Logan and Marie hit the floor at about the same time, with about the same bruising effects. Logan could only get his left hand in front of him in time, but he couldn't open his palm to catch himself against the metal floor. Marie faired a little better. She could throw her arms out in front of her, but they were still frightfully weak and she fell from a greater height.

"Logan!" Hank exclaimed, reaching out and pulling the heavier man back into his wheelchair with ease.

"Marie?" Logan asked, looking across the room.

"Logan, you're vocalizing. That's marvelous!"

"M-Marie?" Logan asked, looking pleadingly into Hank's face. "I need to evaluate your physical condition. That was an impressive leap for someone of your temporarily limited abilities. Please alert me if any of my actions cause you pain."

Logan used his stronger arm, trying to push Hank to the side and get a glimpse of the injured woman across the room. "Marie!" he called, and she looked up from Jean's ministrations.

"Logan, you're talking!" Marie whooped. "Stop it, Jean. I said I'm fine... Ouch! Jean!"

"Rogue, I need to make sure you didn't injure yourself."

"Nothing hurt but my pride. A few bruises aren't gonna kill me. Now wheel me over to Logan or I'll do it myself."

Logan watched as the beautiful young woman was wheeled over to him. Only after they were side by side and he could see that she was unharmed, did he finally relax a little.

"Marie," he sighed in relief.

"Hank," Jean asked in a lowered voice behind them. "Why does he keep saying 'Marie?'"

Hank started into a complex explanation based on the shock of seeing Rogue's fall coupled with the brain damage from which he was still suffering when Marie interrupted. "He's saying 'Marie' because that's my name."

"Rogue? Do you remember something?" Jean asked, intrigued by this turn of events.

"I'm not sure, but it feels right. I think that's my name."

"Marie," Logan confirmed reaching out to tenderly stroke her gloved arm with his palsied hand.

Marie was released from the Med Lab a few days later. She still had plenty of physical therapy to do, but Jean and Hank thought that being forced to get around on her own would help her recovery. She still couldn't walk more than a few feet with a walker, so she used a wheelchair for the most part. Thank heavens the mansion was handicap friendly.

Well, thank Charles, actually. After all, he knew the problems faced by the wheelchair bound intimately. Besides Logan, he was the only other person she even slightly remembered, knowing his name instantly. She could see his surprise and pleasure at being remembered, but it was mixed with a little sadness around his eyes.

She didn't notice until later that everyone called him Professor. She figured that maybe he didn't like his given name, but if that were the case, why did she instantly know it? It was one of many puzzles she'd have to work out, but for now, she tried to call him "Professor."

Shaking herself back to the present, she concentrated on keeping up with Jubilee and Kitty as they lead her back to their collective room of over two years. Along the way, they introduced her to the other students and X-Men-in-training that happened across their path. They all smiled at her, but she could see pain in some of their faces when she didn't recognize them. Jubes filled any awkward pauses with her own brand of chatter, and quickly moved their three-gal parade through the halls and up to their room.

Marie's first impression was that it was cramped. The chair required a certain amount of maneuvering space, which this room seemed to just barely have. Jubilee rushed in ahead of her, picking up the clothes that were strewn on the floor and piling them on a yellow-blanketed bed. After the floor was relatively clean, it seemed a little less daunting to live here.

"That's your bed, your desk, and your closet, Rogue," Kitty said, pointing out her personal space. "We'll just leave you alone so you can have a looksee."

Marie gazed around the room, but nothing held her attention. She opened her closet to find clothes neatly arranged: shirts, pants, and dresses all grouped together. She noticed with relief that at least they weren't arranged by color. She would've never figured herself for a neat freak, but here was the evidence.

Pulling open the drawers on the other side of the closet, she found the expected socks, bras, and underwear, in addition to a variety of scarves and gloves in all sorts of colors and textures. No memories here, just clothes.

She wheeled over to her desk, pushing the matching chair aside to gain access to the drawers. Pens, pencils, notebooks, and a few romance novels hidden in the bottom drawer and turned upside down. Nothing shocking or too revealing about who she used to be. It was like being in a stranger's room.

Marie set the brake on the wheelchair, pushed up the footrests, and planted her feet on the floor, taking a firm grasp of the chair's handles. Lifting with her arms and legs, she pushed herself up to a standing position and then plopped down onto her bed with a sigh.

