Of course,that was impossible.She was in invisible (or,as she liked to call it 'stealth') mode,setting aside the fact that this was Piccadilly Circus and as crowded as hell:even if she wasn't in stealth mode,how could he see her from so far back,and smell her downwind from him?

But Logan kept pausing to glance back,and she had to be careful never to get too close,just keep him in sight.He kept looking back,his green eyes narrowed and searching the area by the shop window she had flattened herself against, sniffing the air as if trying to catch a scent,even though what little wind there was was blowing away from him.He seemed to stare at her for a good long moment,even though she wasn't there (well,not that he could see).

Spooky man.Spooky spooky spooky.Sexy,in a rugged,taciturn,hairy sort of way;but there was no getting past the inherent sense of danger he possessed.It seemed to ooze from his pores,double up with his pheromones,and create a sort of intoxicating menace for trouble seekers like her.

But the question was,how much trouble was he?This was why she was following him-she had to know exactly what she had gotten herself into.

Right now,she figured it was deep shit.

Okay,she counted on a one night stand,and it sort of got out of control,but whose fault was that?Well,okay,hers.It was hard enough to meet mutants in a public place (those secret 'mutant clubs' were so bloody depressing,and they never had any decent beer),but rarely did she come across one like him.Good looking (the guy was cut like a diamond),and with no extraneous body parts (tails,extra limbs,scales,fur,or feathers) and no great love of conversation who could fuck like a beast-her kind of guy.Figures he wouldn't be British or staying for long.But she thought his whole brooding dangerous type thing was just an act,part of his 'mystique',until she began to get serious clues that it wasn't.The first clue was the nightmares.

She didn't even think it was possible to be asleep and yet still twitch as much as he did,and make the noises he did, which sounded like he was being beaten:lots of grunts and monosyllables that could have been words like 'no' or 'stop' but couldn't quite make it past the throat.He'd never say what the nightmares were-"Nothing,"was his typical response before he went off to hide in the bathroom-but it was so obviously a lie it was kind of insulting.Still,he was so cocky and self-confident (for good reason,she was sure),it made her really curious what could sink under his skin like that,what could freak him out and haunt him like that.Either it was something really hideous,or he was a softy underneath it all.Somehow,she didn't think the latter was likely.

The second clue was all these mysterious phone calls he got that sounded portentous and cryptic,like it was a vague form of code.He just said it was "business",but then never specified the business he was in (clue number three).There was also the fact that he carried a concealed weapon-some kind of sleek black handgun in a leather holster.He said he never used it because he didn't need it and he hated it,but they made him carry it "for security purposes" (otherwise unspecified) (clue number four).He said he worked for a security firm at the American embassy (not the Canadian one?Clue number five),but,ironically enough,when he said he was going there he never did (big fat clue number six).In fact,he was supposedly heading there right now,but since when was the embassy in Piccadilly?Did they relocate and not tell anyone?

She didn't think he was a drug dealer,he was just not the type.A terrorist?He didn't seem to have any political agenda that she could discern,so she doubted he was IRA (unless he was freelance...was Logan an Irish name?),but he could be a mutant terrorist.She'd heard about them,muties with grudges against the wider,'mundane' world,but as sour as Logan generally seemed,he didn't seem to hate race in particular.It might be fair to say he detested both mutants and mundanes equally.

But there was no denying a guy that seemed so dangerous probably was to some degree,and his muscles were like rock;she couldn't help but think of him as the human equivalent of a tank.When he said he was "in security" she honestly believed that wasn't too far from the truth.Maybe he had super human strength among his mutations,but even so,a guy didn't get muscles like that just by showing up.Also,he seemed to have a genuine belief in his ability to kick any ass at any place at any time,and again she thought that was probably earned as well.That was part of what was so attractive about him;his virility and his obvious comfort with himself were not things he acquired as a facade, but seemingly inborn traits he'd honed to perfection.

There was no denying she was strongly attracted to him.But there was also no denying he scared the shit out of her.

Although he looked displeased,he finally turned around and moved on,even the preoccupied crowds on the street more than happy to make way for him.She remained unseen and trailed after him,having to thread her way through the human traffic since she could see them but they couldn't see her,careful not to gain too much on Logan;she only needed to keep him in sight,not be his shadow.

Up ahead,close to the end of the block,Logan ducked into a bookstore,which was odd enough by itself,but odder still was on his way in,he held the door open for a woman who was leaving.It was a small gesture,an afterthought, probably took less than a second,but it was bizarre to see him doing it.Big tough guy who seemed to dislike everyone keeping a door from slamming in a woman's face?That seemed uncharacteristic.Of course,it seemed uncharacteristic for Logan to be in a bookshop too,so it all seemed wrong.

