Chapter Text
Logan wakes up and he’s still drunk. Maybe that’s part of the problem.
He drank every night, every particular night after waking up in a mansion that resembled an English abbey, pretending to be a school for mutants.
There were no memories in his mind, and no traces of what his life used to be, just a couple of dog tags around his neck that read "Logan” and a hell of a headache.
Charles’ school isn’t so much one, though. There’s only three prepubescent kids staying abroad and the professor and a couple other boys. But Logan had a bullet hole on his forehead, and he was healing on it and needed a place to stay. He remembers the first weeks how the professor, a young telepath with a sweet disposition, had been so patient and understanding and explained everything he knew about Logan’s situation.
He offered him a place to stay even though Logan had nothing to offer in return and Charles even offered him to read his mind so he could remember about himself and exactly what had happened to him and gave him the opportunity to choose what he wanted to do.
But Logan hadn’t been ready for that. He was just only recently starting to come out of his shell around these people who were so nice it was sickening. But he couldn’t shake off the drinking habits, or at least what he thought were his old habits. Sometimes he feels guilty about never being brave enough to give Charles a response, a simple thank you from him.
But he has tried to spend less time alone in his room. Sometimes he steps in the living space, where Hank and Sean sit around the television, in efforts to get to meet them. At least he knows it makes Charles happy because he is always eloquent about praising him and telling him he is welcome whenever, and how there is always a spot for him at the table.
There are those good days when Logan wants to do something more, wants to do something for Charles and his class because he believes in his cause and his spirit is contagious. But there are also bad days when Logan wants nothing but to isolate himself and maybe go away and maybe get lost forever.
But this time he has decided he could help Charles, who needed to get in contact with this telepath he has found using this impressive machine. He uses it to amplify his powers, the same machine he used to find him and those other mutants when they rescued them from that Island. This telepath was supposed to be a very powerful one according to Charles’ reading on her and she has straying to meet up with Erik Lehnsherr, this leader of a radical mutant’s rights movement. It had gone okay, Logan drove them across the country to California, and Logan was impressed that Charles would go to such trouble just to talk to this chick. But she’d refused any help, anything really coming from Charles. She had called him a coward and a disgrace, she said he didn’t deserve to be called a mutant.
Charles hadn’t seemed phased, she respected her decision and thanked her for her time. They’d gone back to the trashy motel and stayed over for the night.
Now it was morning, and Logan should get ready to go back with Charles to New York after his failed mission. Now, Logan rubs his eyes and tries to shake the dizziness from his mind, he could use a shower. He stands up and opens the curtains and finds a kid hidden behind them. Just standing there motionlessly. Logan’s hangover disappears as he stumbles back startled and the kid screams and crouches against the corner.
“Fu–... shit!”
Who is this kid? Where did he get here?
Logan recovers, takes a glance at the kid, trembling still. Charles. He has to find Charles. Charles will know what’s going on. He strides to Charles’s room, but when he flings the door open, the bed is empty, sheets still ruffled from the night before.
Logan knows Charles, he wouldn’t just go without leaving at least a note. And the kid… Logan’s breath catches in his throat as a horrifying thought takes root in his mind. The mutant they went to meet last night—what if her powers weren’t just telepathy? What if they did something else…?
He goes back to the living room and looks at the kid, huddled in the corner. A sinking feeling pulls at Logan’s gut as he slowly turns to face the boy again.
The night had ended alright. Or so he thought. They had crashed at this dump of a motel, all of them exhausted and defeated. There was never a kid that looked like he had just finished being potty trained.
How old are kids when they even learn that? Logan curses under his breath. This is definitely not his area of expertise.
“Fuck,” Logan mutters, rubbing his face as if that might help make any of this make sense. He takes another look at the boy—really looks at him this time. The oversized shirt, the messy brown curls, the bright red flushed cheeks. And those eyes.
Logan hushes him, crouched down to seem smaller because the kid was tiny, “Hey, hey, calm down. Hey…”
The boy trembles with his hands balled up in fists against his ears, he has his face covered in tears and sweat.
