X-Men: Dark Mirror by Marjorie M. Liu

inclined to spill his guts about some of the work he'd done for Nick Fury. The jobs had been long and drawn out, requiring a native's understanding of the city.
    And Logan was always good at going native.
    Scott and Logan rummaged through the cupboards and found boxes of cookies, pretzels, and Ritz crackers. Careful with crumbs—and mindful they should not finish everything—they sat in the dark living room and munched on snacks. Several times the police car drove slowly past, but the cop never stopped. After several hours of taking turns sleeping and watching, Logan said, "He hasn't been back for two hours. I think it may be safe to move."
    "Let's wait one more hour." Scott studied Jean, who lay curled beside him in a heavy sleep. Rogue and Kurt had their eyes closed, too. Logan was not entirely sure how deep into la-la land they were, but any bit of rest would help them when they started moving.
    Logan slept for a time, with images of wolves and straitjackets and a long sharp fence filling his head—and then stayed awake while Scott stole several minutes of his own rest. The cop never returned.
    "It's time," he finally said, shaking Scott awake. "We stay here any longer and we'll be walking with the rising sun." An exaggeration; it wasn't even two in the morning, but time would move fast once they left the house.
    They used the bathrooms one last time, and then left the house through the back door. Logan led them down the backstreet until they came to the main road. He did not see many parked vehicles; none of them looked like a police cruiser. Logan did not have the time or patience to check for unmarked vehicles.
    They cut across backstreets and took shortcuts across lawns, always watching, always listening. Only once did they hear a car and they hid out behind a detached garage. It was nothing more than a little Jetta, but it made Logan more cautious as they emerged from the shadows.
    When they reached the park—a multiacre spread of sandboxes, soccer fields, and grassy picnic mounds— Logan made them wait inside the tree line as he studied the open field for movement. Everything was still except for the light brush of wind across his face, lulling leaves into a soft music.
    "I'll go alone," Scott said. "It's safer that way."
    Logan did not disagree. Jean also said nothing. They watched him leave the cover of shadow into a lighter dark, a small figure walking quickly across the grass to a spot in the center of a field. Scott stood there for several minutes, staring at nothing.
    "Crap," Logan said.
    "I'm not surprised," Jean said. "We'll just have to be more resourceful."
    "It's one of the things I do best, darlin'."
    "I know," she said, and her smile was small and wry.
    Scott did not say anything when he returned from the field. He examined his hands and then their feces, looking each of them in the eyes. He saved Jean for last, and if Logan had been at all sentimental, he would have felt a twinge of sympathy for the sorrow and apology in that man's gaze.
    "No one knows us," Scott said, quiet. "We don't have our powers, we're wanted by the police, and we're dead broke."
    "Right," Logan said. "Survival time."

 
     
Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters

    8
     
    They walked quickly, keeping to alleys and side streets as they crossed from residential neighborhoods into industrial parks. Night in the dead zone between Tacoma and Seattle was quiet, filled only with the occasional rumble of a car engine or the shout of some drunk making friends with a bottle.
    "It's a good ten miles between here and downtown Seattle," Logan said. It was difficult for Jean to listen to him when he sounded like a woman. Or maybe a better word was "eerie." If she did not look at him, if she pretended hard enough, she could almost convince herself that Logan was still a man and that his voice, with its same gruff growl, was the product of some terrible helium accident.
    With Scott it was different. She could not yet pretend with him.
    "That