Title: Affrighted Author: mimic117 Email: mimic1172@gmail.com Rating: PG-13 to really R for Anglo-Saxon invectives Category: S, crossover Setting: post X-Cops with references to previous episodes Summary: How do you fight your own fears? Keywords: XF/pre-X-Men crossover featuring Wolverine Archive: Sure thing. I'll do Gossamer and Ephemeral myself. Disclaimer: M&S belong to CC and Co. Wolverine belongs to Marvel DC comics. The rating belongs to the MPAA who had nothing to do with this story. Author's notes: After seeing the third X-Men movie, it suddenly struck me how much fun it would be to put Mulder and Wolverine face-to-face. Unfortunately, in order to do that, we need to assume that Logan hasn't met up with the X-Men yet and mutants aren't well-known in the XF world. Otherwise, Mulder's hunt for the paranormal would be sorta moot, with his proof running loose everywhere. Thanks: To Sissy Linda for the perfect setting suggestion. You have a wonderful, devious mind. To Dan Walker for X-Men expertise and not making too many snotty comments. And to my ever-patient Twinsy for leaping into an emergency beta situation minutes after her vacation started. What a trouper. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Affrighted by mimic117 Willow Park, CA 5:12 AM Logan punched the side of the building with the full force of his annoyance. DAMMIT! Missed him again! He watched as his split knuckles rapidly healed, leaving no evidence of injury behind. The tinkling sound of shattered brick slowly tapered off in the silent alley. Logan contemplated the three-inch-deep, fist-sized hole he'd left in the wall. Maybe he should look into anger management therapy. He'd been tracking Affright for weeks, trying to get close enough to talk to him. It required a lot of dumb luck to figure out his location since no one except the current victim could see him. Logan had learned this entity's pattern and knew there wasn't a lot of time to find him again. The creature fed off other people's fears, drawing energy to live from their terror. Once he'd fed enough, he would go into hibernation, only to turn up in another location in a month's time. If only Logan had arrived sooner! Instead he'd been forced to watch from a distance as that bumbling crowd of law enforcement chased away his quarry. Tonight was a major disappointment. He'd been so close. Now he would have to start all over again. Logan jammed his hands into his jacket pockets and stomped off down the street. The sun was just beginning to rise, painting the dingy houses with a rosier glow than they deserved. It didn't help his current mood. He couldn't tell how long he'd been walking, lost in his own thoughts, when the sound of bickering reached his ears as he passed a run-down park. Rusted swings squeaked in the light breeze but he could still hear voices over the noise. "It's THIS way, Scully." "No, I'm sure we left it in the other direction. I don't remember this part of town." "Of course you don't remember it. You were too busy trying to figure out how to write up the report without actually saying what we saw." "That's because we didn't SEE anything, Mulder! Everyone else claims to have seen things but not us. We can only go on their word, and considering the high level of adrenaline tonight, I'm not sure their word is all that reliable. If you hadn't insisted on wandering around, hoping to find this creature again, we wouldn't have lost the car and we'd be on our way back to the motel by now!" In the rising light, Logan could see a man dressed in black jeans, black turtleneck and black leather jacket, and a woman wearing a black t-shirt, pants and long coat. They were standing near a small grove of trees, each pointing in a different direction. They looked familiar, but before he could figure out where he'd seen them before, three teenaged boys stepped out of the trees, surrounding them and boxing them in place. Knives flashed in the boys' hands. "Welcome to Willow Park," one of the teens drawled. "Let's do the wave." The man and woman raised their arms. They really didn't have any choice. Logan moved to help, then hesitated. Should he reveal himself yet again? He hated to see people get hurt, but stepping in to help was always such a huge risk. There was no question that the attackers would freak and run off, but he never knew how the rescued people would react. Most of *them* ran away as well. A couple of them had sold their stories to the tabloids. "Wolverine Man on the Loose." "Metal-Clawed Wolverine Terrorizes Citizens." Well, he couldn't fault their description and what was one more