Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't make money. Don't sue.

AN: Last chapter, kids. Thanks for sticking with me. I know the ending is too abrupt and all of this is rammed together, but…well, to be perfectly honest, real life caught up with me. This is short, and it doesn't tie up all the loose ends, but that is possibly another story for another day, if I can be bothered. Thanks again for all your reviews.

9

People don't bitch enough about Hank. It's difficult to do, sure, because he's cheerful and likeable, and when he's not in full-on snarling tear-you-to-bits battle mode, he looks like something out of a Disney flick. And he's one of those people who are genuinely more intelligent than everyone else, and manages not to be a pretentious dickwad about it. I, however, am a talented and unique young woman, and I can bitch about even someone as wonderful as Hank, because for days after we returned to the Mansion, he had me either sitting on a medical table, prodding at me with needles or running scans on those big scary machines of his, or jogging on a treadmill with little sensors hooked up to me. When I made a comment about Logan not having to go through all that nonsense, I was given some party line bullshit involving healing factors and such things. Honestly, I just think Logan was being a stubborn jackass, and since he's tough, and people take him seriously when he snarls, he was excused.

I was not.

Actually, I think Warren was a little relieved that I wasn't around to make good on that date. It looked like he and Betsy were canoodling again, and in a pretty intense way. I guess Logan almost dying made them realise how much they cared about each other or something like that, and me disappearing to the lower levels immediately helped a bit, too.

What? Me, bitter? Nah.

In case you're at all curious, it turns out that I wasn't a complete douche by essentially winking out of existence for the better part of a day back in Australia. I mean, Scott wasn't actually that far away (the jackass). In fact he was (surprise, surprise) using Logan and I as bait in proper tactical-man fashion. I should have figured something was up when he chose two of the most damage-heavy, obnoxious members of the team to go in 'stealthily' when he had no idea what kind of detection equipment the Reavers themselves had. Essentially, we were supposed to make a ruckus while he waited five minutes away in a gorge with the rest of the team (ported in by Kurt).

Two things happened that he hadn't anticipated. First, Rikenna Dusk lied her little Ocker ass off. She lied about Gateway's powers, and lied about her parents being deceived by Donald Pierce. She also lied about Brugballa Paddock being a pacifistic community. I mean, it's not like they were going out and killing flatscan humans, but they weren't the sitting ducks they made themselves out to be, either. Turns out they were laying a trap for the Reavers. The Dusks had figured out that Pierce wanted a powerful teleporter, and someone as powerful as Gateway is news that gets round. He does interdimensional stuff, too, apparently. Weird, huh? Anyhow, Dusk put out the word in a dozen subtle little ways, drew Pierce down to Brugballa Paddock, and was planning to send her own vigilante force in to finish off the Reavers, once they had brought Gateway back to their hideout. Pre-emptive infiltration and strike and all that. Turns out, Alex Summers' little rescue attempt did nothing more than muck up some rather carefully laid plans.

The second thing that happened is that Logan was overpowered by the Reavers and dragged off to be crucified some sixty miles away. I didn't even want to think about what they must've had to do to him to keep him unconscious for that long.

Anyhow, with these two factors together, a whole slough of things happened. First of all, Gateway escaped the Reavers pretty much straight away, and was trying to get me and Logan out of there. That didn't work. I'll explain that in a minute. By the time Scott and company arrived, the Reavers had gone, Dusk was on the scene with about fifty mutants who wanted to fight, and pissed because her own bait, Gateway, was somewhere spinning through infinity.

What was amazing, everyone said, is how I ended up smack dab at the foot of Logan's cross. Apparently, the way Gateway's mutation worked is that he went into the 'Outside Place' as he called it, somewhere outside dimensions, chose his target, and dropped into it. When he lost control of me, that's where we were, and out of all the universes and availabilities the globe over, I found Logan. Gateway lost his spatial awareness, and by the time he got back to Brugballa, Rikenna and Scott were back. I'm told it was all Alex Summers could do to stop them from throwing down then and there. I'll admit, I was impressed. For a little girl like Dusk to piss someone like Scott off that badly…well…she's something, that's all. A damned idiot and way overconfident, but really something.

