Reacquainted Souls
by
Zerelda X


X-men belong to Marvel. Charlotte, Thomas, and Matthew belong to me. Luna Foundation and its inhabitants belong to MGM/Showtime/Trilogy. No profit, no foul. Strictly for entertainment.

---

Charlotte sat on a large boulder down near the water's edge, idly tossing in rocks. She squinted up at the noonday sun, noting it was almost time for lunch.

It had been just fourteen days since she brought him here. The idea was to spend time together, see where this relationship might lead, if anywhere. She knew how she felt, but she couldn't trust the feeling created by the pressures of war and loss. So far, things had been okay. Over the last six months they had talked by phone weekly, he had visited her when she was in New York, she'd gone back to the mansion several times for the weekend. She didn't count the time he was here during Remy's stay. All very nice and platonic. And very unfulfilling.

Bringing him here was a serious step on her part. This place was her refuge from the stress of a long life. If they were to make it, he had to understand and be comfortable here. It was too easy getting use to having a man around the house again, even one so young.

During the days he wandered the compound, meditated, climbed the mountain, made use of her gym and watched sports games on the satellite TV. She worked on her various projects, cooked enormous meals, and watched him through the surveillance cameras.

In the evenings they sat together in the library, her drinking brandy or port, Logan drinking beer or bourbon, and talked. He told her things he remembered about himself, stories about the X-Men and their various missions. She told him about her life, the different people she'd known, some of her experiences during the wars. He didn't judge her, nor she him. They grew comfortable with each other. She found herself looking forward to the evenings.

Each night they retired late, her to her upstairs suite, him to the first floor guest room. And she would lie awake until nearly dawn, thinking about him directly below her, wishing he was next to her. It was a good thing a person needed less sleep as they grew older. He often woke late, looking grumpy and scruffy, and entirely too appealing to her senses.

A sound behind her got her attention, but she already knew he was approaching her from behind. Can't hide things from a telepath.

He climbed up on the rock and settled himself next to her. He didn't speak. He didn't need to.

"Thinking 'bout goin' back. Promised Jubilee I'd take her to New York for a weekend before school started again to shop. Don't know how she got me to agree, but I did."

"When you leaving?" *Already?*

"A few days." *Or weeks, months. How about decades?*

"I'll miss you. I've gotten used to having you around," she said.

"You could come with me, an' stay the winter. See how ya like it." Stay with him forever.

"I'll have to think about that." What think? She was lost to him and she knew it.

"I'll try an' make ya see things my way."

She laughed. "I'll look forward to that."

A challenge, just the opening he'd been looking for. He stopped and pulled her close, pressing his lips to hers, waiting for her to respond before deepening the kiss.

Charlotte felt her knees weaken, felt her head spin. She wound her arms around his neck, opening her mouth to his. She was barely aware he scooped her up, carrying her easily into the house and up the stairs to her bedroom.

He stepped in and set her down, taking her face in his hands. Her eyes opened, wide, glowing. Logan saw the kindred soul he remembered from those years ago, the one he fell in love with. In the last crystal-clear moment of rational thought he realized he was never going to leave her. Ever.

~*~*~*~*~

Well, Charlotte thought to herself several hours later, that was pretty good convincing. The sex was every bit as good as the long decades remembering promised it would be. He had been tireless, showing her no mercy, her wanting none.

She stretched, wincing at protesting muscles she'd forgotten she had for more than a quarter century. Sliding out of bed carefully, she looked back.

He was sprawled amid the rumpled sheets, his tanned skin even darker the white linen. The harsh lines of his body, his face, looked exhausted in his sleep. Someone else hadn't been sleeping well, either. She could see the healing scratches on his back, evidence of her loss of control. She hoped to lose control again very soon.

She'd given him her soul, again. And received a piece of his in return.

The first step made her want to cringe, but she ignored it and quickly padded to the bathroom. She turned on the water into the oversized hot tub, needing a soak to ease the sore muscles, and tossed in some bath salts.

When the tub was full, she slid in with an appreciative groan and leaned back. She covered her eyes with a folded washcloth and let her mind shut down, letting the bubbles ease away her aches, and promptly lost track of time.

She didn't hear or sense him approach the tub. A gentle hand stroked her cheek, then a finger slid lazily over her lips. She removed the cloth from her eyes and looked up into the dark depths of Logan's. She bit the end of his finger, then used her tongue to swirl around the tip.

He sucked in his breath and stepped into the large bathtub with her. She motioned for him to sit down in front of her and drew him back against her, rubbing his shoulders lightly, the water bubbling and swirling around his bulk.

"You okay?" he asked. He feared his need might have scared her. It had overwhelmed some of the women he had been serious about over the years and he didn't want to frighten her away. Not now that he'd found her again.

"I'm better than okay," she reassured him.

After a quiet minute, one she spent trickling water over his chest, his head resting back against her shoulder, she spoke.

"I'll spend the winter with you."

~*~*~*~*~

Logan found himself jarred awake, his mutant senses inflamed, his heart racing. Something, somewhere had brought him from a deep sleep to battle readiness in a heartbeat.

Charlotte was still asleep, curled into a ball against him, one hand resting on his chest.

He blinked, listening intently, wondering if some already forgotten nightmare had come back to haunt him. The timing was lousy. Things were finally going his way, then a damned 'shiver of doom' had to run through his head.

Soft footsteps downstairs. Someone was in the house.

Gently he lifted her hand and tucked it next to her pillow. Charlotte murmured sleepily. Sliding out of bed, he slipped his pants on, the human essence draining from his expression, leaving only the animal. He released his claws.

He made his way down, moving silently from shadow to shadow. A dim light spilled from the kitchen. Peering around the corner, he saw the figure of a large, blond man illuminated by the low light. He was removing items from the fridge. Someone broke in to steal food? How did he get through the security? It didn't matter. Slice an' dice time.

