**05.30 GMT-6, 14 February 1996, Canadian Yukon. CANADA.**
KEN
The world was… different.
That was the first thought in Ken's mind, simple and profound. Just hours ago, his world was a silent, sterile cell. He was just some number. X-20. Then he arrived. A loud, chaotic madness of a boy who called himself Wade, who had smashed the glass of his turtle shell, grabbed his hand, and declared, "I'm your brother, come on! Let's escape this hell!"
He'd been given a name. Ken. He'd been shown a feral little girl. Laura, our sister. And he'd been brought to this cave and shown two adults who smelled, somehow, like home. Mother. Father.
It had happened so fast his mind was still catching up. The air in the cave was cold, sharper than the lab's, but it held a new kind of warmth that settled deep in his chest, a quiet, glowing ember fighting back the chill. The smell was different—damp stone, wood smoke, and the rich, metallic scent of the bear his… his Father… was skinning.
He was fascinated by everything.
His eyes darted from the dancing flames to the massive carcass, and then to the people around him. The woman, Mother, was a steady, nice, quiet presence, Ken liked her scents the most. The little girl, Laura, his sister, slept curled in a ball near Wade. And his brother, Wade, was sprawled nearby, sleeping heavily after his hunt and emitting a loud, steady snore.
A low grunt pulled his attention back to the cave mouth. Logan was looking at him, his expression unreadable.
"Come here," Logan said. He gestured to the space beside him. "You wanted to learn, right?"
Ken nodded, scrambling to his feet and moving to stand beside the large man. The scent of blood and pine and leather was overwhelming up close.
Logan hesitated, his jaw clenching. "Do you… do you also have this?" He flexed his own hand, a metal claw gleaming in the dim light from his knuckles.
Ken didn't hesitate. He focused, and with a slightly wetter, more organic sound, his own claws emerged. Unlike Logan's uniform three, Ken's were different. Two long, vicious claws extended from the back of his knuckles, while a third, slightly shorter one slid out from a sheath just above his wrist.
Logan winced, a pained look flashing in his eyes before he could hide it. He looked away, back to the bear. "Yeah," he whispered, more to himself than to Ken. "Of course you have 'em, too."
Ken's brow furrowed. "Is that why you gave that look to Wade?"
Logan paused, his hands stilling. "What look?"
"The look that made Wade love to annoy you so you don't give him that look anymore."
Logan was silent for a long moment, the only sound the drip, drip of bear blood onto the stone floor. He didn't answer, but his shoulders seemed to slump just a fraction.
The moment was broken by Rogue returning, her arms full of dry sticks and kindling. She had also gathered a bunch of broad, dark green leaves that had a faint, crystalline shimmer on their surface. She smiled at them, a real, warm smile that made the ember in Ken's chest glow a little brighter.
Logan looked down at Ken, the strange, heavy moment passing. He sliced a manageable chunk of meat from the bear's haunch, leaving a strip of the tough hide attached to one side. He placed it in front of Ken.
"You want to try? Here."
Ken nodded, his small face set in concentration. He mimicked his father perfectly, holding the chunk of meat down with his non-clawed hand and carefully extending just one of his wrist-claws to slice through the flesh and hide.
"Yeah," Logan said, a note of gruff approval in his voice. "Just like that."
ROGUE
Marie made her way back to the cave, her arms laden with dry sticks and kindling. Clutched carefully in one gloved hand was a bundle of broad, dark green leaves she'd found near a rocky outcrop, their surface shimmering with a faint, crystalline dust. She knew, with a certainty that came from a place deeper than memory, that it was a salt-excreting plant. It would be a nice season for the meat.
'How do Ah know that?'
She paused at the cave entrance, her breath catching. The scene before her was one she could never have imagined. Logan, a mountain of a man, was working with a quiet intensity, reducing the massive polar bear to manageable cuts of meat. And beside him, little Ken, his small face a mask of fierce concentration, was carefully mimicking his father's movements with his own claw.
A smile touched her lips, so genuine it felt unfamiliar on her face.
Her gaze then drifted to the two sleeping forms by the low fire. Laura, curled like a kitten, and Wade, sprawled out as if he'd fallen from a great height, exhausted from his hunt. Her children.