This next bit was tricky,as she had to wait for someone to come in or go out so she could slip inside the open door,but luckily she didn't have to wait long,as a dark suited man who looked like someone's accountant came out,and she went inside,not even needing to keep the door open a fraction longer than normal.

This was a big chain store that tried to seem modern yet cozy,with windows letting in lots of light and the aisles 'broken up' into quasi-horizontal lines,the bookcases sleek modern affairs painted white,presumably because regular old brown wasn't quite hip.Actually,it looked a lot like an Ikea model room,but what did she know about designing?

It wasn't very crowded at this time of day,so it wasn't hard to find Logan.He was in-of all places-the science fiction section.And he wasn't alone either.

The powder blue carpet muffled her footsteps,but she knew getting too close to him was asking for trouble,so she tried to keep an eye on him in the convex mirrors set strategically in the rafters,to reflect sunlight and show anyone shoplifting.She could see Logan randomly picking books from the shelf and pretending to look at them before putting them back,the same bored yet irritated expression on his face.There was a man in the aisle,his back to him,slowly working his way down towards him.In his sleek pale grey suit,he looked like an unctuous band manager,but she noticed,when he was reshelving a book called "Mutations",there was a bulge near the shoulder of his jacket-a gun? Had to be.

She kept her back to the sci-fi section,leaning flat against the end of the bookcase,and strained to listen as she watched the man with the slicked back hair turn to the shelf Logan was pretending to peruse,and stand right beside him."You haven't found him yet,"the man whispered,his voice so low she could barely hear it.The man was British,much to her surprise.

"I haven't caught his scent,"Logan said.It sounded like he was speaking through his gritted teeth.

"I thought you were the best,Wolverine,"the Brit hissed,sounding almost mocking.

"I am,"Logan replied,sounding even more ticked off than before."But I ain't a magician.I can't make somethin' from nothin'."She saw his reflection in the curved mirror look towards the front of the aisle,where she was hiding in spite of her invisibility.There was no way in hell he could know she was here-right?

"If there's another incident,it won't reflect well on you,"the Brit warned,sounding smugly pleased with himself (about what she had no idea).

"I'm not the one who made this rogue,"Logan snapped back,his voice little more than a mutter."And I ain't the one who could lose my hide."

Since he was on Logan's right,blocked by his body from the mirror,Srina didn't get a good look at him,but she briefly saw the profile of the British man when Logan pulled a book off the shelf.He had a severe face,a beak like nose,and was frowning violently,his sharp blue eyes giving Logan a sidelong death look that she was sure had Logan quaking in his boots (assuming he was scared of shaved weasels)."I can have you taken down,Wolverine,"the Brit sneered. "Don't you forget it."

"No you can't,"Logan replied,his voice a low and deadly whisper."I was brought in 'cause no one else could handle this thing.I'm your last,best hope.So don't threaten me unless you want to pick your intestines up off the floor, asshole."Logan angrily shelved the book,and without looking at the Brit,he turned his back on him."Meeting's over."

She watched him walk away,straight out of the store,leaving the British man silently fuming in the aisle.

She had no idea what that was about (Wolverine?Was that his mutant name?Why?),but it didn't sound good.

In fact,reading between the lines,she was sure she'd been way off.Logan was no terrorist.

He was an assassin.

What she couldn't figure out was who he was going to kill,and if she would live through this.

Maine

The man-his name,he'd found out,was Wilson-parked his Saturn across the street from an old fashioned white clapboard church.The bright orange early morning sun seemed to be backlighting the huge white cross on the very top of the peaked roof,and it all looked very holy and quaint-if you ignored the sign board in front of the church, advertising this morning's sermon of choice."Mutants:Children of Satan".And judging from the parking lot,the church had a full house.

"What d'ya think about that?"Wilson asked,lighting up a cigarette.

He shrugged."Why should I care?"

Wilson snorted humorously,as if that was a joke."Yeah,why shoulda ya?Ready to do this thing?"

"I have my orders,"he said,wondering if he could kill Wilson .Maybe if he asked really nicely.

Wilson pressed a button,lowering his window so he could flick an ash outside.He was a bland middle aged man with thinning brown hair and a face that resembled that of a Basset hound who'd had his ears tacked back.He doubted he'd be missed by anyone.

"Carry on,then,"Wilson said,as if he was taking orders from him.

He wasn't,but he got out of the car anyways,walking into the middle of the quiet,empty street.

