The letter sat in Laura's hand like something fragile. She hadn't unfolded it yet, just stared at the creased paper while snow dusted her dark hair.
Wolverine watched us both with those sharp eyes—assessing, measuring. Looking for something I wasn't sure either of us possessed.
"You're what, sixteen? Seventeen?" he asked, though it wasn't really a question. He knew what we were. What they'd made us.
"Sixteen," Laura said quietly.
I just nodded.
"Too damn young to be carrying bodies on your conscience." He pulled out a cigar, rolled it between his fingers without lighting it. "But here you are anyway."
The wind shifted. I could smell the leather of his jacket, the faint traces of beer and motor oil. Human smells. Normal smells.
Laura's grip tightened on the letter, crinkling the edges.
"Dr. Kinney—Sarah—she sent me this three weeks before she died." Wolverine's voice roughened slightly. "Told me about you, kid. About what they were doing. Asked me to..." He paused. "Asked me to help you find what they stole."
"And him?" She asked, gesturing at myself.
Wolverine's gaze shifted to me. Sharp. Penetrating.
"Letter mentioned you too. Said there was another weapon." His eyes narrowed. "Said you took punishments meant for her."
Laura went very still beside me.
"Didn't think they made weapons that could do that," Wolverine continued. "Give a damn about anyone else."
"They didn't… Make me that way, I mean."
His expression showed approval.
"So here's your choice." He finally lit the cigar, smoke curling into the cold air. "You can keep being what they trained you to be. Keep killing. Keep running. Keep treating yourselves like weapons until someone puts you down or you self-destruct."
Laura flinched.
"Or?" I asked.
"Or you do what Sarah wanted. You find out what being human actually means." He exhaled smoke. "Won't lie to you—it's harder. Hurts worse sometimes than anything they did to you in that facility. And you're gonna fail. A lot."
"Comforting," Laura muttered.
Wolverine's mouth twitched. Almost forming a smile.
"But you won't be alone." He gestured toward the mansion hidden beyond the trees. "There's kids in there who've been where you are. Not exactly the same, but close enough. They're learning too."
I analyzed the offer from every angle.
Staying isolated would lead to a higher probability of capture, or death. Emotional deterioration for Laura. For myself was almost certain.
Accept helping help led to unknown variables. Risk of betrayal. Risk of attachment. Risk of...
Laura's shoulder pressed against mine. Still trembling slightly from her earlier breakdown.
The risk of attachment already occurred.
"What would we have to do?" I asked carefully.
"For now? Stop trying to get yourself killed." Wolverine pointed the cigar at her. "After that? We figure it out. School, training, learning how to be around people without threatening them. Learning you got a right to exist as something other than weapons."
He looked at me, then Laura again.
"Both of you."
I glanced at Laura.
Laura's voice, small and rough: "What if we can't? What if we're too..."
"Broken?" Wolverine finished. "Kid, I've been where you are. Worse, probably. And I'm still figuring it out." He tapped ash from his cigar. "Difference is, you don't have to do it alone."
I felt the moment crystallize. Decision point.
Do what they made us to do.
Or do what Sarah Kinney died trying to give us.
I looked at Laura. She looked back. I nodded.
She turned. "Adrian?"
Her eyes searched mine—looking for what, I wasn't certain. Permission? Disagreement? Some indication of the correct tactical choice?
I gave her truth instead.
"I know what you're afraid of." The words came quiet, measured. "But it's simple. If they come for us, we just have to kill them."
Something like surprise flickered across her expression. Or maybe relief that I understood her thoughts as clearly as she did.
"Together?" Her voice barely carried the question.
"Together."
"Okay," she whispered.
Wolverine's eyebrows rose slightly. "Okay?"
"We'll try." I said. Laura's hand found mine. Squeezed once. "We'll... try to be human."
Wolverine gestured toward the treeline where the Institute waited beyond. "C'mon then. Professor'll want to meet—."
The sound cut through the forest quiet like a blade.
Whumwhumwhumwhum.
Helicopter rotors.
My hand dropped from Laura's shoulder. Strings materialized between my fingers—invisible threads anchoring to trees, creating a perimeter web that would detect any ground approach.
"Adrian?" Laura's claws extended. Combat-ready in under a second.
"Incoming." I scanned the canopy. "Single aircraft. Military-grade."
Wolverine's nostrils flared. "S.H.I.E.L.D."
The helicopter broke through the tree line—black, unmarked, but the weapons configuration told me everything I needed to know about the occupants' intentions.
It settled into a clearing sixty feet away. Rotor wash sent leaves scattering.
The door opened.
Captain America stepped out first. Shield on his arm. No weapon drawn, but his stance suggested he wouldn't need one. Behind him, six agents in tactical gear—guns holstered but hands hovering near them.
Captain America's voice carried authority that came from decades of command, not cruelty. "I'm here to bring you in for questioning regarding the assassination of presidential candidate Greg Johnson. You need to surrender peacefully."
Laura moved. Not forward. Not into a defensive stance.
She stepped closer to me.
The distance between us closed to inches. I could feel the tension radiating from her. Her claws caught the filtered sunlight, adamantium gleaming.
Captain America's eyes tracked the movement. His shield shifted fractionally. The agents' hands drifted closer to their weapons.
Wolverine moved between us and Rogers, casual but deliberate. "Cap."
"Logan." Rogers' tone stayed neutral. Professional. "This isn't X-Men business."
"Kid's a mutant. Standing on Xavier's property." Wolverine's voice carried an edge I hadn't heard before. "That makes it my business."
"She's wanted for questioning in a federal investigation."
"She's sixteen years old and you brought a tactical team." Wolverine gestured with his cigar. "That's how you handle questioning now?"
Rogers' jaw tightened. "The target is a trained assassin with adamantium claws and a body count. Precautions were necessary."
"Precautions." Wolverine's mouth twisted. "That what we're calling it?"
I watched the exchange, cataloging the dynamics. History between them. Respect, but tension underneath. Rogers expected cooperation. Wolverine was refusing to give it.
The standoff held for three seconds.
I stepped forward. Placed myself between Laura and the tactical team.
"Simple terms," I said. "You can take both of us, or neither."
Rogers' eyes tracked the movement. His shield shifted fractionally—immediate threat assessment. The agents' hands drifted closer to their weapons.
Wolverine glanced back at me. Something like approval flickered across his expression.
"That's pretty overconfident, kid." Rogers' voice remained level. Professional. "Who exactly are you?"
"Think of me as her legal representative."
One of the agents snorted. Rogers raised a hand—immediate silence.
"You're what, sixteen?" The skepticism in his tone was earned. "And you think—"
"I think you have a political assassination, a mutant suspect, and no physical evidence tying her to the scene." I kept my voice flat. Analytical. "I think dragging her in without counsel creates legal complications your superiors would prefer to avoid. And I think separating us requires force you'd rather not use in front of witnesses."
I didn't gesture toward Wolverine, but the implication hung in the air.
Rogers studied me. Five seconds. Ten.
Reading me. Combat veteran. Tactical mind. Trying to determine if I'm bluffing or if I have angles he hasn't considered.
"Fine." He nodded toward the helicopter. "Both of you. Peacefully."
Laura's hand found my wrist. Not a grab—a question.
I turned my head slightly. Met her eyes.
"We'll be out by tomorrow," I said.
Her expression shifted. Confusion. Disbelief. But underneath, burgeoning trust.