Fiction TGoM- Chapter Twenty-six

Title: The Glory Of Manticore

Author: Restive Nature

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Dark Angel or to X-men. They belong respectively to Cameron/ Eglee and to Marvel Comics. No infringement is intended and this fiction is for private enjoyment only.

Rating: up to NC-17

Chapter Rating: PG-13

Genre: Crossover

Type: action/ Romance

Pairing: Max/ Logan

Summary: Max is once again on the run. But this time a safe haven awaits her in the form of Professor Xavier’s School for Gifted Children.

Spoilers/ Time line: Post the first movie, for X-men. First season for DA, starting off from Episode “Blah Blah Woof Woof”

Feedback: Always welcome!

Distribution: Ask first please.

Chapter Twenty-six

Max listened raptly as Scott described the different processes that he, Professor Xavier and another doctor friend of Charles', a Scottish woman named Moira McTaggert had used to come up with the glasses that he wore now. It was an interesting process of hits and misses that they had gone through and Scott seemed truly happy to get into the technical aspect of it that posed no stupid questions from her. Indeed, with her applicable scientific awareness, she was able to ask intelligent questions about different aspects, coming closer now to understanding how they thought his mutation worked.

That didn't mean that she wasn't worrying over things with another part of her mind. Her mutation, man made rather than nature based, allowed her to multi task physically or simply in her mind. She could sort and separate several strands of thought, working them out all at once without anyone being any wiser. So while part of her mind was engaged with Scott, the other was worrying over what he had said about Logan.

It was true that Scott, Jean and the others had known him longer than she had. But as she had pointed out, that time spent together was under intense, stress fraught situations, it sounded like. If anyone was to know Logan best out of this group, aside from himself, it would be the professor. He was the openly acknowledged telepath in the group, though Jean was starting to learn that aspect of her powerful mutation. She could always go to him to find her answers, if she didn't outright ask Logan. In this instance, she wasn't sure that it would be worth it though.

The professor surely had to be canny enough, given his age, his mutation and his control over it, to know when someone was trying to pump him for information. And though he had privately given her his assurances that he for the most part, stayed out of other people's minds, it also occurred to her that he might encounter the same problem that Jean had discovered. How, the harder that someone tried to hide something, to not allow a telepath to know a thought, it was a pretty big knock to the metaphorical head, saying 'read this!'. Or as Jean had described a neon sign being thrown at their senses. She was fairly sure that even with her parallel thought process, she would give away more than she was comfortable with than she would glean from him, if indeed he were inclined to spill Logan's secrets.

She had a feeling he wouldn't.

There was also the fact that these thoughts and impressions that Charles had of Logan would be colored and slanted as Scott's were. Or Jean's. It made her want to laugh that they were all trying so hard to warn her about Logan. All based on perhaps what their fears might be if they were in the relationship, even though things had not progressed that far. Charles for all that he was a philanthropic type, seemed to consider Logan broken in a way that wasn't possible to totally repair. His mind damaged from whatever trauma he had suffered in his past.

It was obvious in the way Charles' dealt with Logan. Like he was a wild animal, not tamed, but broken enough to be on a short leash. But with that wariness in his eyes that told Max, Charles was just waiting for the next event that sent him back to the wilder land. Jean, warning her against Logan's maleness. Too extreme, though exciting, invigorating. Jean couldn't reach that level, in her own opinion, probably. She might be able to keep up for a while, but certain comforts called out to her and it wasn't hearth and home. Max figured that Jean needed something of a neutral basis to keep her from going out of control. Scott seemed to have a much better handle on his emotions. Logan didn't bother to scale it back all the way. She had seen that. When Logan was upset, even if he didn't express it verbally, you could tell. In each and every one of his mannerisms, it was there. Scott was harder to read and it wasn't just the glasses on his face.

She wondered if perhaps he had developed that subconsciously, being in love with Jean, desiring to give her what she needed, to be the caretaker in their relationship. She gave a soft smile as that occurred to her. In a way, that was what she wanted too. For someone to shelter and protect her from the darkness of the night she couldn't sleep through. Had she found it with Logan?

Some part of her said that maybe she might have.

The larger part of her didn't trust that.

