Chapter 15

Authors Note: I hadn't realized that two of the Chapters were the same! Oh wow. So no one ever read this chapter? I could kick myself for that! Eesh!

Authors Note 2: I'm glad that those who've read the story so far liked it! To answer one of the questions. . . Logan talks so much to Kaldraya, I hope because he has some things in common with her. I tried to make it so that he would see some of himself in her and therefore start the friendship that in the second story might turn out to help him. I loved Wolverine in both the show, the movie, and the comics. I hated how he was always alone, so I wanted to try and make that better here.

Chris wasn't out of the ward yet and it was about eight o'clock. He'd told me to go when Jean prepared a table to examine his injuries. I objected, but Jean had insisted, on his behalf, because no doctor, or patient, wanted an audience for medical procedures. I'd made him promise to find me after and complied with their wishes.

I wanted to do something, but the television was taken, the game systems had a line of people waiting on the sofas and the floor. It would be about an hour before I even got close to a game controller.

Going to the library wasn't very appealing, I wasn't in the mood to just sit and read. The only other option was the Danger Room. As I thought about it, the better the idea formulated in my mind.

The silver doors flashed open as soon as I got within a few feet. No one else was in the room, I breathed a sigh of relief.

I studied the panel on the glass room. There were so many options to pick from. Snow, rain, sun, sleet, hail, desert storm. . . the list went on and on. Then in another bold category there was terrain to choose from. Mountains, desert, plains, field, glacier, city. If I was going to fight something I would rather start off on level ground.

The computer screen blinked red and it had a list of weapons. I didn't have to browse through this one, I knew what I wanted to use. I liked that the computer would randomly put a weapon in the course every few minutes if I wanted it. Of course, if I somehow lost the knives it would be nice to have a small arsenal at my disposal.

I opened the door to the room after reading the synopsis of the scenario. I was supposed to protect the girl in the middle of the room from any assailants. That was fine by me, I could hurt them, they could hurt me, the girl wouldn't fight. First sign of blood and the room would shut down.

As three of them swarmed to the girl, I should have set the difficulty to intermediate. This was going to be more difficult than I'd imagined. I was pretty good with my knives, the men disappeared after I cut, or stabbed, them once. I worked in a small circle around the girl, she started a bright green color. As I killed the twelfth guy she was dull green.

Oops, she'd taken some damage. The men came in increments of three or four. At around twenty-three I was perspiring, exhausted, and the girl was orange. I assumed when she got to be red the simulation would end. There were various weapons lying around the room, none of which I had been able to get to.

My arms were bruised, my ribs hurt, my back throbbed from where one of them had kicked me. The men had altered and learned to block some of my attacks. Like Chris said, though, I fought dirty. One-hit kills, or I tried for them, some of the men had blocked my arm with bruising force.

"Damnit," I cursed. The girl hadn't turned just turned red. She cried heartbreakingly, screamed so shrilly that my skin broke out in goosebumps, and then disappeared with a tragic look in my direction. I was trying to breathe, one of the bastards had gotten a good kick to my stomach. I was sprawled against the wall, both knives in front of me on the ground, trying not to vomit.

"So, you figured out how that works." Logan stated from the doorway.

"Yeah," I gasped, "I over-exaggerated my ability a little bit."

"Took about thirty of them out," he grinned, "not bad."

"I got lucky," I laughed, regretting it immediately. I wasn't going to try to move yet, my stomach threatned to release its contents at the thought. "And it was more like twenty-five."

Logan sat with his back braced against the doorframe. "You need to see Jean?"

"Nope," I focused on taking long, deep breaths, "I'm going to try again in a few minutes."

"Stay there," Logan shrugged out of his jacket.

"You heading out?" I asked hoping that he would say no. I had hardly seen him since his return and he was one of the few people at the school that I had long conversations with. The others were great, some of them were good friends, but with Chris and Logan I felt connected.

"Going to the Canadian Rockies," he stepped over to the control panel, "Chuck's given me a lead I want to follow."

