Spring In Yellowstone

Spring In Yellowstone


Title: Spring in Yellowstone
Author: Terri
E-mail: xgrrl26@yahoo.com
Rating: NC-17, violence, gore, sexual content
Disclaimer: I own the little kids, Holly, and Tom -
everyone else isn't mine.  Darn.
Archive: WRFA, Peep Hut, Dolphin Haven - anyone else,
please ask and I'll say yes ;)
Feedback: Please?  With a cherry on top?  Good, bad,
and ugly welcome..............
Summary: Sequel to Winter in Yellowstone.  Scott
unravels at an inopportune time; Hank gets some new
housemates in an unusual way; and Logan spends time
doing something very uncommon - languishing in his
sickbed.  Rogue has a tough time dealing with almost
all of that.
Comments: I wanted to write a sequel to Winter in
Yellowstone almost as soon as I was finished with that
story.  I had lots of ideas for it - most of which you
don't see here.  Why?  Well, as interesting as some of
them were, I'd written something similar to most of
them before.  Also, some of them would've made this
story be less of an ensemble piece and I wasn't sure
that's the way I wanted this little mini- series to
go.  But most of all, you don't see a lot of the ideas
I originally had here because what really caught my
attention from the first story was Scott.  Here's a
guy who's been through as much trauma as any of our
heroes (with the possible exception of Rogue) prior to
arriving at Yellowstone.  He's suppressing his strong
desire to be a leader, to be in charge, for the sake
of his own survival and that of his son.  Despite all
of that, he's still pretty together - he's trying to
do the right thing, make the settlement a better place
for his son to grow up in - when he gets the mother of
all kicks in the pants, the news that his beloved (I'd
maybe even go so far as to say sainted) late wife has
done some unspeakably horrible things.  What does that
do to someone like Scott?  I didn't focus on that in
the first story because that was largely Rogue's story
and the story of how this AU world came to be and
functioned.  If I'd have included the aftermath of
that news for Scott, the story would've easily gone
another forty pages, and that lone story wouldn't have
been as 'neat' if I hadn't wound up doing a sequel.
Of course, my Scott muse kept calling to me and now
we've got another 54 pages worth of story that's
poking at me to do a sequel already ;) Oh, and if you
haven't figured it out so far, this is a little more
Scott-centric (and light on the W/R) than anything
else I've probably done.

-----------------------------------------------------


Marie tugged harder, dragging an uncooperative Logan
along.  She was trailing along the edge of a steep
cliff, frantically trying to put ground between her
and a mob of what looked like about a hundred angry
humans shooting and yelling at them.  They'd come
across them by accident, while exploring some of the
far reaches of the park.  Apparently, they'd decided
to crash Logan's little mutie paradise and make at
least a part of it their own.  They'd signaled those
intentions by peppering them both with gunfire and
shooting out the tires of the jeep upon sight.  Logan
and Marie had tried to run, gotten cornered, then
fought their was out.  The price for their temporary
escape was paid in Logan's flesh and blood - his legs
had been so badly shot up, that they were no longer
operative.  There were more wounds in both of them
than their shared healing power could handle at once.
Marie knew they were in trouble.  And worse, she
didn't see any clear escape route now.  She was
dragging them backwards, way too slowly, along a sheer
cliff that perched them about a hundred feet over a
rocky gorge.  The humans were catching up - she could
hear the gunfire - and she struggled to push her own
panic down and keep going.

"Dammit.  Marie.  Leave.  Me."  Logan ground out the
words.  It was far from the first time he'd told her
to run for safety and leave him behind.  He'd heal,
he'd said, nothing could kill him.  Marie didn't
believe that.  She suspected she'd even come close to
doing him in herself, with her skin.  The humans were
crazed, and who knows what they'd do.  She wouldn't
repay Logan's kindness, generosity, and love by just
leaving him to them.  Her resolve was sorely tested,
though - memories of her betrayal by Jean kept
surfacing despite her best efforts to push them down,
almost as if they were some horrid 'coming
attractions' preview of what awaited her as soon as
the humans once again had her in their grasp.  She
took a deep breath, tried to ignore the fire in her
lungs that the gunshot wounds brought along with it,
and kept tugging her 350 pound lover along.  "Marie!"

"No."  She could hear them and smell them now - they
were closer.

"Yes!  Go!"  Logan tried to squirm out of her arms,
and he succeeded on the third try, forcing her to stop
and try to grab him again.  While they both issued
grunts as each struggled against the other, the humans
advanced to within eyesight.  Logan and Marie both
momentarily stopped their movements at that.  "Go.
Get Scott."

"No," Marie insisted.  The humans came over the rise,
and surprisingly, held their fire.  Maybe they knew it
was a waste of bullets at this point - there was no
doubt that they would be caught now.

Marie knelt beside Logan and waited for them to
arrive.  She couldn't reason, couldn't move to escape,
even if it would be futile, even if she was afraid
enough to leave him now.  The panic was finally
gaining control, and it was paralyzing her.  The
leader of the mob gestured for his compatriots to halt
while he strode up within inches of the two.  "So,
nowhere else to go, huh?  You goddamn muties never
learn, do ya?"  His eyes roved over Marie's form.
"Well, that's all right.  You're gonna learn now.
After we're done with ya, there won't be much left."
Some chuckling from behind flowed over the three
figures.  "We'll get started with you, little girl."

The man took a step toward them, and Marie felt
Logan's hand at her side.  She was touched beyond
words that he was trying to comfort her at this
moment, and her surging panic receded behind a flood
of warm emotion.  However, before her tears or words
could even form, she felt his grip tighten, and felt
his strong arm shoving her aside, over the cliff.
Terrified and confused, she locked eyes with him just
as she spilled over the edge, but she only saw love in
them.  In the scant seconds it took for her fall, she
realized what he'd done - he was protecting her,
performing the function of her long-gone cyanide pill
in its absence.  She took a shuddering breath in to
brace herself for weathering a split-second of immense
pain she knew she would feel at the impact.  Then she
hit, and shortly felt nothing at all.

Above her, on the cliff, the human leader watched her
fall, then peered over the edge at her still, broken
form strewn across the rocks below.  His cold eyes
turned to the other object of his hunt, who seemed to
be smirking at him.  "You're gonna pay for ruining my
fun, you filthy mutie."  He drew a pistol from his
hip, shooting Logan once, in the face.  Logan fought
to keep the smirk across his features.  He'd already
won - they didn't get Marie.  Nothing else much
mattered to him now.  Certainly, he hung on to the
hope that she'd heal from the fall, that the powers
he'd given her would be enough.  But even if she
didn't, Logan thought darkly, he'd still done right by
her.  She couldn't have lived through anymore than she
already had; death would be much kinder.  As he felt
himself being dragged away from the cliff, he turned
his head toward the abyss, even though he knew he
could no longer see Marie.







