Disclaimer: We haven't made ourselves little clones of Wolvie and Gambit yet, so we own no X-Men…

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Big trouble comes in small packages… (Humor)

Author's Note: No narcotics were involved in the making of this fanfic. We swear!

Feedback and Archiving: Yes. Sure. Have a blast with it. :) E-mail us at addie_logan@yahoo.com.

Shameless Webpage Plug: GambitGirl: www.angelfire.com/scifi/nextx .  Addie Logan: www.angelfire.com/scifi/addielogan

 

X-Men: Attack of the Clones

(Or The Clone Who Shagged Me)

By: Addie Logan and GambitGirl

 

Somewhere in the frozen wasteland of Canada…

"Professor?"

"Yes?"

"Were we successful?"

"Why yes, we were as a matter of fact."

"So he has been cloned?"

"Yes. And it is perfect—exactly one-eighth his size."

 

Westchester, New York…

"Logan, you should slow down, you know."

"I'm only going ninety."

Rogue sighed. "And you're still not wearin' your seatbelt. Remember what happened last time?" 

Logan growled.  "And I still don't need advice on auto safety!"  Rogue crossed her arms and pouted. 

"Why are you lashin' out at me?  I thought we agreed to talk more." 

A regretful look stole onto Logan's face.  "Well, ya know, I was abused as a child, and this is just my way of dealin' with the world around me." 

Rogue softened and touched the arm of his jacket.  "Oh Logan, really?"

Logan snorted.  "No, not really.  I can't back that up."  

"Jerk," Rogue said, retreating to her side of the cab.  Suddenly, Rogue saw something jump from the trees and on to the road. "Logan! Look out!" she screamed. "It's a squirrel!"

Logan swerved suddenly, sending the truck slamming into a tree. Rogue felt her seatbelt catch, shoddily repaired after Cyclops had blasted it apart in Alberta*, snap and suddenly she was airborne.  She slammed into a pine tree, fell to the ground, and passed out. 

 

Logan came to with a tall, blonde woman in an EMS outfit standing over him. He smiled to himself. He always had had a thing for doctors.  She was checking his vitals and putting an IV in his arm.  Logan moaned. She jumped a little.  "Sir?  Sir, don't move.  You may have sustained spinal injuries." 

Logan thought about telling her he wasn't hurt and then going off to find Rogue, but then he realized he could see down her shirt from where he was lying and changed his mind. "Okay," he croaked. "I'll try to be still. It hurts…a lot."

"Don't worry, sir," said the blonde EMS chick.  "My name is Candi.  I'll take care of you."  Logan reached out and gripped her hand like he had seen victims do on ER. 

"Promise?" he said pitifully. 

The woman's overly blue eyes filled with tears. "Of course, sir. I'll give you whatever you need."

Logan grinned to himself as they loaded him into the ambulance.

 

Rogue woke up because someone was flashing a red light in her eyes.  After a moment she realized it was the taillights of an ambulance pulling away from the crash site.  Her head hurt, and there was wetness running down her face.  "Hey," she rasped.  The ambulance turned onto the road and sped off into the night, siren wailing.  "Hey!" Rogue screamed indignantly. 

She tried to get up, but the pain was too much. She slumped back to the ground, passing out again. When she regained consciousness a few minutes later, she noticed that she had miraculously healed.  "What…" she said, feeling her head.  It was sore but not cut or bleeding.  She was also able to stand.  The emergency services had disappeared, and the night was very cold and black.  Rogue had been flung about twenty yards into the forest.  She could barely see the road. 

Rogue burst into tears, as was her habit in moments of stress—like when she burnt microwave popcorn.  Her sobs were abruptly cut off when she heard a growl coming from deeper in the forest.  Rogue whipped her head around.  "H-hello?"

She was answered by another growl, and her cow-like eyes got larger in fright. "Wh…who's there?"

A small child with hair that stuck in two points off his head walked out. He was clad in flannel. "Grrr…"  Rogue yelped and covered her mouth with one gloved hand. 

"Grrr?" The child said inquisitively. "Grr grr?"

Rogue's mouth opened as if to scream again, then it broke into a smile. "Why aren't you just the cutest little thing!  What are you doin' out here so late?"

The child looked said. "grr…" He frowned.

