expression falter.

“So…why do we need the sound-proof glass?” Logan found himself asking as he watched Y/N talk to Steve.

“Privacy,” Bruce answered before walking around the group of people and heading into the room. At his entrance, both Steve and Y/N looked surprised, but Bruce started talking to them, explaining something as he picked up some wires.

“What’s he doing?” Clint took the words right from Logan’s mouth.

“After the incident last time, Bruce thought it would be good to watch their vital signs,” Tony responded, looking down at his tablet. He had an app open that seemed to be where he would be monitoring Y/N and Steve.

“The incident?” Logan looked from the screen to Tony.

“Y/N started crying.” Tony sighed with a frown weighing down the lines of his face. “Steve tried to talk to her, ask what was wrong, but he could only calm her down once he had cut physical contact from her. She wouldn’t say anything about what she saw, except that it had nothing to do with the Winter Soldier.”

Logan felt the muscles in his jaw tighten as he brought his gaze back to the room. Both Steve and Y/N were wearing bracelets with wires hanging from them. Bruce was on his way out of the room, closing the door behind him.

“They’re all set,” Bruce said as he walked over to stand beside Tony. “Can you see them on there?”

Tony hands to tablet to Bruce, who adjusts his glasses, “Everything seems to be within normal limits…”

Now Y/N placed her hand on Steve’s forearm and closed her eyes. Steve soon relaxed in his chair, his body leaning back and eyelids falling shut. Logan’s eyes trailed from where her hand was on Steve to her face. It was the picture of calm, but he something told him that she was also very focused on her current task.

She had dressed up today, just as she had the first time she came here. She had light make-up on, nothing too flashy, with a subdued red hue on her lips and an eye shadow that nearly matched her skin tone. She put a little blush on, and her hair was back from her face.

Logan had seen her without make-up on before, and while she looked beautiful like this, he liked her most when she didn’t have a single ounce on her face.

“So…do we have to stay here?” Clint suddenly spoke up. “It’s kind of boring…and it’s not often that I have free time…”

“Just go,” Tony said, flippant as his eyes stayed trained on the screen in front of him.

A few minutes after Clint left, a beeping sound echoed around the room, coming from Tony’s tablet.

“What’s going on?” Bruce asked, peering over at the screen.

“Both of their heart rates are climbing…”

“It’s not that fast, though,” Bruce peered into the room. “They look fine.”

Logan’s stare did not leave Y/N. He watched her body and expressions carefully, looking for any signs of distress or discomfort. He didn’t want her in the same state as the week before, even if it did mean she would seek for relief in his arms. He studied every line, every feature of your face, as if he were painting a picture of you, until he noticed the corners of your lips fall.

“She’s frowning.”

“Logan’s right,” Tony whispered from beside him.

“It’s only been seven minutes, though,” Natasha spoke, disappointment laced in her voice. “Fury wanted at least a half hour with her.”

“I don’t give a damn about what eye patch wants,” Logan growled as he headed towards the door of the room Y/N and Steve are in. However, before he could get very far, both Tony and Bruce have taken his arms, surprising him with their strength as they held him back.

“What are you doing?”

He thought these people were Y/N’s friends…Didn’t they care about her?

“Not just yet, Logan,” Tony hissed. “Y/N is stronger than you think, and she’ll be fine. I know her.”

So do I.

Logan shook with anger. “If I see one tear run down her face, Stark, I will kill you.”

Tony’s hold on him slacked a bit as he looked him in the eyes. Their blue pierced him with the seriousness of the threat that came from their owner’s lips.

“You won’t.” He let go of him, his brown orbs moving to the woman behind the glass.

Logan followed his gaze and noticed the frown had been replaced by a firm line. Not a smile, but her face had relaxed. Her expression remained that way for the rest of the allotted time.


“You okay?” he asked once they had settled on the helicopter.

Y/N looked at him, pausing in buckling her seatbelt, “I’m fine, Logan.” She offered him a kind smile. “You don’t have to worry.”

I know, but I do.

He just grunted in response, turning to face forward and crossing his arms over his chest. His brows furrowed when he heard a giggle next to him. “What’s so funny?”

“You are, Logan.” She shook her head as she placed a warm hand on his arm. “Thank you for thinking of me.”

“It’s nothing…” he trailed off, avoiding her gaze.

Another giggle…and his heart skipped a beat.