An image bloomed in her mind, clear and vivid: a cabin, nestled in the quiet of the woods. A big stone fireplace, real beds, a kitchen. Rooms for her children to grow, to be safe, to be normal. The forest calmed her, and she knew, somehow, it would calm them too.
She moved quietly, setting the wood down and beginning to prepare the meat. She showed Ken how to skewer the strips on sharpened sticks, and soon, the rich, gamey scent of roasting bear meat began to fill the cave, a promise of sustenance and a new day.
It was that smell that finally stirred Wade. He groaned, pushing himself up on his elbows. "Is that Mr. Snuggles? He smells delicious!" He blinked, then his face lit up as he looked at Laura, who was now watching him with wide, unimpressed eyes. "Oh, you're not gonna believe my last adventure, Lau, I was like, surrounded by Mr. Snuggles's evil henchwolves too! It was an epic battle!!!"
Laura just stared.
"Yeah, I guess you could also do that easily, huh..." he deflated slightly, then perked up again. "Oh! You're gonna love the meat! It's not as good as my pancakes, of course, or chimichangas, but it's still delicious! I think. I don't think I've ever eaten polar bear meat before. Maybe a grizzly bear? I know I've eaten a bear before!"
Ken looked up from his task, curiosity overriding his focus. "What are pancakes or chimichanga?"
"Well, pancakes are like flat cakes that are really delicious and can be paired with everything, but as a red-blooded Canadian, the best one is with maple syrup and butter! And a chimichanga is one of the foods of God! I'll make it for you sometime if I can go to a town and get some supplies!"
"How did you know all this?" Ken asked. "I thought you were the same as us. From the tanks."
Wade waved a hand vaguely near his head. "The same way our parents know how to cook and skin a bear. It's already in my brain! I knew it was really weird! HE was really lazy working on the amnesiac thingy!"
Ken simply nodded, accepting the answer, and turned back to his work.
But Marie and Logan shared a frown over the fire. They hadn't truly considered it before. Their personal histories were void, but the skills—the knowledge of plants, of combat, of survival—remained, etched into their muscles and minds by a life they couldn't remember.
"See! Lazy!"
"You know," Wade said, his tone uncharacteristically soft and hopeful, "I don't remember much, but I remember I had a life with you both before. In a cabin. Maybe you both did run away together after you had me, and we got a glimpse of a normal life before all of this... I don't know if it's real or not, but maybe... maybe after this we could try to find that cabin?"
"Ah found a road when Ah went to gather some wood," Marie offered. "Maybe, maybe we could hitch a ride from some people and try to go to a town to get some supplies?"
Logan grunted, considering. "Maybe after breakfast. And we need to wash up too. I don't think people would let us in their car if we looked like this."
"I mean, we could just hijack their car," Wade suggested with a shrug. "I know how to drive—"
"Ah prefer we didn't," Marie interjected firmly. "We need information, too, Wade. Not just a car."
"That's no fun..." Wade sighed, clearly disappointed. "Well, I came across some lake when I was hunting, maybe we could wash up there?"
"Yeah, that sounds like a plan," Logan agreed.
The plan solidified over a breakfast of roasted bear meat. It was tough and gamey, but it was hot and filling, and to the children, it was a feast. Wade kept up a steady stream of chatter, mostly directed at Ken and Laura, retelling how he caught the bear, which Marie felt a little exaggeration here and there. He was also noticeably quieter towards Logan, the usual barbed banter not absent but reduced. Marie filed that away for later; something had definitely happened between them in the night, and she intended to get to the bottom of it.
"Alright," Logan grunted, tossing the last clean bone into the fire. "The lake?"
The trek to the lake was short. As they approached the chilly, clear water, Wade ducked behind a large pine and emerged a moment later with two dusty but serviceable hiking backpacks.
"Look what I found! Treasure from our dear god-!" he announced cheerfully. "HEY! I didn't want to say that!"
Logan eyed him suspiciously, but a quick sniff revealed no blood or recent violence on the bags. Marie gave a slight, resigned nod. They chose to believe his story, for now. The bags contained mostly adult-sized clothing—sturdy hiking pants, flannel shirts, and thick jackets. Wade, Ken, and Laura were swallowed by oversized jackets that hung past their knees, while Marie and Logan managed to find gear that fit well enough to look plausible.
