"The only difference betwixt you and I, Kim, is that you enjoy trying a variety of ways to kill." Viper stopped at the large double doors opening to the balcony. "While I enjoy the challenge. I enjoy testing my prey and matching my skills against their skills.

"Alas," he sighed turning from the view of the city lights, "I have yet to meet anyone who can match the level of skill that I have obtained. I have surpassed all. Perhaps, there is still someone who can match blades with me, but I doubt that possibility."

Kim watched his master and felt a pang of anguish for Viper. He felt sorry that there was no one left to present a challenge. The hunt and the kill were what his master desired and lived for and without it, Kim feared Viper would no longer have a desire to continue in this life.

"Perhaps, my lord, someone will show themselves worthy of you," he offered.

"Perhaps." Viper shrugged. "I once heard of a gaijin that would have been worthy of me, but he is surely dead by now."

Viper regarded Kim thoughtfully and allowed himself a small smile. Kim and he had gone from street urchins to the uppercrest of the Tong. Throughout all their time together it was Kim who had always been loyal, and who pledged his life to Viper. It was Kim who never questioned Viper's orders but would offer suggestions. Kim took care of their underlings and disposed of any that he felt could be a threat to Viper. Kim, who on more than one occasion had stopped an assination on Viper by some young punk who wanted to move up in the ranks. And it was Kim who was Viper's only true friend. Viper trusted no one but Kim with his back.

He thought back to one of the times that he had been wounded and Kim kidnapped a doctor, stood over the doctor with a pistol while he operated and when Viper was out of danger, Kim disposed of the doctor and continued to keep watch at Viper's bedside.

Kim handed Viper a cup of tea, as was always Viper's routine to have a cup before retiring. It was Kim's way of saying it was late and they needed rest.

"Thank you, Kim," Viper said taking the tea. He never drank or ate anything unless Kim supervised the preparations or Kim tested it first.

"We shall remove this blemish from our slate, my lord," Kim stated. "You have my blood oath on this."

"Oh, yes, Kim," Viper whispered as he stared into the cup of tea, watching the leaves settle to the bottom, "and this little girl shall rue the day she was born."

Nightcrawler reset the autodoc and reread the readings. Jean had been poisoned and there was no known cure. He cursed softly in German. The tests did show something positive, she would not die but she was in a deep sleep, a coma. He sighed, checked her vitals, double checked the IV and fixed her covers.

He looked at Cyclops, who sat beside Jean, holding her hand. He had been here all night. "You need to get some sleep, mien friend."

Cyk glanced at Nightcrawler and then back to Jean. "I did sleep."

"Ja?" Kurt crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against a counter. He scrutinized his leader. "Vhen?"

"Off and on last night."

"You need to sleep."

"I will, Kurt."

"You are not helping eitzer of zhem, Scott." Kurt stood, took Cyclops by the arm and ushered him to the door. "At least get zomething to eat and I vill set up a bed down here for you, 'kay?"

Scott nodded and touched Kurt's shoulder, "Thanks."

"Och! Not a problem. Now go on." Kurt watched him leave and then returned to his patient.

Cyclops stood in the kitchen, staring into the refrigerator. There was a variety of sandwich meats, cheeses, and leftovers, but it was a blur to him. He couldn't seem to distinguish one item from the next. He finally grabbed some type of leftover, removed the plastic wrap, tossed it on a plate and put in the microwave. He poured a glass of iced tea and leaned against the counter waiting for the food to heat. He sipped at the tea, not really tasting it. He stared at the floor, not really seeing the patterns of the tile.

He relived the battle over again for the hundredth time, and still found no way he could have prevented what Viper did to Jean or the other patrons. He knew he was not to blame, but it was his nature to take the world on his shoulders. He could be forgiving to others, but not himself. The ride back was the worst.

Jean's body was lifeless, pale, and barely breathing. He flew the Blackbird while Kurt struggled to keep her alive. He had to fight to keep the burning tears from blurring his vision. He pushed the jet to its maximum potential. He had broken at least five FAA rules trying to get his lover back to the infirmary.

When they returned to their headquarters, he half expected to see Professor Xavier waiting to take over and heal Jean, find a miracle cure. Instead, he and Kurt swiftly got Jean to medical and worked with their limited knowledge to save her.

The annoying beep of the microwave brought him out of his reprieve. He took the plate and sat at the table. He stared at the food, unsure what it was. He crinkled his nose and shoved the plate away, leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes against the tears.

