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“It's not fair,” Raven said. “Why don't you keep fighting them?”“I'm tired. I just want it to be done. They can't touch mother's trust, so I'll be fine. They can have the company and the mansion. Dad's fishing cabin is enough.”“But--”“I'm almost there, Raven. I”ll talk to you later.” Charles punched “End Call” and returned his full attention to the winding mountain road, eyes peeled for his turn-off.He still almost missed it; the sign saying “Xavier” had faded almost to unreadability. He made the turn onto the dirt road, followed it deeper into the woods.Eventually the road ended at an old but still well-maintained cabin. One step up to the porch, he noted, inconvenient but not unmanageable. He stopped in front of the cabin, killed the engine.He was wrestling his chair out of the back seat when he realized he wasn't alone. A tall, burly man with oddly-styled hair and massive sideburns stood in the cabin's doorway. “Who the hell are you?” Charles demanded.“I could ask the same of you, bub.”Charles finished pulling his chair out before answering. “Charles Xavier. I own this cabin.”“You're Brian's son?”“You knew my father?”“Long time ago.”The man didn't look that much older than Charles, and Charles said so.“I'm older than I look.”The man's mind was surprisingly well-shielded, and it felt natural. Charles could tell he was a mutant but not much else. “I guess. My dad's been dead for ten years.”“I know.”“So why are you here?”“Brian always said I could use this place if I needed to. And no one else has been taking care of it.”“My stepfather managed to tie my father's will up for a decade. I finally got tired of fighting him. He can have the damned company and the damned estate in Westchester. This cabin is enough. I have good memories of this place.”“Are you going to make me leave?”Charles studied the man. “Probably not. You seem to have done a good job taking care of the place.”The man shrugged.“So who are you, anyway?”“Logan. Logan Howlett.”“Nice to meet you.” Charles unfolded his chair and pulled himself into it.“Yeah.”“How did you know my dad?” Charles settled his legs on the footplate and unlocked his brakes.“We served together.”Older than he looked, indeed. Charles wheeled backward, shut the car door.“You need a hand?” Logan gestured at the step.Charles shook his head. “Thanks, but I've got it.” He wheeled up, popped his front wheels up and over, then powered his way onto the porch. Logan stepped back, giving Charles room to enter the cabin.It was much as Charles remembered -- a large open space, kitchen to one side, a short hall leading to the bedrooms and bathroom to the other. Logan clearly had few possessions; almost everything was stuff Charles remembered.“Would you like a beer?” Logan asked.“Sure.” Charles wheeled toward the couch, which looked overstuffed and really comfortable. He transferred onto it, sighing contentedly as his body sank into the soft cushions.Logan ambled back, an opened bottle in each hand. He handed one to Charles, then took a seat on the other end of the couch.Charles didn't recognize the brand; he took a cautious sip. “It's good,” he said, pleasantly surprised.Logan smirked. “It's Canadian.”“As are you,” Charles surmised.“Originally. Helluva long time ago.”“You can't possibly be that old. I know you're a mutant, and we tend to age slowly, but even so--”“You know I'm a mutant?” Instant suspicion.“As am I. Telepath. Mutant minds feel different. Brighter.”Logan relaxed a bit. “I heal,” he said. “I can't die.”“So how old are you?”Logan sighed. “Too old.”Charles reluctantly didn't press.“Do you mind if I ask a question?”“Maybe. Maybe not.” Charles suspected he knew where Logan was headed.And he was wrong. “You said your stepfather tied up your father's will. How? I thought your parents were still married when Brian died.”“They were. The reading of the will was delayed because I was hospitalized. By the time I was able to return home, Kurt had swooped in to comfort the grieving widow.”“Was that when--?” Logan gestured at the wheelchair.“Yeah.”“How old were you?”“Eighteen.”“Damn.”“Yeah.”Logan said nothing more, and Charles was grateful. He'd made his peace with his paralysis, but that didn't mean he didn't get tired of the endless questions from nearly everyone he met. He took a long pull from his beer bottle, sighed, closed his eyes.“Long drive?”“Yeah.”“Why don't you take a nap. The mattresses are heavenly.”Oh, that sounded marvellous. “All right,” he said, opening his eyes and pulling himself back into his chair.“Take the one on the right. I've been using the one on the left.” Logan paused before continuing more quietly. “Unless you want to join me.”Charles’ eyes widened. The man was gorgeous, in a lumberjack sort of way.“Or am I reading you wrong?”Charles smiled. “No, your gaydar is spot-on.”“So how about it?”“I'm afraid I'm not up for much right now.”“Kisses and a cuddle.”“Done.”Logan rose, cupped Charles’ jaw in his long, broad fingers, kissed him, slow and thorough, then led the way to his bedroom.The mattress was indeed heavenly. As were Logan's kisses.