You wake up warm with a heavy weight just under your pecs with a hand holding one. Seeing it’s still dark outside and unsure what woke you, you decide to go back to sleep. Upon hearing the obvious man lightly snoring behind you, you wiggle, turning into his warmth and nuzzling against his naked, soft hairy chest, closing your eyes, and wrapping an arm across his torso. Placing a gentle kiss against his chest, he gingerly squeezes you against him, keeping you secure in his arm. Relaxing against him, you barely smile and slightly nuzzle his chest again. His warm hand begins to rub up and down your shirtless back and you feel a kiss in your hair. “Sorry,” you whisper, knowing he is a light sleeper.

“It’s ok, bubbah,” he whispers back. “You okay?” He nuzzles his chin against your short hair, affectionately.

“Yeah,” you yawn. “Not sure what woke me.” Humming as you relax against him.

“It’s about to rain,” he answered your indirect question.

“Oh.” Opening your eyes and tilting your head back a little, you look at the open blinds and see heat lightning jumping from cloud to cloud, feeling the energy lightly move through your body. “Thunderstorm,” you advise.

“That’s why my bones ache,” he chuckled, before stretching. You can hear many metal joints crack as he does. He wraps his arm back around you, holding you close against him.

“Lo, want me to rub anything?” You offer tiredly, not wanting him in pain.

“Nah, baby boy. I’m good.” He slides you up a little, having you rest your head on his chest, tilting your head up and gives you a forehead kiss. Wrinkling your nose at his ticklish scruff rubbing against your skin. “Thanks for offerin’.”

“Course.” You kiss his chest again. “Don’t want you in pain.” He hums.

Closing your eyes, you focus back on him rubbing his head rough fingertips up and down your spine. He always helps you get back to sleep when you wake in the night. Different forms of electromagnetic energy waking you up as your nervous system “lights up and hums” from it is how you've described it to him.

He knows that once the storm is in full gear, you won’t be able to sleep until the lightning stops or it moves far enough away to where you can sense it. Your body begins to feel heavy, his warmth lulling you back to sleep with the light buzzing of the heat lightning seems to complement it.

When your breathing evens out, Logan readjusts your sleeping form and pulls you onto his chest as he lies down on his back. He loves having you as his personal weighted blanket but knows you tend to overheat. It doesn’t bother you when a storm or similar occurrence is coming though since, for whatever reason, your body cools down as energy grows stronger around you.

He wraps his arms around you, holding you to him, and listens to the storm. He’s pretty sure you’ve got about an hour or two before it wakes and energizes you. He smirks knowing that you’ll be fully awake with lots of energy, needing to dispel it through “physical means”.

Before him, you’d go outside to run in the rain and lightning until you exhausted yourself which lasted until it moved far enough away for you to no longer sense it either. Ending up sleeping for nearly 36 hours afterwards.

Now, however, Logan and you thoroughly enjoy each others’ bodies for hours on end. You have the energy and stamina to keep up with his practically nonexistent refractory. Sadly, your backdoor tends to grow sore, with no healing factor, after so long but his doesn’t. And then you sleep only for 12 hours or so after since you were able to disperse the energy from your nervous system.

Logan still took missions now and then—short ones, mostly recon or rescue, nothing too far. He always promised to come home. And he always did. But this time… he said it might take longer. His voice had been low that morning, almost hesitant.

He’d left early that morning, as always—pressing a kiss to your forehead, whispering “I’ll be back before you know it,” he’d promised, brushing a kiss across Elena’s curls and fist-bumping Kai with a grin that masked his own nerves. You hugged him longer than usual. You didn’t know why. Something in your chest tugged harder this time, like a string that wouldn’t unknot.

Then he was gone.

The first week passed in silence. The second brought snow. The third made your stomach twist every time the phone didn’t ring. You tried not to panic, but you didn’t sleep much. The twins asked when he’d be back. You told them soon, even when your voice cracked on the word. You stared at the drive every day, heart tight in your chest, ears tuned for the crunch of tires on gravel. The fourth nearly broke you.