She unconsciously reached over and picked up a ring of keys from a candy dish that resided on her desk. Rubbing her thumb across the rectangular, metal key chain felt familiar and wrong all at the same time. She focused on the familiarity, examining the keys more closely.

The first thing she noticed was the number of keys on the ring. There were two easily identifiable as car keys, but the other five were a mystery. Why would she need so many keys anyway?

Two key chains held the keys. One, a pewter X, was probably school-issue, but the other one was a mystery. It was a thin piece of rectangular metal with a word and numbers etched into it. Wolverine. 458-25-243. What could it possibly mean? Wolverine? Was she a friend of some sort of nature preservation society and this was her membership number? Nah. Maybe it was her last name and social security number. Nope, not enough numbers and she'd never heard of someone named Wolverine. What about a username and password on a computer system? No. If that was right, why'd she carry it around where everyone could see it?

She rubbed her thumb across the indented metal in thought, and there was that feeling again: familiar but wrong. Pulling off her glove, she clutched the keys in her bare right hand, rubbing her thumb across the engraved tag, her skin warming the metal. This was right, familiar. She'd done this before.

She was still holding the keys when Jubes and Kitty returned a half-hour later.

"Hey, girl, remember anything?" Jubilee asked, then saw the metal in Marie's hand. "The real this is downstairs and you just saw him less than an hour ago. Why are you in here pining over his tags?"

"What?" Marie asked in confusion.

"Logan's tags."

"This says Wolverine."

"Yeah. Also known as the very sexy, although currently a little clueless, Logan," Jubilee answered.

Kitty asked, "If you didn't know that, why are you holding them?"

"They felt right," was Marie's cryptic reply.

A week later, Marie insisted, "I want to walk outside."

Logan nodded in agreement. His vocabulary had grown every day since calling Marie's name, but it was still very limited.

"I don't think that's such a good idea," Jean answered. "If you fell..."

"The pavement outside is just as hard as the metal flooring down here. C'mon, Jean, it's a beautiful day."

Jean looked to Hank for support, but he let her down. "I believe there is no harm in ambulating on the exterior rather than the interior of the mansion. It might prove a satisfactory diversion."

Jean gave in with a weary sigh. "Ok, but we're taking your chair along in case you get tired."

"Fine," Marie answered, beaming at her success.

Marie envied all the people who made walking look so easy. It was hard work. Weight on your arms, right foot, left foot, weight on your legs, lift the back legs of the walker, roll it forward, weight on your arms, right foot, left foot...

The mantra running inside her head was almost enough to distract her from the sunny day she'd been so desperate to be a part of. Almost, but not quite. The birds were chirping and whistling in the trees above the bike path on which she trod. The wind blew through the branches, gently caressing her bare face and upper arms. She decided Spring must be her favorite time of year, even though she couldn't remember more than general impressions of the other seasons. The world, emerging from hibernation, reborn and fresh, was just like her.

She stopped to rest for a moment, puffing like she'd just run a marathon. Logan was right beside her, breathing heavily from his own exertions. His left hand and arm were almost completely healed, but he'd just started getting his right arm to consistently obey his commands. To push the wheelchair, he caught the rim with his right palm, using the leather gloves he wore to help his weak hand gain purchase on the metal, and dragged his arm forward. It was clumsy and slow, but it worked, and he was getting better at it every day.

"Rogue," Jean began. "If you want to sit for a moment, I've got your chair right here."

"No... I can... keep... walking," Marie gasped.

"Sit," Logan said, his eyes begging her to rest.

"Ok... sure." Marie reluctantly agreed, plopping unceremoniously into the chair Jean provided.

"Hank and I will be over here," Jean said, pointing at a bench about thirty feet away. "Just call us when you're ready to go back to the mansion."

Marie silently thanked her for giving her time alone with Logan to rest and enjoy the sunshine.

"How're you doing?" Marie asked, once she caught her breath.

"Good," Logan replied, nodding with emphasis. "You?"

"Good. It's such a beautiful day. I'm glad we talked them into coming out here. It feels nice. Not familiar, exactly, but nice."

Logan nodded in agreement. They sat in silence for a few minutes, just enjoying the fresh air and each other's company.

Then, Marie said, "I remembered something today."

Logan turned to her. His eyes reflected interest, but he didn't press her for the details, waiting for her to reveal what she wanted.

