This final part of Slavery, Deliverance and Faith is dedicated to Jenny, Annie's biggest fan, for whose birthday the ending was rushed through. ^-^ Happy Birthday, Jenny! I hope you like how it ends!

Warning: Contains violence and other ooky stuff. Also, Mys_Teri says that if you don't send feedback, you'll one day have a child just like Annie. ;) Can't overstate how much you don't want THAT to happen.

Part 9

Creed bit absently into a muffin. Baked goods weren't his preference, but food was food, and he hadn't been eating regularly the last few days. "She's good," he said approvingly. "Heads right for the nearest food-source every time."

Logan snorted, obviously unimpressed by Annie's incredible cunning and amazing grasp of practicalities like finding food. "They stopped here for a while," he said, looking around the small, untidy room with its coffeemaker and small fridge and basket of stale muffins. "We move fast, we can still catch them."

Creed nodded, and they slipped back out of the room. They'd had to pause for a while before they could pick up the trail again, but Annie was taking the others pretty much straight upwards. They weren't going the right way to get to the elevator Creed and Logan had used, but there could be another. They were moving straight, without backtracking, and he was picking up traces of other scents that presumably Annie was following. It was a good plan - basic, but presumably anyone who'd gotten down here would know how to get back up to the surface. He let out a pleased grunt. She was... impressive. A cub that a man could take a certain pride in.

Logan gave him an irritated look from down around elbow height. "You having fun?" he demanded acidly. "This yer idea of a good time?"

"Don't be stupid," Creed growled. "But they're doin' good. They're out of the cells, and they might even make the surface without help. They might have their powers, they might not, but they ain't helpless."

The runt nodded, looking a little less irritated. Presumably he was at least man enough to appreciate that his own adopted cub was making a break for freedom instead of sobbing and whining in her cage like a weakling. Creed sniffed. Annie smelled fine. The others smelled scared, but Marie, Clarice, and at least one of the boys had a determined edge to the fear. They were coping.

* * *

"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?"

Annie blinked big yellow eyes innocently. "What?"

"Now they're going to know where we are!" Geordi yelled. He was panicking, and he hated it. This wasn't like in the books. He didn't like it, and he wanted to go home.

"They already knew where we were," Annie pointed out. "Down here. They don't know who it is pushed the buttons, it could have been one of theirs."

Geordi was in no mood for annoying little girls who used stupid logic. Girl or not, kid or not, he'd have taken a swing at the little monster if he hadn't seen what she did to those guards. "They're going to send more guards down!"

"So?" She blinked again and did that nasty, chilling, fangy smile. "They're not very good guards. They don't even have tasers or tranq guns or razornets or *anything*."

"Annie, if you kill any more guards, I'm telling Mr Summers," Marie said with firm uncertainty. "I mean it."

Annie pouted, sticking her lip out mutinously. "They're trying to kill US," she said defensively.

"No they're not, they're trying to recapture us. You can.... tie them up or something." Marie relieved Annie of the gun she was swinging negligently from one small hand. "Annie, listen, you promised Mr Summers you'd do your best to use non-lethal methods while you're at the school."

"We're not AT the school," Annie pointed out.

"You know what I mean!" Marie's hands were shaking a little. She was pretty, Geordi realized with some surprise. She had nice eyes. "No more killing! You *behave*, you hear me?"

"Yes," Annie said with suspicious meekness. "No lethal force unless it's absolutely necessary."

"Right... no! No lethal force ever!" Brown eyes and yellow locked for a long moment, then Marie sighed. "Just.... do your best, okay?"

Annie held the look for a moment more, and then she sighed. "Okay. Broken limbs and concussions."

"Important limbs?" Jonny suggested, looking up with a grim expression. "Compound fractures?"

"If there's any of them you know personally, point them out," Annie offered. "Mr Summers never said I wasn't allowed to kneecap people."

There was a ding, and she looked up. "Okay. Elevator about to arrive. Yay."

Marie gulped a little. "Not that I'm at all scared or anything but... maybe we should stand just around the corner instead of right in the firing line?"

Annie blinked at her. "Well, if you want to, but I don't see why-"

Marie kept her grip on Clarice's hand and risked life and limb just a little, grabbing Annie by one small, pointed ear and dragging her bodily around the corner just as the doors started to open. Kyle was right behind her, pushing Geordi along and towing Jonny. "Now shush!" she hissed as quietly as she could.

There were guards in the elevator. Soldiers, rather - she heard boots and the distinctive little sounds of weapons clutched in nervous hands. Great. There were soldiers, and they were armed, and they were *prepared* now. Maybe if the escapees just stayed really really quiet and-

Annie pulled out of Marie's grip and bounded around the corner with a high-pitched growl. "Death... I mean, kneecapping to the oppressors!" she yelled, and Marie heard the complex noises involved in one person charging many armed people. There were the gasps, the nervous clicking of safeties coming off, the sudden crunch of bone(probably a knee or elbow), the tiny moment of silence when several heavily armed men realize that the small, fast-moving target is in between them now and can't be shot at...

Marie sighed and pushed Clarice at Jonny. They both stared at her with big, scared little-kid eyes, and she waved a finger sternly at them. "You two STAY HERE," she whispered sternly. "And be quiet." She didn't even have to look at Kyle to know that he nodded, and followed her as she slid around the corner. They had to help out, if they could, and at least distract one or two of the guards from Annie.

She didn't bother looking at Geordi, either. If he wanted to help, fine. If he was still busy panicking... well, he was a wimp. No great loss.

She took a deep breath, tried to remember the training Mr Summers had patiently drummed into her, and picked her target. He was taller than most of the others, but not very muscular, by the look of him. Marie was used to opponents who were bigger than she was, and this one didn't look *too* tough. Kick him in the kidneys to get his attention, right, kick him in the knee while he's turning around, duck the punch, swing at him, get arm grabbed, apply knee A to groin B...

Off to her left, Kyle was doing his level best to maul a short, mean-eyed man still clutching his gun lovingly. And using it as a club. Kyle was pretty well armed by nature, but he was weak and slow from extensive confinement. She'd have to go help him as soon as her guy went down.

Which only left Annie with about twelve or fifteen guys to handle...

* * *

"We're getting close," Logan murmured quietly. They'd fallen instinctively into stealth mode, padding silently through the halls, peeking around corners and listening constantly for any sounds of life.