And then—one late night, the cabin lights dim, your tea long gone cold—there was the crunch of boots in the snow outside. The front door opened with a familiar groan. You ran barefoot to the front door, heart in your throat. And there he was.

Logan stood there, hair tousled, jacket heavy with travel and snow, exhaustion bleeding from his bones. But his eyes... they went straight to you. Full of something more than tiredness. Something close to guilt.

And behind him—half-tucked behind the edge of his coat—was a child.

She couldn’t have been more than 10. Dark hair. Sharp eyes like his. Small, defiant posture. Her clothes were too big, her shoes worn out, but her gaze never wavered from yours.

You froze. Cold flooded your chest faster than the winter wind ever could. Your mind raced—did he lie to you? Cheat? Your heart shattered in your chest even as you told yourself not to jump to conclusions. But you couldn’t stop the way your face twisted, the silent question forming sharp and cold in your eyes:

Is she yours?

He saw it. God, he saw it instantly. And before you could speak, before you could turn away, Logan stepped forward and said softly, hoarse and low:

“She’s mine. But not... not like you think.”

He explained everything. The lab. The experiment. How they used his DNA without his knowing. How she was hunted. How she had no one. How he didn’t know until he saw her—until he looked her in the eyes and knew.

“Her name’s Laura,” he whispered. “She’s… she’s my kid. And she’s scared. And angry. And she didn’t ask for any of this.”

He paused, lowering his voice further. “Neither did you.”

You didn’t say anything. Not for a long time. You just looked at the child—at Laura—who had tucked herself silently into the corner of the hallway now, one eye still peeking out.

You saw it then. The same ache you’d seen in Logan once. The wildness. The guarded heart. And beneath all that, a quiet, desperate want to belong.

You exhaled slowly, stepping aside without a word. Logan met your eyes again, relief flashing in them like a match to dry bark.

You turned toward the girl. “Laura,” you said softly. “You hungry?”

There was a beat of silence.

Then a slow, hesitant nod.

And just like that, your family grew by one more flame.

Not in the way you expected.

But in the way you were meant to.

Logan excused himself to the bathroom.

You moved quietly, padding through the dimly lit hallway while Laura sat at the table behind you,chewing cautiously through her toast and sausages like someone who hadn’t had a proper meal in days. She didn’t say much—barely spoke at all—but she didn’t flinch when you placed the plate in front of her, didn’t resist when you handed her a folded stack of old clothes and pointed her toward the guest room to change. You gave her your old sweatshirt—the one that had shrunk in the dryer years ago—and a pair of drawstring sweatpants. It swallowed her whole, but it was warm. And she accepted it.

The soft click of the bathroom door closing echoed gently as you stood in front of it.

You knocked once. Didn’t wait.

The door creaked open and the scent of steam, snow, and exhaustion greeted you. Logan stood shirtless by the sink, wiping the fogged mirror with a towel. Bruises bloomed down his ribs—old and healing—but the weariness on his face looked deeper than anything physical. He was breathing slow, steady, arms braced on either side of the basin like he’d only just managed to keep himself upright long enough to get this far.

He looked up at you through the mirror.

You didn’t speak at first.

Instead, you stepped in and closed the door behind you.

“She’s eating,” you said softly.

He nodded. “Good.”

“She let me change her clothes. I think she’s calming down.”

Logan stared at his reflection a little too long. “She’s been through hell,” he muttered. “She doesn’t… trust easy.”

“Neither did you.”

That made him look at you.

His eyes were tired, yes—but there was something more there now. That stormy, uncertain emotion he hadn’t figured out how to name. Guilt. Worry. The fear that this—this—might break what he’s built with you.

You walked toward him slowly, your voice quiet.

“You think I’m angry.”

He didn’t answer, jaw tightening just slightly.

You reached out, fingers grazing his wrist.

“I’m not. I was scared. For you. For us. But not angry.”