“Charles?” Logan tries.
The boy opens his eyes at that, and Logan knows instantly. Those huge impossible blue eyes belong to the professor.
“Oh God, Charles.” Logan breathes, the realization hitting him like a shit ton of bricks.
Charles’ eyes well with tears, a sight that sends a stab to Logan’s chest.
“Hey– Charles, it’s me, Logan,” he urges, his heart beating in his ears.
The tears fall against Charles’ cheeks. He shuts his eyes and hides his face, but he isn’t crying any harder, so Logan counts that as a win.
Can it be that Charles doesn’t remember anything? That he has the same memories as he did when he was this age?
“Charles say something, please.”
Charles hiccups and sobs with a bit more force. “I wan’ home!” he mumbles desperately.
Shit. This can’t be happening. Logan is stuck in the middle of California with a scared, crying, amnesiac, non verbal, hopefully potty trained baby Charles.
Logan thinks about what to do next, he wants to get on the phone with Hank and ask him to get his ass in here so he can either babysit or locate that mutant again. But Charles needs calming down first, or he could let him cry a bit there, Logan ponders, but no, Charles deserves that decency, it is what he would do, right?
“Bub, it’s okay, uh– we’ll get you back home, okay?” He tries, quietly but he’s panicking and Charles senses that– God, he does, right? He still has his mutation? Or the developmental stage of his mutant self at that age? That means he can at least get a good reading of Logan’s emotions, and maybe project his own, he definitely doesn't know how to shield himself yet.
“Okay kid, this is a two way street here, see? I can’t calm down if you don’t and until that happens neither will you.”
Charles goes on, crying quietly, shrinking himself and Logan waits, tries to breathe, until he feels calmer, and Charles looks tired… Eventually he hugs his legs and rests his head on his knees. Logan’s heart breaks a little. He looks around the room, he has no food, and the water doesn't seem to be filtered. He just has a half empty bottle of whiskey. Then he remembers the TV.
He turns it on and scans the channel for cartoons and puts a pillow on the floor. He walks back over to Charles and tries to lift him but Charles yelps and starts breathing very heavily, like he is scared and about to start crying all over again.
“Okay, okay, okay– I won't touch you, calm down, just, watch the TV over here.”
Logan makes sure Charles isn’t continuing with his meltdown and hurries to the telephone where he punches the number of the Westchester mansion opening his bottle and chugging a sip of whiskey directly from it while he can just think how he shouldn’t be drinking because he’s officially on babysitting duty.
After he’s done talking to Hank he is sure he hates him a bit more now.
Apparently he and Sean and Alex will locate the mutant that did this to Charles and will make her reverse it. Logan only has to take Charles to them as soon as they find her.
She can’t be far, so they are expected to meet in the California state train station in two days. Logan only has to keep Charles alive and happy for two days. He’s sure he can do that. He’s just hung up and when he looks over his shoulder Charles is wide eyed looking at Road Runner flee from Wil E. Coyote. He’s feeling hungry as hell and figures probably Charles is and is protecting that into Logan.
The kid is going to need clothes.
He goes to Charles' bed to gather his stuff but only finds a sweatshirt with a band logo on it and a cardigan and slacks and boxer briefs and socks, all perfectly folded inside the duffel bag he brought. All of them too big for his two year old version. He takes the sweatshirt and walks back to him.
Logan tries his best to look non menacing and says, “Hey Chuck, we need to get you some clothes and some food in your stomach. Can you put this on?”
Charles doesn’t move.
It takes twenty minutes for him to trust him to put the sweatshirt on but he just cries for ten of them so it’s not all bad.
Logan looks down at the kid, shivering in the oversized sweatshirt.
“C’me on, Chuck.”
He drags his feet out the motel door, the morning sun blinding. Charles clings to his leg, despite refusing any contact before.
They begin navigating the streets. People stare, not at him, but at the kid. Logan’s used to being stared at, but this is different. It’s like everyone can see the absurdity of a six-foot-tall, grizzled man with a kid who looks like he belongs in a baby food commercial.