This was freaky, there was just no other word for it. He hated Sabretooth. It was a nice, solid sort of feeling. He hated Sabretooth. He knew he did, it was right up there in the front of his mind in big shiny writing saying WE HATE SABRETOOTH HE'S A BAD BAD MAN...

He just didn't, when he got as far as actually thinking about it, know *why*. As far as he knew, he'd first met the man after being hurled headfirst out of his camper. Which had then exploded, taking all his belongings with it. And then the next time they'd met it had been on the Statue of Liberty with the fighting and the... yes, well, all right, he did have a perfectly rational basis for hating the man. But he'd hated him before that, when all he had on his mind was a moderately broken camper. He'd seen the enormous blond figure, heard the growl, and the little 'I HATE HIM!' flag had popped up, just like that.

Well, yes, that happened a lot TOO, but that wasn't the POINT.

The point was that they worked well together. They worked together like they'd done it before. They knew each other's patterns, could interpret each other's silent hand-signals, found themselves falling into a back-to-back position when they thought they heard someone coming. It was weird. And freaky. And it implied that the hackle-raising hatred and resentment came from a time before his memory-loss, that the two of them had a History. Probably a bad one.

And just to make everything just that bit more confusing, they were getting along kind of well.

He shook his head, feeling a headache starting. He just wasn't put together right for extensive introspection. Meditation wasn't the same thing. Dropping all the thoughts out of his head and just *being* was like rolling off a log for Logan. Extensive thinking about STUFF made his head hurt.

"You hear that?" Creed murmured, easy for Logan, standing close to him, to hear but in the soft, relaxed monotone that didn't carry two feet.

Logan cocked his head and listened. He'd heard something, like a little 'ding!' that might be nothing more than a lonesome computer working away by itself, or some sort of timer of some kind, or a-

"Death... I mean, kneecapping to the oppressors!" came a faint shout. A familiar shout. A shout that demanded attention under any and all circumstances.

The two men didn't even have to look at each other before they took off running. Creed was just ahead, but even though he was a much faster runner than Logan - the adamantium weighed him down, making him work harder for every stride - but Creed didn't outdistance him. Getting split up at this point would be a Bad Idea, and they both knew it, so Creed loped along, making Logan work to keep up but not leaving him in the metaphorical dust.

After minutes that seemed like hours, they reached the scene of the battle, and Logan sucked in a harsh breath. The fight was messy and unbalanced, a confusion of shouted orders and shrill cries of defiance. Marie was handling herself okay, he noticed with relief. She'd picked a target out and was methodically pounding on him, staying out of reach, acting cagy, then when she got a chance hitting as hard as she was physically able. If the guy was lucky, he'd wind up with a lot of broken bones. If he wasn't, he'd have internal injuries as well. Most people held back a little on their punches and kicks, fearful of hurting themselves or of hitting 'too' hard. Marie had spent enough time training with him to know better than that. But she wasn't fighting very fast, favouring an injured arm, and if their opponents had been organized they could have taken her down.

Fortunately, they weren't organized. They were confused and afraid, flailing around in an effort to beat their attackers without actually getting close. Annie was in the thick of the fight, of course, flailing around with all the considerable strength that ultra-dense bone and muscle provided. She was doing okay, too, but she was too inexperienced. As soon as four or five of them attacked her at once, she'd go down and go down hard.

And then Creed let out a sharp hissing noise, and Logan followed his eyes to a skinny blond kid who had the greyish pallor of long confinement away from the sun and was moving with the awkwardness that came from the same source. A skinny blond kid who looked like something out of a cheap werewolf movie, with heavy eyebrow-ridges, claws, and dental equipment that'd shame a small bear. Oh, hell, ANOTHER one?

The elevator behind them opened, spilling out more men, more serious-looking this time, armed with the high-tech cattle-prods so beloved by these assholes. That broke the moment of assessment, and Logan heard a feral growl in eerie stereo as he and Creed bounded into the fight.

The fight was like any fight - way too fast and sporadically painful and winding up in his memory as a series of almost random images. A yelling face coming up to meet his fist in a spray of blood; Marie screaming as one of Them hit her in the injured arm, then kicking him in the groin so hard that something made a horrible squashing noise; the scrawny blond kid, pulling up his feet and kicking the way a cat does, gouging at someone's stomach with clawed toes; Annie yowling as someone stamped on her hand with an audible crunch, more in outrage than in pain; Creed hurling someone at the wall so hard that the body left a blood-trail as it slid down to the floor; the butt of a gun coming at his face so fast he almost didn't dodge it in time.

And then it was over. They were the only ones still standing. Well, Annie and Marie were both kneeling on the floor - Marie digging through the apparent commander's pockets, Annie whimpering and clutching her purpling hand. Probably broken. He spared a moment of sympathy for the kid - her powers obviously hadn't kicked in again yet, and she was clearly experiencing her first not-instantly-healing injury. But Creed was looking at it, so he went and squatted beside Marie. "Got anything?"

"Card." Marie held it up. "Looks like it's a key. Should get us through at least a few doors."

He smiled a little. "Good girl," he said approvingly. She'd remembered what he'd taught her, gone through the pockets without flinching to find anything that might be of use to them. There was a knife, too, which she pocketed, and he approved of that too. He didn't like to think of her being taken unarmed again.

He heard something and turned. "Wha..." He trailed off. He stared.

Annie had said something about 'just knowing' when she'd first seen her father at the train-station. Jean had made interested noises about Primal Instincts and Racial Memory. Logan hadn't really believed it, since Annie looked enough like Sabretooth and knew enough about him that straight recognition was perfectly feasible.

He hadn't known about this. Hadn't even suspected. But he knew, as sure as he knew the sun rose in the east and plants grew with their roots down, that the tall, surly looking boy who'd stepped out of a corridor was his blood, his kin, flesh of his flesh. There could be no doubt of it at all. His very bones ached with certainty.

The boy scowled, his handsome face creasing and his teeth showing in a sneer. "Hi, Dad," he said in a harsh, contemptuous tone. "Miss me?"

* * *

Annie couldn't help whimpering a little as she straightened out her squashed hand, using the other to pull the fingers back into alignment. It hurt a LOT, and it wasn't getting better. Pain didn't bother her so much when she could feel the broken parts knitting back together and the warm tingle of infection being defeated before it could even set in, but this just sat there broken and it HURT. She held it up to her father, sniffling a little. "It's staying broken!"

"I know," he said, in the soft, grumbly voice that was the gentlest he ever sounded. "Yer healing factor ain't working yet, and it hurts more'n yer used to." He rubbed her back awkwardly. "I'll wrap it up for ya. It'll stop hurting sooner or later."