A faint,cool breeze rustled the leaves of the sugar maples lining both sides of the road,and all was so quiet he could hear the birds singing blocks away.It was a tranquil scene,cozy;he thought he should have felt something.

But Cyclops was at a loss as to what he was supposed to feel.He felt nothing at all;mild irritation with Wilson (who talked and smoked way too much) seemed to be all he could manage.But that wasn't strange,not for him.

He was Cyclops-he belonged to the Organization.He was their number one soldier;he kept the order and the peace. He had no past,no future.Just this.Always this.

And even though he didn't always understand his orders,he did not question them.That was not his place.His place was right here,doing his job.

He raised a hand to his visor,and let loose a stream of red light that punched through the top of the church like it was nothing but gingerbread,and as it collapsed inward,crushing the base of the church,he heard screams from the inside. But he ignored it and continued to sweep the beam through the parking lot,crushing SUV's like tin cans and blowing up trucks,their gas tanks exploding on impact and sending fireballs belching into the clear morning sky.

Cyclops noted peripherally that it was probably going to be a beautiful day as he continued razing the entire block.

Maybe he didn't know why,but orders were orders.

**

But she still moved,walking to the front of the pier,ready to step in and save the men in case Logan let his (justified) rage go to his head,when she had a slight feeling of dislocation,and the air between Logan and the beginning of the pier seemed to waver,shimmer like the surface of a pond.This was not happening now;she knew somehow that this was past,some incident from long ago.So why was she dreaming of it now?

She wondered if this was something she had picked up from Logan's mind when she tried to read it,unaware she had gleaned it.But it felt immediate somehow,important.The only thing that connected to anything,as far as she could tell,was the men were British.

"Stop fucking about,"Logan shouted,looking past her,searching the many hiding places of the wharf with his eyes. "Come out and face me!What,don't you wanna gut me too?!"

He stepped over the unconscious bodies of the men,and his claws sprung from his hands.In the moonlight they gleamed like short swords,possessed of a strange sort of beauty while never conquering their obvious,breathtaking lethality.She didn't know how or why,but she knew this was fight was going to be brutal,and maybe not something she wanted to see.Still,she watched with rapt curiosity as Logan's gaze seem to narrow as he looked at a stack of crates just off to her right,and she knew he had found the one he was looking for,even if they hadn't shown themselves yet. She could feel the tension as he crept closer,and suddenly it was like a horror movie she didn't want to watch but couldn't turn away from.She knew he'd come out all right in the end-he was still alive-but still she almost couldn't bear to see what was going to happen.He was going to be hurt badly,she just knew it...

"Jean,"she heard a voice distantly calling her name,and through a fog of semi-consciousness,she thought it was Scott.

"What?"She replied,mumbling,opening her eyes.She was aware of the psychic pressure the millisecond before her eyes focused,and was therefore only slightly disappointed to see Bob standing in the open doorway of her room,leaning in from the hallway.The look on his face was pained and sympathetic,so that couldn't be good.Bob looking sorry about something was an instant warning sign of big trouble.

"Sorry to wake you,"he began,using the magic alarm bell word."But I think the Ogres have dropped their first clue about Scott's location,and it's a doozy."

She sat up.almost instantly awake,the mention of Scott's name (and remembering what had happened to him) clearing away the cobwebs immediately."Do you know where he is?"

Bob grimace apologetically.Oh,it got worse and worse."No.But I know where he's been."

She stared at him."What does that mean?"

He jerked his head back,gesturing to another room."Come on,you'll see."

With that,he closed the door and left,and she could only ponder why that seemed to sound so damning.

She quickly pulled on a sweater and was still zipping up her skirt as she stepped into the hall.The rest of the wardrobe and make up could wait until she knew what the hell was going on.

Bob was waiting for her at the end of the hall-he had a strange sense of politeness,especially considering he was both a demon and Australian-and waited for her before leading the way."Understand,I don't like to watch the news,"Bob began,as she became increasingly aware of the idiot blare of the television set coming from the Professor's office.But the Professor didn't have a t.v. in his office,did he?"I think it's a bunch of manipulated hype for the most part.But I have a grandkid,Lani,who works at a branch office for a cable news network down in NYC,and I asked her to give me a ring if  she heard of anything weird,either mutant or government related,crossing her desk.I didn't care if it would make the news or not.Well,she gave me a jingle less than an hour ago,and I'm sad to say this not only made the news,it went national."