story in the supermarket rags, anyway? Mind made up, he strolled toward the group under the trees, whistling off-key. The knife-wielding teens looked at him as if he were crazy. Stupid bastards. They really had no idea. "Mornin' all," he called out. "What's up?" One of the boys sneered. "Your hands, funny man. Get 'em up or get 'em cut." Logan stood next to the robbery victims, slowly pulled his hands from his jacket pockets and raised them half way. Then he clenched his fists and painfully unsheathed his claws. "I think you stole my line." Three would-be robbers' mouths dropped open, three knives fell to the ground and then three sets of footfalls pounded off into the distance. "Huh. Guess they didn't want to play." Logan retracted the claws and watched as the rips in his flesh closed over. He turned to see what reaction his intercession would receive this time. The dark-haired man was wide-eyed, slack-jawed and still holding his hands in the air. Logan glanced down, expecting to find the red-headed woman passed out at his feet in fright. He did a double-take when he saw her kneeling on the ground, using a piece of cloth to gather up the knives. Well this was a new one to write in his diary. Without looking up, she yelled, "Mulder, do you have an evidence bag or another handkerchief? This one isn't big enough for all three. We can turn these in to the PD for fingerprint analysis. Maybe these kids are on file." She obviously wasn't talking to Logan so he looked back to see how this Mulder was taking her reaction. The guy's face had split into the biggest shit-eating grin Logan had ever seen. "Scully! Did you see that?" She stood up, calmly brushed off the knees of her pants like the entire thing was all in a day's work, then looked from one man to the other. "See what?" Mulder threw his hands straight into the air and tilted his head back. It looked as though he were asking for divine guidance, or a bolt of lightning. "See WHAT? Scully, he had knives coming out the backs of his hands! What do you think made those kids run off? My underarm odor? I'm sure my deodorant quit working under duress tonight but come ON!" She gave Logan an apologetic smile. "That's impossible, Mulder. He must have been holding them between his fingers. Maybe he's a juggler." Her tone of voice was reasonable and conciliating, the way you'd talk to a child who's just declared they saw Santa Claus in the living room. This was a totally new twist on the usual choices of fear, disgust or shouting for the cops. Logan was enjoying himself immensely. He held his hands out toward Scully, then flipped them back and forth. "You see?" she said. "He doesn't have a mark on him." The look on Mulder's face said he knew what he'd witnessed and he wasn't buying it. Scully obviously believed that he hadn't seen anything of the kind. Logan suddenly had the desire to know more about this pair of odd ducks. Impulsively, he stuck out his right hand. "My name's Logan. Sorry to barge in like that but you looked like you could use some help." Mulder's grasp was warm and firm. "We should be the ones apologizing and thanking you for saving our cash, if not our lives. They were on us so fast, we never had a chance to defend ourselves." Logan released Mulder's hand and stuffed his own back into his jacket pockets. "Well you were arguing loud enough to show you weren't paying attention to anything else. You were easy marks." Mulder barked a laugh. "Yeah. You'd think we'd know better." He reached into his back pocket, pulled out a wallet and flipped it open. "Special Agent Mulder, FBI." He nodded toward the woman. "My partner, Special Agent Scully." The smirk that spread across Logan's face was unstoppable. "How embarrassing." "At least you were the only witness this time." Mulder slipped the ID back into his pocket. "Unlike earlier tonight, when our every burp was beamed into living rooms across the country." "Because the FBI has nothing to hide," Scully muttered. THAT'S where he'd seen them before! They'd been with the SWAT team which burst into that house and scared off Affright. He should have recognized them sooner. Not that many people, other than law enforcement, dressed in solid black unless they were breaking into houses or going to the opera and these two didn't look like they indulged in either activity. He would need to grill them cautiously about their night's activity, see if they had any further information that would help him find Affright again. The trick was how to go about it without having to answer a lot of questions about himself. He was just gearing up to try his opening