"'kay," Annie agreed, sniffling again. It had been nearly three whole minutes already and it didn't feel like the hurt would EVER go away. Nothing had ever hurt so much for so long, not even back at the Facility during the Testing.

She struggled to keep from whimpering for the next thirty seconds or so, trying desperately to think of something, anything, besides her hand... then Geordi spoke and she forgot the pain completely, staring with wide open eyes and mouth. "You're his KID?" she squeaked.

"Yeah," Geordi agreed, lip curling unpleasantly. "Unfortunately."

There was a long moment of silence. Logan looked like he'd been kicked in the stomach. Marie was staring. Daddy was positively gaping. So was Clarice. Kyle and Jonny were looking puzzled, but they weren't really up to speed on everything. After she got her jaw back under control, Annie posed the most pressing question. "How can you be WOLVERINE'S kid? You're a WUSS!" The silence turned icy, and suddenly everyone was glaring at her. "What?"

"Annie, if you can't be tactful, shut up," Marie said flatly.

"If I did that I'd never say anything at all ever," Annie said defensively. She looked at her dad for support. "Even YOU don't think Wolverine's a wuss. Just, you know, short and stupid."

He made a small, explosive noise between a growl and a laugh. "Yeah. Pretty much. Now shut up and keep yer nose out of it."

Annie subsided, grumbling a little as he started to bandage her hand, and watched Geordi and Logan sizing each other up. They didn't look happy. Annie could not, offhand, recall seeing anyone as not-happy looking as those two, except possibly Roberto after she'd nearly chewed his finger off - his fault, of course, if he hadn't wanted her to bite him he shouldn't have tried to hit her in the mouth while said mouth was open - and she wished she knew why. She'd been happy to see HER dad. Wary, of course, because he was a brain-washed testosterone-crazed attention-seeking serial killer, but she'd still been happy. He was family, after all.

After a long couple of minutes of glaring, Geordi ostentatiously turned his back and headed over to the elevator. "Shouldn't we get going?" he said irritably. "Before they send down another batch?"

"Yeah," Logan agreed slowly, still looking stunned. "Yeah, we should keep moving."

Sabretooth nodded, tying off the strip of cannibalized t-shirt he was using to wrap Annie's hand. "The faster the better," he agreed. He stood up, and headed over to Clarice, who was still hanging onto Jonny's hand. "C'mon, squirt," he said in his mock-irritated voice, hoisting her up and sitting her on his hip as if she was a toddler. He grabbed Annie's uninjured hand with his spare one and herded them all towards the metal doors. "Okay, all o' ya, into the elevator, move it..."

Annie saw Logan boggling a little at her dad, and grinned. That'd take his mind off his ungrateful offspring.

* * *

There was an ambush, of course, but Marie had filched a gas grenade from the guy she'd been searching, along with his knife, his key-card, and his wallet. She handled it as if she were a pro, letting Annie listen to how fast they were moving and hit the emergency stop before more than a foot or so of the elevator had topped the floor. Creed and Logan popped both sets of doors, Marie heaved the grenade through the small opening where they overlapped, they let the doors close again for a few minutes, then movement of the elevator resumed, they were out and stepping over fallen bodies, badda bing badda boom ambush averted. Logan was extremely impressed, and so paternally proud that he felt like he might pop. So was everyone else except Geordi, whose attitude had gotten even worse.

But they were still stuck with three more people than they'd expected, and with no real plan as to what came next. "Steal a ride?" Creed grunted, jerking his head in the vague direction of the small garage they'd found early on.

"Nuh. Gotta be bugged," Logan said, shaking his head, his eyes constantly on the move as they pounded up the stairs to the next level. "Back to the jeep?"

"It was three days run even f'r us," Creed pointed out. He had Clarice back on his hip, her arms tight around his neck and her face hidden in his shoulder. That just looked so damn weird that Logan tried not to look at all, in case his brain exploded.

"Got a better plan?" he asked, absently poking the tip of one claw through a door. There was a frightened squeak from inside and he grinned humourlessly.

"I still say we steal a ride." Creed muttered. "So they track us. Big deal."

They were up at ground level, about to go through the front door, marching out into what was probably another ambush... but Logan wasn't too worried. He was pretty sure he could handle anything these guys could throw at him. He stepped through the door, cautiously keeping Marie behind him."I guess so. But we gotta... we gotta..." He trailed off, gaping worse than he had when the asshole brat had made his pronouncement. Beside him, Creed was doing the same thing. Annie was giggling.

The clearing was full of rubble. Trussed-up guards had been neatly stacked off to one side. In the middle was the X-Men's fancy-ass plane, and standing in front of it, his arms folded, his chin out, his uniform shiny and perfect... was Cyclops. Clean and fresh and looking like a cartoon hero, smiling that incredibly smug, self-satisfied grin. "Hi, folks," he said in that obscenely friendly, trustworthy voice.

Logan gaped. He twitched. He seethed with uncontrollable, unventable rage. That... that... that ASSHOLE! How had he found them? When had he found them? What was he doing there, bunging up Logan's rescue? That JERK! Goddamnit he was too mad to even SWEAR properly he was going to KILL the little creep he was gonna...

Scott's smile widened a carefully calculated fraction of an inch. "Need a ride?" he asked sweetly, piling perfectly timed insult on top of blatantly deliberate injury.

Logan just stared at him helplessly. That... that... augh!

* * *

Nina Allejandro picked herself cautiously up off the floor, rubbing her neck gingerly. That had been Sabretooth. He looked a lot bigger in person.

Well, so much for the current projects. The subjects were gone, a lot of important pieces of lab were broken, and if they had a single guard left she'd be very much surprised. She wasn't even sure if any of the techs had made it, let alone the real scientists.

Oh, well. She had the credentials to find other work. She shuddered, standing up slowly. She definitely would not... despite comic-book propaganda... attempt to Get Her Revenge. God, no. She never wanted to see either of those smelly, terrifying men ever again. She was a scientist, after all. Manual labour like washing test tubes and getting a hideous revenge was for lesser beings.

Besides. She'd heard the government was getting into some juicy research on mutants. It'd be nice to be official for a change.

Part 10

Creed shifted slightly, leaning back in his seat. The one here at the back of the plane was wide enough even for him, if a bit short. Annie was beside him, her head resting against his shoulder. The pain in her hand was upsetting her, and he was surprised at how much it bothered him too. Pain should be quick, soon over, not lingering like this - at least, not for her. He was used to it, but Annie had never felt anything like it before.

