When Scott turned to Logan and opened his eyes, Bob actually had to stagger back a step to avoid the backwash of the energy that seemed to hit Logan square in the face. It sent him flying, as weightless as a kite, and Logan didn't just slam into the building across the street, he rammed clear through it, taking most of the remaining facade with him.

Scott shut his eyes tight before he collapsed the entire building on top of him (although he might have to), and Bob was already racing towards the thrown Logan/Heydon as he heard Jean exclaim in horror, "Scott, what have you done?"

Poor guy. He just couldn't catch a break.

It was bad enough emptying the remainder of the clip into Logan just to get to Heydon - he just knew this was really going to make him feel bad.

The building had been previously condemned, and just from the amount of shattered glass and the strong chemical smell, it was easy to guess that this was a former drug house. As Bob stepped through the big hole in the side, avoiding still falling bricks and chunks of ceiling, coughing due to the thick cloud of mortar and plaster dust, he saw that - unbelievable as it was - Logan was starting to stir. Incredible - it just showed how much punishment Logan and Heydon could both take. Scott probably would have to put him through a couple of buildings to keep him down for any length of time.

Bob approached Logan, who was laying sprawled on his back on top of a large pile of rubble, and he knew it wasn't Logan who was starting to move, groaning in pain and bringing a hand to his face - it was Heydon. And that made it a little easier, although not by much.

He crouched down beside him, and reached into his boot.

"You never did say goodbye," Bob noted.

Heydon removed his hand from his face and opened his eyes, just in time to see Bob drive Bastet's knife straight into Logan's heart.

He opened his mouth to scream, but all that came out was a sort of squeak as he drove the dagger down to the hilt. His eyes widened to their very limits, orange energy swirling in Logan's irises as the power of the blessed blade cut straight through to the Auhminra.

Blood filled Logan's mouth, started oozing out the corners as he went limp, eyes wide open and staring up at nothing.

Bob sighed and closed his eyes, not really wanting to look. It seemed like failure to kill Logan while killing Heydon as well.

***

There was no better place to be relaxed - a secluded, isolated valley in the shadow of Mount Fujiyama, far enough down the slope that it was still warm on this hot summer day. They were technically trespassing: this was part of a huge parcel of land that had been left to a Buddhist monastery by a recently deceased philanthropist, but now the will and land was caught in the hell of litigation limbo, as the man's family - almost all Shintos, just to make the normal family bitchiness that much more contentious - were contesting it on several grounds that seemed frivolous at best. It would surely get tossed out of court, and the Buddhists would get the land, but not until a few million more yen had been spent. But they weren't terribly concerned about it - it was unlikely they'd be caught, and even if it happened, the Yashida name had a lot of power.

Logan didn't really understand picnics -you eat outdoors where the bugs can get at everything. Why did it matter if you ate in a park or standing outside a phone booth on a street corner?
Same damn difference. But it seemed to make Mariko happy, so he went along with it - only a sadomasochistic husband wouldn't go out of his way to make the wife happy every now and then. Not that he was miserable, exactly; time alone with Mariko was hardly terrible.

She was laying beside him, her head resting on his chest, arm around his waist, one leg between his, and judging from her breathing she was starting to fall asleep. He didn't blame her - it was a very warm day, in Japanese terms it was a virtual heat wave, and here it seemed fairly humid. As far as lunch went, they didn't have much - he made his 'famous' fried tomato and cheese sandwiches to bring along ( which she told him sounded disgusting, until she actually had one - now she routinely asked him when he was making them again ), along with some good beer, as neither of them were that hungry. It was just too warm, and that had never been the whole point of this.

He had made arrangements for them to get away on a day trip to Osaka, and that's where everyone thought they were. But they were always coming here; misdirection was necessary for protection as well as privacy. It was Mariko who had found the place, as she had seen the photos of the property in the office of her lawyer, who was handling the dead man's estate, and he figured out the best way to get here without being observed by anyone ( or at least not many ). Luckily, most of the roads here never joined the main mountain passes, and save for a single battered old Honda, they had been the only car on the road all the way here.