As the stranger reached for something in the back he felt 3 knife points at his throat.

"I don't know what yer doin' here, bub," Logan snarled in his raspy voice, "but yer mama shoulda' taught ya better manners." He drew the bigger man back with a hand in his hair, pressing his claws deeper.

"As a matter of fact, she did," the stranger smiled faintly. "She also mentioned something about announcing yourself before you enter a room."

"She ever mention breakin' an' enterin'?"

"Not specifically, but I believe she was against that."

"Matthew, do you need some help?"

"Thomas, I wondered when you'd join this little party. Enjoying yourself?"

"Of course. I so rarely get to see you at a loss."

"Well, say something before before he gets my blood all over Charlotte's floor. She'll make me clean it after I come back to life."

The overhead lights flipped on. "What's going on here? It's the middle of the night, for cryin' out loud." Charlotte demanded. She'd taken the time to slip on a thick robe against the chill in the air.

"Charlotte, milady, give me a hand, would you, dear?"

"Matthew, what a surprise! But what are you doing to Logan?"

"I'm not doing anything. Could you please explain to the gentleman that I am allowed to raid the fridge." Logan still held one clawed hand against his throat, forcing the man to stretched backwards off balance to accommodate Logan's shorter stature.

"If you would call ahead things like this wouldn't happen." She moved across the kitchen. "Logan, it's all right, you can let him go."

It took a minute, but he released him reluctantly, adrenaline still pumping through his veins.

Charlotte stood directly in front of him, her hands on her hips, eying him like a naughty child. Then she relented, her love for him plain to see. He looked at her with genuine fondness. Logan clenched his hands.

Matthew then picked her up, hugging her, swinging her around. Logan resisted the urge to gut him. He had his hands on his woman.

"So, why don't you call or write? Even I've heard of e-mail. Fingers broken?" She poked him hard in the stomach when he set her down.

"Perhaps if you would introduce me to your friend he would pull in his claws instead of plotting to put them through my sorry hide." Matthew smiled down on her with an expression of deep love.

"I apologize, Logan," she reached out and squeezed his arm. "This is a friend of Thomas', Matthew Brouwer." She turned to Thomas, embracing her son while Logan and Matthew sized each other up.

Both of the men noted Logan lack of clothing and the wild expression in his eyes. They also took notice of Charlotte's flushed and glowing face, the mane of disheveled hair around her face and shoulders, the bruised look of her mouth.

Logan resheathed his claws as the situation became clearer. He could live with it, though he still didn't like it.

Charlotte pushed both men towards the kitchen table. "So, as usual, you both came home when you got hungry," she said as she surveyed the items on the counter. "Did you bring your laundry, too?" She nodded to Logan to take a seat. He shook his head.

"I'll leave ya alone to catch up," he told her quietly.

"No, stay," Thomas said with a wink. "She might go easy on us in front of company," Matthew smothered a laugh while Charlotte threw him a displeased look. "Or not. She'll make Matthew's favorite waffles. You'll like them."

"You mean your favorite waffles," Matthew retorted.

Logan wavered, then nodded. "I'll be back."

Thomas waited until Logan left the room. He turned to Charlotte. "I am sorry we intruded."

"You should be. But, being the kind-hearted, indulgent mother that I am, I will forgive you."

"Just be careful, Mother." He only called her mother to irritate her and when the situation was sufficiently serious to him.

"I am always careful," she told him, putting the food back in the fridge. "Now, did you say Matthew's favorite waffles?"

Logan returned to find the men deep into breakfast. He'd showered and dressed slowly, taking time to bring himself back under a semblance of control. He stood back a minute to look them both over carefully. Something still wasn't right. A sense of 'darkness' swirled around them both. It made him edgy.

Charlotte saw him in the doorway and motioned him over, setting a plate in front of him. "What's in it?" he asked.

"Oh, everything. Bananas, nuts, blueberries, chocolate chips, apples, coconut. If its edible and you can put whipped cream on it, it's in there."

After all three men had stuffed themselves and Thomas had told her all the news, Charlotte poured herself another cup of coffee. She had listened to Thomas sweet talk himself around what he really came here for long enough. She fixed her son with a stare. "You've forgotten who you're feeding that line of manure to, young man."

Thomas assumed an innocent expression that looked anything but. "No manure. We're on our way to San Francisco. We just wanted to stop and say hi."

Matthew wagged his fingers at her. "Hi."

She wasn't diverted. "You two came here for a reason. Talk."

The two men looked at each other. Thomas abruptly rose from his chair and walked out of the room. Matthew sighed, than reached for his coffee.

"We were in Scotland visiting the Edinburgh house when they got a call from the San Francisco house."

"The Luna Foundation? Derek?"

Matthew nodded. "They've got a problem and needed some help. The situation makes us both a little uneasy, so Thomas insisted we stop here to get some reinforcement. I believe he also wants some information from the computer files. It's so close to winter we really didn't think you'd be here. We didn't intend to disturb you or your guest."

"How long will you be here?"

"Day after tomorrow at the latest. Thomas will go to the mountain for the rites." He yawned. "It's been hurry up and wait for the last 36 hours in airports. Now that I have stuffed myself with Thomas' favorite waffles, I need some sleep."

"Of course." She got up and led him to the first floor guest room, picking up fresh towels on the way.

Logan sat back and thoughtfully finished his coffee. The clock on the wall showed the time as 3:30 am. He could sleep some more.

Thomas returned from the basement carrying a long thin bundle wrapped in tanned deer skin.

"Yer friend's sleepy. Charlotte's settlin' him in." Logan answered his unspoken question.

Thomas nodded and continued through the kitchen. A few moments later he heard the front door closed.

Charlotte returned and began loading dishes into the dishwasher. She hummed a little, winking at Logan when she refilled his coffee cup. "Sorry for the confusion. Those two are always into something."