Marie woozily awoke to find herself rather
uncomfortably splayed over what felt like jagged
rocks.  Flopping herself onto her stomach, she soon
realized that it felt that way because she was,
indeed, lying on jagged rocks.  She let out a moan,
and lay her head back down, trying to remember how
she'd gotten here.  It came back to her after a few
moments, flooding her with panic.  She almost called
out for Logan, but then realized that would only alert
whoever might still be above to the fact that she
hadn't been killed.  She forced herself to calm, to
think.

She was hurt, she knew, but she could feel herself
healing, and she tried to organize her thoughts.  It
was dark now - it had been mid-morning when they'd
been captured.  No one would likely be looking for
them - they often spent a day or two away from their
cabin and incommunicado now that the weather was
beginning to break.  She knew they had wandered far
from their home, and the main settlement, but she
remembered passing a cabin a few miles back.  She
thought that if she followed the gorge, then somehow
found a way to scale the cliff, she could find the
cabin again.  She could do that, she thought, it
seemed possible.  There were only God knows how many
bullets in her, and they ached, but the wounds had
healed over.  She guessed that her spine had been
broken in the fall, but an experimental wiggle of her
fingers and feet produced semi-normal movement and
sensation.  If she could heal, if she could heal well
enough to run, she could make it.  She'd find a way up
the cliff or out of the gorge, and she'd make it.  She
had to.  Logan was depending on her.










Scott sat at the kitchen table, savoring a few moments
of early morning quiet before his son awoke.  Scott's
habit of rising with the sun hadn't vanished, even in
the days when Christopher had prevented him from
getting much nocturnal rest at all.  He enjoyed
sitting here, with no demands upon him, no residents
clamoring for this or that, no Logan ordering him
around, no sightings of Rogue, dredging up unwelcome
emotions of pain and anger.

Scott still couldn't quite admit to himself that he
was angry - angry at Jean for not being who he'd
thought she was, angry at himself for not seeing the
truth when Paul had confirmed it, and maybe most of
all, angry at himself for still loving Jean anyway.
He found himself overreacting to even the smallest of
irritants, and having to make constant efforts to push
everything that had happened with Jean out of his
mind.  Christopher, with his skin coloring and
strawberry hair, reminded him of Jean every day, and,
even though some part of him chastised himself for
doing it, he occasionally indulged in happy memories
of Jean's pregnancy with him.  His favorite was the
memory of one night late in her last month, when
they'd just lay together in bed and she'd let him feel
Christopher kicking and squirming inside her.  He
remembered his wonder at the time that he didn't sense
even a trace of resentment of the child from Jean,
knowing as she did that his birth would herald her own
death.  She'd only ever talked about it once, saying
that he wasn't bringing her death; he was giving her
seven more months than she'd have otherwise had, seven
months to spend loving both of the men in her life.
Jean had somehow always known it was a boy, though
she'd never done an ultrasound on herself.  In fact,
she'd picked out his name, Christopher - it was her
father's middle name.  Scott always wondered if she
could sense his son's mind in utero.  Not for the
first time, he asked himself how someone so loving, so
giving, could have done what Jean did to Rogue.

Scott's contemplation was interrupted by the sound of
a car pulling up outside.  It came to an abrupt,
gravelly stop, signaling to Scott that there might be
trouble.  He grabbed the house rifle, one he'd kept
ever since the human attack, and went to the door.

He opened it to see a dirt-and-blood-covered Rogue
running for him with fear in her eyes.  "What is it?
What's happened?"  Somewhere, distantly, he thought it
must be grave trouble for her to seek him out.

"Logan.  They've got Logan," she panted, stopping just
short of Scott and leaning over to put both hands on
her knees for support as she heaved for breath from
the short run.  That bullet in her lung really did
have to come out soon.  "Humans.  Attacked.  Dozens.
Armed.  On the edge of the park.  We've got to save
Logan," she finished in a rush, straightening to
breathe more deeply despite the pain as she awaited
Scott's response.

He didn't give one at first, he only stood in the
doorway, still holding the rifle, so she eyeballed
him.  "Rogue, I - I - I shouldn't leave Christopher."
She hadn't asked for his help, she'd only given
information, but it was clear why she was here.

"What?" she asked, in a daze.

"Some of the other residents, Bill and Tom - I can
send out a call, an alarm and I'll get them, they'll -
"

"You son of a bitch!" The words were spat out, shock
searing every syllable.

"Rogue, I can't fight like I used to, and Christopher
- "

"You can fight," she countered with venom.  "You just
don't want to."  At that point Hank, who must've heard
the commotion, peered out of his cabin door and
approached the arguing parties.  "You son of a bitch,
they're going to kill him!"

"Logan's hard to kill," Scott reasoned, with a
backward glance at Christopher's room.  "And he made
the rules here.  'You can live here, but otherwise,
you're on your own' is rule number one."  Scott felt
uneasy saying the words, and he didn't wholeheartedly
feel the sentiment behind them, not at all.  But after
all he and Jean, and even Rogue, had sacrificed for
Christopher, he couldn't leave the child unprotected
now, when there were humans in the park, and he
couldn't leave him fatherless if he was killed in some
fight to rescue an unkillable man.  There had to be
some way to convince Rogue of that.  Some heretofore
quiet part of him also put in that Logan had abandoned
the X-Men in their hour of need, and that fate was now
dealing him a prime opportunity for a little revenge
for that, and for what both Jean and Rogue had
consequently suffered.  Scott tried to make that part
be quiet again.  After the news about Jean, he tried
to be very vigilant about those kind of dark thoughts.
 He'd noticed them coming with inordinate frequency
lately.

Rogue took the three steps needed to close the
distance between them, taking no notice of the
approaching, limping Hank.  "Yeah, just like he left
you on your own, just like he left you and your
*precious* son on your own when the humans came for
you.  He threw me in the jeep and raced down here as
fast as he could to help you when you needed it!  God,
you're such a fucking hypocrite!"

"What is going on?" Hank inquired, nervous at Rogue's
apparent emotional state combined with the proximity
of her bare skin to his friend Scott.

"Humans got Logan," Scott answered in an even tone.
"I'm sending out a call to gather some people and help
rescue him.  We can meet in a half hour and - "

"No!  No!  Not in a half hour, now!  They've had him
since we left yesterday morning, we go now!"

"Rogue -" Scott began, only to be cut off when Rogue
grabbed him by the pajama shirt and hauled him up so
that he was nearly nose-to-nose with her.  Scott felt
a stab of fear - she'd done it with a strength he
didn't think she had.

"Fine.  You want to say 'fuck him' so maybe you can
take over and be the big boss that you're just dying
to be?  Fine.  You still have some stupid grudge
against him because he wanted to fuck the brains out
of your piece of shit wife way back when?  Fine.  But.
 You.  Owe. *Me*."  There was absolute murder in her
eyes, and her vicious tone made Scott flinch despite
himself.  "*I* suffered. *I* gave my body and my blood
for yours.  You owe me."

"Christopher - "

Rogue's mouth twisted in a grimace at the name and she
forcefully threw him back away from her, causing him
to collide with the wall.  "Good God, what is that
kid, the baby Jesus?  Look, either come with me or - "

"I'll go," Hank interrupted, putting himself between
Scott and the furious Rogue.  "I shall go with you.
Scott shall watch the children."