gambit when Mulder yelped and slapped himself on the arm. Then he slapped his thighs. Then he slapped his chest and didn't stop slapping. "Mulder, what's wrong?" Scully moved closer and Logan followed. "Fire! I'm on fire!" Mulder face was frantic, his hands beating against his body faster and faster, everywhere he could reach. He was panting, obviously desperate to put out the flames. But there was nothing there. Logan looked at Scully and shook his head. "I don't see anything." She caught one of Mulder's arms. "Stop it! You're going to hurt yourself. You aren't on fire." He shook her off and continued flailing at himself. "Help me, Scully! Put it out!" An idea occurred to Logan. He touched Scully's shoulder and asked, "What's Mulder's worst fear?" "What?" She half-turned toward Logan, not taking her eyes off her panicky partner. "Um, fire. He's afraid of fire." That fit. "He's seeing Affright." "Seeing what?" "The entity. The shape-shifter. It's latched onto Mulder." That got him her full attention. "Why now? We were around it all night." "Hell, I don't know! Maybe because you were afraid while you were being held up. Or maybe he's still hungry. It doesn't matter why!" He could see when it clicked in her head. She grabbed Mulder's upper arms, forcing him to look at her. "Listen to me! You're not on fire; it's the entity we were chasing. Remember what you said in the morgue? It kills you in the worst possible way you can imagine. Don't let it use your fear against you. Put out the fire! Douse it in your mind. Throw sand on it, dirt, blankets. Spray it with a hose. Don't give it anything to use against you. Fight it!" Logan stripped off his coat and handed it to her. She snatched it without a backward glance. "Look," Scully said, "I'll help you put it out." She tossed the jacket over her partner's shoulders, wrapped it down his body and patted it against him. "See? It's going out. The flames are dying. You're going to be fine." It seemed to be working. At least Mulder had stopped trying to beat himself silly. He was standing quietly, staring off into the trees, but he didn't appear to be looking at anything. He must have been putting the fire out in his head. Logan wondered if anyone had seen their little pantomime and called the cops. That would be a surefire way of spending some quality time with the boys in blue, which he'd really like to avoid for once. He turned to check out the area and came face-to-face with--himself. What the hell? His doppelganger unsheathed a nasty set of metal claws. He was poised to lash out, a maniacal grin on his face and an unnaturally sinister glitter in eyes that sent a chill down Logan's spine. God! Did he really look like that? No wonder people ran screaming! "Who are you?" Logan asked. "Your worst nightmare." Affright. It had to be. He must have abandoned Mulder and gone looking for someone else. Logan glanced over at the others. Mulder seemed to have shaken off his pyro-phobic hallucinations. Both of them watched Logan questioningly. He turned back to the entity. "Why choose me?" "I heard you were looking for me." Affright took an unexpected swipe and caught Logan off guard. Metal claws tore through his abdomen and chest, shredding his shirt and leaving already-knitting wounds in their path. He heard Scully cry out in alarm. Logan glared at his twin. "You really shouldn't have done that." His own claws sprang forth, winking in the light of the rising sun. "I just want to talk to you." Affright lunged but Logan parried and drove him off. "What could I possibly have to say to you?" The other mutant had a point, but seeing how Logan finally had the opportunity he'd been looking for, it would be a shame to waste it. "I don't know who I am," he said. "Do you know me? Do you know anything about me?" "Even if I did, I wouldn't tell you." "Why not?" Affright charged again. Logan rolled under the flashing blades, came up behind his opponent and sliced his back. He watched as the shape-shifter's cuts closed up within seconds, leaving tattered fabric as the only evidence of his attack. Shit. That wasn't a good sign. Affright's grin turned malicious. "Because it's what you want most. Your greatest fear is never knowing." A chill of apprehension tingled through Logan's veins. He should have realized this mutant would never tell him what he wanted to know, even if he had the information to give. The parasitic shape-shifter lived on the fears of others. For Logan to know anything about his past, about himself, would lessen his fear. Not exactly in Affright's best interests. There was nothing for Logan to find