Ahh...finally an update! I'm sorry it's taken me so long.

To be forewarned...I've introduced a few new characters, so if you don't like them, tell me how I can try to fix them. If you do like them, great, and there will be more "filler" with them later, since they're not pivotal life-changing characters. I just got bored with writing about everyone crying their eyes out, so I attempted to add in some humor. Sorry if it isn't any good.

Anyway, read on. A teenage son of Wolverine...what could possibly happen?

Muahahahaha...

Xavier Mansion, One Year Ago

Michael looked at the seat diagonal from his, smiling slightly. He watched the pretty blond girl in the seat absently run her fingers through her hair and look up at Hank McCoy, who was teaching their Science class. Not paying attention, Michael continued to stare at the girl. What was her name? Was it…Katie?

Nah, he thought. Kirsten!

That was it. Her name was Kirsten Foster, and she was a new student at Xavier's School For Gifted Youngsters. He smiled again and watched as she shook her long hair out of her face.

"Michael?" Startled out of his fantasy, the teenager looked up, confused.

"Yes, Dr. McCoy?"

"While this is Biology, it is not considered class participation to study the opposite gender," Hank said, subtly winking at him. Michael flushed and looked down as all the other students turned to look at him.

"Yes, sir," he mumbled.

"What was that?"

"Sorry," Michael said moodily. "Won't happen again." Kirsten, the girl he had been staring at, chanced a look at him, and as she caught his eye, she smiled at him. He smiled back slightly, still angry and embarrassed about being called out in class.

At the end of class, Michael hurriedly packed his bag, but before he could escape, Kirsten caught him.

"Hi," she said shyly. His head jerked up, his eyes wide.

"Oh, hi," he mumbled.

"Were you really…watching me?"

"Sorry," he said. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and started to walk away. She gently laid a slender hand on his shoulder. He turned around, confused.

"It's fine," she said quietly. "Look…"

"No, I'm sorry," he insisted. "It's Kirsten, right?" She nodded with a bright smile.

"Yeah." Without noticing, the two teenagers walked down the hall, talking as if nothing had happened. Michael, on autopilot, headed for the garden, Kirsten following him. Except for their footsteps, it is quiet. "You know…" She slipped her hand into his. Pleased, he responded to her touch.

"What?"

"This place…" She stared at the large mansion, her eyes wide. "I don't know. I've…never really…gone out with anyone before." Michael shifted uneasily.

"Me neither," he replied uncomfortably. She nodded slightly, and he smiled reluctantly.

For a moment, it was quiet, but a rustle from the bushes brought Michael out of his distracting thoughts. He spun around, to see a dark-skinned little girl running away. Angrily, he ran after her.

"Maya…" he warned, grabbing the girl by the waist. As she struggled against him, they both fell to the ground. Michael glared at the seven-year-old. "What were you doing? Shouldn't you be in class?" Maya Wagner frowned guiltily. She looked down, her pitch-black hair hanging in her face.

"Sorry for disturbing your date…" she muttered, a mischievous grin resembling her father's plastered on her face. He glared at her.

"It wasn't a date," he said. But…that wasn't quite right, was it? The more he thought about it…it was a date. The most they could have at the mansion.

"Not anymore," she said quietly, running back inside. Sighing, Michael walked back to Kirsten.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "That's-"

"Your sister?"

Michael shook his head. "Nah," he said. "Close family friend. Acts like a sister, though. She always has." Kirsten frowned slightly.

"I know I've seen you in all my classes…I've seen you around…how long have you been here?" He smiled sadly.

"I've always lived here," he said quietly.

"You mean…you've never run away from home?" she asked, confused. Michael shook his head again.

"No. The Mansion is my home," he said simply, brushing hair out of his eyes. "It's always been. You?"

"I ran away from home a few years ago," she answered. "I just packed a few bags…took what money I could find…and left. I had heard about the X-Men…and I thought that if I could find them…they could help me. I picked up a pamphlet of this place, and it looked good. I had been on the streets for nearly three years…I thought that they would take me in for sure. And Professor Xavier did. It wasn't until after he took me in that I learned it was a school for mutants."

"I'm sorry," he said. "Being on the streets…" She laughed lightly.

"It's fine," said Kirsten. "That was in another life…so it seems now."

"Hey…what's your power?" he asked. She smiled.

"You're debating…whether to kiss me or not," she stated. He turned a deep shade of red, looking away.

"Telepath?" She looked down at her feet, blushing furiously.

Guess what? Michael thought. Me too.

Kirsten smiled again. I honestly like you, Michael.

He hesitantly moved closer to her and kissed her cheek gently. She bit her lip to stop herself from giggling.

Does this mean we're…together…now?