Rogue softened just slightly.  She'd actually come to
like the doctor quite a bit, not to mention his son,
Jules.  But this was a fight, a struggle for Logan's
survival, and what Hank was suggesting was not the
best way to make sure Logan lived through this.  "No.
You can barely walk now, and you don't have powers
that can be used from a distance, like optic blasts.
You wouldn't do any good.  You'd only get yourself
hurt."

"You may need medical assistance, for Logan or for any
surviving humans - " A low growl from Rogue told him
that that was not a likely possibility.  "You may need
medical help."

Scott's hand came to rest on Hank's shoulder.  He
looked up at his long-time friend, obviously moved by
his offer.  Hank was unhesitatingly throwing himself
into a fight, a fight he knew well that he had little
chance of walking away from unscathed.  He was acting
just like the X-Man he'd always been, just like the
admirable friend and teammate Scott cherished.  He
couldn't let Hank get hurt just because Scott still
carried some resentment of Logan and a lot of
overprotective feelings for Christopher.  "I'll go.
Wake up Bobby.  Send out a call for help.  Have him
lead them.  I'll go with Rogue.  You stay here with
the children.  Hank, protect them, and if anything
happens........"  Hank gave Scott a clipped nod.  "Let
me grab some ammo."  Scott retreated back inside the
cabin, leaving Rogue to relate the last known location
of the humans to Hank so that he could summon
additional forces.  He'd noticed that she'd come in
old lady McCollum's Explorer, so he guessed that they
were somewhere in the far northern end of the park, in
what used to be Montana.  Scott allowed himself a dark
chuckle at what the intensely private, crotchety
eighty-year-old widow's middle-of-the-night wake up
call courtesy of a frantic Rogue must've been like.
He retrieved what he'd come for, and detoured to
Christopher's room to give him a soft kiss on the
forehead.  Scott's son sighed in his sleep, and
smiled.  Scott returned it briefly, then shuffled into
some shoes and ran out to meet Rogue.







They found the humans easily enough - it looked like
more than a few had died by Logan's hand (or, rather,
claw) along the way to their current camp, and Scott
and Rogue could practically just follow the trail of
corpses to them.  Rogue whispered that by her
calculations, that left about 75-80 of them.  Scott
still didn't like those odds, but help *was* on the
way.  They parked the Explorer in a thicket of trees,
about four hundred yards from the human camp and,
taking the rifles and ammo that Scott had brought,
crept closer to get a better look and to try to locate
Logan.

At first, they couldn't find him.  Scott thought he
might've been held prisoner in one of their many
tents, but then again, why waste shelter and heat on a
prisoner?  Especially one who was well-nigh
indestructible, which Scott figured that the humans
must've realized by now.  But then, Scott noticed a
small group of humans gathered around one spot, hiding
from his view with their bodies what was apparently of
interest to them on the ground below.  Scott told
Rogue to stay put and cover him while he hazarded
climbing a tree for a better vantage point.

What he saw sickened him.  It was Logan on the ground,
of course.  Scott had assumed that it would be.  But
he hadn't expected to see Logan in this condition -
reduced to a smoldering, burnt-black mass of flesh.
It looked like the humans were gouging his eyes out at
the moment.  Scott's stomach flipped and he fought to
contain the bile rising in his throat.  Logan was
moving, twitching a little, so it was a good bet that
he was still alive, but Scott ashamedly began to
revise his estimate of 'indestructible.'  Still,
feelings of satisfaction surfaced along with the
disgust - Logan had abandoned his friends and
teammates to almost as gruesome a fate at the hands of
the humans and of the virus.  Scott shook his head,
trying to rid himself of those thoughts.  Now wasn't
the time for that.  He slid out of the tree, taking a
moment to gather himself at its base before heading
back to an eager Rogue.

"Did you find him?"  she asked breathlessly.

"Yes.  Rogue, he's - he's in bad shape."

She drew in a sharp breath, and for a moment, Scott
thought she was going to ask him for details of
Logan's condition, details which he wasn't sure he
could muster while keeping a steady stomach.  But
instead she gave a nod of acknowledgment and said, "We
should get him out of there now, then."

Scott didn't like the odds, but couldn't argue with
the necessity of moving fast, either.  He distantly
wondered whether Logan's eye would regenerate if the
humans scooped it out.  "OK.  I'll make a distraction.
 See if you can get to Logan.  He's at the west edge
of the camp, in the middle of a small group of humans.
 Help should be here any minute."  Rogue gave him
another nod, grim this time, and they each took a
rifle and a fistful of bullets.  "And Rogue - " Scott
suddenly realized that if help wasn't coming any
minute, things could turn even uglier.  "If you can't
get him, just fall back, just head back into the
woods.  Wait for more help.  He'll make it, he's
tough."  The look in her eyes told him that wasn't how
she'd do it, not at all.  "Rogue - "

"Let's go," she cut him off, already crouching and
creeping toward the camp perimeter.  When they reached
it, still unnoticed, Scott gestured for her to go to
her left, toward Logan, and he began creeping to the
right, preparing to strike.  When Rogue was making her
way between the tents, and nearing Logan's position,
he opened fire with an optic blast, incinerating the
nearest tent, occupants still inside.  He quickly took
cover behind a large, thick tree, and continued fire
as the humans scrambled to defend their camp and their
lives.






Rogue crept through the camp carefully but rapidly as
Scott blasted away and the humans began shooting back
at him.  Just a minute or so after Scott began firing,
reinforcements arrived, with Bobby immediately
constructing an ice barrier in front of his friend to
help deflect the gunfire.  The humans were so absorbed
in combating this intrusion of 'filthy muties' that
they'd left Logan, or what was left of him, unguarded.
 They probably figured, and rightly so, that he wasn't
going anywhere anytime soon.  Marie advanced on him,
checking to be sure the humans were still occupied.
When she finally reached him, she didn't flinch at his
condition or even the fact that part of his eyeball
was sticking to a knife lying next to his head,
abandoned in the human's rush to defend the camp.  She
only bent to pick him up, as gently as possible.  All
of his hair was gone, and he was covered in sticky
blood and charred flesh.  His good eye rolled lazily
in her direction.

"It's OK," she reassured him, "We're getting out of
here."  She wasn't sure if he'd been stripped naked or
if his clothes had just been burned into his skin, but
she did know he was shivering from the burns and that
he needed medical help, soon.  She tried not to hurt
him too much, but he let out low groans with each
step.

The fight raged on around her, but miraculously, no
one noticed her as she dragged Logan out of the camp.
She reached the tree line, catching Scott's eye.
Gesturing with her head toward the Explorer, she hoped
he understood what the signal meant - I'm taking Logan
and getting the hell out of here.  Whether or not he
fully understood, Scott nodded.  Bobby, and several of
the mutants that had come to help drive the humans out
of the park (for she had no doubt that that's how it
had been put to them - none of them were especially
fond of Logan) gasped at the corpse-like figure she
dragged with her, but none slowed her progress.

