Hey, people. Long-time lurker in these parts, but just recently been catching up in participation. I noticed the fanfiction section just barely, and decided, what the heck? I'll start posting here, too. Starts out rough, gets better as it goes. And, of course, it's always great to hear reviews, rants, or just statements that this is being read at all. I'll just throw a few chapters up right now, just to have the excuse to stop studying for my two finals tomorrow. Hope you enjoy. Summary: He got away from them and spent the next 15 years trying to figure out who and what he was . . . an animal, the Wolverine, or the human named Logan. This is his story. Rated PG-13 for violent images and language. Features our favorite Cajun and others! (Starts movie-verse after X-3, with me trying my best to fix everything I think they messed up. We'll see how well that goes ). ---------------------------------------- Chapter 1: Dear Journal, Signed Wolverine ------------------------------------ May 22, 20 I swore Id never do this. I talked to Chuck some months ago, just after getting back from Alkali Lake after that dead-end lead. I wanted answers, but he said some crap about the mind having to figure things out for itself. To hell that he already said hed do everything he could to help me. Instead of giving me anything useful, he gave me this. A damned journal. Even another one of his lectures would have been more useful. Stupid. Like writing things down might help me figure things out. Damn that idea. Ive lived enough of life, and I aint one to think too much. I just get things done. Besides, I aint a writing man, either, and never have been. I can just see it. Dear Diary, Signed, Wolverine. HA! Wheels must have been crazy. He really was crazy, old fool. He thought I was more human than I am. He thought Jean was more human than she was, too. For a man who could read minds, he really didnt know people that well. Im just an animal, and I know better. Ive known better. Thats why I could do it. Thats why I had to do it. But hes dead now, just like all the others. At least I didnt kill him. I didnt have to stick these damned metal claws into his chest and rip his heart out. I had to do that, with her, and it was like ripping my own damned heart out, too. I think Ive died a thousand times these past couple months, and thousands more before that. Died every time they died. But whatever keeps bringing me back . . . Whod have thought that a mutation of healing could be so damned painful? Cant get away from it, though. I cant get away from who I am, from the death that tracks me. Its always tracked me, but Ive never carednot before. I didnt have anything to lose, not really. It couldnt get me. Im a survivor. Damn that Jean wasnt. The professor wasnt. Hell, even pretty-boy One-Eye wasnt. It was so much easier, before all of them. Before it all. Damn them. Damn Xaviergiving me this damned journal. Why the hell am I doing this anyway? I already know what I know, and writing things down wont help me remember that damned past that is forever lost to me, now, and heaven help the man who puts his grubby paws on it. A damned journal. Stupid. Id ask One-Eye to burn it, smash it, or whatever he doesbut hes dead along with everyone. Damn it. ---------------------- August 14, 20 Damn journal. Stabbed the thing clean through a couple months ago and tossed it in the corner. The devil must have brought it up again. Would have been just fine never to see it again. Damn it all. Its 2 am in the damned morningjust had another damned nightmare flash thing. Wish theyd just stop. They dont do a damned thing, now. Strykers dead. I as good as killed him months ago. His damned bodys probably rotted and eaten down to nothing but a bleached skeleton by now. Damn him most of all. I guess thats right, though, even if everything else in the world has gone to the dogs. Its right that hed be eaten by wild beasts, lost in those wilderness of Canada. Thats right. Shows there must be some damn hope for some damn justice in this damned world after all. But justice aside, hes dead, and with him died with any hope for me to ever find out who I used to be. Buried in Alkali Lake. Maybe Stryker was right. Maybe he wasnt lying. Maybe whoever I was before was as much of an animal as I was after. That I am now. Maybe before, I was animal enough that this damned pain would heal up and harden like my damned bones that just wont break, no matter how much it hurts. Wish Magneto had ripped the damned stuff from me when he had the chance. Wish Jean had had the power enough to tear right through me and finally kill me off into dust and numbness. Wish it would mean something when I slice those damned metal claws into my own damned heart, trying to end it all. But it doesnt mean a thing. Doesnt mean a thing but more damned pain. Damn the cost of survival a hundred times over. Cause thats what I am, now. Im Wolverine. Im a survivor, just like Stryker said. Thats what everyone sees. All the kids here are scared to death, and the damn worlds not staying too happy either. All hells going to be set looseif not now, then itll come soon enough. Wolverines gotta stay tough. Unmovable. And damn Storms worry about me, because it doesnt matter anymore. I know that death happens. Seen it too many to count, just in my fifteen years of memory. Never really thought too much of it, before. Pain was always what I hatednever death. But Death was a good thing. Death was The End. The end of pain. Damned thingll never come for me. All I get in its wake is that pain, damned pain. And damn me if I ever let pain stop me. I gotta move on. Ive left the past. I just gotta make it leave me. ------------------------------------------- August 16, 20 Damn it. Damned memories just wont leave me alone, and the damned professors damned dead voice just wont leave me alone, and damn Storm for her damned You need an outlet lectures. So I left a damned hole in the wall of the kitchen. At least I didnt hit Mr-I-am-a-Diplomat, though I probably wouldve felt better if I had. They shouldnt be complaining, considering, especially Blue Boy. Got enough money to fix another damned hole in the damned wall, but Storm was speechless anyway, and not in a good way either. Couldnt speak for a full damn minute. People dont act like that, she said. Damn people. She doesnt understand. You wanna hear, then? You wanna hear what a damned life Ive had? Summers used to say I was dangerous. If only he knew. I cant tell them. They just wouldnt understand. Theyd pity me, maybe, or be afraid, because they cant understand how much of an animal I really am. I dont think anyone knowsChuck didnt even know, really. Just Stryker, and me. The kids, Storm, even Beast . . . they were born human. Theres something there, I think, that just starts you off looking at the damned world like a human, no matter what they do to you. No matter that youre a mutant. I wasnt born a human. I wasnt even born a mutant. Not in this life, that is, because everything before is Nothing. Im different, even here, at Xaviers damn school where different means normal. For the kids here at the school one of the greatest shocks of their lives was finding out that they were differentthat they werent as human as they thought. That they were mutants. That they were different, and the world would hate them for it. The greatest damned shock of my life wasnt finding out how different I was from all of thembut realizing, after all, that I was a damn human. That I was one of Them. It was the damnedest shock of my life. TBC . . .