here. What had he gotten himself into this time? He threw a punch to the entity's jaw and connected with solid metal. It rang like a bell, the split skin closing over as quickly as it had opened. Affright even had Logan's metallic skeleton. How was he going to get out of this situation? He'd never be able to kill his look-alike. The shape-shifter WAS Wolverine, with the same rapid healing powers, the same strength, the same fighting skills. How would he defeat someone who couldn't be hurt, who probably couldn't die? "Logan!" Mulder called out. "What are you seeing?" He answered, although he couldn't imagine why Mulder wanted to know. "Me. I see myself." A fresh set of slashes across his biceps and the new pain of tissue reforming were the punishment for his distraction. "Can you kill him?" "I don't think so. But then he can't kill me either." Logan spun, kicked out, connected with the side of Affright's head. The entity's claws swung up and caught Logan in the face. Shit, that stung! "Mulder, we have to do something!" Scully sounded genuinely concerned, but Logan didn't think they were going to be much help. "I've got an idea, Scully, but I'm not sure if it's a good one." "Whatever it is, do it quick! He's going to be cut to ribbons at this rate!" "I don't think so. Do you see any blood?" Logan couldn't afford to take his eyes off his opponent but it appeared as though Mulder had figured out his little secret. He could only guess at what the FBI agent had in mind. He hoped it worked. Affright was really pissing him off. They danced around each other with Logan trying to stay out of the way while Affright took jabs at him whenever there was an opening. Logan flicked his gaze over to where the two agents were standing to see that Mulder was holding a gun. Sure. FBI. They'd both have guns. It hadn't occurred to him before, but now he was getting a little better idea of Mulder's plan. Claws clashed as Logan fended off a flurry of strokes, garnering several cuts across his hands in the process. "Any time you want to try something," he bellowed, "don't wait for an invitation." "Tell me when he's between the two of us, facing you," Mulder called back. "Right." Logan continued to deflect blows for another minute or so. Then he launched his own blitz attack and threw his arms around his opponent, pinning Affright's arms to his sides. It took the shape-shifter by surprise for just long enough. "NOW!" Logan yelled. He heard Scully shout, "Mulder, NO!" then the searing agony of a bullet entered his body. It hit the right side of his chest, passing through the lung, tearing tissue apart, then exited out his back below the shoulder blade. He dropped to the ground, weak-kneed from the pain. Fuck fuck fuck! Gunshots always hurt like a bitch! They never left a physical scar, but he remembered every single one. This memory was going to be a doozy. And just that fast, it was over. The run-down little park was silent except for the rustle of leaves and the occasional bird who didn't have anyplace better to be. If that was Mulder's big plan, it had worked. Affright was gone. Whether he'd been killed by the bullet or simply decided he didn't want to stick around anymore, Logan couldn't care less, as long as he wasn't coming back. The pain eased up as blood vessels reconnected, nerve endings drew back together and molecules expanded to mend the sundered flesh. Logan became aware of Scully tearing at his ragged shirt, pulling it open over his chest. He lay back silently as she ran her hands over his nearly-healed skin. He could feel the edges of the hole sealing up even as she insisted that Mulder call an ambulance. As much as he was enjoying the feeling of a woman's hands on him, Logan grabbed her wrists and sat up. "I'm fine," he said. Mulder rolled his eyes. Scully tried to push him back down. "Don't be silly," she said. "I'm a doctor. I know what kind of damage a gunshot can do. We need to get you to a hospital." Logan sat up again and pulled his ruined shirt off. He turned his back and asked, "Do you see a wound? Anything at all?" She examined his back, caressing the smooth skin over and over. "But... I saw.... Mulder SHOT you! I heard it, saw the bullet hit you, watched you fall. There should be an enormous exit wound and major blood loss!" Mulder holstered his gun, then reached down, took Scully's elbow and helped her to her feet. "I suspect there's a story involved, but right now we should get out of here before someone calls the cops again." "I don't like this, Mulder," she replied, lips pulled taut in disapproval. "What if he's seriously injured and doesn't