She maneuvered Logan into the Explorer, and thought
for a minute about whether to seat-belt him in.  His
flesh had come off in chunks where her hands had
lifted him, and it had come off in strips on his legs,
since she'd been forced to drag him along the ground.
The belt would likely mean more flesh attrition, but
it would keep him from flopping around in the seat.
They had about an hour's drive over some very rough
terrain to reach their cabin, and help.  Deciding that
the belt was best, she applied it as gently as she
could.  "I'm sorry, Logan.  I know it hurts."  He
didn't say anything, only let out more groans and
tried looking at her with his intact eye.  Marie had
no idea whether he really had any concept of what was
happening to him or not.  "We're going to get Hank.
We're going to get help.  Just hang on."  She jumped
into the driver's side, started the engine, laid the
rifle across her lap just in case, and set off.


The battle raged on for about a half an hour before
the mutants began to gain the upper hand.  Apparently,
the humans had spent a great deal of their ammo on
subduing Logan and Rogue and hadn't planned on
fighting off nearly a dozen mutants with a range of
formidable powers.  The question for Scott was no
longer - will we win?  It was very quickly becoming -
what do we do with these people when we win?  After
seeing what they'd visited upon Logan, Scott's
sympathy for them wasn't running high, but executing
them wholesale would be wrong.  That would be
something Logan would do, and Scott wouldn't do that.
The humans were close to surrender now, he could feel
it, and he mentally scrambled to figure out an
appropriate plan of action.

He was faced with his considered dilemma more rapidly
than he thought.  In the next second, he saw a white
handkerchief being waved alongside one of the tents.
"Hold your fire," Scott bellowed.  When the sounds of
battle had quieted on both sides, a tall,
gruff-looking man stepped out into the clear.  Scott
knew from Rogue's description that this was the man
who'd acted as leader of the group when they'd
cornered her and Logan.  "Yes?"

"Let's just call it a draw and we'll let you walk
away," the man yelled back.  Scott swiftly replied by
way of an optic blast incinerating the tent next to
him.  He saw a dark stain spread between the man's
legs; he'd wet himself.

"Surrender and lay down your arms, and we won't kill
all of you," Scott offered, drawing a surprised look
from Bobby.  He knew what the younger man thought, but
this was a different world, and it called for harsher
measures.  Besides, Scott assured himself, he could
spare all of them if he wished; he was just scaring
them.  He was the assumptive leader of this little
army, and they would follow his orders.  He still had
the chance to show mercy and leniency despite his
words, and he would.

"OK, OK," the man temporized, "we surrender."

"Hell, no!" was heard from somewhere to the leader's
right.

"Surrender, or we'll keep firing," Scott called out in
an even tone.  When he received no response, he
blasted a tent in the approximate area of the 'hell
no.' The leader began frantically waving his arms over
his head.

"Stop!  Stop!  We surrender!"

Scott leaned back, somewhat convinced that it was the
truth this time.  "Bill, Tom - cover me."  Then, he
took a step into the clear and, to the still-hiding
humans, he called, "Show yourselves and throw down
your arms."  Slowly, but steadily, about twenty humans
emerged from hiding, each following Scott's
instructions then putting their hands in the air.
Looking back with a relieved and satisfied smile, he
beckoned, "Come on, Bobby, let's go."

They moved through the humans, gathering up their
weapons as they went.  Scott was fairly sure they were
out of ammo, but it didn't hurt to take the guns
anyway.  After they swept the area to be sure they had
them all, Scott herded them to the center of the camp.
 He still hadn't decided quite what to do with them,
but he was leaning toward turning them out of the park
with the clothes on their backs, and letting the
wilderness decide their fate.  Scott did feel some
residual guilt about how he'd helped dispose of Gary,
although those pangs were few and far between.
Mostly, he wanted to set a good example, to temper the
flare of anti-human hatred that he knew would follow
this incident.  He was just about to address the
captive humans when he heard something - something
that sounded much like a baby's cry - from one of the
far tents.  "Watch them," he said, setting off in the
direction of the cry.

When he reached the tent, Scott knelt before the
opening flap, hand on his visor and at the ready.
Just because it sounded like a baby's cry, that didn't
necessarily mean that's what it was, or that it
couldn't be some trick.  He had to remain cautious,
and alert - this was still a battle, and experience,
both as an X-Man and otherwise, had taught him that in
battle, anything could happen.  Scott slowly unzipped
the flap and drew it back.

What he saw inside sickened him just as much as his
view of Logan had.  It was a tent full of women -
girls, mostly - and young children.  All of them
looked malnourished, in stark contrast to the
relatively hale and healthy men of the group.  All
were cowering in terror at the moment; and, some
looked sick with something more than fear - coughs and
wheezing could be heard from one corner of the
overcrowded tent.  All of them showed visible bruises
and cuts, and one bore crudely carved initials on her
cheek.  She looked about twelve.  Scott swallowed
hard.

"Please, don't hurt us.  Please?"  The words had come
from a pretty dark-haired girl of about seven.
Scott's heart clenched a little when he saw the abject
terror in her eyes.  An older woman, twenty or so by
the looks of her, scuttled up to the girl who'd
spoken, protectively embracing her.
Scott tried to smile reassuringly at the girl.  "Don't
- don't worry, no one's going to hurt you."  The baby
that had made the cry which caught his ear asserted
himself again, and its mother frantically tried to
quiet it.  "It's OK.  Don't worry, it's going to be
all right."  Nobody in the tent looked very convinced
of that.  "How long have you been - are they - are the
men of the group keeping you with them against your
will?"  They all looked stunned by the question for a
few moments, but the baby's mother finally nodded in
reply.  "We're - we're going to expel them from this
place.  You - you don't have to go with them if you
don't want to."

"But -but aren't you mutants?" the seven-year-old
asked.  Scott nodded.  "My Daddy says that mutants
hate us and they eat our babies."  Her words came in a
whispered rush, half frightened but honestly curious
inquiry and half conspiratorial confession.

"That's not true," the woman holding her whispered
back as she kept her eyes trained on Scott's visor.

"That's right," Scott reinforced.  "I'm a mutant, and
I can promise you that that's not true.  We're not - I
know we're fighting with some of you, but if you don't
want to fight with us, we don't want to fight with
you."

"I don't wanna fight," the little girl whispered.  "I
wanna go home."

"Let's see what we can do about that, all right?  Is -
are any of you hurt?  Do any of you need medical
attention?  We have a doctor here," Scott offered,
wondering what these women and children would think of
meeting a mutant like Hank.

"We pretty much all need medical attention," the
twenty-something woman offered.  "I'm a nurse, but -
but we don't have any supplies or anything.  If you
have a doctor, and you're willing to help us, we'd
like to see him."  She looked around to some of the
other women for support, and got it - they were
nodding.