And then there was Scott himself, here now, warning her that Logan was going to do what he did, out of some sense of obligation and then abandon her. Intimating that she was just a substitute for Jean, perhaps maybe even another gone but haunting Logan's past and subconsciously, the present. Is that how he had felt when Jean was dealing with her attraction to Logan? No matter how hard Jean might have tried to hide an attraction, it had to have been obvious to Scott, especially the longer they had been together. But Jean was probably through the worst of what she had termed her 'crush'. Did Scott still feel like he was a substitute for the bad boy that females fantasized about? Perhaps if he was the one that always protected her, even though she could take care of herself, Scott needed to see that she would take care of him too. Relationships, Max knew, couldn't survive one sided, nor could they find a comfortable place and stay that way forever. Because things, the world, people, situations were constantly changing. The state of today was never the state of tomorrow.

“And that's how we found the right concentration of quartz,” Scott finished. Max nodded and leaned forward a little on the sofa.

“It's amazing to think that just millimeters decide whether or not things get blown up,” she chuckled, shaking her head a little. “But then, same could be said for a lot of things. A few milligrams one way or the other is the difference between bomb and no bomb. A few milliliters of gasoline to oxygen gives fire or no fire.”

“Yes, but in those instances, there has to be the ignition as well,” Scott grinned. He lifted his finger to press against the frame of his glasses. “Don't have an ignition switch here.”

“Wouldn't it be cool if you did though?” she giggled. “The students would never step a toe out of line.”

The grin on his face was wide as he ducked his head slightly. “Yeah, funny,” he agreed with the air of one trying to vastly suppress his emotions. Max repressed a sigh, feeling like she was missing something again. Scott lifted his arm and turned his wrist to check his watch. “Well, we were all supposed to be about ready to go now. Maybe we should head down to the lobby?”

“All right,” Max nodded, acting contrite, though mischievous. “I'm ready when you are Mr. Summers.”

“Oh don't you start,” Scott finally chuckled as he rose from his seat on the sofa. He held out his hand, though Max had the feeling that it was more because manners were ingrained into him, rather like the other Logan she knew. Nevertheless, she took it, since scooting forward in her seat to gain purchase to rise would make her short enough skirt rise up a little too high. She quickly double checked herself to make sure that she had everything and together they left her hotel room.

Scott paused to put an ear to his door, with a soft knock. “Jean?” But there was no reply so he shrugged and looked down to where their Logan's door was located. Max waved her hand vaguely.

“Lobby is good,” she declared. There was no reason to stand over the other pair to chivvy them along. It wasn't like they'd be turned away, since the table was being held for Scott and Jean, unlike a usual simple reservation. “So what made you decide to turn to science and mechanics to teach?” she wondered, prompting their conversation along a similar line as to what they'd been discussing earlier.

“You know,” Scott mused as they walked along the hallway to the elevator banks. “You're one of the few people that make the correlation behind that.”

Max shook her head. “Science is what makes things go boom, it's not the what, it's the why,” she explained. “Or in some cases, I guess it can be the what. I don't know. Anyone that's interested in life, is connected to science. I guess, I just understand it well. I can see the process myself, knowing the mechanics behind the science and the science behind the mechanics.”

Yeah,” Scott nodded as he watched Max press the down button. “Usually it takes an explosion, a fire or a zap from an exposed wire before the kids really think of the science aspect of what we do in the shop.”

“Well,” Max mused, “I guess it can take a while before kids are ready to expand their knowledge of the world and it's interconnectivity. Isn't it the idea or theory that an infant's world starts off completely self based. What baby wants, what baby needs and to hell with everyone else? And as they grow, in the preferred environment, they start to learn about others emotions and needs and how it relates to them.”

“Well, yeah, I've noticed that teens can really be among the most violent and vindictive grouping on the planet,” Scott spoke slowly as they stepped into the newly arrived elevator. The doors slid shut behind them and he reached for the Lobby button. “I suppose that really makes sense if you look at it from that point of view.”

“That they're still trying to learn their place in the world, and how to balance their needs with others and not always sure how to do it?” Max supplied. Scott nodded.