get prompt treatment?" "That's his own choice. If he collapses, we'll take him to the hospital ourselves, but so far he looks okay to me." "Fine," Scully snapped. She jerked her arm out of his grasp and started walking. "Where are you going?" he asked. "To get the car." "I think we've had this conversation before. The car is in THAT direction." He pointed the same way he'd been pointing when Logan had first come upon them. Scully pointed the opposite way. "No, it's not. It's in THIS direction." Logan picked up the remains of his shirt. Another perfectly good piece of clothing, shot to hell. Thankfully, he wasn't all that attached to his wardrobe. He'd have to wear his jacket zipped until he could buy another shirt. He listened to the heated argument for a few seconds. They really didn't have time for this shit. The cops hadn't shown up yet but that didn't mean they weren't on their way. He put two fingers in his mouth and let out a shrill whistle. The agents blinked at him, startled. "Hate to tell you, bub, but she's right. Your car IS in the other direction." Mulder squinted. "Were you following us?" "Let's just say that I've been tracking this entity for a while. I wasn't far away from the action all night." Logan picked his jacket off the ground as Scully returned to stand next to Mulder. Shoulder to shoulder, they presented a united front that would have worried Logan if there'd been so much as the tiniest trace of fear or alarm in their expressions. But all he saw was curiosity, speculation, maybe a touch of wariness. "Exactly who are you?" Mulder asked. Logan checked the area while he shrugged his jacket on, watching as the Willow Park neighborhood began to stir. Even in this part of the city, that gunshot was going to generate unwelcome interest. He nodded in the direction of the car. "Let's find some place to talk." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Ray's Diner 7:04 AM Logan pushed back his empty plate and wrapped his hands around the warmth of his coffee cup. By silent agreement, they'd chosen a booth at the far end of the diner, the better to avoid eavesdroppers. Mulder had been barely able to contain himself long enough for the waitress to take their orders before starting his interrogation, but Logan insisted on food before talk, considering the hour and their energetic morning. It gave him a chance to arrange his thoughts, consider how much to expose, how much to hide. For some reason, he felt like he could tell these two anything. Mulder slouched back in the booth, a hand cradling his almost- empty mug, the other arm slung across the top of the seat behind Scully. They looked natural that way, comfortable together. Logan wondered how long they'd been a couple. He couldn't imagine simply working together would create the level of ease and trust they projected. It made him aware of the lack of closeness in his own life, more so than usual. It would probably come back to eat at him later, but right now they needed to talk. He held his cup out as the waitress came around with refills. Once she'd left, he spoke. "I've been chasing Affright for five or six months." "Affright?" Mulder asked. "Is that his name?" "It's what I call him. He uses our most horrible imaginings to stay alive. No one else can see him, except as their own worst fear. So the cop said he saw the wasp man but the hooker thought she was going to be killed by her boyfriend. I didn't see anything except their reactions." Scully held up a hand. "Wait a minute. You were there? Why didn't you do something to help?" "How?" He spread his hands on the table, palms down. "With these? Can't you just see the local cops welcoming me with open arms? Right before they slapped the cuffs on and hauled me to jail for multiple counts of concealed-carry. There was nothing I could do without getting arrested or caught up in Affright's aura, exactly the way I was just now." "So what DID happen just now?" Mulder asked. "You got up-close-and-personal with a mutant. Two if you count me." Mulder sat up straight. "Are you saying you're a mutant?" "If I'm not, I'm the next best thing." "How did your mutation develop? Was it something you ate, something done to you, a spider bite? What?" Logan shrugged. "No clue. I've always been this way. And I'm not the only one. Over the years, I've run into dozens of other mutants with different powers. I don't know how the mutations happen. I just know it happened to me." Scully tapped her nails against the side of her cup. "Genetic mutation takes thousands of years and humans don't have the ability to manipulate genetics to that