“She’s mine,” he said, barely above a whisper. “Not because I wanted it… but because they made her. Because they used me.”

You nodded. “And she didn’t ask for any of it.”

He closed his eyes.

“I didn’t think I’d ever have more than this,” he confessed, voice cracked. “You. The twins. I didn’t think I’d get to grow old. I still don’t know if I deserve to.”

You stepped closer, wrapping your arms slowly around his waist.

“You do,” you murmured into his chest. “And she deserves someone who stays.”

He breathed deeply. Shakily. His hand came up to rest against your back, fingers pressing gently like he still couldn’t believe you were real.

“I just brought a whole lot of mess through that door,” he muttered.

You smiled against his skin.

“We’ve cleaned up worse.”

And for the first time since he walked through the door, Logan let himself rest—his forehead dropping against yours, exhaling the weight of a month’s silence. There was more ahead—more to navigate, more to heal. But you were still here.

Your voice came out quieter than you intended, almost swallowed by the hum of the bathroom fan and the dripping tap.

“I thought you weren’t coming back.”

His head jerked slightly, gaze lifting to meet yours. The words hit him harder than any blow he'd taken out there in the field. You weren’t accusing him. You weren’t angry. You were just… tired. Ache sitting heavy in your chest from the silence, the worry, the not-knowing.

“I wanted to,” he said, voice rough. “Every damn day.”

You crossed your arms loosely, blinking hard. “Then why didn’t you call? Text? Something?”

He turned then, slowly, like his bones were heavier than usual. “Because I didn’t know if I’d make it back in one piece. Didn’t want to promise something I couldn’t keep.”

You swallowed. “That wasn’t your choice to make for me.”

He exhaled, hands falling helplessly at his sides. “I know.”

You stepped forward, just close enough that the heat between you could be felt again.

“You’re here now,” you murmured. “That has to count for something.”

“It does,” he rasped. “And I’m not leavin’ again unless I got a damn good reason.”

A beat.

Then quieter, rawer:

“I thought I lost everything… and the only thing that kept me breathing was knowing I still had you.”

Your eyes burned.

He reached for you, slowly, carefully—like asking permission. When you didn’t flinch, he pulled you into him, wrapping himself around you like he’d never let go again.

And behind you, somewhere down the hall, the quiet sound of a child’s footsteps padded softly on wood.

Laura adjusted fast—faster than you expected. Maybe it was the twins, maybe it was the warmth of the cabin, maybe it was you. But by the second morning, she was sitting cross-legged at the kitchen table, elbows in her syrup, coloring beside Kai and Elena like she’d been there forever. No words, just nods and small smiles. She didn’t need to talk much. The twins did enough for all three of them.

Crayons were scattered across the table—yours and Logan’s once-clear dining surface now a battlefield of doodles, mismatched socks, and stuffed animals. You didn’t mind. The clutter was a sign of life, of healing.

Later that week, all five of you packed into the truck and made a run into town. Laura was wary at first, flinching at the sound of the automatic doors, tensing when someone got too close—but she stuck close to your side, hand tucked lightly in your hoodie, and by aisle three, she was arguing with Kai about cereal brands.

Logan didn’t say much, just kept a steady eye on everyone while he filled the cart with things Laura might need—new socks, warm sweaters, toothpaste with glitter in it (because Elena insisted she’d like it), and boots a size too big so she could grow into them.

The final stop was pizza. You picked it up on the way home, greasy boxes warming your lap in the passenger seat, while the backseat exploded in a debate about pineapple toppings.

Logan glanced over at you at a red light, that half-smile on his face. “We’re outnumbered now.”

You grinned, brushing a crumb off your shirt. “You just noticed?”

When you got home, the kids carried the bags inside like it was a mission. You stayed on the porch for a second, watching Logan as he wrangled two backpacks and a box of juice boxes under one arm. He caught you looking and gave you a knowing look.

“Still think I two-timed you?” he teased gently, nudging your hip as he passed.