She shook her head,trying to ignore the first question that first popped into her head,which was "How many freaking grandkids do you have?" He seemed to have an endless supply of them,like he hoarded them in case of a shortage.She was also tempted to ask how many kids he had,but part of her feared the answer would be somewhere along the line of "half of Australia".She tried desperately to stick to the point,especially since Bob had yet to make a lot of sense. "What went national?"

"Scott,"he replied,propping open the door to Xavier's office so she could lead the way inside.

It was still early,so only the Professor was there,the light from a portable t.v. on his desk casting his face in harsh blue light that made him look a thousand years old.The grim expression on his face didn't help matters.

-'What's happened?'-she sent to him telepathically.

She sensed his emotions more than his thoughts (Bob was just pressure;psychic noise),and to say he radiated a sense of foreboding and doom would almost be an understatement.-'Something beyond our worst nightmares,'-he telepathically replied,physically turning the t.v. around so the screen faced her.

It was a sensibly coifed female reporter standing in front of a smoldering street (fire trucks were still visible in the background),and for a moment,as the woman reeled off casualty figures (ten dead at the scene,thirty odd in local hospitals),Jean thought it was a report on some bombing in the Middle East.It was horrible,but what did it have to do with Scott?

It was then she noticed that,according to the graphic,the report was from Maine.

She slowly sank into a chair in front of the Professor's desk,eyes riveted to the tiny screen in abject horror as surviving witnesses and police officials described a "senseless mutant terrorist attack" on a Baptist church and the entire block it was sited on.The mutant,who drove away from the scene in an unmarked car,was described as having "destructive red beams that shot from his eyes".

"Scott wouldn't do this,"she finally said,once she found her voice again.

"No,he wouldn't,"Bob agreed."He didn't."

Xavier gave him a skeptical look.She knew,if he could have sent messages to Bob,he would have sent,'Don't patronize her'."It's painfully obvious he-"

"It was Scott,yes,but not the Scott you know,"Bob interrupted."This one is some psychic construct by the Organization,one with probably no free will.Scott is no more responsible for this than Logan was for what he did when he was completely Wolverine.Brainwashing is an extenuating circumstance."

"I thought you said he wouldn't be hurt,"she snapped,feeling her face grow hot with sudden rage.

"I'm sure he wasn't hurt.They just replaced his personality and memories with something more malleable.Done telepathically,it wouldn't have hurt at all."

She glared at him,and was about to snap his head off ,but then she heard Xavier in her mind.-'He is trying to be helpful,Jean.He doesn't mean to be callous.'-

-'You can't be sure about that.'-

"I'm not trying to be,"Bob said,startling them both.He could eavesdrop on a private telepathic conversation?"I'm not saying this isn't hideous,it is,all I'm telling you is that he wasn't physically tortured."

She took a deep breath,trying to rein in her surging anger."How does this help us find him?Is he in Maine?"

"No.There was a previous attack-no one was injured;it was just an unmanned Army depot-but the interesting thing about the attacks is,on a map,they form a straight line.A straight line pointing up to Canada."

She continued to glare at Bob in disbelief."Oh good.We've narrowed down his position to an entire country."

Bob smirked,but in a gently ironic way."No,actually I've narrowed it down to an entire mountain range."

She continued to stare at him in a way that always made her hardest pupils flinch.But Bob didn't even seem to notice."Oh really?How?"

"Well,the clue was a message to Logan.That would probably indicate the Canadian Rockies as their final destination point.Or at least where they set the trap to capture Logan again."

"But where in the Canadian Rockies?"Xavier asked,and she envied his calm,although she knew inside he was just dying.Scott had been the first mutant he had tried to 'mentor';he was the closest thing to a son Xavier had.

"Somewhere between the former Alkali Lake and Grand Cache locations would seem far too obvious,yet I can't dismiss it,because,in spite of his constant evasion of them for years,they still seem to operate under the assumption that Logan is a dumb animal.Or at least an easily manipulated one."

"So you've narrowed it down to hundreds of miles of barely accessible mountainous terrain?"she asked,unable to believe this guy.He acted arrogant,yet never seemed it:he honestly believed he knew everything.

"Actually,more like a thousand or so,"he admitted,with no shame whatsoever."But it absolutely doesn't matter,Jean. There are two very big things working in our favor.One:All I need is one person who knows where the base is,or saw something unusual.They will tell us all we need to know.Two:They want Logan to find them.They will come to him."

