A week after he'd told Heather Hudson that he'd agree to give their program a try, Logan sat in his new little cabin. There was a stack of papers in front of him that he'd spent the last hour filling out, asking for things, some of which he couldn't answer, and others that he wasn't certain he wanted to answer. Plenty of writing. His handwriting looked awful, and had only looked worse as he went through the pages.

He'd visited their medical doctor for a physical, and had kept twitching, the claws wanting to come out and a bit of his mind just before the howling madness whispering not to trust this man, to beware of people in white coats, not to trust the needles with their nasty drugs... wanting to kill him before he could make the pain come back.

He hadn't clawed the doctor. Not even when the man had become frustrated at all of the 'I don't know's that Logan had given him. Didn't know his date or place of birth. Didn't know if he had any food or drug allergies. Didn't know if he had any vaccinations.

When the doctor had given a frustrated sigh and demanded to know if he'd been in any foreign countries within the last three years, he'd growled, the claws slipping out a few inches as he snarled, "I can't remember anything before I woke up naked in a snowdrift this spring. Somebody gave me these and thought that my entire damn past was a fair trade. I don't remember a damn thing about where I've been, what I did, or who the hell I was."

That had been the end of the questions about his medical history.

Logan almost felt guilty about scaring the doctor like that. It didn't change the fact that he didn't know and couldn't answer those questions. He'd just try his best to avoid the doctor. But he wasn't about to let anyone mess with his head.

There had been other people here. People who were different. There was a giggling girl with flowers growing in her hair. A quiet yellowish green girl with big, dark eyes that smelled of the ocean. A man from one of the native tribes that had something odd about his scent, something that Logan couldn't put into words - he only nodded when James Hudson said that the native man was called Shaman. There was a little boy with five fingers and a thumb on each hand, and his whole body covered over with tiny grey scales, with a long, narrow forked tongue. There was another girl that seemed to be able to talk to squirrels.

He would have been more nervous and twitchy if Angel hadn't shown up. He hadn't told anybody, and didn't intend to tell anyone. But he'd seen the vampire lurking around last night, not quite hidden by an ugly coat that he'd found somewhere. The scent was unmistakably Angel. It made him feel better that someone outside this program of theirs knew where he was, would be keeping an eye on him.

Logan dropped the pen on the table, picking up the stack of papers and forms. He'd been assured that the main office would have someone there at any hour, to answer pressing questions, to help with necessities of administration or living here at 'the facility'. That's what the Hudson's bland looking bosses had called it – not a school, not a base, but 'the facility', where the 'special people' were staying. They'd all been assured that if they needed anything at all, someone would be in the main office. Medical questions – the somebody would know a little first aid and be able to call a doctor. Home maintenance, vehicle maintenance, emergency food – someone would be there. Logan wasn't sure about that, but he thought it would be harmless enough to see if someone would be there to take the paperwork.

"Damn paperwork. I still don't know most of the answers…" he muttered.

As he walked out of his little cabin, he had to admit that he did like the fact that they'd helped him find real clothing, things that he hadn't had to piece together from rough-cured hides. Flannel shirts and denim jeans, thick woven socks. Sturdy boots to cover and protect his feet, though that did slightly reduce his awareness of where he was, what he was walking over.

"How are things so far?" Angel's voice wasn't a surprise. His scent had been in the area.

"Paperwork. And there was a doctor. He didn't do anything that seemed unusual, but neither one of us liked all the don't knows for answers," Logan paused a moment before he admitted, "I scared him."

"But you didn't attack him. Has anybody here seemed familiar?" Angel asked, now walking beside Logan.

Logan considered that as they walked slowly towards the main offices of the facility. There was a more direct route that he could have taken, but he was in no hurry. He considered the way he'd felt at the sight of the white lab coat, the scent of the antiseptics. The howling, snarling corner inside his mind that had wanted to hurt/carve/kill the doctor before the doctor could make him hurt again. "Nobody's familiar, nobody seems to know me. The doctor… there's a part of me that's still howling in the wind. Still howling, snarling madness."

"I don't know if that was there before, or if you got it with the claws," Angel admitted.

"Can I trust myself? All doctors can't be sadistic bastards using people for awful experiments. They can't all deserve to be carved into bloody shreds scattered across the room," Logan's words would have been too quiet for a normal human to hear them.