For such a tiny kid, Clarice was heavy. He wasn't sure how she'd ended up on his lap, but he didn't entirely object. She wasn't really all *that* heavy, and something about having a little warm thing curled up against his stomach was... nice. She'd actually gone to sleep, little fingers fisted in his furs.

He cautiously savoured the feeling of it, one leaning on his chest, the other against his side. They were warm and soft, both much too young to trigger any sort of physical interest, but... nice. He wasn't used to nice, wasn't entirely comfortable with it, but he didn't really want it to stop, either.

To distract himself from the warm fuzzy feelings, he looked around the rest of the plane. Across from him, Logan was sitting with his arm around Marie, wearing the same startled, soppy expression that kept trying to molest Creed's face. Two rows in front of him, behind One-eye and ostentatiously far away from everyone else, was the little snot who claimed to be Logan's kid. Creed believed it. The big, lanky kid was the only person who'd ever annoyed him as much and as fast as the runt. On the other side, the two boys were huddled together.

That was... odd. He hadn't felt any sort of connection with the blonde boy the way he had with Annie. Maybe the physical resemblance was just a coincidence. Or maybe the kid was too old. Annie was still a little girl, but this one had to be at least seventeen, a bit on the short side still, but with the long, stringy look of someone just coming out of the last big growth spurt. The other one, the scrawny pretty-boy, was still shorter, but if Creed was any judge he'd wind up somewhere above six foot.

He stuck like a burr to the other one, and Creed was glad he had Xavier to palm them both off on. He'd seen trauma like this before, and as far as he was concerned, Xavier could have them both as a gift.

Clarice's breath was ruffling the fur under his chin. His mind wandered fairly comprehensively at that point.

* * *

Scott brought the plane down in one of his personal best landings.

This, he thought, was his day. It was perfect. Everything had gone so right it was scary. He'd not only scooped the little lost smelly animals and the kids up without a hitch, he'd also - oh, such bliss! - completely, utterly, and totally emasculated Logan.

That thought was going to keep him warm and happy for many days to come. He coasted through the landing, the lowering of the plane into the underground hangar, and letting people know they were home in a fuzzy glow of satisfaction. He'd unmanned the hairball. Stolen his thunder, rained on his parade, completely ruined his rescue. Mmm. Happy.

*Scott, that's not nice,* Jean's voice said reprovingly in his mind.

Scott grinned. *Oh, like you didn't feel the exact same way that time when your shoes matched your purse perfectly and you ran into that blonde from your old school who was wearing-*

*Yes, well,* she sent hastily. *Get all the kids over to the Medlab. And stop irritating Logan.*

*Spoil my fun,* Scott returned good-humouredly. The whole exchange had taken place in the moment or two it had taken for the plane to settle. "Okay, everyone out."

They shuffled down the gangway, the boys looking around them curiously. Marie and Annie both stuck like glue to their protectors, and Clarice was still dozing, snuggled into one of Creed's big arm.

Scott smiled at Ororo as she came to meet them. "Hey. For those of you who don't know her, this is Ororo. She's a teacher here." He tried for a reassuring smile at the boys. "We're going to take you up to the Medlab now, and-"

"No!" The youngest boy... about fourteen, by the look of him... shook his head frantically. "No labs!"

Scott frowned, opening his mouth... and then he closed it again. "Okay," he said gently. "Listen... Jonny, right? If it'll make you more comfortable, Ororo will take you and your friend up to one of the spare rooms. You can rest there, and one of the doctors will come to you."

Jonny kept a careful distance, but the other one... Kyle?... gave Scott what was either a grateful smile or a death threat. With those teeth it was hard to tell. "We'll be there," he agreed, and the two of them headed off, like pale, skinny ducklings trailing after Ororo. They'd be fine. Ororo knew how to handle the more sensitive or traumatized kids - she'd had rough patches in her own life, and empathy sometimes worked better than sympathy.

Logan led the way to the Medlab, and Scott let him have it. He was trying to reassert his dominance, yes, but he was also genuinely concerned about Marie. Even Creed looked a little worried, presumably about Annie.

The third boy, Geordi, trailed along behind them, still maintaining a careful distance. Interestingly, Scott was getting the feeling that his aversion to the others wasn't a rejection of them as mutants. Judging by his body language, the boy was frightened and intimidated... and angry about something. The way some people, especially teenaged boys, coped with feeling that way was acting like obnoxious little monsters, and that tied with how the boy was behaving. Scott found himself empathising a little. Ororo knew what it was like to be frightened and traumatized - Scott Summers knew what it was like to cover fear with an attitude the size of a small moon. He'd been seventeen not all THAT long ago.

"Scott." They'd reached the Medlab, and Jean smiled at him as he followed Geordi inside. Her forehead furrowed a little, and she looked past him. "I thought you said there were three new students."

"There are. The other two will have to be treated in their room." He held up a hand before she could protest. "I know it's not standard procedure, but I think bringing them here would do more harm than good." He tilted his head ever so slightly towards Logan.

Jean understood, as he'd known she would. She'd picked up the edges of Logan's dreams often enough to know why the Medlab could be intimidating. "Of course," she agreed. "We'll check on Marie and Annie first, then I'll go up and-"

"Hank should go," Annie piped up. It was only then that Scott realized how quiet she'd been while Hank sat her on an examination bed and began unwrapping her hand.

Then he realized what she'd said, and he frowned. "Hank? Under the circumstances, I assumed that... a female doctor would be better," he finished lamely. Jean and Hank's eyes widened a little. Geordi blinked. None of the others seemed to be surprised.

Annie shook her head. "She looks too normal," she explained. "Jonny twitches away from Logan and Marie and Geordi, but not me or Clarice or Dad or Kyle." She looked a little sad. "The scientists woulda been human. He's less likely to be scared by a big fuzzy teddybear than someone who looks normal."

It made a nasty kind of sense, and Hank nodded. "I will do my humble best not to cause either of them any further alarm," he rumbled, putting aside the makeshift bandage. He examined Annie's hand gently. "I suspect several of the bones are broken," he continued. "This will take some time." He gave Scott a meaningful look.