"Logan isn't-"she began,then stopped,remembering that Bob had only dropped his Logan guise for them (her,Xavier, Storm,and Rogue) because it seemed a little eerie to have him here and yet know it wasn't him,in spite of what their minds and their ears were telling them.Bob had even agreed to fill in on a self defense class for Logan,since the kids thought he was "Mr. Logan" (a sobriquet that seemed to drive the real Logan crazy."Logan,just Logan,all right?").As he explained to them:"I can fight.I just don't like to."Bob could sub temporarily,but not for long,as his lack of what Rogue insisted on referring to as Logan's "killer instinct" would eventually prove him to be an imposter.Even Bob acknowledged that,and added that when it came to physical fighting,Logan was a much better "ad libber" than he could ever claim to be.

Bob looked at Xavier,and said,"With your permission,I'd like to borrow your swoopy jet and head out.I'd like to think I'd beat them out there,but I have to believe these people have their own super fast mode of transport."

"You can't go alone,"Xavier said,so gently it hardly seemed like an order.

"I think it would be best if I did.I can handle them."

"What if they're ready for you?"

"No one is ready for me."

"I'm going,"Jean insisted,her gaze scudding from Xavier to Bob."If  Scott is out there,I can find him."Well,that was just a hope,but she honestly believed she could,given the chance.

Bob frowned at her,but in a manner so mild it seemed hardly serious."I knew you'd want to,but these bastards are particularly vicious,Jean.They know that they can hardly hurt Logan,so they will hurt the people around him to make him suffer.They will probably assume you're his-well,my-lover,and try and take you out."

"I am not-"she started,but then she paused and rubbed her morning dry eyes.She was going to point out she was not Logan's lover,but everyone here knew that.She didn't know why she was ready to deny it (except,it had crossed her mind,hadn't it?It didn't matter that he was absolutely not her type;there was still something magnetic about him. And physically...well,he was too hairy,but there was still no denying he was a very attractive man in spite of it.And that kiss she tried never to think about...hadn't that been one hell of a kiss..).She looked up,feeling clearer of mind, and said,"I can handle myself,Bob."

He looked doubtful enough that she felt insulted,but he relented with surprising ease.""All right,Jean,"he sighed. "But get into a battle mindset.I'm not asking you to kill,just be ready to wield that telekinesis like a battering ram at a moment's notice.These guys are professional rat bastards.They want to hurt you;they want to kill you.Never forget that."

"How can I?"She replied.Look what they had done to Logan.

And now,look what they had done to Scott.

She knew revenge was pointless,stupid,and wrong,and yet she couldn't help but hope,in some dark corner of her mind,that Bob made them pay for all of this.Because if anyone could,it was Bob that could make them hurt,in ways none of them could probably even imagine.

**

London-1987

Srina wandered around Piccadilly for a while,randomly taking things that caught her eye,perfectly aimless and wildly pointless,which was her life in a nutshell.But what was so bad about that?

She never saw Logan again.She did see the unctuous little man get in a car with government (!) plates,though,and it made her wonder what was up.A Canadian working for the British government?Alone that seemed unlikely. Combined with the fact that he was a mutant,it seemed impossible.So what the hell was going on?

When she finally wandered home,she thought Logan was gone until she heard the hiss of the shower bleeding through the wall.Her first thought was 'he's washing off the blood',which was disturbing enough as it was,but even more disturbing was the fact that the idea hardly bothered her at all.

She wandered into her bedroom,a closet sized affair where the small bathroom was a mere adjunct to the space,as if slapped on as an afterthought,and wondered what she should do.

The most obvious thing would be to pretend there was nothing wrong,and while lying was second nature to her (she even lied when the truth was easier,simply out of habit),she didn't know why,but she thought it wouldn't be so easy this time.But the alternate idea-confronting him point blank-was right out.How stupid did you have to be to admit not only were you spying on a guy,but spying on guy who,in all probability,was a hit man working for the government on a secret project?Wasn't that just asking for a bullet to the head?So what did that leave?

Well,lies,lies,and more lies.So this should be a breeze for her.In theory.

She could leave;he probably didn't know she was here.But truth be told she was tired.Not in a needing to sleep way, but in a world weary sort of way.It was very possible that not attempting to really disappear-get totally lost before Logan came looking for her-would cost her her life.So why didn't that bother her?

She undressed slowly,carefully placing the designer clothes she stole from an upscale fashion boutique several months ago on the lone arm chair in her darkened bedroom,wondering why the things she stole never did much for her anymore.At first,she got a sort of illicit thrill from it,but now it had become routine,predictable.The thrill of the hunt was gone.Even her occasional side job-stealing stuff on commission for a wealthy fence-had run out of excitement.As well as her mutation had served her (and had it ever),she was still just a one trick pony,and even she was getting bored with her own shtick.She wondered if Logan ever got bored with his.