Chapter Text
Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters was in a state of flux. Autumn marked the start of the new school year and with it came students, both new and old, as well as other familiar faces. At least, that’s what Logan was told since he didn’t recognize any of the former teachers-slash-X-Men that walked through the front door. They all knew Summers though, and they were all glad to see him – alive, well and with his memory fully recovered. There was Sean Cassidy aka Banshee, straight in from Scotland with Moira MacTaggert. There was Henry “Hank” McCoy aka Beast, an original member of the X-Men. There was Betsy Braddock aka Psylocke, another stunningly gorgeous telepath (Logan was beginning to think that all female telepaths were stunningly gorgeous if he counted the X-Men’s recent run-in with Emma Frost a few weeks ago). There was Alex Summers aka Havok (Logan hadn’t even been aware that Scott had a brother), who shared the family power and Lorna Dane aka Polaris. And there was Warren Worthington III, aka Angel, another original member of the team.
“They’re not all staying,” Scott had said to him. “Well, Hank is,” he’d amended. “He’ll be teaching one of the science classes, biology, if I remember correctly. Betsy will be here for a while as well. Alex and Lorna are on vacation. Sean and Moira are just stopping by on their way back to Muir Island.”
“This happen often?” Logan asked as they walked down the quiet hallway. Classes were already underway. At Scott’s inquiring look, he clarified, “Former team members dropping by all at once?”
“Maybe not all at once,” Scott answered. “But yes, people drop by. The X-Men are a family, Logan. The type of family that you want to visit.” He paused. “You’re a part of that family now too.”
Logan didn’t – couldn’t – say anything to that, and somehow he knew that Summers wasn’t expecting him to either.
“I have an administrator’s meeting,” Scott said, stopping outside one of the conference room doors. “I’ll see you later?”
Logan nodded and Scott gave him a faint smile before opening the door. Logan thought Summers still didn’t smile enough, but when he did, it made Logan feel lighter somehow and that was a bad sign. Bad because it meant something and Logan wasn’t brave enough to try and figure out what.
What he did know was that his relationship with Summers had improved dramatically since the tragedy at San Francisco and the Worthington Labs. Since Jean’s death. It all seemed like a lifetime ago now, but it had only been two years. There were whispers that the cure was only temporary, that there had been recent cases of a mutant’s power returning but as far as the public knew, nothing had been confirmed yet. Logan was keeping abreast of the developments because of Rogue. In the two years since she’d been at the school, she’d blossomed into a vibrant and rather sassy, young woman. Her decision to take the cure had been controversial, but Xavier’s school preached tolerance and understanding, and Rogue had been welcomed back with open arms even without her mutation. Logan wasn’t sure how she would handle a return of her power if the rumors surrounding the cure turned out to be true.
Whatever happened with the cure, Logan felt that the school and the kids were in good hands now that Summers was back and running things. So much tragedy in so short a time span – losing Jean, Scott, the Professor and then Jean again – had nearly broken the school and Xavier’s vision. Storm had done her best to keep everything together and Logan had helped her in his own way, but it was no secret that Charles had left everything to Scott in his will – he and Jean had been the Professor’s first students, after all. Scott Summers was Charles Xavier’s heir in more ways than one. But now that Scott was back and steering the ship, everything felt like it was in the right place again.
Logan stepped out into the morning sunshine. It was never too early for a cigar and he was just about to light one when he saw Alex waving him over. He put the cigar back in the inner pocket of his jacket and walked over to where Alex and Lorna were sitting at a picnic table.
“Missed you at breakfast this morning,” Alex said as Logan sat beside him. “My brother keep you up again?”
“Don’t know what you mean,” Logan replied, giving Alex a sideways look. Was it just him or had there been something in Alex’s tone that suggested . . .
Alex laughed. “Scott, man. Still training at all hours of the day. I don’t know where he finds the energy for it. You two seem to have more reservations for the Danger Room than anyone else!”
Logan shrugged. “I like beating things up,” he said. “And your brother is more trigger happy than he lets on.”
Alex leaned over conspiratorially. “I told Lorna you two were close,” he said.
“Dunno how close we can be if you never came up until you turned up at the front door,” Logan pointed out.
Alex laughed again. “Well,” he shrugged. “That’s a complicated story. We got separated at the orphanage after our parents died. I grew up thinking Scott was dead too. We don’t really talk about it.” He paused. “Scott had a much rougher time than I did, but that’s his story to tell. You can ask him about it if you’re curious. I’m pretty sure he’d tell you.”
Logan was absolutely burning with curiosity but he didn’t have Alex’s faith in his newfound closeness with Scott. They’d come a long way but they weren’t quite there yet.
“Are you hungry, Logan?” Lorna asked, interrupting his thoughts. “There’s plenty here.”
“She missed breakfast too,” Alex informed him.
“Oh, shut up,” Lorna said, good-naturedly. “We’re on vacation. I’m entitled to sleep in.”
“Thanks, Lorna,” Logan said, accepting the plate that she passed him. “I am a little hungry.”