Rogue began to cry slightly with sympathy. "Aww, you poor little thing. How about I take you home with me."

The child smiled and began to jump up and down happily. "Grr! Grr grr!"

Rogue held out her hand and was quite surprised when the child took a flying leap and landed around her neck.  "Oof!" said Rogue.  "You're sure heavier than you look, sugah."  The child nestled his head against her collarbone and purred happily.  Rogue patted his spiky hair and began the long walk home.

 

The first thing Rogue did when she got home was try to find her new boyfriend, Remy LeBeau, and show him child she had found in the woods.

"Uh, chère, Gambit t'ink mebbe you should try to find dis kid's pants, non?"

"He already has pants, Remy," Rogue said, confused as usual.

Remy shook his head. "No, chère. His pay-unts."

"And I told you he's already got pants on. Little tiny blue jeans to be exact."

Remy rolled his eyes. "No! I mean de pup's mama and papa."

"Oh! Parents! Why didn't you just say so instead of talkin' about the poor kids pants?"

Remy rolled his eyes again.  "Chère, you give Gambit a headache sometimes, you know dat?"

"Yeah, uh huh, whatever. Anyway, I was thinkin' that since he seems to like me so much, I'll just keep him for a while."

"Rogue, you can't jus' keep some strange child you find in de woods. What if dis kid belongs to a psychotic lumberjack? You be in trouble den, petite. Besides, you don't even know his name."

Rogue gave Remy a dirty look. "I don't have to know his name. I made one up for him."

"Say what?"

"I will call him…Mini-Logan."

"Mini-Logan?"

"Yeah. See, he sorta looks like Logan, but he's smaller—you know, 'Mini'."

"You touched in de head, chère."

Rogue merely flipped a dismissive hand at Remy's logic, and thrust the newly christened Mini-Logan at him.  Gambit held up his hands.

"Non!  Gambit don't do de kid t'ing." 

"Will ya just hold him for a minute, swamp rat?" snapped Rogue.  "I have to go tell Scott and Jean I found him."  Mini-Logan looked at Remy eagerly. 

"Grrrrr!" he stretched out one tiny hand.  Remy slapped a hand over his eyes. 

"Merde.  Come 'ere, pup."  He took Mini-Logan from Rogue and carried him into the rec room.

As soon as they were in the rec room and out of Rogue's sight, Mini-Logan opened his mouth and bit Remy—hard. Remy screamed. "Ow! What did ya do dat for?"

"Kill Scott!"

"Quoi? Remy not Scott. Remy, well, Remy!"

"Kill Scott," repeated Mini-Logan in a voice eerily similar to the child in The Exorcist.  Remy began to be really frightened when six miniature claws extended from Mini-Logan's knuckles and he jumped at Gambit.

"Mon Dieu!" Remy screamed, jumping on the pool table and pulling his legs out of Mini-Logan's reach. 

"Grrr!" said Mini-Logan ferociously.  Remy grabbed a pool cue and tried to poke him with it. 

"Back!  Back!  Back!"  Mini-Logan grinned at him.  He had pointed canines. 

"Kiiillll red-eye," he drawled. 

"Oh, merde," said Remy. "You t'ink Remy Scott 'cause he got de red eyes."

"Summers brother!"

"Dat was just a rumor! I'm not related to dem, I swear." Gambit added under his breath, "Remy waaay too cool to be a Summers."  Mini-Logan stepped back and cocked his head.

"Not Scott?" 

"Oui!  I mean—non!" Remy said as Mini-Logan started advancing again.  "Not Scott.  Not Summers brother.  Jus' Remy!!"

"Grrr…" Mini-Logan ran out of the room in search of his real prey. Gambit sat down on the edge of the pool table, visibly relieved.

Rogue came in a few moments later. "Remy, sugah, where's Mini-Logan."

"He ran 'way, chère."

"What! You let him just run off! What kind of father are you gonna be when we have kids?"

Remy's eyes filled with even more terror than they had when Mini-Logan had been attacking him. "Wha? Remy gonna be de fat'er of your children? You not tellin' Gambit somet'ing, chère?"

Rogue ignored him. "Where did he go, Remy?"

"Kill Scott, I t'ink."