Scott took the hint. "Creed, Logan," he said firmly. "We're in the way. Professor Xavier is waiting for a report, and you look to be in better shape than any of the kids." He took the time while Creed was putting Clarice down on another of the beds and gently disentangling her fingers from his wolf-furs to look over at Jean. *Is it all right to leave the boy here? He doesn't look hurt, but he's got an attitude worse than mine was when I got here... probably for the same reasons.*

*Poor kid,* Jean thought back with a sympathetic taste to her mental voice. *He's not showing it, but he's about one more scare from having hysterics right here. Hank and I'll keep an eye on him.*

Scott nodded, and firmly herded the other two men out of the room. It was a mark of how stressful the last few days had been that they let him do it.

* * *

Geordi's fingers dug into the edges of the bench. God. He didn't know what was going on, he didn't know who most of these people were, and he wanted to go home. He wanted to go home a week ago. Back to Aunt Loren and Uncle Bart, to his cousins, to his home in Vancouver with his own room and his own clothes and all the other things that made it home.

Better yet, to be back in Denver, with his mother. No, don't think about that. Can't deal with that right now.

"Hello?" The pretty redhead was smiling a professionally friendly smile at him. She'd just finished patching up the pretty girl with the skunk-hair, and he was evidently next on her list. "I'm Doctor Jean Grey."

"Geordi Logan," he said, looking down at his knees. He didn't want sympathetic smiles right now. "And don't even think about saying 'Wow, you look different without your VISOR'."

She looked puzzled. "Uh... okay." Obviously not a Star Trek fan. Good. "Are you injured at all, Geordi?"

"No," he said rather bitterly. He'd frozen. That obnoxious little girl had taken down nearly a dozen guards and he'd just been standing there unable to move a muscle. He'd never been so humiliated.

"Good." The redhead nodded, giving him another warm smile. "Now, Annie told me that all of you were given some sort of drug to inhibit your mutant powers. I'm going to need to take a blood-sample from you for testing, all right?"

Oh, great. He hated needles. But he would rather die right here, right now, than show himself up as any more of a wuss than he already had. "Sure." He shrugged out of the top of his coverall thing, letting it hang around his waist, and held out one arm. "Here." The redhead nodded, and Geordi felt a little better. Slightly less totally emasculated, anyway.

"So... I take it that you know you're a mutant?" she said, doing something with needles and cotton-balls. Geordi was determinedly not looking, in case he threw up and died of embarrassment right there.

"Yeah. Always have." He opened his mouth illustratively. "The werewolf dentistry was a big hint. Especially when I was five."

"I can imagine." She was smiling again. He couldn't see it, since he was staring determinedly at the opposite wall, but he could hear it in her voice. "And that doesn't bother you?"

He snorted. "Lady, I'm an orphaned black kid with a dorky name living in Canada, the land beloved by the Snow Gods. You think I don't have bigger problems than wacky teeth?"

"I guess that makes sense." She dabbed at his arm with something cold. "Is there someone we should be calling, Geordi? A guardian or something?"

"My aunt and uncle," he said, wincing a little as the needle dug into his arm. "I'll call them. They've gotta be going out of their minds by now."

"Probably. I'll show you where the phone is as soon as we're done here, okay?" The redhead leaned over his arm, watching the little plastic thing fill up with blood. Over her shoulder, he saw the blue furry one... who would have been intimidating if Geordi hadn't had a giant Cookie Monster doll when he was very small... pick up a bag and amble out the door, presumably to check on the other two guys. The obnoxious blonde kid was curling up for a nap, and the little pink one was already out like a light. "Listen, Geordi... I'm impressed by how well you're coping, but your heart is still going a mile a minute. Try to take some slow, deep breaths, okay?" She whipped the needle out and pressed a cotton ball against his arm, giving him another warm smile. "You're safe here," she promised. "This place is a refuge for people in trouble."

Geordi nodded slowly. "Maybe," he said noncomittally. Only an idiot went around trusting every pretty redhead who said hey, dude, you're safe! He'd wait and see.

* * *

Professor Xavier sighed, leaning back in his chair. God. This was like interviewing Bobby and John. Logan and Creed were parked in the chairs in front of Xavier's desk, ankles on knees, arms draped casually over the backs of their chairs, eyes fixed firmly on his left ear. The picture of casual defiance could only have been improved if they'd been chewing gum.

"Let me get this straight," he said patiently. "Upon the disappearance of the girls, you took it upon yourselves to steal a jeep from the school, and drive to Oregon."

They both nodded.

"Where you left it."

They both nodded.

Xavier sighed. "All right. I'll accept for now that it was probably necessary. Then you, and I quote, 'went to where the compound was'. How long, exactly, did that take?"

Logan shrugged. "Three days. Give or take."

Creed nodded. "Give or take," he agreed.

Xavier resisted an urge to roll his eyes. "And then you... ah... 'rescued the kids then came out and Cyclops was there'. Is that right."

"Yep," said Creed.

"Yep," said Logan.

Xavier gave them the long, stern, slightly sorrowful look that usually worked on the students. "Could you perhaps give me a little more detail? What the compound was being used for? Where inside the compound the youngsters were? How much fighting was involved?"

"Nope," said Logan.

"Nope," Said Creed.

In twenty years John and Bobby were going to be exactly like this. Xavier made a mental note to hand the reins of power over to Scott before that happened. "Very well, I suppose. I suggest that you go eat and... ah... freshen up a little." He gave the blood, mud, and grass stains all over the two men a disapproving look.

They smirked nastily at him and slouched out. Xavier automatically cocked an ear for bickering to start outside his door. Four days together, and the two of them had the body-language of the kind of lifelong-buddies that made life hell for authority figures everywhere. He brightened a little. If he was lucky, he'd be there to watch when the two of them realized what was going on.

*Jean?* he sent, when he was sure they were gone. *How are you doing?*

*This is definitely Logan's kid,* she sent back with a hint of amusement. *He's got a serious attitude problem which is covering up a basically good kid underneath, and he keeps thinking of me as 'the redhead'.*

Xavier couldn't help smiling a little. *Does he have any family? Parents? Someone we should contact?*

*Yes and no,* she replied, mental voice tinged with sadness. *His mother died a couple of years ago, apparently. He lives with an aunt and uncle... presumably on his mother's side. I took him to the phone-room just a few minutes ago.* The phone-room was a small, comfortable room with one or two chairs and a phone... and a closeable door. Students needed permission to use it, but they liked having somewhere where they could talk to family and friends in private.

*Good.* He paused for a moment. *Did you pick up anything we should know about?* he asked delicately. Jean had been examining the boy, and sometimes when she touched someone little flashes of what they were thinking and feeling passed to her.