“And you'd think that someone like the professor with his mind reading, or someone that might say, have empathic tendencies, would have an easier time of it,” he sighed, obviously thinking about Jean, still or again, it made little difference.

“Except that they go along with one thing and then suddenly, boom they have this new aspect for them to try an understand, new parameters that they have to find the boundaries of,” Max declared quickly. “I would think that it would add more stress to the growing process.”

Scott grinned, his lower facial features transforming slightly and while it didn't put Max on edge, it pricked something in her subconscious.

“What?” she demanded.

“I don't know,” Scott guffawed. “You tell me.” He paused, waiting for a moment and then chortled again. “I don't know, I was just thinking for a moment there that maybe I should talk to the professor about you becoming some sort of counselor or mentor to our students.”

Max was taken aback. That was about the last thing she had expected to hear. “Yeah right,” she scoffed. “First off, you'd have to talk to me about it. And I'd give you a flat no. In conversation, I get it. But actually put me in front of a kid to talk it all out, I'd incite the kid to anarchy most likely.”

“So it seems,” Scott nodded. “But what about if you were just thrust into a situation where a kid needed help?”

“Well...” Max began, but then realized that this was the sort of thing that had exactly happened to her. “I hate to say it, but I have enough morals that I help.”

“You do, huh?” Scott puffed up slightly as their elevator slowed in it's descent before halting at the ground floor. The doors dinged and opened and they stepped out. Both glanced around the large, open area, but Jean and Logan were nowhere in evidence. Scott lifted an arm, gesturing towards the seats across from the desk and Max gave a small nod. They moved in that direction before she quietly continued.

“For an example, several months ago, I had a run in with the law,” she told him, a little nervously, because Scott seemed to be all about the rules and playing it straight. But he made no outcry, simply gave a slight nod. “They were the types that had no problem skipping a few steps of due process. I ended up in an open prison.”

“I've heard about those,” Scott sighed. “Just about anything happens there, doesn't it?”

Max could tell from the hint of righteousness in his voice that he'd never had personal experience of being held in one, though perhaps he'd seen more than heard. She might ask, depending on how he reacted. “Yeah. I managed to make friends with a six foot six, three hundred pound shop owner who traded with one of the guards for shoes from his vintage shop. Size elevens or twelves, I believe it was,” Max grinned. It wasn't such a shock to her. It was a wide varied world after all. Scott smirked as well, but made no outcry. “Anyway, he tried to help me escape, but I was ill at the time. Didn't go over well. I was taken to the warden's compound. And there I discovered that one of the prisoner's had given birth inside the walls. She'd been killed in a riot and the warden and his wife took in her daughter.”

“Well, that was very kindhearted of them,” Scott commented.

“Until you also learn the fact that he was abusing her sexually,” Max pointed out after they had seated themselves and waited until other guests had passed by them. Scott, settling himself in, leaned forward suddenly to grasp at her hands.

“That's horrible,” he groaned with much more emotion than he had shown, aside from words about or related to Jean. Max gave him a sad imitation of a smile. “What happened?”

“We got her out, if that's what you're wondering,” Max assured him. “A friend of mine found out where I was and that I was ill. My room mate, Cindy got herself picked up for solicitation, found my new prison friend and with his help, got to me. They medicated me and then she held the warden at gun point and forced him to transport us outside the compound, where we got away.” That was a heavily edited version of the story and she hoped that Scott would let it lie.

“So this girl?” he asked, his muscles in his cheeks twitching.

“Was formally adopted by a loving couple that owned a dairy farm outside of town, with mom being a school teacher no less,” Max chuckled. “And last I'd heard, was doing very well.”

“Because you cared,” Scott smiled, but it was uneven. “I wish all the cases could end so well.”

“Yeah, but that's not the way the world works,” she agreed. “You do what you can when you can.”

“And try not to beat yourself up when you can't,” he sighed heavily.

Max stared at him for a long moment before it dawned on her. She reached for his arm, hesitant to press too hard, but she had suspicions. “You've had someone in your past?” she posed it as a question. “Probably not the exact same situation. But... was there someone you felt like you failed?” She swallowed heavily, recognizing the look, sort of. But only because she had seen the same look in the mirror when she thought of Lucy, the girl she had abandoned to save herself. It was the whole reason she had saved Maria. Because at that time, she could. So she had.