extent yet. There must be another explanation for what we saw tonight." Logan fished a pocket knife out of his jeans, opened a blade, then sliced the back of his hand. Scully leapt forward and snatched his hand off the table even as the skin was closing over. Within seconds, there was no trace of a cut, no blood, no evidence of a scar left behind. He let her turn his hand this way and that for a few seconds, looking for the wound, before he pulled it from her grasp and held it up for both of them to see. "Even people who are quick healers aren't *that* quick. I've been shot, stabbed, burned to a crisp, bitten and slashed by animals and mutants--I always come back good as new." Mulder pointed to his now-smooth skin. "What about your claws? Were they caused by the mutation?" "The claws are part of a metal skeleton inside my body. I think it was put there *because* of my healing ability." "How do you know that?" "Accidents that uncovered what should have been bone, but looked like metal. I tend to attract lightning. Dreams of men working over me, cutting me open, memories of the pain. I spend my time looking for other mutants who might know who I am or what was done to me. Sometimes I work in one place long enough to buy a car, most of the time I hitchhike or walk. I've done a lot of thinking and pieced things together." "How long have you been looking?" "Decades. Maybe centuries. I'm not really sure. I don't remember anything about myself other than my name. For all practical purposes, I don't have any history. But I can safely say that I've been like this for at least seventy-five years." Scully raised an eyebrow, a skeptical look on her face. "How is that possible? You don't look older than either of us." "I don't age. Maybe it's related to the rapid healing. I only know that the face in the mirror never changes, never scars." "Mulder's bullet should have dropped you in your tracks, but as far as I could tell, you're fine. Why didn't you die?" "I don't know. Maybe I can't." No one said anything for a while. Logan allowed the silence to sink into him, settle the disturbing thoughts that always accompanied remembering who he was. There were times when he could almost believe he wasn't any different from anyone else, times when his murky past didn't loom over him, canceling out the normal present. But his personal reality never left him completely alone and he never forgot for long. After the waitress came by with another round of coffee refills, Mulder leaned forward, excitement shining in his eyes. "You mean all those articles in the tabloids could be right? The levitating babies, mind readers, telekinetic phenomena? All of that is true?" "Yep. A lot of it, anyway." "Wait a minute." Mulder pointed at Logan. "You're the wolverine man, aren't you? I've got a clipping about you in my files." Logan grimaced. "More than one, I'll bet. The other mutants call me Wolverine. I guess the public at large agrees." Mulder slumped back in his seat. "This is fantastic! I can hardly believe it. All this time and I never knew--" Scully's eyes widen. "Wait a minute, Mulder. You don't mean to say you believe this story. There's no scientific proof that what this man says is true! All we have is his word that mutants exist." "And the fact that he heals without a trace of a wound. You actually witnessed it, Scully! And this isn't the first time we've seen extraordinary abilities. What about Eugene Victor Tooms? Eddie Van Blundht? El Chupacabra? Pusher!" "Pusher clearly had a brain tumor which *may* have enabled him to control other peoples' actions." "Okay, okay. What about Gibson Praise? He doesn't have a tumor, but he can read minds. What about Rob Roberts, poor guy, or Darren Peter Oswald? You don't find many normal people who eat the brains directly from a person's skull or control lightning." "Those were isolated incidents, Mulder, anomalies. We have no way of knowing about any other factors which might have caused their abilities." "Or maybe they're mutants. Maybe what we've been investigating all these years was partly paranormal, partly natural mutation." Logan sat in amazement, not even trying to get in a word. No wonder they were arguing earlier! Mulder believed in everything and Scully didn't believe in anything she couldn't hold and study. How the hell did they work together? Did they ever agree on anything? Neither one of them seemed willing to back down and Mulder was still hammering away. "What about Logan's claws, Scully, his metal skeleton? It might not be a mutation, but we've even seen *that* kind of interference before. The Eves. Dr. Ridley