You smirked. “I did for like five minutes. Now I think fate’s just got a weird sense of humor.”

Laura paused in the doorway, eyes wide with something like wonder, watching the others kick off their shoes and collapse onto the floor in a pile of laughter. And then, for the first time, she smiled—small, fleeting, but real.

Inside, the cabin filled with the scent of melted cheese and garlic as the kids threw their jackets in every direction except the hooks you’d asked them to use a thousand times.

Elena hopped up on the kitchen stool, bouncing as she opened the pizza boxes. “This one’s mine! I called dibs on the pepperoni!”

Kai groaned, flopping onto the rug. “You always call dibs. That’s not how democracy works!”

“You don’t even know what democracy means,” Elena shot back.

Laura stood near the counter, quiet but watching them like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to jump into the chaos.

You leaned beside her, setting down paper plates. “You don’t have to fight for pizza here. We over-order on purpose.”

Laura looked up at you, a hesitant flicker of amusement in her eyes. “Why?”

“So no one dies over the last slice,” Logan grunted, walking past with juice boxes under his arm.

The twins snorted. Laura blinked—and let out the smallest snicker.

You passed her a plate with a folded slice of cheese pizza. “Sit wherever you like. Floor’s fair game.”

She hesitated for a moment, then followed the twins to the living room, where the three of them arranged themselves on the floor with plates in their laps, half-watching the cartoons flickering on the TV.

You sank into the couch beside Logan, your legs tucked under you, shoulder brushing his. “She’s opening up.”

He nodded, but his eyes were heavy, tired, guilt buried deep. “I didn’t know. About her.”

“I know.”

“She’s got claws,” he said quietly. “Like me. Same rage, same… loneliness. I see it in her.”

You rested your head against his arm. “She won’t be alone anymore.”

He looked down at you. “You sure about that? Taking all this on?”

You gave him a mock glare. “Logan, I kept you. That’s already the hardest part.”

That earned a low chuckle, the kind that buzzed in his chest. “Fair.”

Elena popped up from the floor, holding a slice like it was a scroll. “Daddy, Laura said she never had a birthday party.”

Logan raised a brow. “Is that true?”

Laura blinked, caught in the spotlight. Slowly, she nodded.

Elena turned to you. “Can we throw her one? Like a real one? With balloons and cake and hats and maybe a pony—”

“No ponies,” you laughed. “But yes. We’ll throw her the best late birthday ever.”

Laura’s face was unreadable, but her eyes were wide again—uncertain, maybe overwhelmed, but not afraid.

Kai added, “She can pick the cake flavor. But I swear if it’s carrot cake, I’m protesting.”

“I like chocolate,” Laura said softly.

“See?” Kai grinned. “She’s already one of us.”

Later that night, the house settled into quiet. You were folding laundry on the bed when Logan came out of the bathroom, towel slung around his neck. He watched you for a long moment, then leaned down to kiss your temple.

“We did okay,” he murmured.

You folded one of Laura’s shirts, small and soft in your hands. “Yeah,” you whispered back. “We really did.”

And for once, the house was full—not just of noise or people, but of something deeper. Love, quietly stitched into everyday messes.

Family, in its rawest, realest form.

And that’s a wrap for this series. From the chaos of unexpected arrivals to quiet moments of pizza, crayons, and found family, this story has been my way of showing how love can sneak into your life and set up camp without asking permission. Thank you for walking with me through the laughter, the soft touches, the stubborn silences, and the moments that say stay without needing words.

If you’ve read every update, waited patiently for new chapters, or even just stumbled here by accident and stayed — thank you. You’ve been part of the heartbeat behind this story. I hope you laughed, maybe cried a little over my cliffhanger, and most of all, felt something.

I’ll miss writing them like this — but maybe they’ll wander back when we least expect it.