The pain of possibly loosing Jean was unbearable. He had lost her in the past, not once or twice, but several times and each time she survived and was returned to him. Maybe this was the last time and he would have to face his life without her with no reprieve of her coming back to him.

He leaned his head on his hands, pressing his palms into his temples. Why did life have to be so cruel? Why was it always Jean and he who had to suffer at the hands of some mad man? Why now? Things were going well for them, they were finally going to get married. It was all planned, the rings, the invitations, her wedding dress and everything else they needed. But now, she laid in a coma.

Try as he willed, he could not stop the sob that escaped his lips, hot tears flooded his eyes. He dropped his head onto his arms, venting his sorrow and pain.

Wolverine and Kitku walked out of the Western Union office with the cash that had been wired to them. They had already picked up his ID and a couple of credit cards but Wolverine immediately dismissed the usage of the cards. It would leave paper trail.

The next stop they made was to a camping store where they purchased two sleeping bags, a flashlight, matches, and a few other incidentals. Wolverine had decided that they would be better off that they stay out of hotels and keep off road as much as possible.

Finally, Wolverine stopped so they could get a bite to eat. Kitku opened the package from Federal Express, going through the contents that Wolverine had left inside.

"What's this?" she handed him a piece of paper.

Wolverine took it and read it. "It's a note from Jean tellin' us that their workin' on keepin' our backs clear."

He shoved the paper into his pocket, his conscious began to nag at him. He had lied to the girl. The note actually contained information about Kitku's parents murder but he just couldn't tell her. Not here, not now. It would have to wait until all this was over.

He caught Kitku thoughtfully staring at him. "What?"

"Nothing. Okay, actually, I don't think you're telling me the truth," she said bluntly. "I think you're using the fact that I can't read and telling me what that note really said.

Wolverine leaned back in the booth. It was his turn to regard her thoughtfully. "Kit, do ya trust me?"

"Do you have to ask?" she questioned followed by a snort. "Duh, Wolvie."

"Then don't ask me about the paper. I'll tell ya when I think ya oughta know."

They stared at each other. Kitku was torn between being angry and understanding. Wolverine showed no emotion, just cold hard fact that he felt he knew what was best.

"If you think that's best," she conceded.

"I do."

"But I don't gotta like it," she added.

"No, ya don't," he agreed.

They finished their meal in silence and while they waited for the check, Wolverine lit a cigarette and Kitku asked to see his wallet.

"Why?"

"Just wanna." She scooted closer to him and waited expectantly for him to show her his wallet.

He smiled and supposed that all kids wanted to see what adults kept in their wallets or purses. Why? He had no idea. He just remembered see other kids do the samething to their parents. Kitty used to do the samething to him, Kurt, Jean and the others. Whoever they were. He supposed they were people that lived at the mansion. He handed her his wallet.

She sat up, tucking her legs under her backside and began going through the wallet. "What's this?"

"My driver's license."

"What's it say?"

Wolverine leaned over and looked at the id and read it to her.

"Your name's Logan?"

"I suppose." He shrugged. He signaled the waitress again for the check. She brought it to him, apologizing. "Not a problem. Thanks."

The weather was pleasant even as the clouds began to gather above them. Wolverine checked the sky, figured it would not rain and pulled off the road onto an overgrown road. He maneuvered the Harley carefully, avoided as many potholes as possible, receiving much thanks from his passenger. He found a small clearing and parked.

"We're staying here?" Kitku asked in an unsure voice, rubbing her sore bottom.

"Yep." He tossed the sleeping bags on the ground along with the duffel bag.

"Where's the bathroom?"

"Look around ya."

"Yeah, where?"

"Pick a tree, kiddo." Wolverine knelt down and began digging a small fire pit.

"And do what with it?"

"What'd ya think?" He turned his back to her hiding a grin.

"Are you high or what?" she snapped. "Or did that wonderful road jar your brains?"

"What's the problem?" He looked at her, his grin under control.

"The problem is you've chased too many parked cars. No bathroom, not staying." She picked up the duffel bag and took it back over to the bike and began strapping it back on. "Ain't no way I'm stayin' where the animals can get to me. Let's go."

He sat back on his heels, trying hard not to laugh. "What'd ya think the sleepin' bags were for, kid?"