"I didn' realize he was yer son's friend," he apologized awkwardly for his earlier actions. He was not used to explaining himself. That was not something he did. "I thought we were bein' attacked."

"Serves him right. He knows better, but like any child he believes he is welcome at home any time of the day or night." She smiled faintly. "And he's right."

"What's goin' on with them? Somethin' ain' right."

"I know. Thomas is, for want of a better word, scared. For him to come here and seek the magic, it has to be serious. He won't tell me, and I have no right to pry." She looked pensive for the moment. "If he needs me, he'll ask."

He drained his cup, putting it into the dishwasher, then swung her up in his arms to carry her out of the room and up the stairs.

She nipped his ear, sucking the lobe hard enough to send a shiver through him.

He closed the door with his foot, tossing her lightly on the bed. "I'm comin' to getcha," he threatened with an evil grin. "If yer gonna beg, better do it now."

"Never! Well, okay, maybe a little."

~*~*~*~*~

He woke alone, the bedside clock telling him most of the morning had gone. He rubbed his eyes, stretching as he moved over to the window.

He could see Charlotte outside and moved the curtain to get a better look. She held a sword in fighting stance and the other man, Matthew advanced on her with a sword of his own. He watched as Matthew rained blows down on her. Her movements were quick and graceful, blocking and dodging his blade at every swing, but his offensive offered no opportunity for her to counterattack. His blows drove her across the yard.

Just as he decided he had seen enough of this, she dived beneath a blow, coming up from behind, and knocked the sword from Matthew's hand. She slipped one booted foot behind his and pushed him over, leaning her sword tip on his chest. They exchanged a few words and Matthew jumped up.

He motioned her to take another stance, then came to stand behind her, his arms around her as he took her through the motions.

All right, this had gone on long enough. No touching was allowed. Logan opened the window. "Hey!"

Charlotte looked up. She smiled brightly. "Morning. Give me a few minutes and I'll have lunch on the table." She lowered her sword and said something to Matthew, then moved toward the house.

Matthew looked up and waved.

Logan showered and dressed in record time, jealousy motivating him to hurry.

Downstairs, Charlotte bustled around the kitchen, stopping to wind her arms around his neck and kiss him. "Morning."

It went a long way towards soothing his protective instincts. He held her tight, sliding his hands under her sweatshirt, spreading his fingers across her back. She was damp with sweat from her exertions, her scent clean and sexy.

"Wha'cha doin' out there?"

"Training. Matthew taught Thomas and I swordplay decades ago. I prefer it to other weapons. There's something very satisfying about using a blade."

"And she's very good at it," Matthew added, coming through the door. He held his sword in one hand, cutting his finger on the tip, stroking the the blood along the edge. Logan saw a small flash of lightening close the wound. Matthew wiped the blade clean and resheathed it, setting it on the sideboard. "She took it easy on me this morning." He poured himself a glass of juice from the fridge. "Killer instinct. She's killed me more than once."

She moved away from Logan reluctantly. "Only in the heat of battle. Don't listen to him," she told Logan. She took a roasting pan from the oven. He could smell the venison roast and roasting potatoes and carrots inside. He was certainly eating much better here than the mansion. She maneuvered the roast onto a platter and set it on the table, adding a basket of rolls and a green salad. "Help yourself, boys."

"How did ya meet?" he asked, not really interested, but wanting to listen to her talk. He still saw the other man as a threat.

She and Matthew both began laughing. "What was it, 1885? 1890?" she asked him. "Thomas and I were traveling in France. It was one of the few times I could get him to come with me. We were in Paris and had wandered around until we found ourselves in a rough section of the city after dark. We turned a corner, discussing the best way to get back to our lodgings when we were surrounded by a group of beggars, who were intent on taking our money and quite possibly our lives.

"Thomas defended me to the best of his ability. He didn't want me using my power, it would have called attention to me. He used his knife, as I did mine, to some success, but there were simply too many of them, and more arriving every second. Then a tall blond man appeared at Thomas's back," she nodded at Matthew, "swinging a sword. The two of them quickly dispersed the crowd and spirited me out of there and back to our inn."

"Times were different then," Matthew said. "If she had used her powers she would have been jailed and hanged."

Instead of stoned and torn apart by a mob? Logan thought to himself.

"Anyway, I scanned his mind, completely without permission, found out everything about him, and persuaded him to join our caravan. Thomas needed a companion, someone he had something in common with. Matthew was at loose ends. He and Thomas have been friends since that time, and I felt more at ease allowing him to wander the world, even after the two of them joined the Luna Foundation just after the San Francisco earthquake."

"Alien?" Did she just say the San Francisco earthquake?

"Immortal. Like Sam, without the X-factor. Over the years Matthew has become my second son." She took a closer look at him, the light of challenge in her eyes. "Ready for a rematch? I could use some more practice. How long's it been since you died?"

~*~*~*~*~

Thomas came down from the mountain at midnight. Charlotte was waiting up for him with a hot meal ready. Matthew and Logan had both retired early. She wanted to speak to her son alone.

After a long hot shower, he came into the kitchen and stood in the doorway. Again, as always, he marveled that this woman was his mother. His mother was young and beautiful, and she deserved to be out in the world, not sealing herself up here alone.

Charlotte smiled at him. He was clad in blue jeans, a sweatshirt and moccasins. His long black hair hung damply down his back, his dark amber eyes showing his exhaustion from the rituals. His own silver raven medallion gleamed against his dark skin, the symbol of the raven spirit that passed from father to son.

There were times when she looked up and caught sight of him, she could almost believe Raven stood there, that Raven was looking at her through his son's eyes. At these times she felt she spoke directly to her bondmate. This was one of those instances.