Your periods are your worst nightmare. Every month for one week you experience the worst pain anything can ever bring you; even with your mutation, the pain is rough. When you started dating Logan, he never knew the right way to comfort you. This man would get you chocolate, your favorite food, run a bath, and try a cuddle with you; yet the pain would still be there, and he felt hopeless. Logan has heightened senses, so he knows your entire cycle, from your mood swings in your follicular phase to the nonstop horniness in your ovulation stage to the dreading menstruation phase. 

He loves you with all his heart, but sometimes it can get a little overwhelming for him because he hates to see you in pain, especially the type of pain he doesn’t know how to cure. 

“Princess?” Logan says quietly, walking into your dark shared room. You hum in response as you are curled up in your bed. “Can I get you anything?” He walks over to the side of the bed and rubs your back.

“No,” you briefly state. He sighs softly and moves to get up from the bed. “Stay,” you say, lower than a whisper. A slow smile creeps up on his face before looking at you, your back still facing him.

He kicks off his shoes then joins you in bed, wrapping you in his arms and holding you all night, wishing he could give you his strong healing powers so you can be back on your feet.

They moved in comfortable silence until he spoke, his tone casual. “So, Ororo says you’ve been reading more these days. What’s got you hooked?”

Eva glanced up at him, a bit caught off guard by his interest, then back down at her feet, a tiny smile creeping onto her face. “I like it,” she admitted, her voice soft but steady. “Ororo… she’s been teaching me, and it feels like I’m learning something new each time.” She hesitated, then added, “I think I like that it’s… safe. I can get lost in something that isn’t… me.”

Logan nodded, looking out over the trees as they walked. “That’s the thing about books, isn’t it? Doesn’t matter what’s going on around you—they give you a place to be. I get that.” He shot her a side glance, his voice softer than usual. “Anything stand out? Something you keep thinking about?”

She paused, choosing her words carefully. “There was a story about this spider, Charlotte,” she said, her voice nearly a whisper. “She was just… doing what she could to protect her friend, even though she was small and everyone thought she couldn’t do much.”

Logan’s mouth quirked into a subtle smile. “Ah, Charlotte’s Web. Tough little spider. Had a lot of smarts.” He took a moment, glancing at her. “You ever think you’re a little like her?”

Eva blinked, her cheeks turning pink at the unexpected comparison. “I… no, not really. I don’t think I’m much of anything. Not like her, at least.”

“Maybe you don’t see it yet,” he replied, his tone unwavering. “But you got more in you than you give yourself credit for. Takes a certain kind of strength to start over like you’re doing.”

She didn’t respond immediately, her fingers nervously tracing the edge of her sleeve, but there was something softer in her expression, a cautious pride that hadn’t been there before.

They continued on in silence, and Logan found himself feeling a kind of relief, like a weight lifting off him. He didn’t need to push her; he’d just let her find herself one step at a time.

***

Later that day, Logan found himself seeking out Ororo and Jean, who were talking in the common area, their heads turning in unison as he approached. Ororo raised an eyebrow, a small smile already forming as she watched Logan’s typically gruff approach soften ever so slightly.

“Ororo, Jean,” Logan started, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Need a favor.”

Jean exchanged a quick, amused glance with Ororo. “Is that so, Logan?” she asked, her tone playfully suspicious. “What kind of favor are we talking about?”

Logan looked away, a hint of embarrassment flashing in his expression. “It’s… for Eva,” he muttered. Logan shifted uncomfortably, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, uh… I was thinkin’. Eva’s been doing alright, better than I expected, actually. She’s getting stronger.” He hesitated, then exhaled. “She’s put on a little weight, too—starting to look more like herself. Figured it’s about time she got some clothes that fit her right. Thought maybe the two of you could take her out.”

Jean raised an eyebrow, her lips curving in a grin. “And why not you, Logan? Why not show her that you’ve got an eye for fashion?”

Logan rolled his eyes, muttering, “Last thing she needs is me grumbling my way through a clothing store. Besides,” he added, rubbing the back of his neck, “figured she’d feel safer with the two of you, more… at ease. I don’t want her to feel like she’s gotta worry about what I think.”