"Huh? What on earth would make you say somethin' like that, Cajun?"

"'Cause dat's what de stupid Mini-Logan said!"

 

Mini-Logan skittered aimlessly along the halls of the mansion, until his mini-nose caught the scent of another mutant.  He stopped at the kitchen door and peeked in, only his eyes and his pointy hair visible.  He saw Wolverine at the getting a beer from the fridge. He had the look of a man who had just scored the number of an easy ditz in a tight white doctor's coat.  "Grrr…" said Mini-Logan softly.  Logan turned at the noise and saw a very small doppelganger of himself staring back. 

"Flamin' hell!" he shouted, spraying the counter with his mouthful of beer. "Who the hell are you?"

"Mini-Logan," he replied sweetly. "Grrr…"

Logan smiled. "Yer cute, runt."

"Grr!" Mini-Logan agreed happily.  He put out his arms to be picked up.  Logan rolled his eyes but obliged.

Mini-Logan pointed to the can of Molson's on the counter. "Grr?"

Logan shrugged. "What the heck." He handed Mini-Logan the can and Mini-Logan swallowed it all in one gulp.

"Wow. You were a thirsty lil' bugger, weren't ya?"

"LOGAN!"

Wolverine paused in fear. It was the one thing that could terrify him. The noise that signaled the coming of another one of Rogue's fits.  Mini-Logan spotted Rogue and began to vocalize happily.

"Grr grr grr!"  Wolverine guessed that was the Mini-Logan equivalent of 'mommy'. 

"I've been lookin' for you everywhere, Mini-Logan. Ever since that dumb Cajun I'm datin' went all psycho and acted like the bad father he'll someday be." She grabbed Mini-Logan from Wolverine's hands. "And Big-Logan. You outta be ashamed of yourself, corruptin' youth like that."

Wolverine frowned at the name "Big-Logan." He thought it made him sound like a trucker with a beer gut. "He said he wanted some! Well, actually he pointed at it and growled, but that's man-speak for 'beer, please.'"

"I don't believe you!" said Rogue.  "Come on, Mini-Logan.  We're goin' to bed!"  She turned on her heel and swept out of the kitchen. 

"Grr grr!" waved Mini-Logan over her shoulder.  Wolverine smiled again. 

"Heh.  Cute little runt."

 

Once Rogue had tucked him in and gone off to find Remy and make sure she got her whining quota in for the day, Mini-Logan got up and snuck out of his room. He tiptoed around the mansion, looking for someone with red eyes that didn't swat at him with big sticks. He peaked into the medlab, and when he saw Scott wasn't there, he started to leave, but then saw something that changed his mind.

"Grrr…" Mini-Logan said with a huge smile.  He stepped into the lab and crept across the floor in the footie pajamas Mama Rogue had dressed him in.  They were dorky, but excellent for what he had in mind.  He was careful not to make any noise as he approached his prey. He reached up, got a handful of what he wanted, and pinched.

"Aieee!" Jean Grey yelped, hopping a good foot in the air.  "What the hell grabbed my ass?!" 

"Grrr!" said Mini-Logan, waving a hand above his head.  Jean saw him and reacted much the same as Remy, hoisting herself in terror onto the lab table. 

"Get away!  Scott!  Help!" 

"Grrr," said Mini-Logan, smiling.  Jean regarded him with a wary eye. 

"What on earth are you?" 

"Mini-Logan," he said. 

Jean adjusted her glasses. "You're…sorta cute," she said after a moment.

Mini-Logan grinned. "Grrr… "  Jean almost smiled.

"Very cute, in fact.  You…you really are a Mini-Logan."  Mini-Logan grinned more.  Jean got off the table, exposing her legs at perfect Mini-Logan eye line. 

"Heh heh heh heh heh," he said, rubbing his hands together. 

"I have to go to bed now, sweetie," said Jean.  "I hope I'll see you tomorrow."  Mini-Logan held out his arms.

"Go bed with Jean!"  Her eyes widened, so much so Mini-Logan's superior eyes could see the outline of her color contacts.

"Noooo.  No bed with Jean.  You go to sleep in your own room, okay?"  Mini-Logan's face became petulant. 

"Go bed with Jean!  Go bed with Jean!" 

"No!" Jean shouted.  Mini-Logan looked sad. 