He sat down at the table as she slid a warm plate in front of him. He lifted a fork, inhaling the smell in appreciation.

"Everything all right?" she asked him, watching his face.

He smiled at her, not wanting to worry her needlessly. "Yes. Did you enjoy your day? Is Matthew still in one piece?"

She laughed. "It was good to get some practice in. He was very patient."

"I meant your guest. He wasn't happy to see us."

"Perhaps that wouldn't have happened if you hadn't surprised him in the middle of the night." She turned a stern eye on him, but relented. "I wanted to talk you privately."

He looked at her inquiringly.

"I've decided to go to Westchester with Logan. For the winter, at least."

He chewed quietly, looking at her with shadowed eyes, waiting for her to continue.

"Nothing to say?" she asked.

"I don't think you're asking for permission."

"I want you to understand."

"I do understand. You're lonely. You've found a man you can feel comfortable with and you want to continue to be with him. I understand. It's about time."

"You amaze me sometimes, you know that?"

"A son's job." He reached out and covered her hand with his large warm one. "I want you to be happy. If Logan makes you happy, go. You'll always have me, but we both know that time moves differently for us. Tomorrow doesn't always come, not for them."

"When did you get to know everything?"

"Came with the manual. 'How to Raise A Mother Without Driving Yourself Crazy.' "

"I love you."

"I love you too...Mom."

~*~*~*~*~

Logan loaded their bags in the Range Rover and looked back at Charlotte saying her good-byes to Thomas and Matthew at their vehicle. She smiled and kissed them both, hugging them tightly. He could hear her admonish them to call more often. Thomas reminded her to take her cell phone with her and to not forget her blades.

Finally they pulled away, Charlotte waving after them. She wiped her eyes and walked up next Logan at the Rover.

"It's always hard to see him go," she said. "I don't like what he's doing, but I can't stop him. He's 200 years old."

"Are ya ready to leave?" Logan asked gruffly. Teary-eyed women were something he never knew how to handle.

She leaned over and kissed him. "A few more things and I'll close down the house."

Back inside, she headed down to the computer room to give instructions to the system.

"Yer sure ya don't have more bags to go?" He asked from the doorway. She had packed lightly, too lightly in his experience of traveling with the female members of the team. Betsy seemed to take her entire wardrobe on every trip.

"No. If I can get it later, then I don't need it." She finished typing in commands to the large mainframe.

Finally she was done and moving out of the room. He turned to go back up the stairs. When she wasn't following, he stepped back, tracking her into another storage room.

This room had a huge wall safe, much like a bank vault. The metal was unfamiliar, gleaming a dull coppery black. The door was open and he could see it was a weapons locker. He moved in for a closer look.

"That's far enough," she told him, her back to him as she opened several drawers inside, taking various items out. "There's another shield here that will knock you out if you try to cross it."

"What are those things?"

She glanced up at what he was talking about. "Weapons. Mother had them. I keep them here because they're too dangerous. They operate on a cellular level, literally destroying a living target from the cells out. Ugly sight." She turned around and he finally knew what Thomas meant by 'blades'.

She held an evil-looking double edged sword, bearing only the slightest resemblance to the one she'd been practicing with, obviously scaled down to her size, and two smaller knives. All were made of the same coppery black metal as the vault. The smallest blade she slipped into her boot. He seemed to remember those knives from their Austrian encounter. She carried the other two in their separate cases out of the vault, pausing to close it and spin the locks.

"Ain't afraid someone'll steal those?" he asked, gesturing at the vault.

Charlotte shrugged. "They've got to first get through security and then decipher the language the locks are coded in. Not an easy thing to do since very few people on the planet speak it." She lead the way upstairs this time.

Turning lights off as she went, making sure things were in their proper places, her last stop was the library. Here she packed her laptop and opened a normal-looking safe set in the floor under her desk. Here she took out a leather billfold and a handful of cash. Flipping open the wallet, she counted the credit cards and stuffed the cash inside.

At his look, she shrugged again. "I like to be prepared."

He finished loading the Rover and she shut the front door, not bothering to lock it. "The security system will take care of things while I'm gone," she explained. "Normally I don't stay here during the winter because it often gets snowed in. I want being alone to be a choice, not a 'have to'. Are you one of those people who must drive?"

"I prefer drivin', if it's all the same to ya," he confessed.

"I don't mind, but I'll warn you now. I tend to fall asleep if I'm not at the wheel," she tossed him the keys. "Old age."

He caught them with one hand and pulled her close with the other. "Ya got time to change yer mind."

"After everything you did to persuade me to go?" She slid her hands inside his jacket around his waist. "I'm sure I like being with you and I want to keep on being with you. So we drive to New York. If I decide I can't take it, I'll go into the city. I figure just the trip across country will tell me that much."

He pressed his lips to hers, waiting for her to respond, thrilled every time she did. Her mouth softened and parted beneath his, tempting him with her complete and enthusiastic cooperation. Reluctantly he let her go. "We better get goin' now." He opened her door. "Where's our first stop?"

~*~*~*~*~

Five days later, he pulled the Rover up in front of the mansion. Because they'd called from up the road, the entire team was gathered on the front steps.

"Nothing like a gauntlet." she muttered to herself.

"Losin' yer nerve, darlin'?" He grinned at her.

"I'm gonna make you pay, buddy. I just might tie you up next time," she told him, referring to the previous night's activities.

"You liked it, maybe I will." He had no shame, truly.

Professor Xavier waited in his library. He took her hand in his. "I am pleased Wolverine was able to persuade you to visit for the winter."

Charlotte smiled. "He was most persuasive. How could I resist?"

A smattering of giggles erupted behind her and was quickly shushed.

Jubilee gave her the once over, gum snapping, one hand on her hip. "How old are you again?" she asked. She hadn't decided whether or not she liked the new addition to Logan's life. She was leaning towards not in a big way.