The nearest store is a supermarket two blocks away from the motel. They have a small section of clothes. Nothing fits right, but it’s better than what they have. Logan grabs a pair of pants and a shirt for Charles. A blue and green thing with horizontal stripes.
He takes Charles to the food section and asks him to choose something. But the kid doesn’t listen to him. He sighs and grabs yogurt and cookie packs, juice and milk school boxes, too. Something to keep the kid quiet for now. He then walks to the baby aisle, and is faced with a large selection of diapers, which he stares at and chooses a package of them enunciated for toddlers.
At the counter, Logan realizes he doesn’t have enough money of his own. He pulls out Charles’ wallet that he retrieved from his bag in his room. It is brown leather and it is such a rich person's wallet Logan almost doesn't feel guilty for a moment. Then it feels wrong, like stealing. But Charles needs clothes. And food. And probably a therapist.
Logan forces down the guilt and pays. As they walk out, he tries to ignore the cashier’s curious eyes.
Back at the motel, Logan takes out Charles' new clothes. When he tries to change him the kid screams and thrashes and Logan has to step away and ask him to calm down, which ensues more screaming. It escalates quickly, Logan feels like he’s losing his temper. And when he realizes it he’s screaming back at him, “Fuck! Fine, do it yourself.”
He throws the clothes at Charles who gets startled and stops crying all of the sudden. It is surprisingly worse.
Logan regrets it instantly but he was furious just a second ago, he doesn’t understand but he turns away from the kid to wind down before he scares him shitless.
It’s only about a minute before the wailing continues. Logan sits and covers his face and rubs his temples.
Who would have thought the professor had been such a whiny little shit.
He feels bad, worse, he is pretty sure Charles is projecting his feelings onto him.
Ten minutes go by, and Logan is losing it. The kid has been crying for what felt like hours. He’d tried everything: ignoring him, distracting him, even offering empty threats. Nothing worked.
Finally, the dam breaks. “Shut up!” he roars, the words ripping out of him like a bullet.
Logan’s blood runs cold as soon as the words leave his mouth. He snapped at a kid. A tiny, scared kid. A wave of guilt washes over him, so intense it is almost physical. The crying stops abruptly, and Charles looks up at him with wide, frightened eyes.
The kid is probably hungry, Logan realizes. He retrieves the cookies and milk from the grocery bag, and offers them to him, his voice softer now. Charles hesitates, his lower lip trembling. The little guy is clearly terrified of him.
“Come on, kid,” Logan said gently. “You gotta eat something.”
Charles shakes his head, his eyes filling with tears again. Logan sighs. He can’t let this kid starve. He takes a cookie and breaks it in half, offering it to Charles. The boy’s eyes flicker with uncertainty.
“Look, I’m sorry for yelling,” Logan says, trying to sound sincere. “I didn’t mean it. You’re hungry, right?”
Charles nods slowly, his eyes still filled with fear. Logan takes a small bite of the cookie, then holds it out to the boy again. Slowly, Charles reaches out and takes a little nibble.
Logan basks in the relief he feels then. What is wrong with him? Charles is a mutant, he probably perceives things differently, maybe everything is more overwhelming.
Charles raises his arms after finishing his milk. And Logan is finally able to take the oversized clothes off him. He lets Logan put a diaper in him with minimal protests and finally he dresses him. Logan hopes he doesn’t get a rash– does he actually know things about babies? Fuck. He hates his life and the fucking hole in his memory. The clothes are a bit too big on him, he has to cuff the sleeves and pants but they will do. Charles is a small kid, but he thinks he is two or two and a half years old.
The brat looks like a goddamn cabbage patch kid.
He still needs shoes, and a nap probably. Logan would kill for some coffee but they’re better now. He can do this. He can keep this kid alive for two days.
With Charles finally fed and changed, a weight lifts from Logan’s shoulders. He turns on the TV, hoping a cartoon would distract Charles long enough for him to grab a coffee. Charles sits there, idly watching the TV.