Obviously, there had to have been something like that for Scott, who with head hanging, nodded slightly before lifting his face, a wry self deprecating grin in place. “Yeah. No abuse, that I am or was aware of, but someone... Maybe if you stick around long enough, I'll tell you all about it.”

“Okay,” Max nodded, a tremulous grin making her lips curve. “Deal. When you're ready.”

“Oh please,” Scott pursed his lips. “Its not that sordid, but I was young. Everything is so much worse when you're young right?” They both laughed, reminding each other of their earlier conversation. Spokes of the same wheel that went round and round, day after day, the way life was.

And it was like this, seated closely to one another, hands clasped together, heads bent towards one another, that Jean and Logan found them.

*****

Logan stared at the door as he heard Max and Scott moving past it. They'd been chatting for quite a while, Scott droning on and on about his shades and interestingly enough, Max hadn't seemed completely bored. She was intelligent. Logan already knew that. Creative minds didn't sit idle and she definitely had the smarts. But then he'd already known she was fairly street smart for all that she had pulled while there. He hadn't realized that she was learned enough to understand so easily, the science behind why Scott's specially made glasses worked.

He supposed he would have realized himself the work that had gone into them if he had been bothered to think of it. In his opinion, they worked, when Scott wore them. So they wouldn't work if he didn't wear them. Were nothing more than lumps of ground up rocks and frames if left alone. So it was good enough for Logan. He didn't have to know the why. He supposed that was why Max got along with the couple. As a mechanic in Scott's case, or leader of the mutant freak X-men, Scott was always looking into how and why. And Jean, being a doctor, she was always chasing those questions down too.

It was perhaps why, when he heard them leave Max's room, that he didn't move to the door and meet them. Glancing over to the mirror positioned where he could easily see most of himself, he figured that he'd had a moment of self doubt. He had had to get himself under control from earlier, which he had managed by focusing on something other than himself. Of course, focusing on Max in her bath hadn't been the smartest way to do it, but at least then the problem was almost entirely physical and he could combat that.

Unsurity was not something any animal liked. It tended to incite the fight or flight instinct. And Logan was the predator that would always fight for the very little it had. Moments after he had heard them board the elevator and the doors shut, he moved into the hallway. Her scent lingered a little and Logan inhaled deeply. His mind swam slightly as he processed all over again the different layers beneath the scent she had chosen to lightly apply. Other scents were present too, all mingling, but his mind was able to swiftly separate them into recognizable order. But the one that was in the back of his mind since the evening before, still wasn't present. He smiled grimly before stepping back to his room to grab his coat, leaving the door hang open.

He did so simply because Jean was on her way as well. Her steps were light along the carpeted hall and she slowed as she approached his door and then leaned against the door jamb. “Knock, knock,” she announced unnecessarily. “Here,” she commented, causing him to turn to see that she was peeking in, her arm outstretched. Having everything he needed, Logan moved over to the door, glancing down at her hand before he turned the light off.

“What's this?” he asked holding his hand up. She dropped a quarter in his hand and he frowned at it.

“Penny didn't seem enough,” she teased, pulling her hand back to her side. Now that he was at the door, opening it wider, he could see how much trouble she had gone to with her appearance that night.

He weighed the money in his hand before grinning slightly and tucking it into his pocket. “Hope it was worth what you paid,” he teased, wondering just how much she had caught and how long she'd been listening in. If she could even... she had said and he'd picked up in other ways, that she'd been having troubles with her powers lately.

“The full version,” Jean mused, tilting her head even more as she considered. “I'm not sure I like the price of entry. The preview trailer was enough. Gave me the highlights without weighing me down too much.”

“Really?” he grunted. Jean smirked.

“Kinda obvious Logan,” she teased. “She's all you've pretty much been thinking about all day, all last night. One way or another. And I didn't really see anything. Just that that's where your thoughts were.”

“Uh huh,” he frowned and stared at her for a moment before shutting off the light. She recognized his intent and stepped back away from the door.

“Did you want to talk, or just remain in your metaphorical cave for a little longer?” she asked and while he knew that she was still trying to tease, there was also a hint of a warning in her voice.