Michael shrugged. I suppose…if you want to be.

She smiled and kissed him full on the lips. His eyes bulged, shocked. Her kiss was sweet and soft, but as he pulled her closer to him, it became deeper and more passionate. He kept his hand firmly holding her lower back as she wrapped her arms around his neck. After a minute, he pulled away, taking a deep breath, red in the face. She smiled, blushing.

"Wow," she said softly.

"Yeah." He cleared his throat. "Wow." He opened his mouth to say something, but felt a sharp pain in his hands. "Ah!" he exclaimed, lifting up his hands and staring at them.

"Michael?" she asked, confused. "You okay?" He didn't answer, too intently focused on his clenched fists, the pain almost unbearable. Grimacing, he looked up at Kirsten.

"Look, I'll see you later," he said hurriedly. "I really…have to go." Kirsten frowned.

"Mike-" He ran away, not looking back at the girl he had left standing alone in the garden.

Michael shoved his mother's room door open and bent down in front of the mirror, grimacing in pain. He stood up as best he could, gasping for breath. Feeling something strange protruding from his hands, he slowly looked up at the mirror. He couldn't look down for fear. Looking at the mirror in horror, Michael saw three identical silver claws sliding out of his fists. He took shattered breaths, looking at the shining red liquid between his fingers. It was a moment before he realized it was blood. His blood. His hands were bleeding from where the claws had come out. Hearing someone coming down the hall, he retracted the claws quickly and stuffed his hands in his pockets to hide the blood.

"Mike?" his mother said, coming into the room, surprised. He smiled slightly, careful to keep his hands deep in his pants pockets.

"Hi."

"What're you doing in here?" she asked. He shrugged nonchalantly.

"Nothin'." Jean sighed, frowning.

"Tell me the truth."

Logan stood in Jean's room, sighing heavily, his hands in his pockets. He turned around as he heard the door open.

"Hi," he said. Jean frowned.

"What're you doing in here?" Logan shrugged.

"Nothin'." She sighed, and rolled her eyes.

"Tell me the truth."

Jean pressed a hand to her forehead and gasped. Worried, Michael opened his mouth. He wanted to reach out to her…but he couldn't.

"Mom?" he asked cautiously. "Are you-"

She forced a smile for his sake and said, "I'm fine, Mike." Jean sat down on the edge of her bed and took a deep breath. Michael, still watching her, frowned. She looked up at him. "I'm sure you have somewhere else to be." He nodded reluctantly.

I know when I'm not needed.

"See you, then," he said quietly.

"See you."

As soon as he had walked into the hallway, he looked around nervously, and then took off at a run. There was only one person he could talk to about this.

Professor Xavier.

Michael pushed open Xavier's office door to find the Professor himself teaching a class of young students, including Maya Wagner. She wiggled her eyebrows at him, and he glared at her.

Not now, Maya.

The girl frowned, but Xavier didn't seem to notice, not looking up from his desk.

"No, Michael, I will not minister over your wedding," he said, looking up. He smiled, raising his eyebrows. Michael continued to frown. "It's good to see you." Turning to the class, he dismissed them and turned back to Michael. "What can I do for you?" The teenager extended his bloody hand, and Xavier closed his eyes.

"Professor…please…what's happening to me?" He took Michael's hand into his own and sighed heavily.

"This means…you're more powerful than any mutant I've ever known," he said slowly. Michael's mouth opened, and he swallowed.

"Why?" Xavier rubbed his forehead in concentration. He released Michael's blood-covered hand.

"You have the claws." The teenager nodded hesitantly. "Show me." Michael grimaced as the shining claws shot up out of his fists. He breathed heavily as the Professor watched them intently.

"We're playing at a whole new level now…aren't we?" Michael asked, fear evident in his voice.

"Yes," Xavier said. "Yes…we are." The claws retracted and Michael sat down, his body shaking, the dried blood on his hands serving as a reminder.

"Professor…how did you know?" he asked. "About…these, I mean."

Xavier sighed. "Michael-"

"Please…" he pleaded, his eyes flaming. "Just tell me the truth."

"Your father's mutation," the Professor admitted. "As a boy, he had bone claws, but somewhere along the line…he had the alloy Adamantium surgically grafted to his entire skeleton." Horrified, Michael gaped at his mentor. "But," Xavier continued, "His memory was lost…or forcibly taken…and he has no memory of the procedure. Or of anything before it."

"To lose everything…to have a clean slate to start over with…" Michael muttered, more to himself than to the Professor.

That…it would be more than I could ever imagine.

"For fifteen years, he wandered around from day to day, moving from place to place." Xavier looked down at his desk, frowning. "Then…by chance…he was brought to us."