They were on a patch of wild green grass - nibbled down to an almost lawn like length by all the local fauna - leading to a small, placid pond. The ducks here were so wild that when they arrived they flew off; a couple had subsequently come back, but continued to eye them warily. All around they were surrounded by tall evergreens and dense underbrush - making it to the clearing wasn't easy - and they were very much alone, save for the birds and a fox he could smell hiding in the ground cover close to the forest's edge ( probably after the sandwiches - he'd leave it the crusts ).

"I don't suppose you could do something to make your pectoral muscles more pillow like, could you?" Mariko mumbled, shifting her head on his chest.

"I could look into a padded bra," he offered, grinning at his own joke. "Especially if it was still being worn."

"Ah, so you want me to kick your ass?" She said, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

"You could be wearing it," he suggested.

She gently slapped his abdomen. "Oh, so making a small boobs joke, are we?"

"Absolutely not. I love your boobs."

As he had hoped, she laughed, and looked up at him. Her hazel eyes were sleepy - a warm day and good beer could do that to you, or so he'd heard - but she was smiling. "You do realize you're just digging yourself into a deeper and deeper hole, don't you?"

He just shrugged a single shoulder, grinning at her. "I love danger."

"No, what you love is being an ass," she replied, but she was still smiling, and she snuggled back into his arms, resting her head closer to the center of his chest now. After a moment, during which he snaked his arm around her, resting his hand on the center of her supple back, she asked, "What time is it?"

"Uh uh darlin', that was part of the deal - no clock watchin'."

She groaned dramatically. "Did you get me drunk so I'd agree to that?"

"No. You insisted on that, I think after that whole Suzuki deal, and after Hiro had me out until four in the fucking morning guarding his scrawny ass."

"Oh, right."

It seemed lately that circumstances had been conspiring against them, and they'd rarely had any time together. Once in a while, they'd occasionally share a bed, but that was mostly by accident. More often, he'd get to sleep after she was gone, and she'd be going to bed after he left. They were like people sharing a house at the exact same time on alternate schedules. "You bored already?" He wondered.

"No. Quiet just makes me nervous. I'm used to noise."

"It's not quiet. There's the birds, the animals in the underbrush, the wind through the trees, the water lapping up against the edge of the embankment. There's always noise. It only goes silent when something terrible happens, and that's probably the only time you notice it. This is just noise you're not accustomed to."

She raised herself up on her side, propping herself up on her elbow so she could look down at him skeptically, lips twisted in a way that suggested she was trying not to laugh. "Sometimes I forget I'm married to a samurai with the best hearing in the universe."

"Not just hearing," he replied, continuing to grin. Every now and then, his senses were annoying to her: he knew what a present was by smell ( well, that one time - he pointed out how could you not smell leather, but she still thought he spoiled it ); could tell where she had been the same exact way, as well as what she had for lunch ( she found that particularly annoying, so he never mentioned it, even if she'd obviously been upset and hitting the sake hard ); could always tell where everyone was by hearing, even out in the garden; and one time he told her she had a cold before she started coming down with symptoms - was it his fault he could smell it on her skin? Apparently, according to her, yes. The samurai thing only bothered her when he remained unflappable in a situation where she felt he should have been ... well, flapping out.

She scowled comically at him, sliding her other hand up his stomach to his chest, where she ran a finger underneath the collar of his t - shirt. "You are a strange man."

"I'm a mutant freak."

Her scowl became deep and genuine. "Would you stop that? I can't tell you how tempted I am to kick your teeth in for calling yourself that."

"I am a mutant, Riko."

"But not a freak. You want a freak? Have you seen my Uncle Toshi?"

He smiled faintly, aware she was just being kind ( although she had a point about Toshi ...). "I'm cool with it, hon. Can't change what you are, can you?"

She glared at him with narrowed eyes, and he wondered how deep the shit he was in was. She grabbed a fistful of his shirt, and leaned in close to look him straight in the eye. "Do I look like the type of woman who would marry a freak?"

She had him there. "No."