“Rather get things sorted in my head and risk a few hurt feelings,” he told her honestly, “than come out and tear things up beyond repair.”

She nodded as they began walking together towards the recently used elevator. “That's fair. I can respect that.”

“I do want to talk to you about something, at some point, but not tonight,” he warned her. Jean simply nodded as they stepped into the waiting car. Perhaps Scott had managed to send it back up to them before they had gotten off downstairs. Either way, he didn't have to wait, which he did appreciate.

“Just let me know when,” Jean acknowledged. “So, are you looking forward to tonight, or are you just humoring us?”

“A little of both,” he chuckled, nonplussed at the subject change. “Things were just getting a little too much. And not just me, either, huh?”

“You got me there,” Jean shrugged. “It's like having to relearn the basics, but now that I recognize that, it's a little easier.” He smiled to think that she knew exactly what he was referring to. But that could have been because of her burgeoning powers, like he could almost smell them growing in her, or because it had been weighing heavily on her own mind. Again, probably a little of both.

“Actually, I'm interested to see if this is something I like,” he admitted, casting a sidelong glance at her. “Pretty much find something I like and stick to it,” he explained further. “Don't recall that I've ever gone to a jazz club. Though I don't mind the music.”

“Probably because you were around for all the late greats, huh?” Jean laughed, once again referencing the fact that she couldn't pinpoint his biological age. She suspected, as did Logan and the professor that he was older than the professor even. Some of his base behaviors seemed rooted in past learnings and modes. It was really not much of a hint there to go on because he had often found himself immersed in cultural arenas unlike American ones and feeling perfectly at ease with them. So whether it was learned through culture or just the way he was, one couldn't say.

“Might'a been,” he agreed easily. They were quiet as the elevator slowed to a halt and the doors disengaged with a soft hiss. The scent hit him before he'd even stepped through the doors and had his eyes widening, his nose flaring and his throat repressing only slightly the low growl. “The fuck?” he demanded of no one.

“What is it?” Jean demanded quietly from behind him.

“They're sad, upset,” he explained quickly, his eyes honing in on Max and Scott seated together, holding one another's hands, staring at nothing in particular it seemed, their heads bowed as they were. He was striding forward, fists clenched as he tried to calm himself, which he knew wouldn't work very well. Unfortunately, or maybe not for Scott's sake, the sorrow was emanating from both of them, giving Logan an unclear view of what could have caused it.

“Oh,” Jean murmured very softly, but the very moment she stepped towards them, Scott's head shot up, followed just a millisecond later by Max. Logan barely took note of the other man letting loose of Max as they both stood. He was transfixed by what he had been searching for, without realizing. That scent that he had so feared from her, the one that so far hadn't been present, hit him as he strode towards her, intent on finding what was going on.

The scent that told his body and brain myriad things, that only happened when she had looked and recognized him. Logan's grin was wolfish without his intending it to be. He reached the pair of them steps before Jean, though she had quite the long legged ground eater when she was determined. He reached for Max's hands still aloft in the air and noted the trace of tears in the corners of her eyes. They hadn't been shed. If they had, no matter the cause, he'd have torn Scott's head off.

“You look amazin' darlin',” he spoke huskily, wanting to wipe the last trace of unhappiness away. Her smile was wide and she shook her head.

“You don't look so bad yourself,” she returned. Logan turned his head slightly as he heard Jean murmuring to Scott as they hugged.

“Alex?” she murmured, which wasn't a name that Logan was familiar with in connotation to the other man. Scott's nod was enough for her and Logan figured that it wasn't his business, unless of it was someone Max knew too. And if it was enough to make her want to cry... Logan fought to put the brakes on that line of thought.

“Well I don't know about you two,” Max sighed, reaching out to nudge Scott's arm, “but we got ourselves down, talking about things we can't change at the moment. So some good food and music is definitely in order.”

Logan was glad that she was making an attempt at lightheartedness. Her words also provided some needed clues, that it wasn't Scott's fault alone. They'd both been participating in the conversation and that was just something that happened. “We can definitely do that,” he agreed. He glanced at Jean who had cleared her throat.