"Nice ass," he said ingratiatingly. Jean tapped her knuckles on the top of his head.

"That's no way for a child to talk.  Go to sleep now."  Mini-Logan grinned at Jean's rear as she left the lab.

"Sweet dreams, nice ass."

 

Scott Summers woke up with his NPR clock radio at six a.m. the next morning.  He got out of bed, smoothing the wrinkles out of his Brooks Brothers pajamas, and went to the mirror.  He closed his eyes and changed from his sleep visor to his regular glasses.  He brushed his hair a hundred times and got his toothbrush to go do the same with his teeth.  He stopped just in front of his door.  There was a piece of folded white paper on the floor.  Scott picked it up.  "Hmm."

The paper read From the desk of Professor Charles Xavier at the top in copperplate.  Underneath was a crude stick drawing of a man being hung by his neck.  Red marker had filled in the man's eyes and blocky sunglasses.  Under the drawing were the words DIE SCOTT DIE in block letters.  Scott held the paper for a few seconds, feeling distinctly less chipper than when he'd woken up.  He turned to his sleeping fiancé.  "Jean…?" 

She rolled over, not quite awake.  "Hmm?" 

"Who left me this note?" 

"What note?" mumbled Jean.  Scott adjusted his glasses.

"The one that says 'die Scott die'."  Jean rubbed a hand across her eyes.

"Any number of people, honey." 

"Very funny," said Scott.  "Really, who?"

"Mm, probably Mini-Logan," said Jean.  "I'm going back to sleep, dear."

"Wait—who's Mini-Logan?" demanded Scott, thinking that one feral Canadian in the house was more than enough. 

"Sleeping, Scott!" Jean said in a dangerous tone.

"Sorry, honey," said Scott, going downstairs to find out what exactly was a Mini-Logan.

 

Rogue was trying desperately to find something to feed Mini-Logan for breakfast. "Eggs?"

Mini-Logan shook his head.

"Toast?"

He shook his head again.

"How about a hot pocket? They're breathtakin'."

Mini-Logan shoved his finger down his throat, imitating gagging.

Logan walked into the room. "Logan, Mini-Logan won't eat."

Logan walked casually to the fridge, pulled out a raw steak, and threw it to Mini-Logan. Mini-Logan speared the meat with his mini-claws in midair and took a big bite.

"Ya just gotta know what to feed the kid, Marie."

Rogue turned as pale as the streak in her hair. "That's disgustin!"  Mini-Logan gave her a cute smile.  Blood dripped down his chin.  Rogue ran from the room, turning green.

Mini-Logan growled as he ate his raw meet. Logan tossed him a Molson's.

Mini-Logan was content. It was the perfect breakfast.

 

That afternoon, a vexed Scott Summers entered the changing area for the danger room.  He still hadn't been able to find out what a 'Mini-Logan' was.  Scott slipped on his uniform and combat visor and entered the danger room proper.  He hit the intercom to the control room.  "Anyone there?"  Only static hissed back at him.  It sounded almost like 'grrr'. 

Scott shook his head, deciding it that it was just him hearing Logan sounds again. Maybe he should talk to the psychiatrist about his Logan phobia…

He readied his visor and said, "Cerebro, level six please." 

"What.  Scenario.  Scott?" asked Cerebro. 

"Scenario: Wussy Wolverines."

"Wussy.  Wolverines," said Cerebro in confirmation.  "Please.  Stand.  By."  Scott smiled.

Scott stood there, waiting for the weak, loser Logans to attack him so he could beat them up and inflate his ego. Instead, he was attacked by bear-like, colorful British children with oddly-shaped antennas on their heads. "Group Hug!" one of the shouted. They all four ran at Scott, grabbing him and attempting to squeeze the air out of him.

"HELP!" Scott bellowed as the creatures engulfed him.  "Cerebro, I'm being attacked by Teletubbies!"

"I'm.  Sorry.  To.  Hear.  That.  Scott," said Cerebro, "But. I. Cannot. Stop. The. Program."

"I'm dying!" Scott managed to choke out.

"I'm. Sorry. Good. Bye. Scott."