"To sleep in the bathtub when you snore. I don't know! I thought we'd be sleeping in the park or something, not where Bambi could take a dump on me!" she snapped, her face flushed red with anger.

Wolverine tried to hold back the chuckle but failed miserably. The woods were suddenly filled with a deep laughter. He tried to explain his reasons, but was unable to get a breath.

"It's not funny, Wolvie!" She watched him laugh even harder. She reached down and picked up the rolled up sleeping bag. Calmly, methodically she walked over to him and slammed his head with it, knocking him over. He was laughing too hard to stop her.

She glared down at his prone, hysterical figure and stomped back to the bike. "It's not funny!"

Wolverine sat up, wiping his eyes. "I'm sorry, kid, it was the Bambi comment. It did me in."

Kitku contemplated giving him the finger but thought better of it. Wolvie was cool as a general rule and put up with alot of her crap, but she figured he may take that guesture a bit poorly. She settled for sticking her tongue out.

He stood and walked over to her. "Come on, darlin', relax. Ain't nuthin' gonna happen to ya out here."

She looked up at him. "Promise?"

Wolverine rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I promise."

"Double promise?"

"Double promise."

"If I wake up dead, I'm never talking to you again." She undid the duffel bag and tossed it near the semi-finished firepit. "And it'll be your fault."

The rest of the early evening went fairly smoothly, except for a few scraps and brusies acquired by Kitku as she attempted to gather wood for the night's fire. Other than her occasional loud swear and Wolverine's chuckle the night was fairly quiet.

The only other major event of the evening was when Kitku could no longer wait to relieve herself. "Turn on the bike, Wolvie."

"Why?" he looked up from tending the fire.

"I gotta go." She stood with crossed legs and hopping in place.

"So, ya gotta the flashlight, use it."

She pursed her lips and gave her best annoyed look. "Just do it. Or I'll go right here and now."

He sighed, stood and turned on the bike.

She followed the beam, checking the ground and the surrounding areas carefully. There could be anything waiting to jump out at an unsuspecting girl the minute she dropped her pants and she was taking no chances. She stepped behind a tree, took down her jeans and squatted. An audible sigh could be heard as she found blessed relief from the pressure on her bladder. Moments later she stepped back out from the tree and returned to camp.

Wolverine turned off the bike, hoping the darkness would hide his spreading grin.

"We'd better not be doing this tomorrow."

"Well..." he started.

"You're shitting me, Wolvie, come on!" she pleaded. "We got a wad of cash from your buddies and we're living out here!"

"Kit, we gotta stay outa sight. It's better this way." He sat down on the log beside her. "Here."

He handed her a somewhat squished bag of marshmallows.

Kitku stirred, a sharp pain dug deep into her side. She kicked in her sleep. Someone was trying to knife her and had obviously succeeded. She jerked awake, the dream gone, but the pain lingered. She sat up, the sleeping bag still wrapped around her. She looked down and found the offending 'knife'. A sharp rock. She sneered at it, picked it up and threw it into the woods.

"Jerk," she called after it. She looked around, there was a mist covering the forest. A stillness that she had never experienced before was all around her. She tilted her head and listened to the cries of the morning birds and the rustle of the small animals. It was peaceful and relaxing. She could see the dawn rays playing in and out of the tree limbs. It was a beautiful sight.

She climbed out of her bag and searched for Wolverine who was not in camp. She shrugged and thought to herself, Probably out taking a leak.

She stretched and yawned and felt the call of nature herself. She quickly took care of business and went back to the campsite. Wolverine still was not back. She tossed a couple of small sticks on the embers, not really trying to start the fire, but just for something to do. She felt a chill from the morning air and grabbed her sleeping bag, opened it and wrapped it over her shoulders.

Suddenly there was a breakfast bar in her face. She fell backwards off the log and armored herself. "Damn it, Wolvie!"

"Sorry, Kit." He smiled.

She snatched the bar from his hand after he helped her up, and began eating.

"So, where were you?" she asked between mouthfuls.

"Just lookin' around. Soon as you're done, we're outa here." He began to gather their items up and load the bike. "We'll stop and get breakfast later."

"Wolvie?" she asked after a bit.

He had finished packing the bike and sat down beside her.

"Where are we going?" she asked in a small voice.

"Right now, darlin', I ain't exactly sure. We're just tryin' to stay ahead of Viper."

"Can't we go to your friends?"

