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Xavier met the Blackbird, knowing more or less who and what to expect from Scott's somewhat disjointed radio message. Authorities took away Toad. Mystique and Magneto were placed on stretchers and attended by doctors. Scott seemed disgruntled. Jean and Storm appeared tired and frayed around the edges. A huge, black football player bounded out of the craft. Xavier started. Someone famous, he knew, but he couldn't place the name.
"Hiya, Teach!" And Rogue charged for the elevator, eager to show off her new toy.
Logan emerged last wearing only a pair of jeans. He looked thin, pale, drawn, his hair frizzy as if it had been subjected to heat. But Xavier noticed that the wild, hunted tension that habitually shadowed the man's eyes was missing. Instead . . . Was it peace? And if Logan felt more at peace with himself, then he was more at peace with the world.
"It's good to see you, Logan. Welcome home."
"Yeah. Thanks, Chuck. It's good to be . . . home."
"Did you find your past?"
Logan's eyes flicked away, back. "I found my present. And that's enough." He gave a rueful laugh. "For now."
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