The girl reappeared, Logan stood braced in front of me, claws extended. "You wanted to see me fight, you said?"

I watched, awe-struck, as Logan took out one guy after the other. He must have raised the skill level, men filled the room, never ceasing. Logan moved swiftly between them as if dancing, he moved confidently, lethally.

He blocked attacks, parried, his claws flashed faster than I could track. He growled every now and then as one of the men hit him before quickly dispatching them. It was amazing. It seemed that he moved without thinking, instinct taking over, killing without thinking. His body and mind were in sync with one another, he didn't plan an attack like I tried, he threw himself into the fray and decimated all of them.

I stood up, no nausea, clear-headed, good, I was back on track. My body was a riot of pain, but that was dulling as I watched him. If I was half as good one day I'd be happy.

"Gonna stand there all night?" Logan quirked a brow at me smiling as he beheaded one of the men.

I grabbed my knives and stood back to back with him. I let my mind relax working with reflexes and surety trying to be as fluid as he was. Stab on in the throat, catch one in the stomach, turn to my left, slash one across the chest, right, knock his legs out from under him, knife in the heart.

I felt good, alive again, someday I'd have to see a psychologist and figure out why the only time I felt alive was when I was fighting. For now, it made me feel at peace, I didnt' want to mess with it.

I remembered the mall, I forced all the rage into my hands. The flames were bright green, emerald, I hurled them at the two lines of men that appeared in front of me. I was aware of Logan's position, I didn't want to catch him in the cross-fire. He hadn't moved, trusting me to watch his back, I didn't know whether to be flattered or worried for him.

I threw the flames, caught my breath as the men disappeared. Damn. Maybe I'd talk to the psychologist about my anger issues, too. Whatever, it worked for me, I'd worry about that later, as well.

I don't know how long we were there, but when it ended, sucessfully, I collapsed to my knees and Logan wiped his face free of perspiration and blood. He had tampered with the controls, I, too, had bled a few times, but I healed with a flash of green.

I blushed as I took stock of my position. I dropped my knives and slid back against the wall. Logan seemed unaware of the source to my embarassment.

"Nice job," he remarked throwing me a water bottle from inside his jacket.

"Thanks, you were... astounding. Incredible, I've never seen anyone fight that way before. Jesus," I shook my head, "and you're not even tired."

"You know why?"

"No, why?" I had the feeling I was walking into a trap, but his eyes were serious. Golden, beautiful, dangerous, still shining with the adrenaline brought on by a hundred men all trying to kill him.

"I sleep and eat well," he chuckled. "Try it sometime."

"Yeah, yeah," I repeated his earlier dismissal, "you heading out now?"

It was appreciation of the male form, that was all, I told myself while watching him shrug into his jacket. How could I not respond to all that power, masculinity, capability. One of those things could lead to the falling of a girl, combine all three and what should I have expected? I had always been attracted to the bad boys. Logan wasn't a boy, he was also unattainable, I could see the flashing warning signs in my head.

"Take care of yourself, Fira," he said gruffly. His eyes saw too much, I knew then that he was aware of how I felt. I wasn't mortified, why bother hiding it? It was a natural reaction, one he might not share, but I'd get over it, we'd still be friends, the world would still turn. It didn't hurt, I accepted it, I'd wanted movie-stars, didn't mean I was going to go after them.

"You too, I'll see you when you get back." I got shakily to my feet. "Be careful out there, okay?"

"What fun is that," he didn't look surprised when I hugged him goodbye. He looked as if he were going to say something, but he shook his head looking at me with an unreadable expression. Was that regret in his eyes? No, I was fooling myself. He patted me on the back roughly, I laughed at the 'guy hug,' yeah, I knew.

I watched him walk out of the room with a twinge of... something. Mixed with that was contentment, between Logan and Chris I had found a family. I gave in to the demands of my body, smiling despite the emotins warring in my mind. The wall was cool against my back, it felt good to sit, relax, think in privacy and peace. It was morning before I opened my eyes again.

"Draya?" I awoke to Chris staring down at me.