Suddenly, Scott remembered that he had the power to emit beams of concussive force—not lasers!—from his eyes.  He managed to yank an arm free and open the firing stud on his visor to full power.  He began to frag the Teletubbies into little multicolored bits. 

Mini-Logan watched from the control room, his expression gleeful until he saw the Teletubbies had been destroyed.

"Grrr…Flamin' hell."

 

Scott stumbled out of the danger room, his uniform shredded from the waist up, gasping for air.  He got another rude shock to his system when he saw a tiny version of Logan standing in the corner of the changing room.  "Gah!" Scott shouted.  "What are you?"  The tiny Logan grinned.

"Kiiillll Scott," he said, and then ran out of the room.  Scott curled up in a ball on the floor and screamed.  He thought Professor Xavier had helped him to stop seeing tiny Logans everywhere.

 

Logan was relaxing with a glass of Jack Daniels and the Playboy Channel when Scott threw open the door to his room and pointed an accusing finger at his face.  "He tried to kill me!"  Logan looked up.

"Who?"

"That stupid—Mini-You!" Scott shouted, looking like he was about to have an aneurysm. 

Logan growled low in his chest. "Scott, how many times do I have to tell you not to burst in my room when I'm watch the play…er, um, the History Channel."

"I'm serious!" Scott yelled. "Mini-Logan tried to kill me!"

"Mini-Logan's just a harmless kid Rogue found wandering alone in the woods who apparently appeared from nowhere. There's absolutely nothin' strange about him."

"Nothing?!  Nothing?!" Scott screeched in a high-pitched voice.  "He's a homicidal maniac…in miniature!  He's a freak!  He should be wearing a white hug-me jacket and living in a padded cell!"  Logan slammed down his glass and stood toe-to-toe with Scott. 

"Look, bub, ya can yap at me all ya want, but leave my family out of it!"  Scott blinked once behind his visor.

"Your…family?"  He backed away from Logan, thinking that even with his hallucinations, phobias, and obsessive-compulsive disorder that he wasn't the sick one here…

"Yeah. He's like the son I never had." Scott could've sworn he saw Logan wipe a tear away from his eye.

"Uh, I'm going to go, over there now," Scott said, pointing to the hallway. "Bye." He ran from the room without looking back.

Logan went back to his Jack and bunnies.

 

The next day, Rogue decided that Mini-Logan needed new clothes and that she and Wolverine should be the ones to shop for them.  Surprisingly, Logan didn't seem to mind being dragged into Salem Center to shop for mini-clothes.  He was hoping he could convince Rogue to dress him in mini-flannel and mini-boots. Maybe if he was lucky, she'd even buy a mini-cowboy hat.

"Jean, can I talk to you?" Rogue asked.

"Sure, what is it?"

"Well, Logan and I are goin' shoppin' for clothes for Mini-Logan, and, well, we were wonderin' if you'd watch him."

"If you're shopping for Mini-Logan, why don't you take him with you."

Rogue looked down. "Well, the thing is, he, um, bites."

"Huh?"

"He's a biter."

"A biter?"

"Remy, come show Jean."

Remy walked in and held his arm up, Mini-Logan's attached to his hand by his teeth.

"Mini-Logan!" Jean yelled. "You let go of Remy this instant!"

Mini-Logan opened his mouth at the sound of Jean's voice. "Heh heh. Sweet ass."

Rogue smiled. "Aw, that's so cute! He likes ya, Jean!"  Jean closed her eyes for a moment, and then looked at Gambit, who was trying to grin and bear it, but who's hand was bleeding rather rapidly by now. 

"All right, all right.  No more than three hours, though.  I have to run some samples in the lab this afternoon." 

"Thanks!" said Rogue happily. She ran out of the room to find Logan.

"Remy, could you help me with this, uh, child?" Jean asked.

Remy shook his head. "Oh no, chère. Remy usually never say no to a pretty lady, but in dis case, Remy gettin' de hell outta here."  He made good on his word and ran from the lab.  Jean looked down at Mini-Logan. 

"Pretty," he said with a winning smile.  Jean sighed. 

"How can I stay mad at you?"  She picked Mini-Logan up and set him on a lab table near her.  "Now, what shall we do together, hmm…?"

Mini-Logan wagged his eyebrows up and down.