The kid’s eyelids begin to droop almost immediately, and soon he is slumped against the ugly motel chair, snoring softly.
Logan stares at him, a mix of relief and exasperation washing over him. He’s become a babysitter to a two-year-old mutant. Life is strange. The cartoon is some kind of brightly colored, nonsensical mess about talking animals. It is like watching paint dry, only louder and more irritating.
Gently, Logan picks up the sleeping child. He feels even lighter than he seems. He carries Charles to the bed he’d spent the night in, tucking him in with the questionable spread there. As he stands there, watching the kid sleep, a strange sense of peace washed over him. The kid is vulnerable, so utterly dependent on him.
Logan sits on the edge of the bed, the weight of the day pressing down on him. Charles is asleep soundly, a stark contrast to the tempestuous child he'd been just hours ago. The kid's behavior is a puzzle with missing pieces. Is it simply the trauma of being de-aged, or something else?
He is probably confused and scared as hell, no parents, away from home, with no familiar touchstones. And here he is, thrust into the care of a stranger, a man who is as lost in this situation as the child. Still, Logan can’t shake the feeling that there is an undercurrent to Charles' behavior, something beyond the surface-level tantrums and tears.
The man has decided to dedicate his life to helping mutants, to providing them with a place to belong, to learn, to grow.
He can’t help but wonder about the things that Charles has gone through growing up as a mutant, albeit a privileged one.
As he watches Charles sleep, Logan is stuck with his guilt for the way he'd snapped at the kid. He has to be better, get better and soon. He is in over his head, but there is no turning back now. This is his mission, whether he likes it or not.
Logan ends up buying Charles the tiniest canvas sneakers he’s ever seen. The kid chooses them himself, and Logan gets dirty looks from the store employees. Logan does not look like Charles’ dad, not even a distant uncle, and they are probably judging him for bringing the kid barefoot in the first place.
California is a terrible place. Full of tourists, too much movement and noise. Many buildings and stores, but Charles seems to be enthralled by it all. He walks excitedly held tightly by Logan, until he stops and points at a restaurant.
It is one of those big chains of burger restaurants becoming popular.
Charles points at it and lets out a happy noise. Logan looks at him, not entirely happy about what’s about to happen. He guesses they can eat a burger, Logan sure wouldn’t mind. The place is full, and Charles winces the moment they walk in. The noises of conversations, childrens’ laughter, crying, and the incessant clatter of plastic, but seems to recover quickly. Logan tries to appear calm in case he is using him as a mental anchor or something of the sort.
The air is thick with the scent of fries and burgers, a delicious mix that made Logan’s stomach churn. He orders for both of them and decidedly pays this time with his own money. Charles trails after him like a duckling as he carries the food tray to a booth. Charles doesn't sit, his eyes dart around, his small hands gripping the edge of the table.
“It's okay, Charles. You’re doing fine,” Logan tries a gentle smile, but he hasn’t smiled like that in ages, it comes out wrong, he knows.
Charles doesn’t seem to mind. Logan watches as his eyes follow the other children playing with their food and throwing brat tantrums at their parents.
Logan attempts to feed Charles a bite of the burger and fries he ordered for him but the boy is too overwhelmed. He pushes the food away.
Logan sighs, popping the fry into his mouth instead. “Hey, it's okay. You don't have to eat if you don't want to.”
Logan bites into his burger and watches Charles sit quietly, looking at his surroundings with a cartoonish awe expression.
The colorful playground area and the noises coming from the children there peek Charles’ interest. It looks like a big mess, but he looks like he really wants to go there, and Logan is sort of endeared by his inability to ask Logan to take him there.
Logan sets the food aside and looks at Charles. “Wanna go play?”
Charles' eyes light up. He nods eagerly.
It’s kind of cute.
Logan ruffles his hair, which is so soft it’s surreal. “Alright, let's go.”
They head towards the play area. As they enter, the noise level increases tenfold. Charles clings to Logan's hand. The other children are playing, but Charles just stares at them with his lips parted. Astonished and eager to play but unable to direct his actions for it.