"OK.  Stay in here while we deal with the other humans
- uh, people."  Scott took a deep breath and tried to
smile.  "It's going to be OK now."  He let the flap
fall back over the opening as he scooted out.  As he
rose, he felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder.
Scott started a little before realizing it was Bobby.


"What do we have in there?" the younger former X-Man
queried.

"Women and children, about twelve or thirteen of
them," Scott replied, leading Bobby away from the tent
and back toward the subdued group of humans.  "They
haven't come along voluntarily and they need medical
help.  We're going to take them to Hank to get them
checked out."

Bobby nodded.  "And what are we going to do with the
rest of them?"  He looked intently at Scott as he
waited for an answer.

Scott sighed, absurdly wishing to go back to the days
when he could rely on the Professor to make decisions
like this.  Just as that thought occurred to him, an
idea ran through his head, a good one.  "If it were
your decision, Bobby, what would you do with them?"
Maybe it was time he returned to his pre- war task of
training and grooming Bobby to be a leader one day.
He would be one soon, just not the same kind of leader
Scott had once envisioned.  He was well-respected in
the camp and had a reputation as a fair, compassionate
person with a somewhat formidable power.  Maybe it was
time to let Bobby in on some of the hard decisions,
time to begin really showing him what leadership and
responsibility were like.   The thought that he was
also grooming Bobby because Scott felt tired and
frustrated by his responsibilities and the constant
fights with Logan lingered in the back of his mind,
but Scott dismissed it for the moment.

"Me?  I - I don't know.  I wouldn't just kill them
all."

"You saw what they did to Logan," Scott parried.
"They've abused those women and children too.  We're
not dealing with someone who made one mistake or fell
in with the wrong crowd.  These are a bunch of
prejudiced, hardened, cruel, abusive, hateful people."

"That still doesn't make killing them in revenge
right.  It just makes us like them.  It makes us the
bad guys too."

Scott shrugged.  "I don't disagree.  But what do you
suggest we do with them?"

"We could talk to them, tell them if they come back
that we'll punish them, and make them leave the park."
 Bobby said it with conviction, as though it were the
obvious solution.

"Bobby, these people won't listen to reason.  What if
they just leave here, gather up more mutant- hating
humans, and come back?  What if they attack our cabins
next time?"  Scott was playing devil's advocate a bit
here.  He actually favored Bobby's suggestion, except
that he'd leave out talking to them - wouldn't make a
dent - and he'd tell them he'd kill them on sight if
they were ever caught in the park again, not just that
he'd 'punish' them.

"I don't know, Scott - maybe they'll learn their
lesson.  Maybe they'll be too scared to come back here
after what happened.  I mean, we killed, like, seventy
of them in the fight.  Some of them are hurt, and I
don't know if they'll even make it outside the park.
I don't think they'll come back."  Bobby sounded a lot
less sure now.

"OK," Scott acquiesced, "We'll do it your way."  He
began taking the final few steps to the gathered
prisoners.

"Wait - Scott - don't just do that 'cause I said it.
You're the team leader, you - you have to decide."
Bobby's words halted Scott, and he turned to look at
his friend with a deliberately kind, open expression.


"There is no more team, Bobby," Scott said with more
than a hint of irritation.  "There never will be
again.  The entire world has changed, and we have to
change with it. I'm not going to be around forever,
you know, and I'm going to want to be the one making
crappy decisions with no good options to choose from
for a very much shorter time than that.  One day
pretty soon, you'll be making those decisions.  Might
as well start now."  Scott turned back toward the
prisoners, leaving Bobby to ponder his words.  He
closed the remaining gap and stood directly before the
man he knew to be the leader of the humans.  "You will
be escorted to the perimeter of this park.  You are to
remain outside of it, from this day forward.  Your
guns, ammunition, supplies, and tents will be
remaining here.  If you return to the park, you will
be shot on sight."  Scott nodded to Bobby.  "He'll be
leading you out.  He has orders to kill anyone who
gives him or any of my men the least bit of trouble."
Scott turned back to Bobby.  "Take them in the big
truck you came up here in.  Radio back and get someone
else to drive a truck out for the women and kids.
I'll stay with them, the rest of you will escort the
prisoners."

"Hey," an indignant voice called from behind Scott.
He didn't turn to answer the human.  "Hey!  You can't
take our women!"

"I can and I am.  Count yourselves lucky that I don't
take your lives."

"Dammit, I paid for mine fair and square and I - "
Scott did turn at that, and silenced the man with a
quick optic blast at his feet.

"The next one will be through your head," Scott
warned.  "Shut up and sit down."  The man did as he
was told this time.  Scott gave him a harsh look
before taking Bobby by the arm to lead him out of
earshot of the group of prisoners.  "Bobby, keep a
close eye on them.  They'll try something, I'm sure of
it."

Bobby's eyes went wide and he swallowed hard.  "But
what do I do if - "

"You'll know what to do.  The priorities here are your
safety, the safety of the men in your command, and the
safety of the park and its residents.  Do what you
have to, but carry out my orders.  You'll know what to
do, Bobby."  Scott clapped his arm.  They would try
something, but they were twenty or so unarmed humans,
some of them injured, against ten mutants with
combat-adaptable powers who had already beaten back
four times their number.  The odds were certainly
stacked in Bobby's favor.  Scott found himself
actually hoping they would try something.  It would be
a good experience for Bobby to deal with it, and Scott
had every confidence that the young man could.  It
would also provide a way to get rid of a few more of
these pieces of living trash and scare the rest.  At
least he was giving the humans a chance to live
through this, something they'd not have gotten from
Logan.  "I trust you.  I'll see you back at the
cabins."  With that, Scott nodded his final goodbye to
a still-unsure Bobby, and headed for the women's tent.













Back at Logan's cabin, Hank was finishing up what was
perhaps the grimmest, most difficult examination of
his career.  Horrible third-degree burns covered more
than 90% of Logan's body.  Every hair on his body had
been burned off.  His nose, ears, tongue, penis, and
testicles - anything not attached by an
adamantium-coated bone -  were missing altogether.
Hank knew there were also gunshot and knife wounds,
but couldn't begin to pin those down to a specific
location since Logan's skin was so badly burned all
over.  The humans had had him for about 24 hours; in
that time, they'd managed every kind of injury and
torture Hank could think of.  He found himself
thanking God that Rogue had not been subjected to the
same treatment, that Logan had found an escape route
for her, even if it did include a hundred-foot drop
and a broken back.    However, despite the horrific
severity of his injuries, Hank was fairly certain that
Logan would eventually heal - his left eye, which,
according to Rogue had been half-gouged out by the
humans, had already regenerated itself, and Hank
remembered that Logan's ear had regenerated in only an
hour or so after Sabretooth had once ripped it off in
a fight.  Yes, Logan would heal, Hank thought, but it
would be an incredibly painful and (for Logan) slow
process.  His healing factor was beyond overloaded and
it would take time for it to deal with the multiple
life-threatening injuries Logan had incurred.