 

Scott spent the rest of the afternoon in a panic. He swore he saw Mini-Logan behind every door, hidden in every shadow. He knew he wasn't safe anywhere, that beady little eyes could be staring at him at any point.  He finally heard Jean coming up from the lab and breathed a sigh of relief.  She'd protect him from evil Mini-Logans—just the way any good fiancée would.

"Scott?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Can you do me a favor?"

"Of course, my love."

Suddenly, Mini-Logan ran into the room. Scott screamed and jumped on a table, like a school girl who just saw a mouse. "Get that thing away from me!"

Jean put her hands on her hips and glared at Scott. "Scott Summers! You behave yourself! Mini-Logan is only a child. And such a cute one, too!" Mini-Logan looked up at Scott with doe eyes.

"Grr.  Grr grr."  Scott could have sworn it was an apology in Mini-Logan language.  He heaved a deep sigh. 

"Do you want me to watch him, dear?"  Jean smiled. 

"Just for an hour or so, dear.  I need to run my samples."  Scott nodded.

"Not too long, please."  Jean laughed.

"You're so silly, Scott.  Mini-Logan is a perfect child once you get to know him."  Scott looked over at Mini-Logan, who was holding Jean's engagement ring and growling at it.

"Um, Jean, Mini-Logan has your ring."

"Of course he does, dear. I told him he could play with it."  Mini-Logan put the ring in his mouth and chomped down.  Scott heard the fifteen-thousand-dollar diamond setting come loose and clatter down the heating vent as Mini-Logan spat it out. 

"Jean…" said Scott.  It was too late.  Jean had gone back downstairs.

Scott gave Mini-Logan a stern look. "Okay, mister, you go down there and get that diamond right now."

Mini-Logan growled. "Make me, squinty."  Scott's mouth dropped open.  Mini-Logan kicked him in the shins and capered off through the mansion.

 

After a long, exhausting chase, Scott finally cornered Mini-Logan at the liquor cabinet, picked him up by the back of his mini-belt and hauled him into the professor's office.  Xavier looked up at the pair, Scott now bruised and bitten in several places and Mini-Logan kicking and growling wildly.  "What brings you here, Cyclops?"

"This!" Scott shouted, pointing at Mini-Logan.  He dropped him in front of the professor's wheelchair.  "He bites, and he ate Jean's ring, and he said he was going to kill me!"  Xavier gave him an odd look.

"Mini-Logan doesn't talk, Cyclops. Well, except for the occasional nice ass comments at Jean, but we all make those."

Scott's jaw fell for a moment, but he decided not to press the issue. "He does talk! I heard him! He said he wants to kill me and steal my girl!"

"Scott…" said Xavier.  Mini-Logan climbed up to Scott's shoulder and put his arms around his neck. 

"Grr," he said sweetly, nuzzling into Scott's hair.

"There, you see?" said Xavier.  "Just calm down.  He likes you."

"Kiiillll Scott," Mini-Logan hissed into Scott's ear.  Scott screamed and threw Mini-Logan off him.

"There!  He just said it again!" 

"I didn't hear anything," said Xavier.  "And if Mini-Logan wanted to kill you, I would know because I am the most powerful telepath on the planet, and therefore know everything….except how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie roll pop, of course."

"Yeah, or it could be you don't think so because you're a deaf, senile old British fogey!" Scott shouted.  "And nobody knows about the tootsie roll pops!"

"Of course they do Scott," Jean said, coming into the room. "Don't you remember the time you sat down for three hours writing down every lick you took?"

Scott turned the color of his visor. "I did not!"

Mini-Logan jumped off Scott's shoulders. "Nice ass!" he said happily, running to Jean.

Jean smiled and picked up Mini-Logan. "I'm all through in the lab now Mini-Logan. Want to go play some more?"

"Grrr!" Mini-Logan replied. "Grr grr!"  The love of Scott's life walked out of the professor's office with a miniature clone of his worst enemy.  Scott thought about it for a second, and then crumpled crying onto the professor's lap.  He stayed there for a long time.

 

Several hours and doses of valium later, Scott walked down to the room he shared with his beloved Jean. He walked into to find her in bed. "Scott!" she yelled, covering herself with the sheet.

Scott stared in horror as Mini-Logan poked his head out from under the covers. He took a mini-cigar from the bedside table and lit it. "Nice ass…" he said happily.