Ororo’s smile softened. “Logan, that’s thoughtful of you. We’d be happy to take her shopping. I’ll make sure she feels right at home. But are you sure you don’t want to come along?”

Logan grunted, shaking his head. “No need for her to deal with my ugly mug the whole time. I’ll cover it if need be, just make sure she’s alright.”

Jean laid a hand on his shoulder, her gaze kind. “Logan, you’re doing more than looking out for her. It’s clear you care. And she’ll feel that. We’ll take her out when she’s ready, don’t worry.”

Logan grumbled softly, shaking his head. “You two don’t get any ideas,” he muttered, but there was no irritation in his voice, only a gruff sincerity that both women could see through.

Ororo patted his shoulder, a hint of pride in her voice. “We’ll let you know how it goes. And don’t worry—Eva’s safe with us.”

Jean and Ororo shared a smile as Logan turned to go, but they couldn’t help the warmth that lingered, grateful to see a side of Logan they hadn’t seen in a long time.

***

After a week of careful encouragement, Logan decided Eva might be ready for a small step forward. The next time they met for their walk, he suggested the idea.

“Eva,” he said as they walked under the sprawling trees that lined the campus, “I think you’re ready to meet some of the other students. Just a quick pass through the training grounds—no pressure. Just me and you.”

She stopped, looking away, her fingers twisting together nervously. “I… I don’t know. What if I mess something up?”

Logan’s voice was calm but firm. “There’s nothing to mess up, Eva. They’re just people like you, all figuring it out in their own ways. But if you’re not ready, we don’t have to push it.”

She glanced back at him, searching his face for reassurance. “Will you… you’ll be there, right? The whole time?”

He nodded, holding her gaze. “Every second. We stay as long as you want, and if you need to leave, we’re gone. It’s your call, alright?”

Her face softened, a small flicker of determination breaking through her worry. “Thank you, Logan. I… I think I can do it if you’re there.”

They continued on, the silence between them now laced with a quiet understanding. Logan didn’t need to say it aloud, but he knew she could feel his support. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

***

The morning sunlight streamed through the high windows of Xavier’s, casting warm patches of light across the polished floors. Logan walked beside Eva through the hallways, showing her around the place he’d called home for so many years. She watched every room and corridor with wide, curious eyes, the corners of her lips hinting at a smile that hadn’t come easily to her before.

Logan noticed this shift and felt something tug at his chest. The school was new to her, yes, but it was more than that—it was as if she was seeing something she’d never imagined. Each classroom they passed, each echo of laughter from down the hall seemed to fill her with a kind of wonder that felt fragile and tentative.

“You alright?” he asked, his voice softened by her quiet awe.

She looked up at him, the small smile staying just a little longer this time. “I’m… good. It’s… all of this,” she said, motioning to the classrooms and paintings and students wandering past. “It’s just… so much.”

He couldn’t help but notice the small bounce in her step, how she was now looking at the school not with fear, but with a genuine curiosity and maybe even a bit of hope. For all she’d been through, she seemed to be taking it in with a kind of reverence, and it struck him how much she’d lost in her life. How much she’d never had the chance to be. For the first time, Logan found himself wondering just how different her life might have been if things had gone another way.

They walked out onto the courtyard, and he pointed out some of the older students. “C’mon,” he said, nodding toward a small group standing by the fountain. “Might as well introduce you.”

Eva slowed, and Logan felt her fingers brush his sleeve. As they got closer, she hesitated, her grip tightening until she was holding onto his hand. He glanced down in surprise; she hadn’t held his hand before. But he could feel the nerves in her grip, the way her fingers trembled slightly. She wasn’t exactly scared—just unsure.

He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, keeping his tone easy. “You’re good, alright? These kids know what it’s like. You don’t need to be anyone but you.”

They stopped by the fountain, where Rogue and Bobby were talking. Rogue noticed them first, giving Logan a warm nod before turning her gaze to Eva with a gentle smile.