"Jubilation," Ororo said disapprovingly.

"Well, she doesn't look 300 years old." Jubilee defended herself.

She was taken into the elevator and up three stories. Down the hall, Jean opened the door into a beautiful guest suite with a large four-poster bed. "The regular room you use is not available," she apologized. "Under the circumstances I thought this one would be suitable."

"And Logan is right next door," Betsy purred snidely.

"Good," Charlotte regarded the other woman with a lifted brow. "That is the only reason I came here, you know. He promised me plenty of rough and wild sex, and I promised I'd come here and get sneered at. Might be an even trade, we'll have to see."

Betsy had the grace to blush at that. "I didn't mean that."

"We'll all get along just fine," Rogue gave Betsy a hard look.

A knock at the door ended the conversation.

"Logan said this is all you brought," Hank entered with her suitcase and her laptop case.

She nodded. "There are a few smaller items in the Rover, but I can get them later."

Hank cleared his throat. "I did speak to Thomas a few days ago and he mentioned that you appeared rather tired and pale when he last saw you. He asked if I would examine you."

Charlotte looked at him questioningly. "Do I look sick to you?" she asked seriously, "Logan has been keeping me up nights. Maybe I could use a B12 shot and some iron pills."

The women laughed at that.

He realized she was teasing and grinned. "It is good to have you here." He kissed her hand and ushered himself out of the female-dominant atmosphere.

She turned to open her suitcase and begin unpacking.

Jean offered a hand while Betsy recovered herself and eyed her wardrobe with a professional critical air.

"You didn't bring much in the way of clothing," she said. "Perhaps we can take you out shopping tomorrow?" She offered an olive branch for her earlier comment.

"I could use a good facial and manicure," Charlotte answered. "If you know a place-?"

"I know just the place. We could make it a girls day out if Charles doesn't have an early morning training session. What do you say? Jean, Rogue?"

"Ah'd like to, but Ah cain't. Mah skin, remember?"

"I'm sorry, Rogue, I didn't think." Open mouth and make room for the other foot. Must be a record.

"It's okay. Ah don't mind, really. Maybe some real shoppin' another day?"

The intercom chimed in with a call to dinner.

"It's Sam's night ta cook," Rogue said. "It's okay, most o' the time, but he's tryin' somethin' new. No tellin' how it'll turn out."

"Hey, guys," Jubilee pushed open the door. "The Prof says, like, now!"

The four women followed her out the door.

"I'll talk to Storm and let you know what time tomorrow," Betsy said as they descended in the elevator. A thought struck her. "Rogue, as long as the attendants wear gloves you'll be just fine. I'll tell them when I call for appointments."

Rogue brightened. "Yeah. Then Ah wouldn' have ta miss the fun."

~*~*~*~*~

In the dining room the enormous table was being readied for the evening meal. Charlotte watched Storm lay down utensils and remembered she left her blades in the Rover. With a smile to Jean, she left the room and went out the front door.

The Rover had been moved. The drive was clear.

"Lookin' for somet'ing, chere?"

She turned to find Gambit seated on the steps off to the side. "I left some things in the car. I didn't think it would be moved so quickly."

He vaulted lightly to his feet, offering her his arm in a gallant gesture. "Gambit walk wit' you."

She smiled and took his arm. He'd seemed so much better now, almost as if Antarctica hadn't happened to him. He carried a darker aura because of his experience, but she couldn't tell if there were long lasting effects without probing his mind, and she wouldn't do that. She'd spent enough time in his head during his illness. She had dealt with her anger concerning Rogue, but still felt that killing twinge every now and then. One day at a time, one impulse at a time.

"You know," she told him companionably, "I'm still amazed so many personalities can co-exist under one roof."

"Not always peaceful here, chere. Sometimes very hard. We work for de common good, neh?"

"I understand the concept, I've just been alone for a good part of the last fifty years. Got tired of people. I'm afraid I've forgotten how to act." 'Peaceful' didn't seem to be in the X-Men rules of conduct.

"Den why you here?"

"Damned if I know."

Rounding a corner she spied the Rover parked in a stall. Opening the back, she pulled her blades from under the blankets. She slipped the smaller one into its accustomed spot in her boot, was about to buckle the other around her waist, when she heard a low whistle.

"Dat a beautiful knife. Can I look?"

She handed it to him.

He pulled the knife out of the sheath and turned it in his hands, admiring the workmanship. He handed her back the knife and reached for the sword. Before she could stop him, he had it unsheathed. He stepped out into the open area and swung it several times experimentally. "A li'l light, but perfectly balanced," he said approvingly.

"It was made for me. Weight slows me down, I don't need it to swing." She took it from him, afraid he'd hurt himself. The Torelan metal would slice through anything.

"Jus' like Xena!" He pulled a small metal cylinder from an inside pocket. With a flick of the wrist, it telescoped into a 6' bo.

"I don't think this is a good idea," she said, knowing where his mind was headed.

"Come on, chere, fight wit' me," he coaxed.

She gave in to his playfulness, he reminded her of a younger Thomas. After sparring a few minutes she feinted to one side, ducked under the staff, whirled lightly on the balls of her feet, and brought the sword down just above his hand. Her blade sliced through the metal like butter. Then she brought her blade up sharply and knocked the end from his hand, the tip coming to rest at his throat.

That brought him up short, his demonic eyes glowing with humor. She lowered her blade slowly with an answering grin. He was no Immortal, but he had potential as a sparring partner. She just couldn't kill him.

"Whatcha doin' down there," Rogue's voice called from above them. She flew down and landed lightly in front of them. "We're ready ta eat." She frowned at Gambit. "Remy, where yer manners? She's a guest."

"You worry for me, chere?" he drawled, sliding his arm around her waist. She pushed him off impatiently, though gently, Charlotte noticed.