"See? Now you're going to knock that shit off before I smack you, right?"

"Yes dear." He tried hard to swallow the smile, but the more you tried to suppress the thing the more it wanted to come out.

She saw it and frowned at him, but he saw the humorous sparkle in her eyes before her lips twisted up into a reluctant smile. "You really are an asshole sometimes, you know that?"

"A world class one," he happily agreed. Well, he couldn't change what he was, could he?

"Only you would be proud of that," she sighed, then kissed him. Her mouth tasted of beer and salt, and it wasn't unpleasant. He slid his hand under her thin shell of a tank top, and felt beads of sweat on her back, in the small depression of her spine.

Her hands roamed over his chest, pulling up his shirt, and when she pushed herself away from him, she said, "It's too hot to fool around. What say we go skinny dipping?"

He grinned up at her. "You should drink beer more often."

"Ha." She got up, and started walking down towards the pond. The few remaining ducks took flight in a violent burst, becoming a blur of feathers that left ripples on the surface of the water.
She'd already taken off her shoes earlier, so she could feel the grass between her toes, and as she went down to the edge, she pulled her lavender silk tank top over her head. She then looked between it and the ground, obviously considering the ramifications of leaving silk on the grass, but then she shrugged and said, "Oh, fuck it," dropping it to the ground. What good was having the Yashida name if you couldn't afford dry cleaning?

He slowly got to his feet, only now aware that the heat had been starting to put him to sleep as well, and peeled off his t - shirt, letting it fall to the grass. Well, it was only cotton, and dark green on top of that - who cared about grass stains?

She looked towards him, now wearing only her strapless black lace bra and slim black skirt, and she looked so vulnerable - so small and fragile - that he felt his stomach twist. God, how he wished he could give her some of his immunity, or just surround her somehow, pull her inside of him and keep her safe. There were so many dangers in this world, and it terrified him that he might not be able to protect her from all of it.

If anything ever happened to her, it would kill him.

She smiled slyly at him, eying him with appreciation. "You know, for a guy, you look really good naked."

"Jeeze, is that a compliment or not?" He asked, walking down to the pond. He then wondered, "How many guys have you seen naked?"

"Counting the entire UCLA men's volleyball team?" She grinned at him, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

"Oh, everybody's seen them naked, the sun bleached little sluts."

She laughed, and when he came up to her, she threw her arms around his neck, and smiled up at him. "Have I ever told you how much I love your sense of humor?"

"I have one?" He asked, pretending to be baffled. But he couldn't help but return her infectious smile, and hoped the fact that he was still frightened for her, for them, didn't show on his face. "I love you."

Her smile seemed to soften, and her eyes seemed almost sad, as if she knew what he was thinking. Maybe she did. "I love you too, sweetheart." Then, to lighten the mood, she added, "I must to put up with you."

"You're a martyr," he agreed, and pulled her in for a kiss.

He didn't know why he was even worried. He was never going to let anything happen to her.

**

Aware of what she was about to do, Bob quickly said, "No powers." She was going to throw him through the other wall, he was certain of that. He then told her, "I killed Heydon." He then pulled the knife out of Logan's chest, and it made a distressing wet noise that made Jean both flinch and pale in horror.

"You killed Logan!" She scrambled towards him, and Bob quickly stood aside, slipping the knife back in his boot sheath. She was still so angry she might try and hit him, and that would only hurt her.

"He will recover, Jean," he told her, thinking she already should have known. "A knife through the heart is not enough to kill Logan."

"You don't know that," she snapped, quickly moving to Logan's side. She placed her left hand over the wound - which was not bleeding - and placed her right hand on his throat, seeking a pulse. Of course there was none, and he thought the lack of blood coming from the wound would have been a giveaway there.

Her head snapped around violently and she glared at him, lips thinned and angry tears rolling down her cheeks. "He's dead, you son of a bitch."

"Give him a minute."

It was good he took her powers off line, or she might have tried to explode his head. "A minute? People don't recover from death. Unlike for you it is not a temporary condition."