“Hey there,” Rogue said softly, her Southern drawl warm and friendly. “You must be Eva. I’m Rogue, and this here’s Bobby.”

Eva nodded shyly, her hand still holding Logan’s tightly. She opened her mouth to say something, but hesitated, her cheeks flushing.

Bobby, always quick to break the ice, grinned at her. “So, you’re training with Logan, huh? That’s pretty cool. Takes a tough soul to hang with him.”

Eva’s face softened a little, a small, uncertain laugh slipping out, and Logan felt her hand loosen in his. She still didn’t say much, but Rogue stepped in, clearly picking up on her hesitation.

“We were just about to head over to the dining hall,” Rogue said, her voice soft and easy. “They’ve got the good muffins today. You like blueberry?”

Eva blinked, a little taken aback by the question, then managed a small nod. “I… yes, I like blueberry. I think I do,” she murmured, her voice so soft that Logan had to lean in to hear it.

Rogue’s smile grew, gentle and understanding. “Good choice. Those are my favorite, too. Why don’t you come with us, grab a snack? No pressure.”

Eva glanced up at Logan, and he nodded, giving her hand a final squeeze before letting go. “You’re in good hands,” he assured her.

As they left, Rogue turned to her, guiding the conversation with practiced ease, and Logan watched them go, a strange warmth settling in his chest. For the first time, he felt she was truly beginning to believe she might belong here.

***

When the day ended, Logan found her waiting for him by the lake under their tree. She held a book in her lap, the cover worn and soft from repeated use. As he approached, she glanced up, a smile softening her features.

“Thank you… for today,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “For… being there.”

“Did better than alright,” he replied, sitting down beside her. He let the silence stretch between them for a while, watching as the fading sun cast its amber glow across the water.

After a pause, she looked down, her voice small. “I want… I want you to know that I’m trying. And I’m grateful, but sometimes… sometimes I feel like I’m not enough. Like I should be more than this. Better.”

Logan’s gaze remained fixed on the lake, his voice steady. “You don’t owe anybody anything, Eva. Not a single person here. What we want—what I want—is for you to be you. Not some version of you, not what you think we expect. Just you.”

She took a shaky breath, her fingers tracing the edge of the book. “I’ll… try to remember that,” she murmured, her voice just barely holding back a tremor of emotion. “It’s just… hard.”

Logan gave a faint nod, letting the weight of her words settle around them. “No one’s asking you to do it all at once. We’ve got time.”

After a beat, she opened her book, and with a small, tentative smile, she began to read. It was soft at first, her voice wavering over the words, but as she went on, her voice grew steadier. Logan closed his eyes, the sound of her voice and the rustle of the evening breeze a quiet reassurance.

For now, that was all they needed. And for the first time, he found himself believing that maybe, just maybe, things would be alright.

***

It was deep into the night when the nightmare struck, ripping Eva from any peace she’d managed to hold onto. In her room, objects began to tremble, her powers releasing waves of pure, unrestrained force. The air around her crackled with tension, her hands trembling as she wrestled against the terror inside her. Charles was there, reaching through the darkness to try and touch her mind, to quiet the chaos, but it was as if she’d walled herself off completely.

“Eva,” he called out, his voice laced with worry, but her mind was distant, the thick haze of fear blotting out any reason.

Logan, hearing the crash from down the hall, arrived to find her room torn apart by invisible hands, the force of her powers spinning through the space. He didn’t hesitate, despite the brutal energy emanating from her—it was like she’d transformed into something wild and unchained. He could see she was in the throes of her nightmare, her arms wrapped around herself as she screamed, lost to the horrors in her own mind.

“Eva!” he called, stepping forward.

The second he got close, her powers lashed out, sending him crashing backward. Blood oozed from a deep cut across his brow, but he pushed forward again. She screamed once more, the wave stronger, hitting him with a force that knocked him back into the wall. His body ached, a line of blood trailing down his cheek, but he moved in again, this time fighting against the force with everything he had.

