Chapter 2

Estelle POV

The journey back is slow, but I make it. Using the last bit of my strength to plop him on the couch I sit on the coffee table, doing my very best to catch my breath.

I had to make sure he was breathing, them make sure I was a few times. Standing, I head into the kitchen to get a warm cloth. Wiping the blood from his hands and ankles, I rush back to the sink to drain it out until there was nothing left. Soaking it with cold water, I leave it a little damp, before placing it on his burning forehead.

Bundling him up, I march over to the bathroom, swimming for the fever medicine I had lying around. Returning I pour a bit of the thick liquid on a spoon before placing it between his lips. Followed by cold water, to help it all go down.

Looking at him one last time I leave to clean up for the night. After a quick shower and light dinner, I slip into bed, exhausted and drained.

No POV

The night whispers as the sun peaks through the horizon, the birds awaken from a quiet night and the clouds roam the sky. Rays of light peak through the currents of the home, landing on the gruff man. Face tense he opens his eyes slowly, as the fuzzy memories of nightfall return to him.

Sitting up the cloth once on his head falls on his lap, dryer than before. Picking it up he takes a moment to look around at the quant space. Then Estelle comes into view with a glass of water in hand. He soaks in her features, her movements. Skin like a fresh brew of coffee in the morning, eyes like rays of light, and lips plump like ripened fruit. Every curl on her hair twist and turns, unbothered by one another to form a tamed style that made Estelle shine like a star. Dressed in light-shaded jeans and a yellow shirt she hands him the glass.

"How are you feeling?"

Her tone is kind, voice sweet and warm like honey and milk. Logan answers honestly, "Shitty."

She grows apologetic, as he takes the water, downing large gulps.

"Sorry, you scared me. It just happened..."

He grunts handing her the glass, understanding and unfazed by her words. Wincing, a sharp pain fills his head, alert, she rushes off returning with a few pills.

"Here. To help with the headache."

He takes it, mumbling a rough thank you before popping the pills. Whether or not it works is beyond him but seeing as whatever she did hasn't healed, he'll need them.

She speaks kindly, "It's clear that you're a mutant like me. I have Regression, I can turn the clock on things, unfortunately I don't know how to control it."

Looking at him with worry and shame she continues, "I don't know what I did to you. But seeing as you haven't changed physically, I may have hit your...brain. I'm so sorry."

Then a quick realization crosses her mind, "Do you still have your memories?"

He nods, "Yeah."

Relief washes over her, "Oh thank the lord."

Neither still knew where the zap hit him but he would be able to find out. Standing the thick blanket falls, looking up at her he makes his way to the front door.

Frazzled she speaks up, "Wait!"

Stopping he looks at her, watching as she walks off only to return with a container. "Here, I saved you some food."

Taking it, he stared at the box for a moment, "Thanks..."

She smiles at him brightly, "No need, once more I apologize for hurting you."

Walking him out the door she closes it behind him, feeling relieved. She hoped this wouldn't bite her in the ass, but at least she's alive and well.

Logan on the other hand is shocked and confused by Hank's words. After some tests done and looking into his medical records, Hank made a shocking discovery.

The blue man speaks kindly, "You see, traumatic stress can be viewed through various brain scans. This is the before picture."

Showing the scans he explains, "This is shortly after you've joined the X-Men, and this image is after discovering the origins of your claws, and the trauma that came with it. See how this part of your brain is oddly colored and protrudes, this represents the trauma you went through. Now if you look at the aftermath of last night's events, you can see how it's barely noticeable, barely present."

Logan digests his words, "Give it to me straight Hank."

Hank smiles, "The woman you met last night essentially illuminated this trauma from your brain. Granted you still hold your memories so it can still affect you but this has set back any symptoms of PTSD, Depression, and anxiety by a large margin. It's truly fascinating and you're extremely lucky it didn't come in contact with any other part of your brain."

Logan nods slowly understanding his words, "So I'm ok, right?"

He laughs, "More than ok my dear friend!"

Collecting the scans and documents he continues, "Come back in a week so I can take another test or two."

Logan nods before walking out. He can't help but feel weird, calm even. He felt odd riding back to the school, weird walking past everyone, and now that understands he felt even weirder.

A week passes, and within the small school, Estelle teaches with a bright smile and a pep in her step. The students sit on the edge of their seats, ready to play in the sun and enjoy their long-awaited break.

"Ok class, now, I have a surprise for you! Please open your lockers one row at a time. Starting with Row A."

Row by row they open their music lockers to find wrapped gifts, sitting in their seats they open them to find toys and trinkets. Things Estelle heard in passing throughout the year. From journals to toy soldiers, the smiles on their faces warm her heart. This has been the largest class in the school for quite some time and to watch them grow brings her nothing but joy.

Saying their thank you', the announcements come on, allowing the children to run off home.

Standing at the door she smiles brightly, "See you next year!"

Watching her classroom empty she sits in her seat, collecting herself one last time. Standing she begins to clean the wrappers and ribbons left behind, finding the bit of savings she used worth the occasion. Packing up the last box of her belongings, she walks to her car. Plopping the box in the back seat she slips in the driver's seat before heading to the main road.

Listening to the radio, she sings along to the tune filling her car. Pulling up the pathed road she turns off the car. Walking to the door, she happily carries her school belongings. Looking ahead she sees the same man who gave her an eventful night of terror and confusion.