He smirked, knowing it was bad for his health but unable to keep himself from doing it anyways. "Yeah, hon, it is for him. I think he sometimes wishes it wasn't."

She looked perfectly livid, and was weighing whether or not hitting or kicking him would be safer. "His healing factor doesn't work if he's dead."

"You'd be surprised at how much his body doesn't want to stay dead."

Her lips thinned until they virtually disappeared, and he knew he was in for some verbal thrashing when she suddenly gasped and turned back to Logan. He knew why too - he'd seen his hand twitch. "Oh my god," she gasped, putting her head to his chest as if trying to hear the healing process at work, kick starting his systems again. She sat back, and ripped open his shirt a bit more, to get a better look at the knife wound, and from the way her spine stiffened, he bet she was now watching the skin seal itself shut. "How did you know?" She asked breathlessly, as he saw and well as heard Logan take an involuntary breath. Back from the dead.

"Because Heydon hadn't lied," he told her, knowing she'd hate the answer. "He has stabbed himself in the heart. It didn't work then, and there's no reason why it would work now."

She turned to face him, but slowly. She was still crying, and perhaps still a little mad at him, but that was being washed away by relief that Logan was still alive. "Why would he ... I don't understand ..."

"You've never been that swamped by anger and despair, Jean? I know I have. I thought it was part and parcel of the Human condition. And yeah, I'm aware I'm not Human, but play along. You know what I mean."

She stared at him a moment, then turned back towards Logan, shaking her head, her ponytail slapping up against her shoulder. "I can't understand why anyone would do that, especially Logan. He doesn't quit."

"Have you ever considered that he doesn't have much of a choice?"

No, he bet she didn't. And he had never had a choice either.

He thought he had been ... he had been somewhere ... Mariko, with her, somewhere ... and now he wasn't. Now he was trapped in the dark shell of his body, which felt like it was on fire.

( But he'd never actually left, had he? No, he'd always been right here ... )

Blood roared in his ears like a river, his heart thudded like it was trying to smash through his chest cavity and escape the burning, but he distantly became aware of other sounds ... voices ... pain, burning; he was hurt, had been hurt ... were the voices connected?

Adrenaline surged through him, and he could taste blood as well as smell it - his, all his.

He lurched upward, consciousness back if not his memories, and the first thing he saw was a startled woman beside him. He reached for her, not sure if she was dangerous or not, but not willing to wait and find out.

"Logan, freeze!" A man shouted, and to his horror he did just that; he became as still as a statue. He tried to move, but it was like he'd completely forgotten how. "You remember," the man said, and Logan did.

Ah shit.

"You can let me go now," he said, feeling angry, ashamed, and really desperate to kill something.

Bob must have, because he almost fell back over, and Jean threw her arms around him and hugged him fiercely. "Oh god, Logan, are you all right?" His first instinct was to shove her away because she was not Mariko, but then he realized what a stupid thought that was.

He patted her consolingly on the back, feeling her tears on his neck, and said, "Yeah, I'm okay, considering." He glanced at Bob, who was standing off to the left, looking uncomfortable. "You stabbed me in the fucking heart."

Bob just shrugged. "Sorry 'bout that."

He really wasn't that angry at him - he did what he had to do, and he did kill that motherfucker Heydon - but it was the principal of the thing. He also shot him in the head, but to be fair he had encouraged that. "You okay?" He asked Jean, figuring she was. But why the tears?

"I'm fine," she said, sniffing. She pulled back and studied his face carefully, as if making sure it was him and not Heydon, and he was almost positive she was about to kiss him.

"Is it over?" Scott asked, his words slightly nasal and slurred.

He was standing before the huge hole in the wall with Storm right next to him, and it was unclear if he was holding her up or she was holding him up. She looked the best out of both of them, as Scott's face was crusted with dried blood and starting to swell up like a boil, but at least he had his visor back on.

Jean pulled back and moved away, aware of how awkward things must have looked, and Bob said, "All over but the suing."

"You gonna be okay?" Logan asked Scott. Not that he cared, but the guy looked like he was barely able to stand.