“The cab is waiting,” she told them, her hand sliding down Scott's arm to take his hand. The male smiled reassuringly, not ignoring Max, but at least not making more of what had happened than she did. Logan moved his hand to the small of Max's back as she turned. She already had her purse and as she moved under his nose, the delectable scents that put her together and made her who and what she was these days, tickled at his senses in more than one way. He could have and probably would to his dying day if he couldn't prove one way or the other, sworn that he knew her.

Just a touch upon her skin and he knew that he pretty much had no choice but to stay with this. He was committed in a way that he had not understood before. Wherever the chips may lay when they landed, he was sticking with her. But for this night, he would put the things aside that were screaming at him. No way would he ignore his instincts, as that had burned him too many times in the past. But neither was he going to blow it all because he listened without thinking a little. Stepping out into the crisper air of New York's night, Logan allowed himself a grin.

It was going to be a hell of a ride before it was all over.

*****

The club that the cab dropped them at was a hoppin' little joint. There was a line, but Scott, leading them forward to talk to the door man, gained them entrance immediately. Once inside, the hostess checked her list as well and happily led them to an intimate table for four in the center of the club where they had a good view of the stage and easy access to the dance floor. Scott asked for the appetizer menu and they all quickly ordered drinks. Jean, to no one's surprise, abstained.

The club was crowded enough that it took a few minutes to get their drinks back to them and while Logan and Max gathered impressions of the club, Scott ordered a whole gamut of food. Jean laughingly protested that they wouldn't be able to eat everything he ordered until Scott pointed out that they had Max and Logan with them and they were all sure to work up an appetite on the dance floor. Jean smirked and then nodded. Turning to Max, she asked what she thought of the place.

“A little more highbrow than the place I would usually go,” she chuckled, arching a brow in Logan's direction. “But so far I like it. At least you don't have to yell to be heard.”

“True,” Jean nodded her agreement. She would have said more but was interrupted by a hand on her shoulder and as she turned to see who it was, gave a delighted noise, obviously recognizing the man, as did Scott.

Turning away from the trio's conversation, Max relaxed in her chair and regarded Logan, who was idly toying with the base of his glass of beer. “So what do you think?” she asked. He glanced up at her only once, and she couldn't tell if the smirk on his face was derogatory or not. At least until he spoke.

“I think it's about the same as any other jazz joint,” he shrugged. “Not that I hang out at them a lot. Or ever. I think it's just the company that's making my night enjoyable.” He peeked at her as soon as she said that, obviously appreciating the soft glow of a hint of a blush that stained her cheeks.

“I know you've said that you think you're Canadian,” she murmured, leaning forward slightly. “And that country is a big enough melting pot that you must have a little Irish in you.”

Logan burst out laughing and then tilted his head her way. “Who knows darlin'. Definitely a possibility. Though,” now that he was thinking on it, he was kind of interested in figuring those things out. There were people that could figure out people's heritage just by sight. Some it was obvious in. But for those European communities, it wasn't always so clear when there wasn't an identifying feature that was associated with the heritage. “It seems interesting that despite not knowing my cultural background, I still get painted with certain brushes,” he noted. Max was nodding.

“Yeah, people think I'm Mexican,” she supplied, “so I must either be a thief, or lazy.”

“Well darlin',” Logan chuckled, blinking rapidly as he thought back to when she had first arrived. “Sometimes blood will tell.”

“Or necessity forces the issue,” she countered. “But if I was one or the other, it wouldn't be because of where my antecedents were born. And you're so growly, I'd think you were descended from a grizzly bear more than anything else.”

“Maybe,” Logan nodded. “But you're so sly, I'd think you were a fox.” As soon as he realized what he had said, he dropped his head and groaned as Max burst out laughing. Jean and Scott, just having finished visiting with their friend, who was stepping away now, turned to see what was so funny.

“What?” Scott asked, his lips twitching.

“I think Logan just called me a vixen,” Max chuckled.

“Bad line, very bad line,” Logan muttered with a grunt, acknowledging the absurdity of it. He couldn't regret it though, when Max leaned over to rub the back of his knuckles.

“I'll try to take it as a compliment,” she tittered. “Just like when you called me a shark the other night.”