There were two schools of though about how I managed to end up with Logan, which, incidentally, collided in the middle. The first said it was an accident, and of all the crazy odds, it was amazing that I landed where I did. The others said the odds were too astronomical, and it couldn't have been a mistake, but it was amazing that I had honed into Logan then and there.

And thus, we arrive at Hank, more certain than ever that I was secretly an incredibly powerful psi, and was just holding out on him. It was difficult to run tests on this without a psi whose powers were finely honed enough to detect me at all on the astral plane, but gentle enough not to break my mind, and all the physical scans he did only showed up regular patterns of neural activity. Well, regular for me. There are those bits of my brain that are more active on me because they're the seat of my plasmoid control, but even after everything, it still looked like I was a good old fashioned mind blind mutie.

After four days of testing, I was going stir-crazy. I wanted back into the land of the living, but Hank wasn't having any of it. Just my luck, I'd cracked a couple ribs, and my ankle wasn't good either. That, combined with the dehydration, gave him just enough of an excuse to keep me down in the medbay for a couple extra tests.

I took my classes on a laptop, and since Hank is the teacher for most chemistry and medicine related classes, as well as some literature, it was simple enough to do my homework.

Remy visited, as did Kurt and Rogue, and I wasn't surprised when neither Warren nor Betsy made an appearance, but I hadn't seen Scott since the night of our return, and even then, he hadn't spoken a word to me. I felt a bit alienated, and wondered whether he was upset with my failure.

I expected him to come see me down in medbay. If nothing else, he could've given me a lecture about staying alert and not allowing the spatial aspect of my powers to drop, or something about deserting a teammate (which would've been ironic, and I would've loved to get up on a soapbox or med-table on that subject), but he was just…absent.

Logan visited, almost every day. He tried sharing lunches with me, but we're both very focused eaters, the kind who lean over our plates and gulp down our food, in case anyone gets any smart ideas about sharing. Yeah, it's gross, I know, but I can quit whenever I want.

He'd healed slowly. It turns out that if enough damage is done to him, his healing factor shorts out on everything but his vital organs. Also (and this I did not expect, but it's logical), the adamantium on his bones constantly poisons his blood, so between that and what the Reavers had done to him, he'd basically short-circuited. This, of course, didn't stop him from being fit as a fiddle at the end of four days.

One day, my curiosity got the better of me. I was due to be released from the medbay the next afternoon, after one final test, and I wasn't looking forward to coming face-to-face with Scooter unprepared. Logan had come down to play a hand or two of poker, and after a few false starts, I finally came out with it.

'How's Scott?' he gave me a filthy look.

'He's fine, th' little weasel.'

'You're lying.' I threw my juice carton at him. His shoulders went all square and tense, but finally he buckled.

'Fine. He's stressed out. Don't know why. He didn't have to send us into that not knowin' what we were really in for.'

'No, he didn't,' I agreed, 'and it was shitty of him to do it, but I'm a footsoldier, Wolvie. I go where I'm told and do what I'm told to do.'

'And he keeps insisting that he ain't no captain.'

'Oh, please. Scott, a captain? Bull.' He grinned in satisfaction, shuffled the cards. 'He's more of a general, really.' Yeah, I just had to push it. The swift judgment of Logan's elbow sent me sliding off the table and shrieking onto the floor. Ten point landing on ass! 'Urgh! Asshole. Is this how you treat poor invalids?' His claws snapped out, and he examined them carefully by way of reply. Whatta wit, ladies and gents. 'Dude, violence does not solve everything.' I kind of undermined my argument by punching him in the shoulder. He caught my fist as I queued up another blow, and gave me such a searching look that I felt my ribcage tighten in self defence.