Logan spots a small plastic pool with plastic and colorful balls in it. It’s strange, but there aren't many kids there, and Charles let him take him there.
Inside the ball pit, Charles is initially shy, but slowly, he starts to enjoy himself. Logan joins in, watching the kid laugh as they toss balls at each other. It's a rare moment to see him look happy. Logan makes silly noises, trying to coax more laughter from the small boy.
Logan's heart swells with an unfamiliar warmth.
Suddenly, a larger child barrels into Charles, sending him tumbling into the pile of plastic balls. It's not like Charles is injured but he sure is hurt. A sob escapes Charles' lips, a sound that pierces through the noise of the play area. The world seems to slow down as Logan watches his small charge dissolve into tears.
He scoops Charles into his arms, the boy's body shaking uncontrollably, but finally allowing him to pick him up and handle him. Logan bounces him, whispering empty reassurances, his voice a gruff contrast to the child's fragile cries.
Logan’s grip tighten around Charles as the boy’s sobs rack his small frame.
“Hey,” Logan growls, his voice low and dangerous. He turns to the other child, a boy a few years older than Charles, who is now watching the scene with a mixture of sneer and amusement. “You wanna try that again, kid?”
The boy takes a step back, his bravado melting away.
Turning back to Charles, Logan tries a different tack. His voice softens. “Hey, champ, it’s okay. I’m here. You’re safe.”
He rocks Charles gently, his mind racing. What is he supposed to do? This small, terrified creature in his arms was his responsibility now. And he is failing him miserably.
"Shh, it's okay," he repeats, his voice a low rumble. He presses a rough hand to Charles' back, hoping the warmth is comforting.
The boy who bumped into Charles snickers, a high-pitched sound that cuts through the air like a knife. The laughter seems to ignite a fuse within Charles. His cries escalate, no longer mere sobs but a guttural wail that echo through the restaurant. His body stiffens in Logan’s arms, his small fists clenched tight.
A cold dread seeps into Logan. This isn't normal childlike distress. There is something profoundly wrong. Logan isn't sure he can blame his telepathy anymore.
This isn’t just a hurt kid; this is getting scary, the way Charles thrashes at the contact and his ear piercing cries, he is out of control.
A sharp pain lances through Logan’s head, a pressure building behind his eyes. The noise around him seems to amplify, a cacophony of sounds that assault his senses. Dizziness washes over him, and he sways slightly, his grip on Charles loosening.
Logan’s vision blurs at the edges. He needs to get out of here, away from the noise, away from the source of Charles’ distress. But with every step he takes, the pain in his head intensifies.
Logan walks out of the restaurant and sits Charles down on a sidewalk.
“Hey there”, he says, “Look at me.” Charles' face is red like a tomato, and he has misery written all over his eyes. He is still crying loudly and his breath is coming out in painful hitches. It is painful to see. Logan rubs his shoulders with his hands and shushes him again. He is at a loss of what to do, he doesn’t think he’d ever encounter this situation. He isn’t ready. He wasn’t the man for this job. He is a broken man who forgot everything about his past life. A man who needed to be saved, and Charles had offered him that salvation now he needs to return the favor. He needs to distract him, he needs…
“Little boy blue, come blow your horn,” he sings.
Charles looks up at him attentively, eyes, red and puffy. He has stopped crying like he never expected Logan to start singing.
“The sheep's in the meadow, the cow's in the corn,” he continues, “Where is the little boy who looks after the sheep?”
The song is a lullaby, a simple, almost archaic tune. Yet, it is hidden occult in some corner of his memory. It makes him feel a strange void in his chest. His body relaxes, his cries subsiding into quiet hiccups.
He wipes Charles’s tears off his face attempting to be tender, but failing at it. Still, Charles doesn’t complain.
The night is pretty calm back at the motel after Logan gets Charles into a clean diaper and one of his bigger self’s shirts. Logan gets him a glass of milk while Logan rocks him to try to get him to sleep. Charles gets knocked out watching Looney Tunes reruns, Logan passes out soon after. He doesn't remember being this tired ever.