"Hank?"  Rogue had been nervously pacing the cabin.
Hank knew this entire incident had to be greatly
emotionally upsetting for her, not to mention
physically painful - he would still have to dig out
several bullets from her.  But she had actually been
remarkably calm, collected, and restrained, all things
considered.

"I believe he will heal.  His, ah, missing parts
should regenerate and his skin and internal wounds are
healing now."  Her entire body relaxed at that.  "But
it will be painful, and very slow.  I have given him a
large dose of morphine, and he appears to be sleeping.
 He will need rest, as much of it as he can get, and
protein, to help his healing factor work.  His burned
skin has, in the past, taken the longest to heal, and
he is critically burned nearly everywhere.  But he
will heal."

"How long until he's completely healed?"

"Completely healed - well, I do not believe that he
will be completely healed for months, perhaps even a
year.  There will be a lingering weakness of his
healing power from severe overuse for quite some time,
and - "

"I mean - how long until he's up and walking around
reasonably OK?"  Rogue folded her hands over one
another, and shifted her weight from one foot to the
other.

"I expect approximately a month or so.  I will keep a
close eye on his progress.  But, Rogue, do not worry.
He will heal.  He is very difficult to permanently
harm."  Her eyes changed at that, became harder,
closed, and Hank wondered what he'd said wrong.  Rogue
supplied the answer to that question promptly.

"That's what Scott said, he's hard to kill.  That
doesn't mean it's OK to just throw him to the humans
like that.  Scott was so casual about it all this
morning, and I - I know he doesn't like Logan, but how
could you be indifferent to someone suffering like
this?"  There was heat in her voice, and Hank flashed
back to her fury on display this morning.

"I do not think that Scott meant to be indifferent."
Hank considered telling her that Scott's behavior was
in part a product of his concern for Christopher's
welfare, but he doubted that would be a good path to
go down with Rogue at any time, and especially not
today.  "We have never - never seen anyone subjected
to such brutality.  I am sure that Scott thought they
might be inflicting some harm upon Logan, but none of
us could imagine anything on this scale."

Rogue gave him a sour, twisted smile.  "I guess that's
the difference between all of you and me.  I don't
have to imagine to understand what people are capable
of.  I've lived it."  Hank didn't know what to say to
that, and, seeing his head hung down, Rogue relented.
"Can you dig the bullets out of me now?  I know that
you've got those humans coming......."

"Certainly."  Hank tried to smile, and prepared to
tend to Rogue's much less severe wounds.









Scott drove back toward the main settlement with the
human women and children in tow.  He'd offered the
front seat of the truck next to him to the
seven-year-old, whose name he'd learned was Rita.  He
thought she was warming up to him, even though she
kept looking back to the truck bed to sight Holly, the
one who'd identified herself as a nurse.  He'd
explained a little to them, telling them all that Hank
was an obvious mutant, with blue fur and some
exaggerated features (fangs and claws) but that he was
also a very good physician and a very nice man.  They
all seemed too shell-shocked to produce any reaction,
so Scott simply got them underway.

Now, as they neared the trio of cabins that belonged
to Hank, Bobby, and himself, Scott thought it best to
say something more.  "Where we're headed is that hill.
 Hank, Bobby - the man who took the men away - and I
live on the other side of it.  We radioed ahead to
Hank and he should be waiting for us.  Holly, could
you try to assess who needs to be seen immediately, so
that Hank can start with the people who need the most
help?"

"Sure," she answered slowly.  "Ah, Scott?"

"Yes?"  Her voice had been shaky, and Scott tried to
make his tone and demeanor as friendly as possible.
He knew she must be afraid.

"Is there any food there?  It's - it's been a while
since some of us have eaten."

"You're welcome to whatever's there and we can get you
more food if we need to.  If you need fresh clothes,
shoes, that kind of thing, we'll get you some too."

"Thank you."  Scott flashed her a reassuring smile
through the rearview mirror.

"We're here," he announced as he rounded the hilltop
and the cabins came in sight.  Hank emerged, followed
by Paul, who Scott guessed had been pressed into
babysitting duty while Hank tended to Logan.  The fact
that Hank wasn't still working on his former teammate
was either good news or very bad news.  He tried to
make himself hope for the former, not the latter.
"That's Hank, our doctor."  The sight of him drew
muffled gasps from some of the women.

"He really *is* blue!" Rita exclaimed in wonder.
"He's not gonna hurt me with his claws, is he?  He's
not gonna eat me, is he?  I'm not a baby."

"No, not at all.  He's a very good doctor and I'm sure
he'll be very gentle.  And he eats mostly junk food,
not children."  Scott smiled down at the girl as he
brought the truck to a stop.  "Everybody ready?"

Holly alone answered, "Yes," and scrambled from the
truck bed to begin assessing the needs of the women
and children.  Scott let out a breath and disembarked
from the truck.  It was already a long day, and it was
only about to get longer.









Logan woke to see Rogue anxiously looking down at him.
 For a moment, he thought they'd somehow gotten to
her, realized she was alive after her fall, but the
fact that he couldn't smell fear on her comforted him
a bit.  Then he realized he couldn't smell much of
anything at all.  "Unnnhhhh....." His failed attempt
at speaking didn't help hold back his rising panic.

"Tsss okkkk."  Why did she sound funny, muffled?
"Vrryynnngsss okkkk."  Christ what was wrong with him?
He couldn't move, couldn't talk, couldn't smell,
couldn't hear - what the hell had happened?  "Logan,
tsss okkkk."  That was better - she'd said his name,
he recognized that sound.

"Whhaaa...."  Still couldn't talk.  He closed his eyes
and urged himself to think, to remember what had
happened.  It came back to him slowly, very slowly,
but at length, he let himself relive the events -
fighting, getting shot, stabbed, cut up, set on fire.
The memories made sense of why he couldn't speak or
smell or hear - they'd taken his tongue, so speech was
much harder; his ears were cut off, so sound wasn't
coming through normally; and his nose was gone, so
scents were weaker - and that did comfort him a
little.  Now that he thought about it, they'd also
taken his - oh-oh.  Logan's eyes tore back open and he
struggled to sit up a little so he could see if his
genitalia were indeed gone.

"Shhh......" Marie.  Right.  She was pushing him back
down very gently, but Logan couldn't fight her.  He
had no strength left.  He flopped back on the soft
surface and wondered where they were and why Marie was
here.  "Wrrr saffff, Logan.  Tsss okkk."

"Mmmmm........."

"Jssst rssst.  Tsss okkkk."  Logan fell back into the
blackness, helpless against its pull.  He hoped that
Marie was right, and they were somewhere safe, but
even that urgent concern was not enough to fend off
sleep.







At that moment, Hank and Holly were busily examining
the women and children from the human camp.  They'd
been using Jules' room as a makeshift examination
room, and Hank had already sent Paul to the storehouse
for more medical supplies.  His patients were in bad
shape - they were all malnourished, one had what was
probably pneumonia, and nearly all had wounds that
were infected to one degree or another.  Hank had
already treated the most critical, and was now
examining the youngest among them, the baby, with
Holly's help.