'Jubilation,' he said, in a low, hesitant tone. I froze, every bit of me. Except my brain, which flicked through a bajillion scenarios. 'I need you to be serious for just a second.' I nodded jerkily. It was all I was capable of. He sighed, and shifted his grip on my fist, flattening my hand between his. My stomach did back-flips and nailed the landing. 'Things in Australia,' he began, looking steadily at me, 'they went south real fast.'

'I know.' I sighed. 'I'm sorry. I didn't—'

'Darlin', you were amazing. You handled everything that got thrown at you, even me nailed up like the Coca Cola billboard in Times Square. Ya got me down, and ya kept your heard. You would've dragged me across the outback if you had to.' He shook his head. 'I ain't never—' he hesitated. 'I admire that.' Okay. Where was this going? He caught the look of puzzlement on my face, and changed tack at top speed. 'You've been studying down here, gettin' your classes emailed to you? Is that workin' out all right?'

I blinked. 'Uh. Yeah. It's cool. I mean, Hank's down here and everything, but…'

'If he weren't, do ya think you could keep up with the material?'

'Well, yeah. Of course. I don't need anyone holding my hand.' This was getting weird. First he was complimenting me about my level-headedness and now he was asking about my study habits?

'How much would it set you off course to take a couple months away from the mansion?' I goggled at him.

'What?'

He smirked, and turned his hand just so, so our fingers interlocked. His thumb idly stroked the underside of my palm. It was awfully nice, and I think he was doing it without thinking, but it was…weird. 'I gotta call. From Neena.'

'Who?'

'The woman I told you about. The one I was talkin' to when a Reaver showed up. We had a conversation, a bit longer and less interrupted this time. She gave me some intel about a little island south'a Thailand called Madripoor. Looks like I've got some past there. I'm gonna go check it out, but Summers reckons I'd better take someone to hold my hand, be a parole officer, so to speak. Make sure I remember to come back to Xavier's when my business there is through.'

'He wants an X-Man to monitor you.'

He shrugged. 'Yeah. That's about the long and short of it.'

'So what you're saying,' I said slowly, not quite sure I believed a word that was coming out of my mouth, 'is that you want me to be your minder.'

'Well, in case I get in any scrapes, ya know. I might need someone as tough as you ta save me if, say, I got kidnapped.' His smirk is irreverent and maddening, and I suddenly feel like the universe is expanding, because if it didn't, I was going to blow it up.

'Logan…'

'You found me out there in the desert, Jubilation. No matter what anyone says, I can't believe that was an accident. And you wouldn't have left me. Ya didn't. Not when you could help it.' his eyes are searing into mine. How could anyone use a lame adjective like 'smouldering' to describe them? 'If I'm gonna bring anyone, darlin', I wanna bring someone like that. Someone like you.'

I stared at him. Then, I slowly tugged my hand away. 'Geez, Wolvie,' I struggled to express myself. 'I'm flattered.' His face fell, his eyes snapping away from mine like a bandaid being pulled hard and fast off an open wound.

'Hey, if ya don't want to, I understand.' His voice was suddenly shuttered. 'You've got a life, a future. I know that. You're not just some hellraiser. You've got things to do. It was just an idea. Thought it'd be fun. And you've got…I mean…I don't wanna…' he began to rise, but I finally found the strength to reach out and touch him, grasping his arm, probably harder than I needed to.

'First class tickets.' I said, firmly. 'And I get my own ride. Nothin' fancy, maybe a little crotch rocket. No talkin' down to me, or threatening castration to every poor guy who looks my way. No lame macho attitude.' He blinked. It was awfully cute, the way the smile wormed its way across his craggy features like the Goddamned outback dawn.

'You got it, darlin'.' He sat back, spat in his palm, and offered it. 'Partners?'

I wrinkled my nose. 'Yeah. Sure. But, dude, that is like, totally gross. And the Coke advert in Times Square is an LCD, doofus.'

finis