Work Text:
I’ve been gone so long
I’ve lost count of the years.
Well, I sang some sad songs,
Oh yes, and cried some bad tears.
The rumble of an engine and the smell of exhaust kicked Logan's alertness into overdrive even before the van turned onto the long drive that led to the farm where he'd taken refuge with the kids. Plans whirled through his mind, all of them variants of 'kill them all then get the kids out.'
He extended his claws and stepped forward, paused when he heard Travis open the front door and start to step outside. "Get back," he called. "Protect the kids. I've got this."
The door shut, and Logan continued to eye the van warily as it approached. It was new-looking, painted silver, not a typical government vehicle.
Nor did the driver look like a typical government agent. He was skinny and pale, and looked to be wearing a cardigan rather than a suit.
He stopped the van maybe fifteen feet from Logan, held up his empty hands in a gesture of submission, though he held Logan's gaze steadily. "I'm not here to hurt you," he called through the glass?
"Why the hell should I trust you?" Logan snarled. "Step out of the van. Slowly."
The man popped his door and slid out, giving Logan his first good look at him. He was quite tall and surprisingly young, probably early twenties. He was lean and fit, with short dark hair, a few days growth of beard, and deeply blue eyes. There was something just slightly odd about his scent, but nothing that seemed like a threat.
"My name is Hank McCoy," he said. "I came to offer you and the kids a safe place to stay, a place for people like us."
"Us?" Logan asked skeptically.
The kid blushed. Damn but he was cute when he was flustered. Then he began to change, getting taller and broader, settling into a form that was vaguely feline and very, very blue. "Us," he repeated, his voice deeper and huskier, fangs showing as he smiled.
"How did you know we were here?" Logan wasn't quite ready to put away his claws or trust this guy.
"One of us is a precog. She said there are a number of futures where you join us." Hank shifted back to his other form.
"I'm not one for joining shit, not anymore." He'd been a soldier for a century, but he was done with that.
"What about the kids? Do you really want to raise them alone? Protect them alone?"
Not really. He just hadn't thought he had a choice. And he knew they were still too close to Alkali Lake, too vulnerable. They had to move on. "Where is this place?"
"Outside of New York."
Maybe a thousand miles away. Good. He sheathed his claws. "Let's go inside and talk."
They settled in the living room, where Logan never felt quite comfortable. It was too cozy, too much of a home for an old loner like him. He settled in an armchair, nerves still thrumming.
Jimmy sat quietly on the floor next to Travis' chair, watching warily. His scalp showed the barest fuzz of blond hair that couldn't begin to camouflage the surgical scars. Laura, still barely more than a baby, just learning to toddle on unsteady legs, was curled up in Heather's arms. And Jade leaned against Logan's leg, defiantly projecting her preferred -- and expressly forbidden by her father -- form to everyone.
"This place -- how many of us are there?" Logan asked, cutting to the chase.
"Only ten so far," Hank admitted.
"And you're sure the kids will be safe there?" Heather asked, arms tightening protectively around Laura.
"Yes, ma'am," Hank answered. "It's a large estate, very secluded, and a long way from the base where Logan and the kids were held, and many of us have skills useful in a fight."
"Do you have room for two more?"
Travis's eyes widened and his head swivelled toward his wife. "What?"
"I mean it. I want to go with them, watch these kids grow up. We've mourned enough. It's time to move on."
Travis nodded slowly then looked at Hank. "So you got room for us?"
Hank clearly hadn't expected this, but he answered without hesitation. "Of course."
Logan looked at Jimmy, then at Jade. "Kids? What do you think?"
Jimmy said nothing at first. Jade said, "He feels like he's telling the truth. We can trust him." Jade's skills were mostly related to producing illusions, but she was also a strong empath and a touch-telepath.
Jimmy nodded soberly. "Okay."
Hank smiled. "Then let's get going. Our precog said there was a small chance Stryker's men will find us if we linger too long. So pack quickly."
Travis rose, walked to the mantel, picked up the photos of their son. "We're packed," he said, looking at his wife.
She nodded. "We're packed."
Minutes later, they were on the highway and headed for a private airport.