Scott shrugged, and said, still sounding like he had a bad head cold, "I'll recover." After a pause, he added, "I'm really going to have to sit down in a minute."

"Let's get the fuck outta here," Logan agreed, standing up. He almost fell over himself, his chest still burning with the remnants of healing, but Jean stood up and caught his arm, helping him up. Of course he almost fell over and took her with him, but then Bob was on the other side of him, a hand braced against his back. What a sad group they were.

"We won, right?" Logan asked sarcastically.

"Hard to tell, isn't it?" Bob replied cheerfully.

One of these days, it would be nice to not limp away from something.

**

Three Days Later - Westchester, New York

Apparently she was changing stuff into other stuff for everyone, and while it made her relatively popular, it wasn't good to exploit her powers like that. She'd been talked to about it, and seemed willing to knock it off, but Logan had a feeling she'd go back to it. It was working for her - why stop?

He finished packing up and slung the bag over his shoulder, hoping he didn't run into Jean again. He'd been avoiding her since L.A., mainly because of the beat down that Heydon put on Scott (but that was his own fault - he shouldn't have attacked him like that ), but also because he just didn't feel like dealing with her and her issues and baggage right now. Or maybe it was his issues and baggage - he didn't know, and he didn't care. He just needed to get out of here for a while.

It was the afternoon of a sunny Saturday, and the school seemed as empty as it ever got. He was glad, because it increased his chances of sneaking out that much more. He walked quietly down the hall, all senses alert for anyone who might intercept him. He really didn't want to talk to anyone; he just needed some time to think. He wasn't completely sure about what yet - there was so much shit that had happened, that was still happening - but he figured his thought processes would be clearer with distance, solitude, and beer.

He made it to the front hallway when he saw the dust motes suspended in a beam of sunlight swirl violently, and then Bob appeared, stepping out of some sort of rip in reality. "Ha! My turn to catch ya before you leave," he said, donning black sunglasses even as he stepped out of the light.

Logan shifted his knapsack to his other shoulder and scowled at him, knowing it wouldn't do any good at all. "Can't you bug me later?"

"No, come on, aren't you the least bit curious about Miranda?"

That was why Bob had come back - to see if he could bring her out of her coma. Logan had no doubt that he could. "You brought her out. End of story."

"Well, not quite." He was now standing between Logan and the door, and he knew that he had done that on purpose. Now that Bob was out of the sun, he took off the glasses and hung them from the collar of his red t - shirt. "She's now in regret mode over what she's done, and I think we don't have to worry about her powers or brain damage any more."

Logan really didn't want to have a conversation, but there was no escaping Bob. "Why?"

"Because she accidentally wished it away."

He stared at him a moment, waiting for more, but no, Bob was going to make him work for this. "You mean she wished she didn't have her powers, and she doesn't?"

"No, she wished she was normal. And now she is."

"How is that possible? How could her powers undo themselves?"

Bob shrugged half - heartedly, then admitted, "Both mutants and demons aren't playing on a level field. Almost anything can happen, and often does. I think her powers basically imploded. I wouldn't be surprised if the energy the Zayrith left behind somehow contributed to it all."

He almost felt sorry for the kid. "What's gonna happen to her now?"

"I'm gonna do my best to repair reality, and find her her place in it. She'll be okay, if not exactly a mutant anymore."

"Yeah, well, maybe that's for the best. Can I go now?"

"No. Where are you going?"

He continued to frown at him, knowing it was pointless. "Are you my mother now?"

"Not in this form, no. Although anything's possible - I was quite a slut in my day."

Bob was impossible. He was almost willing to believe in karma, as that might explain him perfectly. "Look, I'm going away, if that's okay with you. And even if it ain't, I don't care."

"They think you're taking the Heydon thing kinda hard."

Almost a non - sequitur, but not quite. "What do you mean?"

"Telepaths know when they're bein' avoided, mate. They think you're tryin' to work through your Heydon possession."

Logan shrugged. "I didn't like it, but it's over."

"Right. Well they think that's what the avoidance is all about. I know that's not it."