"Jean!" Scott yelled. "How could you do this to me!?"

"I'm sorry, Scott!" Jean said. "He's just so…cute. And he looks like Logan."

"He's one-eighth his size, Jean!"

Jean blushed. "Not entirely…"

That was too much for Scott. He crumpled to the ground, slowly rocking back and forth and muttering, "Can't sleep…Mini-Logan's will eat me…Can't sleep…"

 

That night, Rogue and Logan returned from their shopping trip to see several black SUVs with the Canadian flag emblazoned on the back windows parked in front of the mansion. 

"Expectin' company, Logan?" asked Rogue.  Logan growled at the cars.

"No."  He extended his claws and gently pushed open the front door.  Inside, Xavier, Jean, Storm, Gambit and Mini-Logan were all chatting with several men in dark suits and one in a Canadian army uniform.  Rogue, more concerned about Mini-Logan than anything else, didn't notice when Wolverine fell over in a dead faint.

"Apparently you don't have to worry about Big-Logan remembering and killing you," said the professor to the man in the Army uniform. 

"Who are these people?" said Rogue.  Xavier turned.

"Ah, Rogue," he said.  "These are General Chasen, Dr. Cornelius and Professor Oka—Oha—the other Professor," he finished.  "They're from a division of the Canadian government known as Department H."

Rogue chewed on her bottom lip, as she tended to do when she tackled the hard task of thinking. "They look familiar. Like someone from a dream. But not my own dream. More like the dream of someone who I touched and absorbed a bunch of creepy memories from, but I can't remember who."

Xavier blinked. "Riiight. So anyway, they're here to take away Mini-Logan. Seems they're his, uh, parents."

Jean sniffed and wiped her eyes with a sodden tissue.  "You can't take him.  We have so much love to discover."

The Professor-Who's-Name-No-One-Could-Pronounce put his hand on Jean's shoulder.  "We know it's difficult, Dr. Grey, but Mini-Logan has to return to his job."  Jean took Mini-Logan's hand. 

"Promise you won't leave me.  Promise you'll come back." 

Mini-Logan kissed Jean's hand passionately.  "Promise.  Come back for nice ass."

Jean started crying harder. "No other man has ever touched my, uh, heart they way you do, Mini-Logan. I don't know what I'll do when you're gone. Sure, I'll probably find some other mini-man, but there will be eight or ten minutes there when I'll just be inconsolable."

General Chasen touched Mini-Logan on the arm.  "We have to go, Mini-Weapon X.  The helicopter is waiting."

"Grrr… Bye nice ass!"

Jean broke down in a fit of tears as she watched her mini-love walk away.

Logan woke up and looked around the room. "Where did they go?" he asked.

"Who?" Xavier asked.

"Those men. They were the men who did this to me," he said, popping out his claws. "They made me more animal than man, and took my life from me. Because of them I have no name, no past, no memory of who I was before. All I have are those dog tags, and I gave them to Rogue in order to signify how she saved my life from the hell it had become."

Rogue nudged Remy hard to keep him from falling asleep in the middle of Logan's impromptu speech. 

"Well," said the professor, who looked rather sleepy himself.  "If you like, we can start calling you 'Mini-Logan'…"

"Hey, wheels, there's nothin' about me that's 'mini', alright!"  The professor shrugged. 

"As you wish."

"There isn't!" Logan insisted.  Remy leaned over to Rogue.

"Dat's not what I heard from Stormy."

Storm looked indignant. "Remy! You and your big mouth! Do you know what happens to  a Cajun when he gets hit by lightening?"

"The same thing that happens to everything else," everyone else in the room replied in a monotone.

"And don't you forget it!" Storm said, turning on her heel and stomping out of the room.

"But you said it was the best you ever had," Logan yelled, chasing after her.

Once they were gone, Rogue looked around the room. "Um, where's Scott?"

The professor and Jean traded guilty looks.

"Um…he had to go," said Jean.  Rogue looked at the two of them.

"Go where?"  Her question was answered when she heard a scream from deep within the bowels of the mansion.

"NOOOOOO…Mini-Logan!  Stay away!  Stay away!  Hey, will someone get this straitjacket off of me?!"

THE END