After a brisk and shockingly cold wash in the lake that left the children shivering and wide-eyed, they made their way to the gravel shoulder of the road Wade had spotted. They posed as a family of hikers--a story made believable by their worn, mismatched clothing and the sheer, exhausted grime that couldn't be completely washed away.
The first few vehicles roared past without slowing, spraying them with a fine mist of grit. After an hour, a beat-up rig with a faded forestry services logo rumbled to a stop a hundred yards ahead, its air brakes hissing like a tired dragon.
Logan took point, his posture subtly shifting from feral protector to weary outdoorsman as they approached the passenger window. The man who rolled it down was grizzled, with a thick salt-and-pepper beard and eyes that had squinted at a thousand miles of highway.
"Y'all look like you've had a day of it, don'tcha know?" the trucker said, his voice a low rumble.
"Got turned around on a trail a few days back," Logan said, the lie coming easier than he expected. "Storm washed out our markers. Kids' packs got swept away trying to cross a creek."
The trucker's eyes scanned over them, lingering on Marie's protective arm around Laura, on Ken's silent, wide-eyed stare, and on Wade, who was trying–and failing–to look pitiful instead of intensely curious about the truck's engine.
"Camping in the Yukon this time of year? Beauty spot, but you're some brave, I'll give ya that. Or off your rockers," the trucker muttered, shaking his head. "Where's your head at?"
"Next town with a motel and a decent diner," Marie said, her southern accent softening the request. "We just need to get our bearings, get these young'uns warmed up proper."
The trucker looked at the children again, his stern expression softening a fraction at the sight of Laura's chattering teeth. "Yeah, no, for sure. Can't have the little ones freezing. Pile in, the cab's a tight fit but she's warmer than out there. Name's Earl."
The relief was palpable. "Logan. This is Marie, and our boys, Wade and Ken, and our daughter, Laura," Logan said, the names feeling both strange and right.
The cab was indeed a tight squeeze, smelling of old coffee, diesel, and pine air freshener. Wade immediately started asking questions. "So, what's the haul? Is there a sleeper cab? How many horses does this thing have?"
"Wade," Marie said gently, a note of warning in her voice.
Earl, however, seemed amused. "Haulin' some two-fours of lumber, eh. And she's got enough horses to get us down the road, don't you worry." He glanced in the rearview mirror at Ken. "Quiet one, ain't he? Right proper little hoser."
"He takes after his father," Marie said with a soft smile, earning a grunt from Logan.
LAURA
The big noisy thing that smelled like the man called Earl was gone. Now they stood near a hard, black path where other noisy things zoomed by. Laura clung to Momma's leg, hiding in the safe space behind her brown jacket. The real world was too big and too loud.
She saw Wade make a funny face and do a quick move with his hand. Then he was holding the man's flat, soft thing. He looked proud and nervous at the same time.
"Wade!" Momma's voice was sharp, like the sound her claws made when they came out. Laura flinched, pressing her face into the leather.
Wade started talking very fast with lots of words she didn't know. "Lost" and "money" and "truck." "Creepy!" "looks at Ken funny!" His voice was loud and wiggly.
Then Daddy made a sound. A deep, rumbly sound from his chest that was even bigger than the noisy things on the path. It was a tired sound. Laura peeked out.
Daddy looked at her. He looked at Ken. Then he looked at Momma's face. His own face was doing that hard thing, like a rock. He looked back at Wade.
"Just this once," Daddy growled. The word felt heavy. "We don't steal from people who help us. Understood?"
Wade's proud face melted away. He became very still and nodded, his head going up and down, up and down. He quickly gave Momma the paper from the soft thing before tossing it away.
Later, they went to a place full of other people's clothes. Momma put a soft, pink thing over her head. It didn't smell like chemicals or blood. It smelled like dust and flowers. It was the best smell Laura had her entire life.
Then they went to a small room. It smelled yucky, like sweat and burns, but it had a big, bouncy thing. Momma locked the door with a click.
Laura let go of her leg and ran. With a happy little grunt, she launched herself onto the bed, sinking into the softness. She bounced once, twice, then curled into a ball, clutching her new pink sleeve.
Momma and Daddy were here. Wade and Ken were here. The big, scary outside was on the other side of the door.
For the first time since the tanks, the tight, scared feeling in her chest began to uncurl, just a little.
Safe.