"Shit!" I reached for my knife, it wasn't under my pillow, I wasn't in my bedroom. "What the hell?"

"Logan told me you might be here," he gave me a minute to adjust myself to my surroundings. How the- oh, I'd fallen asleep, I was in the Danger Room. Chris offered me a hand, I took it and let him haul me to my feet.

Parts of my body were asleep, other parts hurt like hell. Chris watched amused as I cursed, stretched, tried to get my legs to hold me and move where I wanted them to.

"Rough night?"

"Shut up," I rolled my eyes, "damn, this hurts."

"Shower," he said simply.

"Did you say Logan told you I'd be here?"

"Yep, I was heading up to my room, he said that I'd find you here if you weren't anywhere else. He was going somewhere, I think. You have a thing for him?"

"No," I retorted, "he's my teacher."

"Cause that's stopped you before," Chris laughed wickedly catching me around the waist as I reached for a wall. My list of rules was getting longer. Stretch before working out, pay attention to my level of exhaustion, stretch after working out, shower immediately, don't fall asleep on the floor.

"What time is it," I wasn't wearing a watch, how long had I been asleep on the floor? I was glad it had been Chris to wake me up and not a class.

"Seven," he replied handing me my knives.

"Damnit," I took the elevator with Chris, I didn't have time for the stairs. "I didn't finish my paper."

"Sunday," he said showing me his watch, I read the time, date, and day. "No classes today."

"Oh," I felt idiotic, "right. How are you feeling?"

The cut on his face was a lot better and his hand was healing. He didn't have a wrap on it or anything, he'd never wanted to wear band-aids. Neither did I, for that matter, we both hated them.

"Never better," he held the elevator doors open for me, "I told you I was fine."

"Sure you were," I shot him a droll look, "I'm glad you aren't limping anymore."

"I was never limping, you are, though."

"I'm doing no such thing, I'm tired, that's all."

"Shower," Chris opened the bathroom door, "I'm going to eat something."

"Save me some pancakes?"

"Hurry up and maybe they'll be some left," he chucked as the door closed behind me. I could feel the steam from someone's shower dissolve on my skin. The shower was going to be amazing, heat, warmth, I needed to wake up.

Dressed in black goth pants, a red corset, and fishnet hand ties of the same color I went to check on the pancakes. I was starving, I hadn't had anything to eat the other day except for a couple of sodas and a sandwich.

The kitchen was relatively empty, only a few were seated around the table. Most were around the television playing the new game. A lot of the kids had gone home early, summer was coming, there were only a few days left of classes.

I ate a few pieces of toast, three pieces of bacon, and a link of sausage. I grabbed an apple, never let it be said that I don't eat, and went for my morning cigarette.

"Fira!" Jubilee called, "you in for a round of basketball?"

"Er- no thanks," I replied, "sports, not my thing." Fighting was one thing, athletics another. Gym class was not my forte, I couldn't dribble, shoot a puck, serve a volleyball, the only thing I was relatively good at was badminton.

Chris held out a plate as I finished my cigarette, two pancakes were on the plate. I groaned in my head, my stomach couldn't take much more food, but I ate them knowing that he'd saved them for me, per my request.

"You, basketball," he laughed, "want to try out the new knives later?"

"Sure," I replied enthusiastically, "think you can take me?"

"I've never had a problem kicking your ass," Jean turned slightly at that remark but it was an old conversation to us.

"Yeah, if I had my hands tied behind my back maybe." I grinned, "you might have a slim chance, then."

"Hey, Jean? Chris?" Cyclops came into the room. "I want to talk to you about something."

Uh-oh, an authoritative aura surrounded him, though it may have been his clothes. He wore a light blue shirt, khaki pants, brown loafters. Compared to the black, silver, and leather between Chris and I, we seemed out of place.

"What's the matter," Jean asked kissing him good morning.

"Oh, hi, Kaldraya," he said surprised to see me.

"Hey," I replied cheerfully, "what's up?"

"I just wanted to bring up the matter of Chris' attire..." he started staring at me. "Er- of the dress code at school."

