DISCLAIMER: All characters (except Tatiana, who is mine) belong to Marvel.

Wolverine sighed as he entered the dimly lit restaurant. It was crowded and noisy, just the kind of place he needed that night. One corner of his mouth tipped up in a wry half-grin as he scanned the myriad of faces that presented themselves. It had been a while since he'd been here. This restaurant had been a favorite of his in happier days. The laughter and shouts drowned out all thought, but he hadn’t come there to think. He had come there to forget.

A smiling waiter approached. “How many this evening, sir?” he asked. Wolverine frowned; the man’s cheerful tone grated.

“One,” he answered. Something in the man’s eyes faded, but the smile remained.

“Very good. Follow me.” Wolverine did so silently, his eyes continually perusing the room. It was about two minutes before the waiter found him a table for two located near the back of the restaurant. “Here you are, sir. Someone will be by in a moment to take your order.” Wolverine nodded and sat, morosely staring at the table.

It had been exactly two months that day since Alkali Lake, but the passage of time didn’t make things any easier to deal with. He closed his eyes and shuddered as he remembered what had taken place there. The only good thing that had come of it was his tentative friendship with Scott and a temporary cessation of anti-mutant hostilities. But that was it. Even if more good had come of it, nothing could make up for Jean's death. Jean... He took a deep breath and rubbed his temples wearily. He needed a drink. "Hey," someone said. "Are you all right?"

He looked at the speaker and was pleasantly surprised by what he saw. The speaker was a young woman who appeared to be about 25 years old. She was about 5'0" and couldn’t have weighed more than 100 lbs. Her generously curved body was graceful and athletic. The clothes she was wearing accentuated it. Her long black hair cascaded down her back in shimmering waves except for a few tendrils that framed her delicately featured and somewhat pale face. But it was her emerald green eyes that caught his attention; they seemed to hold an infinite measure of sorrow and the compassion it brings in their bottomless depths. He looked away, unsettled by her questioning gaze. "Yeah," he muttered. The woman frowned and cocked her head slightly, obviously not believing him. "No, really, I am," he protested.

The stranger’s eyes narrowed for a moment and Wolverine's head tingled for just a moment like it did when the Professor… or Jean… read his mind. He peered at her suspiciously as her eyes widened in understanding. "You came here to forget," she whispered. Startled, his narrowed eyes widened and he hesitantly nodded. How did she know? It’s none of her business, he thought angrily. Why is she here?

He was unsure of what it was about this woman that unsettled him, but something did. It wasn’t her beauty…or her voice. Then what was it? Could it be that she had known why he was there when he hadn’t said a word? He stared at her intently for a moment, wishing he knew what was going on behind the smooth mask she wore. The woman paused and took a deep breath before continuing. "I did too."

Her last statement jolted Wolverine to the core. Apparently, she was there for the same reason he was. I wonder who (or what) she’s trying to forget, he mused. There was a brief silence as he scrutinized the woman one more time. Maybe there’s more to her than meets the eyes, he admitted grudgingly. He frowned; what if this was some clever ruse and she wasn't who she said she was at all? Then again, he was a little curious. It can't hurt to find out. After all, she was only one woman…and a petite one at that.

He gave a low grunt and a slight nod of acknowledgement. "Why...why don’t you join me?" he asked. He immediately wished he hadn't invited her; he had come here to be alone with his thoughts and memories, not to meet up with some woman with eyes that seemed to hold the mysteries of the universe. Then again, he had come to forget. Well, she should help with that. If nothing else, she would take his mind off of Jean and all the might-have-beens.

“I’d be honored,” she replied, gracefully seating herself in the chair across from his. Wolverine wondered if she came here often or even lived there. A small chuckle interrupted his thoughts, and he glanced at her curiously.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, hoping she wasn’t laughing at him.

“Well, it’s just that I’m eating dinner with you and I don’t even know your name,” she answered. Her gaze turned serious and she leaned towards slightly. “What is your name, anyway?”

“I’m Logan,” he answered, extending a hand. He relaxed slightly when she accepted it, shaking it firmly. She’s got quite a grip, he thought as he withdrew his hand.

“And I’m Tatiana. It’s nice to meet you, Logan.”