He glared at him. "What did you tell them?"

"Nothing. It's not for me to say."

"Damn right it's not." He started moving forward, vainly hoping Bob would move to avoid collision, but no, of course not. He stopped about a foot away from him, and let his pack slide down his arm, letting it thud to the floor. "What do you want from me, Bob?"

"I want you to talk about it before you explode and take it out on some stupid drunk redneck who, admittedly, will probably be asking for it." Bob crossed his arms over his chest and assumed a stubborn posture that suggested Logan would have to forcibly move him. Which he would have gladly done, except Bob wasn't about to let him.

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"Yes you do."

"Don't tell me what I fucking want, Bob. Do you want me to say it? Fine. I'm losing my fucking mind. Now will you get outta my way?"

Bob gave him a look that skirted the edge of pity. "They can't hear us, Logan, and no one's gonna be barging in on us."

He sighed wearily. No escape at all. "You lowered the cone of silence, huh?"

Bob smiled faintly. "And they say you have no sense of humor."

"Who says?"

"People who really don't know you very well. Now why do you think you're losing your mind?"

"You know why - you can hear my thoughts, can't you?"

"Mariko."

Just hearing her name felt like a punch to the heart. "The more I remember, the more I can't stand it. I think maybe it would have been better if I never remembered her at all." He felt evil just admitting that, but how much was he supposed to take? He had failed a lot of people, but Mariko was probably his greatest failure.

"It wasn't your fault," Bob said softly.

He chuckled humorlessly, feeling an aimless surge of anger. It would have been wasted on Bob. "Don't, just ... don't. I need to go here, okay?"

"Entropy happens, mate. Circumstances can screw the best of us."

"Please, just shut the hell up."

"You know why it hurts so much? Because your memories of her make this relationship fresh, and at the very same time her loss and the grief are fresh too. You can't win; it's as painful as all fuck and I'm really sorry, Logan."

"You're sorry?" He closed his eyes a moment, reigning in the anger and the bizarre appearance of tears in his eyes. 'Mariko honey,' he thought sadly, 'you're killing me'. As soon as he was sure they were gone, he asked, "Can you take them away?"

"What?"

He opened his eyes again, not surprised to find Bob looking at him with a sort of horrified fascination. "The memories of her. I feel like a monster just asking, but maybe I forgot for a reason. I know what everyone thinks, that I'm some insanely brave asshole, but I'm not: I'm a fucking coward. Why do they think I've been running for the last fifteen years of my life? I can't do it anymore, Bob, I can't. I'm so fucking tired."

"You're a lot of things, mate, but never a coward." He then put on an exaggerated Aussie accent, and added, "Stupid maybe, but not a coward."

Logan vaguely recognized it as a "Road Warrior" reference, but he was in no mood for his jokes. "I'm serious, Bob."

"So am I. I know you won't believe me, but I've been where you are. And there is no worse feeling in the world than helplessness as you watch someone you love die, and there's nothing you can do to stop it."

"That's just it, Bob - I could have stopped it. If I was just smart enough - "

"No."

" - she'd probably still be alive. I could have - "

"No," Bob insisted, louder this time. "Her family sold her out, Logan - they threw the both of you to the wolves. You were betrayed by the people closest to you, and there was no way to win. It was a tragic, King Lear - ish fucking mess, and the only way to have won was by never playin' at all."

"I probably saw it comin'."

"Possibly. But sometimes even foresight isn't enough. Ask Chuck if you don't believe me."

"You're not going to take it away, are you?"

"Hasn't your mind been fucked with enough?"

There was no answer to that, so he let it pass. "Okay then, Bob, tell me something honestly: is there an afterlife?"

That really stunned him. Apparently even mind reading wasn't enough. "What?"

"Just what I said. Is there an afterlife? Heaven, hell, all that shit. And I know about Hell being an alternate dimension, but you know what I mean."

Bob sighed and ran a hand through his golden brown hair, barely mussing it. "Like with a lot of things, Christianity really got it wrong. Buddhism and Hinduism got closer, but not by much."