"We were just playing," she assured her. Her hand touched the sharp edge and started to bleed. "Damn!"

"Hey!" Rogue said, alarmed. She pressed her comm link. "Hank, get out here ta the garage. We got blood!"

"I'm okay," Charlotte protested. She pulled a clean rag out of the back of the open Rover and wrapped it around the cut. She used another rag to wipe the sword. It glowed dully in the setting light of the sun. "It's not serious."

Hank came running out with his doctor's bag, Logan and Bishop close behind. The last two immediately looked around for signs of danger.

"What did you do, my dear?" Hank took her hand in both of his large ones and unwrapped the bloody rag. The cut had stopped oozing blood and begun to scab over. He tut-tutted and opened his bag, pulling out antiseptic and bandages.

With no visible source of danger, Logan focused on the hapless Gambit. "If ya laid one hand on her, Cajun," he growled and released his claws, "I'm gonna skewer ya an' serve ya for dinner."

"I did not'ing." He backed up and into Bishop, who looked angry enough to hold him down while Logan prepared him for the main course.

"Both of ya simmer down," Rogue demanded, pushing Bishop and Logan away from Remy. "He didn' touch her, just ask first, why don'cha? It was an accident."

"Logan," Charlotte used the hand Hank wasn't pouring over to touch his face, bringing his attention around to her. "It's all right. I did it." Sleep with a man every fifty years and he thinks he owns you.

He reluctantly retracted his claws and looked over Hank's efforts. "No one hurt ya?" He sounded disappointed.

"That is all I can do for you now," Hank taped the bandage in to place.

Not having any bad guys to slice and dice put Logan in a lousy mood. He picked up the sword and knife and tucked them under his arm and took her hand with the other, pulling her along behind him. "Everyone's at the table."

They joined an slightly irritated group waiting impatiently at the dinner table. Logan dropped her things on a side board and seated her next to Jubilee, and took the seat next to her. With a final glare at Gambit he turned his attention to his plate.

"Is everything all right?" Xavier asked again.

"It is my fault," Charlotte admitted readily. "Remy and I indulged in a bit of impromptu swordplay and I cut myself."

Talk turned toward other matters, several conversations going at once. Charlotte allowed her psychic sense to open and absorb the underlying currents between the team members. Were these people for real? she wondered. The first time she'd visited it was different, like exploring an unknown land. The natives were fascinating in their normal habitat. Now that she'd be staying for the winter, maybe, she had to become one of the natives.

Open chaos, insert soul.

~*~*~*~*~

After dinner, Bishop tapped her shoulder, silently asking her to go with him. She nodded and followed him outside. Maybe now she'd get answers from him. She didn't like being on the short end of the information stick.

~*~*~*~*~

Bobby saw them leaving, his nose for trouble giving him a tweak. He turned back to Jubilee. "I've got an idea for a practical joke, if you're interested."

Jubilee's eyes lit up. Bobby's jokes were the best, as long as they weren't on her. "Tell me more, oh great swami!"

~*~*~*~*~

Bishop waited until they were away from the mansion before taking a seat on a fallen log. "I come here to think, sometimes. It is a good place." It afforded him a good view of the mansion he protected.

He remembered the day he and his sister were brought to her. The old man who took on the responsibility of bringing them cross country led them up a forgotten mountain road instead of taking them to what little distant family they had left. She had been waiting for them.

The old man struggled and nearly fell off his horse, but she caught him and helped him down, holding him in her arms lovingly. He was almost dead from exhaustion and stress. A 14 year old Bishop, holding his sister in his arms, had approached her belligerently, prepared to be ordered away, prepared to hate and be hated.

She was different from the other women in his world. She was young and pretty, the hate and rage of the world hadn't marked her in any visible way. She smiled in genuine warmth. He adored her on sight. She would never want him and his sister around, never want the mutant he was becoming.

"I brought 'em," the old man wheezed. "You care for 'em, chere." He sagged heavily against her, but she wouldn't let him fall. She had never let him fall.

"You know I will," she'd reassured the old man. "Follow me," she'd told the boy, and helped the old man through the shields and to the house.

There were other children here, of all ages, perhaps two dozen, all mutants. Young Bishop had pasted a sneer on his face and stalked behind them, not allowing himself to look at either side, fixing his eyes on the old man, letting his hate carry him through the embarrassment of being scrutinized by the others. He hated that old man for bringing them here.

It hadn't been easy, and he didn't make it any easier, but she won him over. His sister didn't put up a fight. Shard immediately turned herself over to Charlotte's unconditional love for children, the little girl desperate for a mother. He was the one who struggled and fought, anyone and everyone. He tried to get himself kicked out, but it didn't work. Tried to make her see she didn't want him here.

She finally let him have his showdown with her, one on one, after six weeks of his posturing and fury. He towered over her even then and, with the invulnerability of youth, believed he could intimidate her.

She taught him a painful lesson that day, in blood and tears. After methodically beating him down to a bloody pulp, she held him while he cried out his rage and fear on her. That was the last time he ever cried. Or tried to escape her. She set about healing his soul and, as part of the underground, helped mold him into the man he was now. 'The poster child for Obsessive-Compulsive,' one of the team called him. It kept him alive.

The old man was confined to bed after their arrival and died several months later. She'd cried for him, the only one left alive who remembered the charming Cajun thief, and buried him in a tiny cemetery in the small valley adjacent to this one. There were other names buried there, some names whispered only in legends.

Bishop shook himself, bringing his mind back from the future-past, and glanced over at her sitting quietly, waiting for him to begin. 'Grandmother' he thought to himself. He now lived with some of the names he'd known only on grave markers and through the stories she had told him. She'd trained him well for his task. It was no random choice that he was here in this time, or that he'd been brought to her as a child.

"So, how do you know me?"