*I sensed that he has a relatively happy home life,* she responded after a moment. *He misses his mother a great deal, but he's fond of his aunt and uncle, and he was anxious to let them know that he was all right. He also told me that he's known he was a mutant for some time, and I think the family knows as well.*

*Good,* Xavier said again, relaxing a little. It was a terrible but unavoidable fact that many of the students at the school had been rescued not from howling mobs or evil mutant masterminds, but their own families. *Do you have any guesses as to whether he'll go back, or want to stay here?*

Jean didn't respond for some time, and when she did, her mental voice was troubled. *I don't know if he can go back, Professor, even if he wants to. He has a healing factor just like Logan's. From what Annie's told us since she came here, I think that makes him a prime target. For everyone. He might be putting his family in danger even by being in contact with them.*

* * *

Annie bounced on her bed a few times... carefully, so as not to break the bedstead again... then flopped back and stared at the ceiling. "I'm glad we're back." She waved her cast aimlessly. She could already feel the bones starting to knit back together. The drug must have been given to them in their food, she figured, given how fast it was wearing off once they'd had a decent meal and twelve hours clear of the facility. Another few hours and they should all be back to normal.

"Me too," Clarice agreed, curling up on her bed. "I like it here. Only I wish your Dad could stay here with us."

"Me too." Annie paused and thought about it. "Only not really, because him and Mr Summers would make each other crazy. Er."

Clarice nodded in agreement. So did Marie, who was sitting on the end of Clarice's bed. "God, yes," the latter agreed. "Can you imagine the two of them spending more than ten minutes talking each other? There'd be a warp in the spacetime continuum, or something."

"Or someone's head would implode," Annie agreed. "Hey, maybe-"

"We are NOT locking them up together to see if the spacetime continuum warps," Marie said with weary firmness.

"Aww. Okay." Annie nibbled thoughtfully on the tip of one of her curls. "Do you think we're gonna stay here?"

Marie and Clarice both blinked at her. "Why wouldn't we?" Clarice asked uncertainly.

"'Cause Marie got picked up from here," Annie explained, as if it should have been obvious. "The den's been compromised." She heaved a little sigh. "Dad's probably gonna relocate us. That's what felines do, you know. Wolverine might move you too, Marie, just in case."

"He might, I guess," Marie said doubtfully.

Annie nodded sagely. They didn't believe her now, but she knew. Instincts were instincts. There was a rap on the door, and she sat up. "Did you bring us a present?" she called hopefully. A lot of people had brought candy and small plastic toys as a 'glad you're back' gift.

"Annie!" Marie hissed.

"Oh, okay, okay... you can come in even if you didn't bring us a present!" Annie called. For some reason, Marie frowned on asking for presents.

There probably wasn't one anyway, since it was her dad who stuck his head around the door. "Like you need any more stuff," he said disapprovingly, looking around the room. "Get some sleep. We're gonna stick around for a while."

Marie and Clarice both looked smug. Annie ignored them. "What've you got behind your back?" she asked curiously. He was obviously hiding something.

He blushed. He actually blushed. Annie would have been prepared to swear he didn't know how. "I... uh... went back and picked up some of our stuff. Found this." Awkwardly, he held out a fluffy, simpering pink bear.

Marie blinked.

Annie blinked.

"MISS PINKY!" Clarice squealed, making a dive for the toy. "She's alive!"

"Well, no, not really, but she's in one piece," Annie observed. "I guess my goldfish wasn't, huh?"

"Nope. All puffed up and disintigrating," her father confirmed.

Annie shrugged philosophically. "Oh, well. He wasn't any fun anyway."

Clarice left off hugging her bear for a minute to hug Creed, who coughed and looked monumentally embarrassed. Marie kindly pretended not to notice, staring thoughtfully out the window. Annie giggled. "Thank you," Clarice said, giving him another hug before going back to her bed to carefully arrange Miss Pinky on her pillow.

"Ahem.. yeah, well... uh... I'll see ya at dinner," Creed stammered, and fled.

Annie and Marie both collapsed into hysterical giggles.

* * *

Hank closed his little black bag - which Jean had bought for him as a congratulations-you're-now-a-doctor present - and gave the two boys what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He got a couple of small smiles back, and relaxed a little. "Aside from malnutrition and lack of exercise, you both seem to be in reasonably good health," he said kindly. "Given time, you will be completely physically recovered from your ordeal."

They both nodded. They reminded Hank almost absurdly of the time right after Bobby had arrived. Bobby had been twelve years old and physically and emotionally shattered. He'd refused to talk to anyone, or even look at them, until Hank had appeared. Less than a day later, Hank had all but had a siamese twin. Bobby had followed him everywhere, clinging childishly to his hand, speaking only to him and refusing to let anyone else come near him. Hank had fed him, tended his injuries, and let Bobby sleep on a camp-bed in Hank's bedroom. It had taken months of affection and reassurance, but eventually Bobby had stopped clinging, although they were still very close.

Jonny reminded him of Bobby, with the way he clung to Kyle, often holding onto his hand or his arm, trembling every time Kyle went out of his sight. Jean wouldn't approve. She hadn't approved of Bobby's near obsessive behaviour, either, but Hank had argued that the boy needed security more than independence at that time. He'd been proved right, too... when Bobby started feeling secure and protected, he'd gradually let go of his dependence on Hank. Jonny would too, he thought, given time. So he didn't say anything, just smiled reassuringly at both of them. "I know I can count on you to make sure Jonny eats and rests," he told Kyle. The older boy nodded solemnly, patting Jonny's thin hand as it clutched at his arm. "And Jonny, you make sure Kyle looks after himself. You're both going to need to eat, rest, and maybe have a little exercise. If you like, I'll show you around the estate tomorrow."

"Okay," Jonny said shyly. It was the first time he'd spoken, and Hank took that for a good sign. He also discovered for the first time that the boy was British.

"Do either of you have families whom you wish to contact?" he asked tentatively. This was always a sticky question. "You are under no obligations to do so, of course, if you don't wish to. If you do, just let me know and I'll make the necessary arrangements." He paused for a moment. Since neither of them said anything, he plowed ahead. "I've brought some clothes that might fit you," he offered, pointing to the pile of 'Xavier Institute' grey sweats, along with some t-shirts and underwear. "Not precisely the epitome of sartorial splendour, but better than the prison-uniforms you are currently wearing. More clothes will be provided for you tomorrow. Do you have any questions?"