The conversation began to wash over Logan at that point. Alex had got him thinking about Scott again. Truth be told, he’d been thinking about Scott a lot lately, wondering in which direction their relationship was headed. It was strange to think that the Summers brothers had grown up separated. Logan could tell they were close, even if they did have a complicated relationship. Alex brought out Scott’s protective side and Alex had a kind of older brother hero-worship thing going on, mixed with his own brand of self-doubt. It was understandable. It would be hard to live in the near-perfect shadow of Scott Summers and that’s what it must’ve felt like to Alex.
Scott had returned to the mansion about six months after the battle at San Francisco. It was Logan who had brought him back. He’d been plagued by strange dreams, unlike his own nightmares of his past, since he’d killed Phoenix. Oftentimes the dreams were of Jean, but sometimes they were of Scott, which was bizarre in itself. Why would he be dreaming of the Boy Scout? It took Logan a long time to figure out that those two sets of dreams were related. It took him even longer to realize that they were clues left behind by Phoenix, implanted in his subconscious, to help him find Scott again. Jean had loved him too much to allow Phoenix to kill him. She’d protected him and she’d entrusted that knowledge to Logan. It was his responsibility to bring Summers back to where he was needed and Logan had accepted that responsibility.
He’d eventually found Summers in a small town outside of Alkali Lake working as a mechanic in a garage. It had been disarming seeing the Boy Scout covered in grease and dressed in a pair of coveralls so completely at ease in that environment. It wasn’t as if Logan hadn’t seen Cyclops tinkering with his beloved toys – restored classic cars, motorcycles, the Blackbird – back at Westchester, it’s just that Cyclops had done that as part of his downtime, as a kind of hobby. But this Scott Summers? This was a different man – not least of which because he wasn’t wearing his ruby quartz glasses – and Logan had known that instantly.
Scott didn’t remember him. He had no memory of his life as an X-Man, of the school, of Jean or Professor Xavier. Scott had been willing to hear Logan out, but he’d laughed at the story Logan had told. Logan couldn’t blame him, especially since he hadn’t brought any ‘proof’ that he could use to convince Summers. His tale sounded preposterous to his own ears. His spiel had gone something like this:
“Hey buddy. You’re the leader of a group known as the X-Men and you’re based out of a school called Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, which is also a safe haven for mutants. Y’all are mutants and you use your powers to protect mankind and fight for mutant rights. Ya don’t know it, but you’re a mutant. It looks like you’ve been depowered – probably by the Phoenix – and everyone at the school thinks you’re dead, except me ‘cos I’ve been having these dreams about you. Hold up, not as kinky as it sounds. But these dreams helped me find you and I’m here to bring you back home ‘cos we need you.”
Scott had laughed long and hard in a way that Logan hadn’t thought would be possible for the ‘old’ Scott Summers. It was both gratifying to hear and deeply irritating. He hadn’t realized until that moment what he’d expected when he eventually found Summers, but to have Summers laughing at him in this way was not it. He’d assumed that Summers would believe him or would remember something about his past and fall into line like the good Boy Scout that Logan knew he was. But it turned out that Summers would need more persuading and there was really only one method of persuasion that Logan could fall back on – he attacked the other man.
It was a risky gamble, but it paid off. Summers reacted instinctively and soon they were engaged in a familiar dance. Scott may have lost his memory, but years of training were hardwired into his system. There was no way he would forget that, even unconsciously. Muscle memory. His body remembered how to fight. Logan kept the claws hidden, but when he’d eventually pinned Summers on the ground – not without difficulty – he finally held up his right hand and unsheathed his claws.
“Believe me now?” he challenged.
Scott wasn’t afraid of the blades. He examined them curiously but said nothing.
“How else do you think you could fight like that?” Logan went on. “You have skills that take years and years of training. And if you had your mutant ability, you’d have blasted me clear across this room, probably out the damn window.”
“What is my mutant ability?” Scott asked.
“You fire an optic blast from your eyes,” Logan answered, thinking that might have been the most preposterous thing he’d said yet.
Judging by the amused look on Scott’s face (god, he was going to laugh again), he thought so too. “I fire lasers from my eyes?” he said, incredulously.
“Not lasers,” Logan corrected, the irony not escaping him. How many times had he goaded Summers in the past about his ‘lasers beams’ only to have the other man primly correct him? “They don’t generate any heat,” he explained.
“Right,” Scott agreed, still sounding disbelieving. “Think you can let me up now? You’re a lot heavier than you look.”
“It’s the adamantium,” Logan grumbled, moving off of the other man. “It laces my skeleton.”
“Adamantium,” Scott repeated. “Haven’t heard of that before.”
“Let’s just say that it’s not on the average periodic table,” Logan replied. He looked the other man up and down. Summers didn’t appear the worse for wear. “You’re coming with me,” he stated. “Even if that means I have to tie you up and throw you in the back of my car.” Your car, he mentally amended.
“You don’t have to do that,” Scott said dryly. “I’ll come see your school.”
It’s your school now, Logan wanted to tell him but kept silent. He didn’t think Summers was ready for that yet.
“Are you always this violent?”
“You have no idea, bub.”