Hank was grateful for her assistance - not only her
medical assistance, but also the way she steadied her
compatriots, and readily accepted him as a person and
a physician.  She seemed a leader of that little
group, and when she didn't scream or faint at Hank's
appearance, they followed her lead.  Her friendly
smile and wink upon meeting Jules had also made a very
favorable impression on Hank.

"This child needs food, desperately.  Is - is the
mother unable to breast feed?"  From what Scott had
told him, he didn't doubt that the men of the group
would leave one of their own children to fend for
itself.

Holly sighed.  "The mother isn't really interested in
taking care of the child.  She hasn't even named it.
She never tried to breast feed.  She's - she's in deep
psychological shock, I know, and it certainly wasn't
her choice to become pregnant, so I understand why
there's not - not a normal bond there.  But it's not
like she's actively tried to harm the child, and she
changes it or wraps it in a blanket sometimes. I guess
I just don't think she wants to take care of it, or is
able to."

Hank looked down at the squirming child.  He'd had a
can or two of formula in the house from the days when
he used to babysit Christopher, and it was heating on
the stove now, while Scott retrieved a bottle.  The
child would get food soon enough, but what Holly was
saying about its prospects for long- term care were
not going to be conducive to its continued healing and
survival.  "Oh, dear."

Holly rubbed the infant's stomach, then looked up to
catch Hank's eye.  "I'll take care of her, but - but
I'm assuming that you're not going to let us stay here
in the park.  Your 'no humans allowed' policy is
pretty well known," she said gently.  "I'm not sure
that she'll be any better off with me than her mother
if that's the case.  I don't - I don't suppose there
might be someone here willing to adopt a human baby?"

Hank was plainly taken aback by her words.  No, it
wasn't likely that anyone here would adopt another
mouth to feed, human or not.  But what had really
struck him was her assumption that they'd be treated,
then kicked out of the park.  Hank hadn't really
thought about what would happen beyond the next few
hours, but he hadn't assumed they'd be put out.  On
the other hand, Logan's 'no humans' rule was
well-known and scrupulously followed.  Humans were
most certainly not welcome, probably even more so now,
after this attack.  But they couldn't just put them
out into the wilderness, unprotected, Hank thought.
That would be nearly as good as signing their death
warrant.

"I, uh, just meant that if there were someone here
willing to take her in, that might be best.  If not,
we'll - we'll figure something out for her," Holly
backtracked.  Hank suddenly realized that she might
not be as steady, as accepting as she appeared.  Maybe
that was all a show of sorts, a way to keep her
friends calm enough to get the help they needed.
Maybe she wasn't so sure that the mutants weren't
going to hurt her after all.  Hank didn't really blame
her - he'd feel the same way among humans nowadays,
even though his own son was half-human.

"No one willing to adopt her immediately comes to
mind," Hank replied, keeping an open look and friendly
smile on his face.  "But I do not know that the
decision as to whether you will be permitted to stay
if you so choose has been made.  Our leader, Logan,
was injured by the - the people you were with.
Typically, he makes these type of decisions, but he
will not be able to do so for a few days at least,
perhaps a week.  I would hazard a guess that, in the
mean time at least, you will be staying here."  Hank
himself was inclined toward that option, but he wanted
to talk it over with Scott - he'd know best what
resources were available to house these humans and
what the general mood of the settlement would be about
having them here.

"Dada, bottle!"  Jules happily trotted in, bearing the
baby girl's dinner.

"Ah, thank you, Jules."  Hank took the bottle from his
son's hand, smiling his approval down upon him, and
scooped the infant up with his other, putting the
bottle to her lips as quickly as he could.  The poor
child had been starved for so long, that she was too
upset to eat at first, but Hank soon coaxed her into
feeding.  In no time, she was sucking on the nipple,
with one tiny fist clenched in Hank's shirt.  "There
we go," Hank cooed to her.

"You're very good with children," Holly offered, still
with some caution.

"Yes, well, I do resemble a large teddy bear of sorts.
 I have always theorized that that was the secret of
my success."  As he had hoped, she laughed a little at
his self-deprecating joke.  "Is there anyone else we
need to see?"

"Yes," Holly answered with a smile.  "Maybe Jules can
help me call them in?"  She ruffled his hair as he lit
up at the suggestion.  Jules loved 'helping' of any
sort.  Hank watched them go, rocking the infant human
girl in his arms a bit.

"You shall be all right," he assured the child, "You
shall be all right now."

Bobby stood over the remains of the human leader,
shaking his head.  Scott had been right.  They had
tried something, something extremely stupid.  Bill, a
telekinetic, was their target of choice - all twenty
of them attacked him at the back of the truck just a
mile or so short of the park border.  It was a very
poor choice of targets - Bill easily fended them off
with his mind, and the other mutants quickly jumped to
his defense.  Bobby had hoped that would be the end of
it, but then they turned on the others, attacking with
only their fists.  They were again fairly easily
subdued, but the humans took casualties - nearly all
of their number were now dead.  Two had survived, but
were wounded.  They were under guard, back at the
truck.  Bobby shook his head at the stubbornness and
futility of their actions.

"What're we going to do with the other two?"  That was
Tom's voice behind Bobby.  Tom was an elder statesman
of sorts.  He was fifty-eight, and he'd been a
small-town mayor before the war, still no easy feat
for an African-American in a mostly white Alabama
town.  His power, bursts of biologically- generated
electricity, similar in a fight to Scott's optic
blasts, had come in very handy at times, but he kept
to himself for the most part.  The nature of his power
was also one reason why the human casualties had been
so heavy - there was no way to control the intensity
or voltage of the blasts once they were generated and
unleashed; each blast had been fatal to the recipient.
 Tom had killed about eight of the humans.

"Scott's orders were to take them to the border of the
park and let them go.  I guess we'll do that."

Bobby felt Tom's hand come to rest on his shoulder.
"You did your best to get them all there.  They
decided to what they did.  You did what you had to,
Bobby."

Bobby was comforted a bit by the words.  He valued
Tom's opinion and knew him to be a learned and fair
man.  But he still felt very much like a failure.  He
hadn't wanted it to go this way.  "Why did they
attack?  We were just going to drop them off and let
them go."

Tom heaved a sigh.  Bobby reminded him a little of his
own youthful son, who was one of the many who'd died,
not as a result of the virus - he'd inherited Tom's
immunity - but as a result of the societal breakdown
it had wrought.  He'd had a simple case of
appendicitis, but there was no doctor, no hospital for
him to go to by that point.  Things that used to be
easily fixed in the old world were once again the
grave, life-threatening conditions they had been.  Tom
shook his head a little at the memory, and decided to
impart to Bobby the same advice he'd have given his
own son in this situation.  "Maybe they didn't believe
us.  It's hard for people to conceive of anyone acting
better than they would themselves, if they had the
upper hand.  I doubt they'd have let us go, so I'd
imagine that it was hard for them to believe we would.
 They made their decision about what to do here.  They
suffered the natural consequences of that bad
decision.  You did what you had to, and you'll honor
our bargain by taking these two to the border."