"Are the girls okay?" Kyle asked. Jonny nodded and looked inquiringly at Hank.

Hank smiled. "I assure you, the young ladies are perfectly well. Annie's hand has been set, and Marie's graze stitched. You will see all three of them at dinner, which I will come and get you for." He stood up, giving them another of his kindliest smiles. "I suspect you would both like some time to change your garments and... think things over?"

They nodded, and Jonny dredged up another small smile. "Thanks."

"My pleasure, my boy, I assure you." He risked giving the boy a very gentle pat on the shoulder. "I will return in approximately two hours."

* * *

"Hey," Logan said awkwardly. Someone had issued the boy with a room, and some regulation Xavier Institute grey sweats. There was a whole room full of sweatsuits somewhere in the building, he remembered, sized from newborn to Creed-huge, in case kids turned up with no luggage. Apparently it happened fairly often.

The boy was sitting on the bed, looking down at his bare feet. "What do you want?" he muttered, without looking up.

"T' talk to you." He hadn't been invited, but he came in anyway, sitting down on the plain but comfortable chair next to the room's empty book-case. Xavier furnished the student's rooms well. "Look, kid..."

"I'm not a kid," the boy said in a dull monotone.

"Yeah, you are. And I guess you're my kid." Logan shrugged, painfully embarrassed but desperate to learn the truth. "Yer... what? Seventeen? Eighteen?"

"Nearly eighteen," the boy muttered.

"Right. Did I... what happened?" Logan asked, not sure how to start. "Did I just disappear, or what?"

"Yeah. That's pretty much it," the boy said bitterly. "You met Mom, you married Mom, settled down, everything was great, then I was born, and just after my first birthday, you vanished off the face of the earth. No note, nothin'."

Logan nodded slowly, his heart aching for the bitter hurt in the boy's voice, and his fists clenching at this new realization of what the Weapon X program had cost him. "It fits," he said quietly. "Kid... Geordi... my memories start fifteen years ago. I don't know who I was before that, don't know anything about my life... hell, I don't even know my own name." He shook his head. "Logan, that's all I know. Don't even know if it's my first or last name."

"Last," the boy muttered, still not looking at him. "James Owen Logan. How'd you lose your memory?"

Logan was silent for a long moment. James. James Owen. It... wasn't bad. It felt... well, it wasn't a perfect fit, but it was okay. "I was... put in a program," he said slowly. "Pseudo-military. Creed was in it too, I think, but I ain't sure. I don't remember much of it anymore. First thing I remember clearly is wakin' up in the snow, naked except for some kinda dogtags around my neck, with a big hole where my memory oughta be."

For the first time, the boy looked him in the eye. "Yeah. Right," he said, voice heavy with irony. "You were kidnapped by evil military geniuses so they could make you into some kinda supersoldier or something. Where'd they take you, Roswell?"

Logan growled. "I know it sounds farfetched, but it's the truth," he insisted, holding onto his temper with both hands. "Ask Xavier. Ask Cyclops, you seemed to like him." He held up one hand, and, making sure the kid was watching, popped his claws. "And *this* is what they did to me."

The boy stared. He didn't look scared... which was surprising in itself... just stunned.

Logan sighed, retracting the claws and wincing as they cut through skin and muscle. "Look, kid..."

He didn't get any further. The boy held up one hand - fist closed, fingers towards him, just like Logan had done it - and gritted his teeth. A big *something* erupted out of the back of his hand, ivory-pale and tinged with blood from the splitting skin, and it took Logan a minute to realize that the thing was like a merged-together version of his own claws, a leaf-shaped blade of bone that extended over the boy's hand a good six inches, with edges that looked razor sharp and a wicked, slightly hooked point. Blinking, he met the boy's eyes again.

"Got 'em in both hands," the boy gritted out, smiling grimly at his father's stunned expression. "Yours probably started out bone, too." He retracted the bone-blade, wincing and pressing the fingers of his other hand over the four-inch slash across the back of his broad hand. Blood welled up for a moment, then the cut began to close. "Popped them for the first time when I was thirteen," he said in an almost conversational tone. "Freaked me out like you wouldn't believe."

"How do you think I felt the first time I saw mine?" Logan asked, his emotions so twisted and muddled that he wasn't sure how to feel.

"The same, I guess." Some of the hostility went out of the boy, and he gave his father a measuring look. "Lost your memory, huh?"

Logan nodded. "Xavier found the place where it happened," he confirmed. "I went there. Nothing there now except a few old buildings and a lot of slash marks on the wall that fit my claws, so I guess I... kinda went nuts."

"Don't blame you." The boy stood up, gracing him with a lopsided smile. "Look, I'm not saying I like you, okay? But I guess you do have some kinda excuse for pulling a fast fade. So I'm not gonna keep getting on your case about it."

"Thanks. 'Preciate it," Logan said, and he did. Standing up in close proximity, he realized all over again that the boy was at least six inches taller than he was. Judging by the smug grin, he'd noticed it too. "Stop smirkin'. We gotta get down t' dinner before all the good stuff's gone."

* * *

It had been a long week.

A very, very, VERY long week.

Dinner on the first day alone had been an exercise in the maintenance of sanity. Jonny had been twitchy, Kyle had snarled at Kitty, Marie had dropped her tray because of her injured arm and gotten pudding over half the junior class, Geordi had suffered through a dozen or so jokes about his name before stuffing a handful of jello down Bobby's neck and stalking out, Annie had gotten so overexcited that she'd accidentally set a table on fire, and Clarice had burst into tears with delayed shock and had to be put to bed with a cup of warm milk. And that was without even taking into account the behaviour of all the OTHER students...

And then they'd tried to go back to normal. Geordi had turned out to be academically ahead of every other student they had... and hadn't hesitated to make it known. Jonny and Kyle had flatly refused to even go to classes, and had to be tutored in their room by Hank. Marie was tense and cranky with the pain of her arm, Clarice had refused to go anywhere without an adult, and Annie kept hyping herself up on sugar. And that had gotten all the other students overexcited...

Ororo sighed, leaning back against a tree and closing her eyes. She loved working at the school, interacting with so many vibrantly alive young people, but sometimes she just wanted some peace. And quiet. And preferably solitude.

"Hey."

So much for solitude. And peace. She sat up and opened her eyes to find her field of vision filled with Sabretooth. "What do you want?" she demanded ungraciously.