“I meant that in a good way, you know,” he countered automatically and to his relief and delight, she just nodded as she laughed before turning to Jean.

“And what do you think?” she wondered of the redhead. Jean just leaned back in her chair and reached for her virgin daiquiri.

“I think I've always thought of Logan as the renegade wolf,” she mused.

“Don't you mean lone wolf?” Scott sort of corrected, but after she took a sip of her drink, she shook her head in the negative. She glanced at Max again before speaking.

“Did you ever read anything of Jean M. Auel's?” she asked and Max, not familiar with the author, shook her head. “She wrote about prehistoric or Neanderthal races fighting for existence along with the newer homo sapien race. She also delved into animal hierarchies,” the doctor explained. “One of which was wolf packs. I think it quite interesting that she noted that lone wolves and a renegade wolf probably wouldn't be the same.”

“How do they differ?” was asked by Scott, while Logan just waited. This would be interesting to hear.

“Well,” Jean sighed thoughtfully, “a lone wolf might be one that fought with the alpha male for dominancy and lost. It would leave to establish it's own pack and territory. A renegade wolf on the other hand, is one that didn't conform to the pack expectations, either in coloration or behavior. It would have been different from the rest and would probably seek out others like it if the pack tendency was strong. Otherwise it would live in the spaces between territories, surviving as best it could. The author also explained how closely paralleling one another, wolf packs and human packs were”

“That's interesting,” Max's eyebrows went up. She had never really given much thought to animals that she either wasn't made up of, or had to deal with more than once or twice. Dogs, cats, large cats and sharks pretty much were on the short list.

“It is,” Jean nodded with a grin as she glanced at her boyfriend, who was also grinning. “In fact, Scott and I were just discussing something like this on the way up here.”

“And you still haven't told me what you think or answered my question,” Scott reminded her with a laugh. Jean quickly shook her head.

“I'm still in the data gathering stage,” she reminded him and Scott scoffed as he glanced at the others.

“I think the data gathering stage will probably go on until I forgot I even asked, just so she doesn't have to answer,” he teasingly offered. Jean simply sniffed and averted her head.

“It wouldn't be my problem if you can't accept the empirical evidence,” she countered, teasing just as much as he.

“But you haven't presented any, so how can I know if I'd accept it or not?” he taunted. “And speaking of evidence, isn't that Barry Lowing over there?” It worked however he had intended it and Jean turned in her seat to look across the seating area.

“Oh, I should go say hello,” she announced, scooting her chair back slightly. “Barry was my parent's estate lawyer. Excuse me.”

Max and Logan nodded as Scott rose to follow her. They were kept a moment from their own conversation as the waitress came by with fresh drinks for them and a promise that some appetizers would be up soon. Max toyed with her drink a moment, regarding Logan from under her lashes.

“So what do you think about that?” she finally asked. “What Jean said about the closeness of wolf and human?”

“Isn't it usually monkey and human that are considered cousin?” Logan countered and Max gave him a tight smile. He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “We're all animals,” he decided. “We were just given different tools than other animals and it's up to us to make what we can. I do listen to my instincts more than other people I've run into. But I've seen plenty that makes me think it's not a lost art, just one that isn't honed to the extent it could be.”

Max nodded thoughtfully and chewed at her lower lip for just a moment before remembering that she was wearing make up and didn't want to wreck it. “So, can I ask, this might seem crass, but I wonder, have you ever run into a mutant that was like... an animal hybrid?”

The question surprised Logan for only a moment. But considering what they were discussing, it was probably a normal thing to wonder about. “Oh yeah,” he nodded causally, as if they were discussing the band or something equally as mundane. He leaned in a little closer though. Any excuse, perhaps. “There was this one mutant, went by the name Toad and that's what he was.”

“A toad?” Max seemed startled at the idea.

“Yeah,” Logan nodded, gaging her reaction. She hadn't been fraternizing with the kids all that much at the school in the short time she had been there. Perhaps this sort of thing was good, to feel her out on the subject. “He was green, had the whole tongue thing I guess and all his strength was in his legs.”