"I saw Jean give Charl- the Professor a hug, and I remembered my dad giving me a hug just like that and kissing me on the cheek. I don't know why he did it or how old I was, but I remember feeling safe and loved and protected. I thought about that memory for an hour or so, about how I couldn't ever be held that way or have those feelings again because of my skin."

Logan brought his good hand up to grasp hers, running his thumb back and forth soothingly.

"Then, when I was just depressed as hell, I got another memory. I was sad, feeling alone and unloved and then you came and held me. I don't remember where we were. There were rows of seats, maybe a bus or something. Anyway, you held me close and talked to me, and I felt loved again. Not like my dad, different, maybe better."

"Good," Logan answered with satisfaction in his voice. "Marie. Love."

"I know," Marie said. "I love you too, sugah. We're all we've got."

They sat in silence again for another few minutes before Logan turned to Marie with a mischievous grin.

"Race," he said, looking down the bike path's mild slope and back at her.

Marie followed his gaze, then shook her head with a grin of her own. "No."

"Race," Logan insisted.

Marie looked back at Jean and Hank, chatting on the far away bench. "They'll be mad. They'll stop us."

Logan shook his head and smiled broadly. "Race."

"I'll beat you, ya know," Marie warned.

"Race. I. Win." Logan replied.

"Ok," Marie agreed, worn down by Logan's persistence. "One..." she began, gripping her hands around the wheelchair rims. "Two..." she said, leaning forward and getting ready to take off.

"Three!" Logan shouted, pushing with all his might and leaving her behind.

"Logan!" Marie yelled with a laugh and pushed after him. He'd beaten her to the start, and he had the weight advantage on the slight slope of the path, but she was stronger and would surely catch up.

Her speed picked up and the wind whipped past her, blowing her hair away from her face and out behind her like a flowing mane. She could hear Logan's howl of pure joy ahead of her, and she laughed along with him, feeling free and purely happy for the first time she could remember.

She pumped her arms, trying to shorten the gap between them, breathing hard, but not caring. Then, she saw her opportunity. The path curved gently to the right and then rose at an incline beside the lake. He would lose momentum on the hill and she could pass him then.

He reached the hill, slowing steadily despite his efforts, and she pumped her wheels all the faster, gaining momentum to climb the hill and pass him. The hill slowed her down too, but she was going to make it.

She didn't notice Jean and Hank until it was too late. They had probably cut through the woods, planning to catch up with their escapee patients here, where the hill slowed them down. Hank grabbed Logan's wheelchair, effortlessly slowing him down while Jean held out her hand and telekinetically slowed Marie down until she stopped.

"What'd ya... do that... for?" Marie panted. "I was... gonna... win."

"You both could have been seriously hurt," Jean chastised them. "What if you'd fallen? What if you'd rolled off the path into a tree? I think your therapy session is over for today."

Logan just smiled back at Marie. "Later?"

"Definitely." Marie agreed. "I want a rematch."

"Clara Harris?" the Colonel asked the young lieutenant entering the room.

"Charles Xavier is seeking guardianship of her through the courts."

"Xavier?" the Colonel fumed. "That's the second mutant we've been searching for to end up in his custody. He's not a mutant. Why does he keep trying to help them? We should've killed that mutie-lover when we had the chance, using real, human soldiers, not that worthless Weapon the professor developed."

Lieutenant Petersen cleared his throat. "If I may, Colonel. That's the real reason I came to see you."

"Xavier finally disposed of the body? Where? We'll have a team out to retrieve the adamantium before the day is out."

"Um, not exactly," the lieutenant said, handing the Colonel still shots from one of the many hidden surveillance cameras watching the School for Gifted Youngsters. They were clearly pictures of a young woman with white-streaked hair and the Weapon, both in wheelchairs.

"HE'S ALIVE!?! Get the professor, now!"

"Sir, it's not just that. Look, this is Jean Summers, one of the Weapon's targets."

The picture clearly showed the Weapon and the girl flanked by an obvious, blue-furred mutant and Jean Summers. She was holding out her hand in a commanding gesture at the handicapped woman.

"What is she doing with her hand?" the Colonel asked.

"You don't miss anything, sir," the lieutenant complimented. "From the running footage, it looks like she's stopping the other woman's wheelchair with nothing but an outstretched hand."

"She's a mutant, too?"

"Apparently, sir. In fact, it appears that Xavier's school is a nest of insurgent mutants. No wonder the Weapon was unsuccessful."

"So instead of killing Xavier, we added to his growing mutant army. We must take action now," the Colonel said decisively.