He growled softly. "One o' the brats is howling for ya," he said ungraciously, plopping himself down beside another tree. "And won't shut up."

"I do not care," Ororo sighed, leaning back again. "They can fight it out amongst themselves."

Sabretooth made what might have been an approving noise. "It'll do 'em good," he agreed, lying back on the grass and closing his eyes. "Gonna have to learn to solve their own problems someday."

Ororo permitted herself a small grunt. She personally subscribed to the throw-them-out-of-the-nest-to-make-them-fly theory of adolescent care, but the pampered Ivy League Mom-and-apple-pie section of the teaching staff insisted on gentle encouragement. Fine. Let THEM cope with whatever the current crisis was. Although finding herself in agreement with Sabretooth was unsettling, to say the least.

"You don't like me," he said, eyes still closed.

"You are correct. I do not like you at all," she said flatly, not closing HER eyes for a moment.

"Good. I don't like you either." He cracked an eye open and looked at her assessingly. "Although yer smarter than most of the cream-fed halfwits around here."

Ororo blinked. "Well... thank you."

"No charge." He closed the eye again, the very image of an enormous, smugly contented housecat who knows that no matter what anyone else thinks, HE holds the ultimate power.

Ororo fought down a ferocious desire to kick him in the groin. "I do not fear you, either."

He grinned, not bothering to open his eyes again. "Sure you do. But you hide it real good. Most can't hide it at all."

Ororo seethed, getting to her feet. "I am going back to the house," she said icily.

"Knock yerself out," he said cheerfully. Then he sat up, eyes opening. "Someone's coming."

It was Leah, one of the most senior students, running towards them with her worried face on. Having three eyes made wrinkling one's forehead a bit problematical, but Leah managed it. "Ms Monroe!" she called anxiously. "The Professor wants you back at the school right away!"

Ororo nodded. "Did he say why?"

Leah shook her head, all three green eyes blinking in nervous sequence. "No, but Magneto's escaped from prison, we heard it on the news and- eep!"

Leah's eep was a perfectly natural response to being knocked into Ororo's arms by Sabretooth, who'd bolted for the mansion. Ororo blinked. "Now, why on earth..."

"I heard he worked for Magneto," Leah observed, getting her feet under her again. "I guess I wouldn't want to change sides on Magneto then have him get out of prison and find out about it."

"...No." Ororo sometimes forgot how much the students knew about the teachers' supposed secrets. "Neither would I." She frowned after the big man. "I wonder what he's doing."

Epilogue

Marie pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes, squinting up into the clear blue sky. Grass tickled her bare toes, and a warm breeze lifted he hair on her arms.

It'd been eight weeks since Magneto had escaped from prison, and she still didn't know much about what had happened. Before she'd heard more than a few panicked 'Oh god he's loose help eee' bits on the radio, Logan had grabbed her and carried her bodily to her room, ordering her to pack her duffel and be in front of the house in ten minutes.

Marie had made a virtue of being able to pack everything she needed... and everything that was important to her... into the duffel, ever since she arrived at the school. She could also do it fairly fast. So she'd been down in front of the house in time to see Logan all but physically throw Geordi out the door, then get shoved out himself by Creed, who had Clarice under his arm. Clarice, Marie recalled, had been wearing a resigned expression as she was hauled around like a bag of laundry.

Then Annie had come out too, carrying two duffels, one of them probably Clarice's since it had pink bunny stickers all over it, and towing Kyle and Jonny, who both looked baffled. Creed and Logan, working in eerie unison, had hastily stuffed all six teenagers into an oversized Jeep and the next thing Marie remembered clearly was Annie talking over the radio, and the startled looks the men had exchanged when they'd realized that a) they'd both grabbed 'their' kids and bolted for a safer hideaway and b) they were in the same car.

THAT had been funny. So had the lengthy arguments the two of them had engaged in before finally accepting that they were going to have to work together to keep 'the cubs' safe. Neither of them had seen fit to ask Annie why she'd brought Kyle and Jonny. Presumably they were afraid she'd answer.

Anyway. Four days later they'd arrived here, here being a hut somewhere high up and in back of the Welsh mountains, and had effectively hit the ground running. All morning, every morning, they trained. Hand to hand combat at first, although they'd been promised a start on edged weapons soon. Healthy barefoot six mile runs. Rock climbing. As much clean-living basic training the two despots who called themselves men could fit in. A quick lunch, and then it was chores. Hunting, fishing, cleaning, cutting wood, survival training, another six mile run... then dinner, a quick wash, sleep, and the whole thing starting over again.

This, apparently, was the Creed And Logan Method of preparing the 'cubs' for anything. The first three weeks had been hell for everyone except Annie. Now, though, the grumbles were starting to quiet down. They were all getting stronger and more alert, moving faster and more surely. It was nice to have the I-can-do-anything feeling of *almost* scoring a good hit on Sabretooth before breakfast. And the food was pretty good... both men agreed that meat and vegetable meals two or three times a day were essential parts of a training regime, along with a solid seven or eight hours of sleep for everyone still growing.

And they got the afternoon off every five days. The first three weeks they'd spent the extra time sleeping. Now...

Marie straightened up, pointed her arms above her head, and grabbed a tree-branch, swinging herself up easily. She sat on the branch for a moment, then scrambled further up the tree, until she reached the last of the branches that could hold her. The ground was hidden by leaves and branches now and she made herself comfortable in a sort of leafy green cave, pulling a book out of the front of her t-shirt.

Off to her left, she could hear splashing, as Annie and Kyle practiced catching fish with their bare hands. Fresh fish for dinner. Good. Jonny and Clarice weren't with them, for once - Logan had dragged them off for an impromptu botany lesson. (This is good to eat, this isn't, this is good to eat, this isn't) Geordi was on firewood duty again, and she could hear the thunk-thunk of bad-tempered axe-strokes.

She didn't know where Sabretooth was. Around someplace.

She opened her book, a small handwritten volume in a worn leather cover. "Being a Study of the Art of Invisibility, or Escaping Undesired Detection," she spelled out, leaning back against the tree. "By Richard Maven. It is undeniable fact that there is none so effectively invisible as he who fitteth into his surroundings so seamlessly that he passeth unremarked. Thereby, the first action of invisibility is observation..."

(The End)

Author's Note: As Godless ended, so too doth SDF... with even more teasing cliffhangers... Needless to say, being the shameless feedback hussy I am, the more feedback I get, the more likely I am to write the third series of the arc. Yes, I'm shameless. Feedback please? :)