and his little salamander experiment. Or that sleep-deprivation project Krycek and I investigated. And let's not forget the subliminal TV signals you got such a kick out of. Who's to say the genetic mutations are natural? Maybe they're man-made instead." Scully ground the heels of her hands viciously into her eye sockets. "God, I need sleep. If I'm lucky, I'll wake up to find that I'm Bobby Ewing and this was all a dream." She stopped torturing her eyes and nudged Mulder. "I'm going to splash some water on my face before I fall asleep in my coffee and drown." Logan could see that Mulder was tempted to nudge back and rip off a retort, but wisely refrained and let her out of the booth instead. They both watched as she walked toward the sign for the restrooms, then turned back to look at each other at the same time. "She always like that?" Logan asked. Mulder shrugged. "How do you stand it?" Mulder simply peered at Logan over the top of his cup as he took a sip of coffee. Logan nodded. "I withdraw the question." They were silent for a few minutes until Mulder tilted his head and gave Logan the once-over. "So is *every* bone in your body made out of--" "Hey!" Logan barked. "Guys don't ask each other that type of stuff." "Right." Mulder smirked. "Sorry." They went quiet again. Logan needed to move on, but he found himself reluctant to leave. No one had ever stuck around for long once they got a look at his razor-sharp manicure. Yet these two accepted him without question, listened to his story, and didn't try to have him arrested as mentally deranged. It was such a unique experience; he didn't want it to end. But end it must. Logan cleared his throat. "Look, I really appreciate you letting me hang around, but it might be better if I wasn't here when Scully gets back. I should get going." Mulder set his coffee cup aside. "What will you do now? Keep tracking Affright?" Logan shook his head. "He doesn't have anything to tell me. It's time to find someone else who might know. I've heard rumors of a wendigo on the Canada side of Lake Erie. I might hitch a ride that way, see if I can locate it." "You think it's a mutant?" "I've got a fifty-fifty chance. It's worth a shot." "Good luck with that. I hope you find what you're looking for." Mulder stuck his hand across the table and held Logan's gaze as they shook. "We won't tell anyone. You have my word." "Thanks." Logan was surprised to find that he believed the man. "How much do I owe--?" Mulder waved him off. "Breakfast is on us. I think our lives are worth at least that much." "Thanks again." Logan stood. "Try to stay out of trouble. Okay?" Mulder grinned. "We will if you will." Logan flipped him the bird, which only made his smile bigger. It wasn't terribly likely that any of them could avoid landing in hot water. The two agents looked as though they attracted trouble the way he attracted lightning. He walked to the door and pushed it open, not even pausing when he heard Scully say, "Mulder, where's he going?" A very good question to which he didn't have an answer, other than "north." The day was still cool but there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Looked like it was going to be another sunny one. Didn't California *have* anything else? Logan strolled down the sidewalk toward the main road. Morning rush hour was in full swing so he'd have a better chance of getting picked up, once he was ready for company. At the moment, he felt like walking. He could have stuck around, asked Mulder and Scully for a ride to get him started, but he needed the time to think about what he'd learned. He hadn't understood everything Mulder was talking about, but he'd comprehended one very important fact--there were a lot more mutants than he'd realized. Was this a new development, or had he been so intent on his own quest that he'd ignored the signs? If what Mulder said about the prevalence of mutants was true, maybe there would be more chances for Logan to find out about himself. Someone had to know who he was and what was done to him. The more mutants, the more likely he'd find his answers. He didn't want to stick around long enough for those thugs to sell their story to the local rag, though. Mulder and Scully wouldn't rat him out. They were decent people, the most genuinely nice ones he'd come across. Whether Scully believed what he'd told them or not, she'd honor Mulder's promise to keep quiet. They really didn't have anything to gain by spreading the story around. And besides, who would believe them? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The End Feedback: mimic1172@gmail.com