“How extraordinary,” Max's eyes widened with what looked like surprise and delight and Logan had the momentary idea that perhaps the girl was some sort of mutant groupie. But she hadn't attacked him that way, or any of the other males just upon finding out that they were mutants. “Is that more common than the development of sensory or paranormal genetic strands?”

He blinked slowly. He understood the words, but the abrupt shift to science threw him just a moment. He shook his head a little, recalling how technical she and Scott had been getting earlier in the evening. “That darlin', I have no clue about,” he told her. “You'd be better off askin' the professor. That's his cake.”

The wide smile returned to her face and she leaned forward slightly to rest her cheek on her fist. But again, it was the unexpected that came out of her mouth. “I really like this song.”

He recognized the desire before the words had even left her lips and felt his own body tightening in response. He knew how to play these instincts very well. “Then if I ever had a momma that tried to raise me right, the courteous thing to do would be to ask you to dance.”

“It would be,” Max agreed and turned to glance at the dance floor. “If you don't mind the lethargic sway. Or we could wait for something with a little energy...”

“I've never been much of a dancer, but I think that the lady's choice is about perfect,” Logan decided and pushed his chair back. He'd take whatever excuse she gave him or he could come up with to be with her. And if it was on terms they were both comfortable with, all the better. He rose and held out his hand to her which she took with alacrity.

Feeling warm and not just from the amount of bodies squeezing into and around the club, Logan threaded their way to the dance floor, Max's hand clasped gently in his. When they reached the edge, he turned, waiting for a pause in the music and couples already there. And then they were stepping into each other turning instantly with barely any hesitation, his hand taking hers up while the other moved around her waist. It was tiny enough that one hand alone could almost cover it and Logan spread his fingers wide, pressing her closely to him as her free hand reached up to curl around the juncture of his neck and shoulder before sliding comfortably to rest on his chest, pressed between them.

They swayed companionably around the dance floor for several minutes, the songs from the band flowing easily from one to the next before Max sighed and pulled her head back to look up at him.

“What is it, darlin'?” Logan wondered aloud, softly.

“I...” she began, seeming unsure of herself and Logan was amazed that he had found something that might throw her off balance. But then she chuckled to herself, ducking her head a little before she lifted her face, her eyes meeting his gaze. “This might sound odd,” she began, a little breathless, “but lately, I've been thinking that... I know you. Or knew you,” she admitted with a small embarrassed laugh, completely missing how Logan's lungs reacted with his own bout of breathless anticipation. “Which I can't imagine, as I can recall my life quite well and I think your larger than life presence would not have been undetected,” she rambled on, a little nervous as he didn't respond. “Maybe we knew each other in another lifetime?”

“Count on it sweetheart,” he assured her quietly as his mind spun. With a happy little sigh that she hadn't been thought crazy, Max moved in closer once more, welcomed automatically as Logan's eyes drifted shut momentarily and he had to suppress the urge to shout victoriously.

He wasn't crazy, he wasn't wrong and now more than ever, he had something worthwhile to fight for in his life.

*****

“Oh, look,” Jean murmured as she and Scott made their way back to their table. She was gesturing to the dance floor and Scott peered over her shoulder. He could feel the pleasure rolling off of Jean as she regarded their friends.

“Wow,” Scott snickered. “I don't think I've ever seen him so... so...”

“Blissfully happy?” Jean supplied for him. “At peace?”

“In love,” Scott countered and Jean turned her head to smile slowly at him before she nodded.

“This is good,” she declared, reaching once more for his hand.

“Well, the food hasn't arrived yet,” Scott decided. “Shall we join them?”

“Let's,” Jean nodded. They altered their path just slightly and moved towards the dance floor.

Normally Scott had people moving out of his way, assuming that he was blind because of the sunglasses indoors issue. But he could see perfectly well and it was noted that there was definitely agression on the face of the young man that bypassed Jean but clipped his own shoulder as he stormed away from the dance floor. Scott paused and Jean came to a halt, turning to see what the problem was, as Scott waited for an apology that never came. He wasn't going to press it, as the younger man stamped his way to the bar.

It was precisely that kind of belligerent attitude, Scott decided, watching the male ordering something and slamming it back, that could ruin any mutant's night out.

Chapter Twenty-seven