"I was sent here to stop a traitor and prevent the slaughter of the X-Men."

Charlotte said nothing, waiting for him to continue. Logan had told her all this.

"The future I am from is a terrible place. Mutants slaughtered, the humans enslaved, Sentinels in control. World wide hunger and poverty. Mass destruction on a level as yet unimagined. There is no hope, no compassion, no quarter for anyone, mutant or human. We, as a race, are being hunted into extinction."

"The rebellion leaders managed to isolate the one historical incident they believe began the change to the future I know. I am unable to remember much of it, but I do know that it will begin here."

"The traitor and extermination of the X-Men," Charlotte said softly.

He nodded. "I have no details. I was unable to carry that information with me. I have vague memories that Xavier and Jean have not been able to help me clarify."

"What has all this to do with me, unless you believe I am the one who will cause the deaths?"

"No, you are not the traitor. You sent me here; you, Forge and the other elders." He paused for a moment. "You took me and my sister in as children, as you had many others, and became our guardian, raising us with your own, as your own." His voice thickened slightly. "We all called you 'Grandmother'."

She placed her hand on his, seeking the truth of his words. His mind radiated only honesty and a curious innocence. There was love there too.

"Perhaps," she said slowly, "this time you will teach me."

He squeezed her hand in return, showing a small sign of feeling. He'd said enough.

She'd gained a healthy respect for destiny and karma over the decades. "With an entire century to chose from, I pick now to take a vacation. It could only happen to me," she said wryly.

He started back towards the mansion.

"Hey," she called after him.

He turned to look at her, the cold, stern security officer firmly in control now.

"If there is anything I need to know, you will tell me before it happens, right?"

He nodded curtly, then continued his way to begin his nightly patrol.

She thought about the things she wanted to ask him, about Thomas, about herself. No, too much knowledge would be a terrible thing. Some things she didn't want to know.

~*~*~*~*~

"Don'cha think ya better ask her if she wants to be tested or even join before ya start pickin' out china patterns?" Logan asked. "Maybe she don't want to be part of this circus."

Jean, Scott and Xavier were talking in the study. Xavier was still trying to find the best way to recruit Charlotte for the team. Truth was, nearly everyone that came here needed to be here. They were looking for something, either help with their powers, acceptance, or just plain wanting to feel a part of a group, a family. On the surface, there was nothing here that Charlotte needed, nothing they could offer her.

"First we have to determine whether or not she's a danger to herself or anyone else," the ever practical Cyclops murmured, almost to himself.

"She made it through three centuries without yer help," Logan's voice took on a dark tone. "Ya got a new mutant fall in yer lap an' ya want her so bad you forget she's got a choice?" His hands clenched into meaty fists. "Ask her first."

Xavier knew he was right and felt ashamed of his thoughts. It was just that the possibilities were so intriguing. He apologized, closing his eyes, and attempted to locate Charlotte telepathically.

He frowned. "I can't find her. She doesn't appear to be on the estate," he told them.

Jean took a turn. "He's right, Scott. I can't sense her thought signature. She's either gone or unconscious."

Xavier put out a call. ~Has anyone seen Charlotte?~

Logan started from the room, barreling into Bishop. "She's missin', we gotta find her," he said tightly to the security officer. "I thought you were keepin' an eye on her."

"She's not gone, she's outside in the garden," Bishop answered. "I just left her there." He looked at Xavier inquiringly.

"I did a psi scan for her and couldn't find her," he told Bishop.

"I heard and came to tell you where she was. It's the medallion she wears," Bishop explained. "You couldn't find her because it completely masks her presence." Surely Logan would know the effects of the talisman she wore.

Logan dashed to the back and looked out the window. Sure enough, he could see her on the swing hanging from the huge old oak. He returned to the study. "Yeah, she's out there." He fixed Xavier with a glare. "You ask her first." He left the room to join Charlotte outside.

Cyclops turned to Bishop. "You seem to know a lot more than you told us," he accused. "What's going on here?"

"I wouldn't worry," Bishop said, "she'll join your team."

"You haven't been up front about anything," Scott continued. "You're letting us stumble around when you have the information we need. I don't like it."

Bishop favored him with a cold, impersonal stare. "You don't have to like it, or me. I'll do my job the best way I know, the way I was trained. Learn to deal with it." He left.

~*~*~*~*~

Bobby and Jubilee watched Logan leave the mansion to join Charlotte by the old swing. Eyes dancing with unholy glee, Bobby led the teen up the back stairs to his room.

"I've been saving this one for Warren and Betsy, but, hey, no time like the present to welcome a new team member." He reached up in the closet and took down a box. He lifted the lid, showing her the dozens of large bells.

"I figure we can hook 'em on underneath the bed," he told her.

Jubilee looked at him in amazement. "Wolvie is gonna kill you," she breathed. "Let's go."

The two pranksters crept up the next flight of stairs, doing their level best to be sneaky. Slipping into the darkened room, Jubilee reached for the light switch.

"No!" Bobby hissed in a stage whisper. "No lights. They might see them from outside. Keep watch at the door."

She cracked the door a tiny bit, looking up and down the hall.

Bobby crawled underneath the bed, using ornament hangers to attached the bells to the mattress frame. Jubilee heard the faint jingles coming from the bed as he worked furiously.

Finally he slid out, dusting his clothes. "All done."

"Is it gonna work?"

"Yeah, but only when the bed gets to really shaking. It'd be no good if she just sat on it and heard the noise. I wonder if they'll even notice," he smothered a laugh. "Let's get out of here before we get caught."

They crept back out, holding back the giggles, to find a place to wait for the coming show.

~*~*~*~*~

"Ya look all shook up," Logan told Charlotte. He leaned against the tree and lit his cigar.

"I suppose I do," she swung slowly back and forth.

"What was Bishop talkin' to ya 'bout?"