Finally, Logan reached her. Ignoring his injuries, he held onto her arms, calling her name.

"Eva. It’s me. Wake up—it's Logan." His voice was gentle, firm, like a tether to pull her from the darkness.

Her eyes snapped open, taking him in with a panicked, stricken gaze. She saw the blood on his face, his beaten form, and her entire body went still with horror.

“Logan,” she whispered, voice choked. She shrank back from him, clutching her arms as if to make herself smaller, as if to disappear. She backed into a corner, every muscle tight with fear. “Oh god, I… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to…”

Logan could see that look in her eyes, the same haunted fear she’d had the first time he’d seen her in that lab—afraid, caged, convinced she was nothing more than the monster they’d made her out to be. He took a step forward, but she flinched, her hand flying up to push him back with an instinctive surge of her powers.

“Please, Eva,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m here. Just let me help you.”

But she continued to withdraw, her eyes filling with tears. She was shaking, her breath shallow and rapid. He could see the self-loathing and guilt tearing through her, her chest rising and falling with frantic breaths as if her very skin was something to hide from.

Ignoring his own pain, Logan moved in slowly, keeping his movements calm and deliberate. He reached out, catching her hand in his, and then, gently, he brought it to his head, letting her touch the tangled thoughts and memories swirling inside him. He didn’t pull back, letting her feel every part of his mind, letting her see herself the way he saw her.

“You’re safe,” he whispered as he held her hand to his head, showing her the quiet moments he’d spent watching her laugh at the lake, or how she looked when she read to him under the tree. There was no hatred, no fear—just warmth. In his thoughts, she was human, vibrant, and real, a person he had come to care for, scars and all.

Slowly, he felt her begin to relax. The tension in her shoulders eased, her breathing slowed, and her grip on his hand softened. Her head leaned forward, resting against his chest, and finally, finally, she drifted back into a deep, healing sleep.

***

After making sure she was resting soundly, Logan slipped out of her room, shutting the door quietly behind him. Charles was waiting in the dimly lit hallway, his face etched with worry.

“Logan, are you alright?” Charles asked, noting the bruises and blood still staining his skin.

Logan waved it off. “I’m fine,” he muttered, wiping at the cut on his brow. But his expression was far from casual; his eyes held a fierce determination. “What the hell happened back there, Charles?”

Charles sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “She’s been trying to manage her powers, but the mental and emotional strain has been overwhelming her. I suspect that in her dream, those suppressed memories broke through, and her powers—well, they respond to her emotional state. When she feels threatened, they manifest.”

Logan’s jaw tightened. “I’ve seen that look before, Charles. I’ve seen it in her every time she feels like she’s hurt someone. She’s haunted by it. She doesn’t want to be what they made her into.”

Charles nodded solemnly. “It’s as if she’s at war within herself. A part of her is terrified of what she can do, of what she’s been forced to do in the past. And I felt that same terror in her tonight… When she saw you, wounded because of her powers, she broke. She couldn’t bear the thought of hurting you.”

Logan stared down the hallway, his gaze distant but intense. “She thinks she’s just a weapon, Charles. Like she’s nothing else.” He shook his head, voice thick with a feeling he was still struggling to name. “We have to help her see she’s more than that. We can’t let her keep carrying this alone.”

Charles’s eyes softened as he watched Logan’s reaction. “You’ve come to care about her, haven’t you, Logan?”

Logan was silent for a long moment, wrestling with his own thoughts. Finally, he nodded, a deep sadness mixed with something almost protective in his expression. “Yeah, I do. I hate seeing her like this—believing she’s not worth anything more than what they did to her. I just want her to see what I see.”

Charles placed a reassuring hand on Logan’s shoulder. “That’s the most powerful thing you can give her, Logan. Someone who believes in her when she doesn’t believe in herself. We can teach her how to control her powers. But what she needs most… is hope.”