"That'd mean backtrackin' right into Viper," he answered truthfully. He had decided not to pull punches with her anymore. Jean had not contacted him in two days. Something was terribly wrong. He could sense it and the kid deserved to know the whole situation because tomorrow might not come.

"Can't they come and get us?"

"Nope, they're coverin' our backs. If they come get us, we're all a target." He did not tell her that he thought they could not come and help them. If Jean had broke contact, then he had to expect the worst had happened to them.

"Don't you have other friends?" her voice quivered with fear.

"Yep, I think I've got one or two."

She smiled and hugged him.

Now, if he could only remember who they were.

Bozeman, Montana. Why the name stuck with Wolverine, he was not sure. He was positive he had been here before, but he did not know when or with whom. He parked the bike and suggested that he and Kitku stretch their legs and spend the night here.

"In a hotel, right?" Kitku looked at him with hopeful eyes. She did not mind camping out so much anymore, but would have preferred a tent or something.

"Yeah, we'll get a room." Wolverine ruffled her hair. "Let's have a look around."

She slid her hand into his as they walked, looking at the various tourist shops and antique stores. He bought her an ice cream cone and a soda as they made their way up one street and down another. They passed a tiny art gallery, Wolverine gave it a glance and then stopped. He let go of her hand and went back to the gallery.

"What's up, Wolvie?" Kitku asked crunching on the last bit of her cone.

Wolverine glanced down at her, handed her his handkerchief, and pointed at a statue in the window. "Not sure, kid, just seems familiar."

Kitku took the handkerchief and wiped her face. "Oh, yuck. Why didn't you tell me I was covered in chocolate?"

Not hearing her, Wolverine continued to stare at the statue.

She looked at the statue and then back at Wolverine. "Hey."

He stepped towards the window as if mesmerized by the art work.

"Hey!" She tugged at his sleeve.

"Well, what do you think, gorgeous? You like?"

He looked up from his newspaper to the speaker. She was a petite woman of Greek-American origin with long black hair and an hourglass figure. She was holding a marble statue of a couple intertwined in love making. The figures resembling her and he.

He smiled and nodded. "Not bad, Jas, one o' your better works."

She set the statue on the coffee table and stepped back from it. "Not bad. Marble is not as easy for me as metal, but hell it looks good."

"Ya gonna put it in your showing?" He put the paper aside and patted his lap.

"Maybe." She sat down on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I'm not so sure..."

"Come on, Jas, you're a hell've an artist."

"You're just saying that because you love me."

"Nope, I'm sayin' it 'cause your a hell've an artist."

She smiled at him, her eyes dancing mischievously. "And you, Logan, are an artist in your own right."

"How's that?"

"Guess." She bent her head close to his and kissed him passionately.

"Wolvie!"

He shook his head coming out of his reprieve. "Let's go in here."

She followed him into the gallery, shaking her head. "Men."

"Can I help you?" a thin, balding man asked as they entered the gallery. His eyes checking the two from head to toe, his nose wrinkling at their appearance.

"Yeah, that statue, in the window," Wolverine ignored the man's snide voice, "who's the artist?"

"That would be Jasmine Daniels," he said, rolling his eyes. Obviously these people were ignorant of the art world. "She is quite well known."

"How come I never heard of her?" Kitku asked, mimicking his snide tone. This guy needs more fiber in his diet.

He looked down his nose at her, "Well, little girl, perhaps if you were more inclined to arts, then you would know of whom I speak."

"Yeah, maybe..." Kitku took a step forward. She did not like this snotty guy.

"How much?" Wolverine cut her off, oblivious to the rude tone of the proprietor.

"Pardon?" His attention turned to Wolverine.

"How much?"

"Well, I'm sure that this is beyond your price range, however," he walked over to the window and read the tag. "The price is seventeen hundred."

"I'll take it."

The proprietor gave the scruffy, short man a tight smile, "We do not accept personal checks and only major credit cards."

"Ya take cash?" He took out his wallet and removed a wad of cash.

Kitku giggled at the balding man's face. He went from his constipated look to slacked jaw shock.

"But of course, sir," his voice taking on a sickenly sweet tone. He picked the statue up and gestured Wolverine to follow him. He took them to the front of the gallery where his little desk was and pulled out his sales book. "Of course this is an original and you will have all..."

"This Daniels, does she live around here?" Wolverine interrupted.

"Oh, no actually, sir," he smiled, "she lives near Broadwater. Somewhere on Lake Winston."

Wolverine nodded.