"Maybe if we'd have just talked to them, explained a
little more - "

"Son, there's just no talking to some people.  People
who've lived hating and being violent, destructive all
their lives, well, it doesn't matter how much sense
you make, they're just not going to listen.  They see
the world through different eyes.  Sense and reason,
they don't have a place in that world."

Bobby looked squarely into Tom's eyes.  "So what,
then?  Should we have just killed them all back at the
camp?  Is that how to deal with those kinds of
people?"

Tom smiled.  "There's no easy way to deal with them.
You wrestle a pig, you're bound to get a little mud on
you.  That usually isn't too bad.  Point is - don't
grow yourself a corkscrew tail.  You can't make them
play by your rules, and you can't play by theirs.
Best you can probably do is to do what you have to, to
keep yourself and your friends and family safe.  At
least that way, you know your intentions are good even
if the things you have to do might not be so good."
He could tell that his words had reached Bobby, that
he was thinking it over.  "Come on, let's get these
two on their way and head back.  It's getting dark."
Bobby nodded, and headed back to the truck.







"Scott?  May I have a word for a moment?"  Hank could
see that he was interrupting Christopher's dinner, but
he'd finished with his patients and they were awaiting
some news on where they'd be staying. Hank needed to
talk that over with Scott a bit.

"Sure.  How are they?"

"I am worried about one of them - she has a rather
advanced case of pneumonia.  I've put her on my couch
and made her as comfortable as possible and I have
started administering antibiotics.  I am hoping that
some warmth, rest, and food will assist the medication
in restoring her to full health."

"Good," Scott replied, spooning what looked like
mashed peas into Christopher's open mouth.

"Scott, have you given any thought to what we shall do
with them now?"  Scott's spoon paused in midair,
causing Christopher to pause and frown.

"Peas, dada!"  Scott smiled at his son, and obliged,
clearly thinking over how to answer Hank's question.
Hank let him mull it through.  After a few more
spoonfuls, Scott answered.

"I don't think they can stay here, not permanently.
Most of the people here - well, I don't think they'd
stand for it, even though they are a fairly harmless
bunch of humans.  Frankly, I think keeping them here
for any amount of time is going to be a hard sell
after what happened today.  But I don't want to turn
them out.  That wouldn't be right."

"What about Logan?  What do you suppose he will do?"

Scott shot him a surprised look.  "I thought you said
he'd be down for a month or so."

"Yes.  But he should be sufficiently healed enough in
about a week to begin resuming the decision- making
functions of his, ah, position."

Scott pondered that while shoveling the last of the
peas into Christopher's mouth.  "But he's not going to
be in any position to enforce those decisions, so I
don't see why his opinion should be binding."

"Scott," Hank said warningly.  "Even so, Logan *will*
heal eventually, and he will not take kindly to his
authority having been usurped.  There is also Rogue to
consider."

"What about her?"  Scott rose from the table with a
shrug, and Hank gaped a little at him.  Could he
really have missed the evidence of her attachment to
and protectiveness of Logan after all that had
happened today?

"Has it not occurred to you that she may endeavor to
enforce Logan's decisions for him in the interim?"

"Are you saying that he'd make her fight his battles
for him?"  Christopher fidgeted as Scott returned to
the table with a fresh glass of juice for the child.

"I am saying that she may be inclined to do so,
especially if it is you opposing her.  You know well
that there is no love lost between the two of you.
Did you not see how she was this morning?  She was
ready to do anything to save Logan."  Hank tried to
meet his friend's eyes behind the visor.  He had no
idea what was going on in his head, that was certain.


"Saving his life is one thing.  Contesting who runs
this place is another.  I know she's attached to him,
and she probably thinks she loves him, but Hank - I'm
not going to sit here and let Logan decide everything
from his sick bed.  I'm not inclined to just kick
those humans out, are you?"

"Well, no, but - "

"I know that they can't stay permanently, but as long
as Logan is down, they're staying here.  And as long
as he's down, I'm going to run this settlement as I
see fit.  If Rogue has a problem with that, well, we
can talk, but things have to get done, and if Logan's
not well enough to enforce his decisions, then he
won't be making them until he is."

"Scott," Hank said, leaning forward across the table.
"Do you think that is a wise approach?  I know you are
not fond of Logan - neither am I - but it is his
settlement, his place.  He has fought everyone - you
included - to remain in control of it.  You may be
able to put Rogue off and to run the settlement for a
time, but Logan will recover and he will not permit
your authority to stand.  What if he exiles you?  Are
you prepared to deal with that?"

Scott sighed.  "I'm just tired, Hank.  I'm tired of
kow-towing to whatever he wants.  I'm tired of
watching him play at being in charge while everyone
else does all the work.  I'm tired of dealing with
him.  I don't want us to be exiled, and I don't think
he'd do it, but - but - hell, I don't know.  I'm just
frustrated, you know?"

"And you've never liked him," Hank added.

"No," Scott admitted with a grimace, bristling a bit
at Hank's implication.  "But that's not what this is
about.  It's about the best way to run this place."

"No, Scott," Hank countered softly.  "It's about your
feelings toward him.  You would approach this entirely
differently if it were anyone but Logan.  I daresay
you would approach things in quite the opposite
fashion.  What would you do if it were Charles who lay
incapacitated?  Would you not discuss your plans with
him, at least attempt to seek his counsel and get his
opinion?  Because it is Logan, because of how you feel
about him, you are taking this opportunity to exorcize
your frustrations about him by deliberately bypassing
his authority, something that you know will provoke a
reaction in him.  I have no love for the man, either,
but he has made wise decisions in securing and running
the settlement.  And it is his to run."

"It's not personal, Hank, it's not."

Hank sat back in his chair, clearly disbelieving.
"Have you even considered how this may affect Rogue?
Do you not think she is under enough stress as it is?"
 That did reach Scott, at least a little, Hank could
tell.  "Just think it over, my friend.  In the mean
time, shall we find tents for the humans?"

"Yeah.  Keep them close to our cabins, just in case.
Keep whoever's not suitable for staying out in the
tents for medical reasons in your cabin or mine or
Bobby's.  I'll call a meeting in the morning at the
storehouse and explain what happened.  Bobby should be
back soon - we'll see how that goes.  I'll tell the
people here the news, and I'll tell them that the
humans are staying temporarily, while they receive
medical treatment, and that we're discussing what
should be done after that.  I'll make it clear that
they in no way participated in the attack on Logan and
Rogue.  We'll see what the general reaction is."

"Sounds like a good plan.  I'd suggest you inform
Rogue personally.  It would be an unwelcome surprise
for her to hear of humans from that group staying here
without understanding the context in which they are
being permitted to stay."

"Will do.  And Hank - " Scott reached a hand out to
his friend, grabbing on to a large, furry paw.  "I'll
think about what you said, I really will."

"Good," Hank said seriously.   The last thing any of
them needed right now was a power struggle, a fight.
He shook Scott's hand then took his leave, heading
back to his cabin and his patients.



 

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