"Well, we cleared up how he knows me." She looked over at him. "He says I'm one of the elders that sent him here."

Logan considered that silently.

"He seems glad to see me, yet not happy I'm here. I want to shake the answers out of him, but I'm afraid of what I'll see. I don't know if I dare." She stood up, stretching. "I think I'll turn in."

He fell into step with her, lacing his fingers with hers. "Where'd Jeannie put ya?"

"Next to you, I'm told. How....convenient."

He caught her grin in the patio lights. He matched it with one of his own. "Remind me to thank her later."

~*~*~*~*~

Later, all thoughts of thanking Jean were gone, along with every other coherent thought in his head. He had stopped thinking altogether.

True to her word, she tied him to her bed, the silken bounds holding him while she took her time, caressing, touching, kissing, biting. She found all his sensitive places and played them with his full cooperation and groaning approval. She took handfuls of her silky hair and rubbed his body.

He didn't know how long this had been going on, and he didn't care. He only knew that he had never been so hard in his life, had never had a woman do things like this to him. Every nerve ending burned, only soothed with the touch of her body, soothed and inflamed all at once.

Charlotte settled on top of him and reached down to release his legs. He felt the bonds relax, felt himself push instinctively into her welcoming heat, and lost any pretense of bondage. The scarves holding his wrists ripped as he rolled with her, moving hard and fast, swallowing her gasp of surprise in a bruising kiss.

Dimly he thought he heard bells through the pounding of blood in his ears as he rocked into her again and again, losing even that thread of thought when she went up in flames in his arms, her climax hitting her hard, her skin flashing hot. It took him with her, a roar escaping him.

He collapsed on her, her arms encircling him, holding him tightly. After a long minute, he rolled onto his back, taking her with him.

When her breathing slowed, Charlotte pressed kisses against his damp skin, rubbing her face in his chest hair. "I'm going to tie you up more often," she promised. "I could've sworn I heard bells."

"Me too, darlin'."

After a more few minutes spent caressing her, the torn silk fluttering around his wrists, rational thought returned with a vengeance. "Ya heard bells?"

"Mmm. You're good, don't let anyone ever tell you different."

With a frown, he moved out from under her and peered under the bed. "I'll kill 'im. This time I'll kill 'im."

Charlotte rolled over to the other side and looked under. "Are those bells? Real bells?"

"Yeah, an' I can still smell Bobby under here."

Charlotte did a quick mind sweep. "He's out in the hall with Jubilee." She began to laugh. "This is good."

At his sour look, a fit of giggles took her over. She laughed until she was helpless on the floor.

He got to his feet. "I'm gonna take care of this now."

"No, no, wait," she choked out. "Don't. This could be fun."

He began to smile and scooped her off the floor, nestling back on the bed with her. "Ya think so, huh?"

"He's expecting you to run out there, hoping he'll embarrass us both. I'm not embarrassed. Are you?"

"No." His arms tightened around her. "It is pretty funny," he admitted.

"Let's ignore him until he brings it up. Then you can kill him if you still want to. In the meantime-," she drew his head down for a long kiss."

~*~*~*~*~

Charlotte found her way down to the kitchen the next morning in search of coffee. Her eyes were shadowed, her hair finger combed back in wild abandon. She had slipped on Logan's shirt and nothing else. He was still asleep in her bed.

Hank, Jean and Scott sat around the table talking quietly. They looked up when she entered, Hank too polite to comment on her appearance, Jean holding back the laughter and Scott looking away uncomfortably.

"Good morning," she told them breezily. "I've come for coffee."

"Betsy made us an appointment at the spa for 10:00 am. We'll need to leave here around 9:00 if we want to make it into the city on time," Jean said.

"Sounds good." She poured the coffee, inhaling the aroma with true pleasure, a coffee fiend from way back. She smiled Hank. "You still want my body?"

"Later this afternoon will be fine," he answered.

Jean and Scott gave them both confused looks.

"I intend to perform a physical examination on our guest," Hank explained.

"Doesn't he make it sound like fun?" Charlotte winked at the other woman. "Can't wait." With a wave she was gone.

"I've got to get ready, too," Jean added, planting a kiss on Scott's cheek. "I'll let you know if I find out anything useful in between the sauna and the facial."

~*~*~*~*~

At 9:00 am sharp Charlotte made her way down to the garage. Storm and Jean were waiting. Rogue and Betsy were late.

"They're always late," Jean told her. "You get used to it."

"I have to get used to being around people again," Charlotte said. "It's just been me and the tribe history for quite a while now."

The late members of their impromptu party arrived in time to hear her statement.

"You've seemed to come out of your shell well enough," Betsy drawled, as well as her clipped accent would allow. "Jingle bells?"

Charlotte laughed. She really wasn't embarrassed. Betsy laughed with her.

"What's the joke?" Jean asked.

"I saw Bobby and Jubilee hanging around in the hallway outside of her room last night," Betsy explained. "They ran off, but then I could hear bells coming from inside her room."

"Someone," Charlotte's eyes twinkled, "hung bells underneath the bed on the box springs. That's one of the more imaginative jokes I've come across in a long time. I can't wait to try it out myself. I think I'll leave them there while I plot my revenge."

"Now we'll be afraid to walk down that hall," Jean said.

~*~*~*~*~

Logan entered the kitchen feeling rather calm and relaxed. He sat at the table considering his breakfast options over coffee when Bobby entered the room.

To his credit, the young mutant faltered only a moment before plastering a smile on his face. Logan decided he was too content with the world this morning and would allow Bobby to suffer awhile longer. "Mornin'," he told him mildly.

A pleasant Logan was more than the Iceman could deal with. He quickly got what he came for and left.

Logan grinned evilly. Damn, but she was right. This could be fun, and all he had to do was continue to make love to his lady in her own bed. What could be better?



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