"What's the matter with my clothes," Chris asked eyes narrowing a little.

"Nothings wrong with them. They're just a little. . . inappropriate." He finished.

"Inappropriate?" I repeated incredulously, what was wrong with them? I looked at Chris' black dragon shirt, it was tame compared to the others I'd seen in school. His pants had no picture on them, but he had a chain attached from the belt loops.

"Yes, all the skulls and swords. I think they might be sending a bad message to the other kids."

"Well they're going to hate it when he finds out about the daggers, isn't he." Chris asked in a stage whisper. I saw Jean's lips twitch but she wisely kept silent and didn't let the laughter escape.

"And Kaldraya, aren't your clothes a little... provocative? " he paused, "you have daggers?"

"Knives, really, Chris and I bought them at the mall yesterday." I replied showing him.

"Are they real?"

"Mirror finished, sharpened, and sharp enough to cleave a rock in two," Chris handled the knife with dexterity and talent treating it as though it were precious. One had to respect dangerous weapons, especially when those weapons had saved our asses at some point in our lives.

"Maybe not a rock," I continued loving the look on his face, "but a thick piece of wood definitely, either that or bone."

We shouldn't have been teasing one of our Professors, but the rapidly changing expressions on his face made it worth it. Indignation, disapproval, censure, curiousity, it was fascinating.

"Besides, these are the only type of clothes that I have," Chris stated before Scott could say anything else.

"You were at a mall," Scott pointed out, "Your bike's in the garage, you have enough time to go and buy new clothes."

"You mean like yours?" Chris asked lightly. This time I heard a small muffled sound come from Jean. She looked amazed at Chris' defiance, but amused at Scott.

"Yes, exactly," he continued missing the playful sarcasm. "And, Draya, jeans, shirts, I've seen you wear them."

"But-"

"Oh leave them alone, Scott." Jean admonished softly, "they're not hurting anyone, nor have they caused any trouble."

"Yes, but. . ."

"Thank you, Dr. Grey," I interrupted before he could say anything else, "you're awesome."

"You be careful, both of you," she sent a pointed look to the knives we were holding, "We don't need a second trip here today."

"Knives! On school property! They aren't hurting anyone-"

We left her and Scott to talk quietly, but before Chris closed the door I saw her go over and kiss him again. I smiled, she'd distract him, I'd try to lay off the corsets and fishnets in the future. I liked it here, and he was right, I did have other clothes.

I didn't have anything to prove to anyone, my style was my own, but I could tone it down and still be me. I liked Scott, in a way, he was clean-cut, a good guy, like us now. We were X-men, as the kids put it. Family, I hadn't had much luck in getting along with my real family, but there was a chance here.

I'd be glad to take it. I laughed as Chris tackled me to the ground. It hurt, but not as much as my body had in the morning. We wrestled for awhile before going for the knives. It was like old times, practicing in an abandoned parking lot, away from the cops and our parents.

He seemed content, too, which I was glad to see. Some of the hostility and anger had faded in the few short days he'd been here. He held his arm behind his back and made a 'bring it on' motion with his free hand.

I rolled my eyes thrusting my knife at him. He moved quickly out of reach, this was all play today. I wasn't trying to hurt him, nor was he going for blood.

Who would have guessed that running away from home would bring me to a new one? I missed Logan, I hope he finds what he's looking for. I'd like to see some of the feral restlessness leave him, too, though I doubt it. He's the Wolverine, untameable, free-spirited, no one would tie him down.

Yes, I still like him, but I like Chris, too. There's a difference between the two, but, as I've said, I feel connected to both of them. Whereas there might be chance somewhere with Chris, there isn't with Logan, and I'm okay with all of it.

I have a purpose, I'm training, doing something with my life. I'm not going to ask for more... at least not yet. I'm... I almost dare to say it... happy. Xavier's given me something immeasurable, priceless, he's given me somewhere to belong. Somewhere to call home, people to love and be protected by, a good education, everything I wanted 'once upon a time.'

And, hey, maybe we'll get to save the world one day.

One can only hope.