"As much as I want to tell you that you're worrying for nothing, I can't. I understand your concern too well. You have the howling madness, I have my demon. I spent over a century killing people, enjoying their screams and their blood. That's still there, no matter how much I wish it wasn't," Angel's words were low, filled with shame and worry. "One night, the temptation might be too much. Old habits might not be as buried as I thought."

"Didn't I… I think I told you that if you don't let yourself get too hungry, things should be manageable. Animal blood if it's too strong…" Logan's words trailed away. He could almost remember having a talk with Angel about that, about the vampire's literal thirst for blood, about his new concern about killing people. The pain of a conscience after decades of evil. "Was there whiskey?"

Angel chuckled, "Yes, there was. We talked about it once, before… before whatever they did to you. I was a wreck, and you told me to stop cowering in the shadows and take responsibility for myself. To go forward and be a better person. And to not go to long without feeding the hunger a little, as long as I was careful what or who I ate, and how much."

"I said that?" Logan glanced at the vampire, noticing the look that said Angel was deep in memories. Maybe his past wasn't gone forever, if he could remember part of a conversation. It wasn't much, but it could be a sign that at least some of his past was still there, still hidden in his skull. That he could one day have his past again, piece together fragments of who he'd been, what he'd done.

"You also told me I looked like hell," Angel chuckled. "Not having a reflection, I can't exactly offer an opinion, but considering the way I was feeling back then, you were probably right."

"Things here… so far it's been what they said. The Hudson's have been trying to help me fit in, find my way around. The people in charge are calling this the facility," Logan paused, trying to find the words to explain the way those words made him feel. The not quite a chill that swept over his bones accompanied by the urge to growl and cut. The painful awareness that the others here didn't have that reaction, didn't share his fear that this was some elaborate trap. "I don't like them, don't trust them. But so far…"

"So far, things seem to be on the level," Angel finished.

"I just don't know how long it'll last," Logan admitted. He didn't give voice to his hope that it would last a long time - long enough to build a new life, to make new memories and connections. To become someone with a history worth knowing. Hope in humanity seemed very fragile right now.

Angel nodded. "There's a military base across town. Not a big one, as bases go, but there's soldiers, some helicopters, maybe a few tanks. It's a bit tough to know what all they have behind their fences… Funny thing about military bases, they don't want to let people just stroll through and take a good look around."

"Meaning?" Logan tensed, part of him wanting to run.

"Even an idiot would be able to figure out that some abilities might be very useful for a military operative. Or even just… suppose there's a mechanic that doesn't need a jack to hold up the jeep while they change the tire, or they can just pick up a new engine and put it in without any of the heavy equipment. Or maybe they just have good grounds to help practice abilities. Or maybe it's just a coincidence. I don't know what it means, if it means anything," Angel sighed, running his hand thought his hair. "I thought you should know."

"You keep messing your hair up like that and I'll cut it all off," Logan gave a teasing grin, trying not to dwell on the idea of a military base. Angel said it was a military base, not that they were doing research. It could be nothing, it could just be additional resources… it could be trouble. He didn't want to think about that right now.

"I'll see what I can learn. You aren't alone, Logan. If there's trouble, I'll get you out if I can. If not… you aren't alone, and I won't abandon you to the men in white coats," Angel promised.

Logan nodded, before mentioning "I haven't told anyone that you're here."

"What they don't know, they can't plan against," Angel murmured. "Cautious of you."

"Maybe paranoid," Logan admitted. Part of him wanted it to be nothing more than needless paranoia. Another part remembered waking up in the snow, covered in blood, remembering only pain. That was solid proof that at least once, he hadn't been careful enough, safe enough. Once was more than enough. Once could be too often. "We'll see how things go."

"That's all we can do right now," Angel slipped back into the night.

Logan felt better knowing that he wasn't on his own. Not that he'd been alone – that was the problem. There were many people here, he just didn't know if he could trust them. Didn't know that someone wasn't waiting to hurt them, to use them. While he couldn't remember what sort of man he'd once been, he was starting to suspect that patience wasn't his virtue. "I don't like waiting."

End Drink & Be Merry 8: The Edge of Something New.