"How did he-"

"I think he fell in love with your mother the first time he saw her," the Professor said, trying to remember. "Even though, as I recall, he nearly choked her to death." He chuckled, and Michael smiled tentatively. "She had been in a relationship at the time…and his presence…disrupted it. After years of romantic tension, your parents finally confessed their feelings." Michael frowned slightly, thinking back.

"Then why'd he leave?"

"I wasn't around for that particular…episode…so to this day, I haven't any idea," the Professor admitted.

"Oh." Michael looked down awkwardly, suddenly feeling the need to change the topic.

"Michael-"

"I'm too dangerous for my own good," he realized slowly. "I should be locked up."

"There is a difference between those who have power…" Xavier began. "And those who use it. You are a good parson, Michael. I trust you to know what is right." The teenager smiled slightly.

"Thanks."

Michael's heart thudded traitorously as his mother gently took his hand in hers. He swallowed, his other hand shaking. He winced, and with effort, three identical silver claws slid out of his clenched fist. Jean's eyes widened, and Michael felt a few tears fall from his grey eyes.

"Mom, I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I'm so sorry…" She shook her head as he retracted them and reached up to muss his hair. He frowned, confused.

"It's all right," Jean said softly, giving her son a gentle hug. He smiled slightly and stood up, going to the window. He stared out into the distance, heaving a sigh. "What's wrong?" Michael felt his mother place a hand on his shoulder, but he didn't respond.

"Is he out there?" he asked, his voice quiet.

"Who?"

"You know." Jean closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Mom, you can't act like you haven't been expecting it," Michael stated softly. "You always knew…that one day…you would have to explain everything to me." He remained silent for a moment…then, "And that's what you're afraid of." He turned around and looked at his mother, with something resembling pleading. "The Professor told me. I know my father is still out there. Mom, I want to know why he left." Jean sighed heavily.

"I don't know why," she admitted. "He just…one morning…told me that he had to go."

"And he didn't tell you why."

"No," she said quietly, still, after all those years…not wanting to know why.

"Did he love you, Mom?" Michael asked hesitantly, his voice only loud enough for his mother to hear.

"I thought he did," Jean answered slowly. "I know…that I still love him…wherever he is."

"Did he…did he leave because of me?" he asked, his voice not more than a whisper, letting her know how deep and sincere his fear was.

"He couldn't have known, Mike," she said gently. "He left too soon." Michael let out a deep breath, seemingly resting easier. Jean smoothed out his dark hair that was so much like Logan's, causing him to scowl at her.

But in his heart, Michael knew that however much he was told he looked like his father, he would never be him. He would never be the Wolverine. He had too much kindness and understanding to even come close. He could never be who everyone expected him to be.

Jean smiled sadly, silently feeling, listening to her son's inner turmoil.

Logan wrapped his arms around Jean's waist, locking the both of them into a fierce embrace. She moaned softly as he snuck his hand up her shirt and leaned into the kiss even more. After a minute passed, Logan broke out of it, his face completely red. Flushed, Jean took deep gulps of air.

"You okay?" he asked gently. She nodded breathlessly.

"Yeah," she said, swallowing. Jean sighed and leaned on Logan's chest. "Logan?"

"Yeah?"

"…I'm scared," she admitted softly. Logan looked into her eyes, and realized that she was trembling.

"Scared of what?" he asked cautiously.

"Everything," she said. "I don't know what's going on anymore." Logan frowned, confused. Jean looked up at him, her emerald eyes pleading. Barely more than a whisper, she admitted, "I think I'm scared of myself."

"Listen to me, Red," he said firmly. "You're not dangerous. What matters is that you're here, now. Not the past."

"Even yours?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. Logan hesitated, his breath catching.

"Even mine," he said, resolved. "The future is what matters."

Tears streamed down Jean's pale face as she took her teenaged son into her arms. Michael hugged her back, sighing, almost feeling the tears that dripped down his own face. As he looked out into the distance, he almost immediately looked away.

He's out there…I know it. But why hasn't he come back? Why do I feel like I'm missing a huge part of the big picture?

Yes, I do like the flashbacks, before anyone asks. I couldn't resist writing them.

Anyway, you can expect the next chapter in about a week or so, providing that my grades stay relatively high, since I'm a sophomore in high school and my computer can be taken from my room by force. Yes, it's happened before. Ahem, anyway...

Oh yeah- I'm also writing this story as a trilogy. So I know if you read my last author's note on "Adamantium is Genetic" it says that there's a few more chapters to go, but that's false. That one's over, and today I'm posting the final installment in the trilogy, "Thought to be Invincible". The title will make sense when I get around to posting the last chapter. I'm very happy with how the story has turned out, and I hope that your guys will be too.

Remember to review (always),

- Nestaron (Jason)