I find Logan down by the beach, staring across the waves, as the sun slowly sets and the tide begins to turn and the Mediterranean begins to come further upland. I can see the water lapping at his feet, and if he notices, he doesn't show it.

The sand is warm under my feet as I make my way down towards him, wanting to know what is going on in his head, what he's thinking about now that another piece of his past has been revealed

"Logan?" I ask, as I get closer.

"Huh. 'Lektra," he sighs as I come closer, as if he's only just noticed me. I know the wind will be blowing my scent towards him and my coming does not surprise him in the slightest. "Wondered when you'd come down."

"Are you okay?" I ask, placing my hand on his shoulder.

"Nope," he says, not looking my way at all.

"Stavros didn't know," I try and explain, but explanations are the last thing Logan needs right now, not after all that's happened.

"Neither did I," he replies. "That's the problem. After all this time, after all I've learnt, I figure I've not even scratched the surface. Ain't that a kick in the head. Starts an' ends with these." He shakes me free of his shoulder with a quick jerk and flexes his arm, to unleash his good set of claws, the other set still healing after our fight with the Hand in Japan.

"Can't remember anything about havin' bone claws before Magneto ripped the adamantium right out of me, an' it's not one of those things you forget. But I did. And I can't remember half of what I did during the Second World War either."

"They could be related," I answer.

"Darlin', I remember bits and pieces but I can't connect them. Even Xavier never managed to knit my head together. Now he's gone, and I don't have any help to fix my head."

"You have me," I hear myself say; in a tone I can barely believe I'm using. He hears it as well and he turns to look at me.

"Do I?" he asks of me as he looks in my eyes, a look I saw earlier today, when he found out what he had been before

"Welcome home, Little One," said Stavros, as the car pulled up to the house, and both Logan and I got out to be greeted by the house staff, who are more to me than workers, they are my family and friends. "And to you also, Logan."

"Thanks, bub," Logan said with a smile as he grasped the man's hand. "Good to be back." I smile knowing Logan is the only man, the only person, I have ever brought to this place. My home. I've not been back in a very long time, not since the death of MacKinley Stewart. With the Hand, the Kingpin and Interpol after me, it wasn't safe for them. It was some time ago now, and the Hand have been taken care of the moment, the Kingpin has no influence in Greece and Interpol have no idea where I am. Logan's presence means they usually turn a blind eye anyway.

As I think back to the past, I see Stavros looking Logan up and down, noting the changes within as I have. The man is in the ascendant and his days of bestiality are behind him, and the feral side of his soul bubbles at the surface as it once did when Logan was a decade or two younger. "The few years since you last visit have been kind," he says. "You are different in appearance."

"Just part of the healin' process," said Logan as we made our way inside to the house. "Which is one of the reasons I came back."

"Why we both did," I answer, my arm still hurting from where Kuroyama snapped it like a twig. "Fighting the good fight, my friend," I said, noting the concern in Stavros' eyes, and he nodded in acceptance.

"Then we shall sit and listen to tales of war, and battle, and glory and honor."

Later that night when the others have gone to bed, Logan and I stand on the balcony, looking down on the sea on the left and up to the mountains on the right.

"I'm gonna stay a week or so," he said after we'd talked a while about recent times, his adventures with the X-Men and mine in Japan with the Silver Samurai and the Clan Yashida. "Then I'm gonna head back to the X-Men." There was a hint of sadness in his voice, as if going home to the X-Men is something less than it once had been. A lot has changed in their ranks since I met Logan and I got the feeling that although the X-Men is where he belongs, a bit of himself no longer feels it belongs there.

"As you wish, my friend," I answered. "You know you are always welcome here though."

"Thanks, darlin'," he says. "When I get to Xavier's, I'll call in to Muir and see how they're doing with Nina."

"I appreciate your efforts, Logan." Nina was my ward and I failed her badly. Logan defeated Kuroyama and Nina was left behind as he fled from the Yashida Compound. Now his friends have started the long fight to restore her to her proper mind and soul.

"No problem," he said and put his arm around me, pulling me close. The night has started to get colder but he shares his body heat with me and the chill swiftly departs and I smile. The moon shines down, sparkling on the waters of the sea and I hear the waves crashing against the rocks and I know that I have come home and that all is right with the world, if only for tonight.

The days passed quickly, as we relaxed and recovered from our wounds, emotional and physical and we both realized that this little holiday was coming to an end. By the eighth day of the vacation, Logan had turned a dark brown colour with the tan from the sun and I was not too far behind him, as my natural coloring started to come back.

City life and adventuring had drained the color somewhat, and the sweet air combining the mountains and the sea have restored myself in a way I never really expected. It was a nice feeling to be home, and Logan's attention was turning towards the United States once more, but it was something else that brought the holiday to an abrupt end.

Stavros had been talking of the old days during the war and the Canadian solider who had trained him to use explosives. He had been using it to blast at the mountains to gain the slate and rock he needed for the garden, rock untouched by the corrosive salts of the sea air. He had designed a new garden with the rock features and had been very impressed with the end product, as had we all.

By this time we had all had an amount to drink and tongues and memories had been loosened.

"Ah, Canada," said Stavros. "You know, you look a lot like him."

"Last time I was hear, you said I didn't look like him," said Logan with a grin, lighting up a cigar

"Yes, but you have changed since then and your time here has healed you and added youth to your face once more." Logan's eyes lowered a moment and if I didn't know better I'd have said he was embarrassed.

"Thanks, bub," he said as I poured another drink, and I wasn't certain to whom he was speaking. "Still, I was working Canuck Intel in the war. Don't think it could have been me."

"Ah, you were a Canadian James Bond!" I laugh and he grins back at me.

"Close enough, darlin'. Nazis, the Hand and the Nazis in '41, few bits and pieces here and there and finally a few other Japanese Cults, when I was assigned to work with General MacArthur. I was chosen for that because I spoke Japanese. That was, oh, 1945. I was doing my bit for the war effort my way."

"We all fought in the best way we could," said Stavros and we lifted our glasses in a toast. "You know I still have Canada's knife?" he said. "I'll go fetch it, and we can drink to his memory with a better tribute." Before anyone could speak he was up and away.

"So you were fighting the Hand all the way back then?" I ask Logan, not realizing how far back the enmity between them went.

"Yup," he answers as he drained his glass of wine and poured another glass. "With Captain America and the Black Widow, no less."

"Seems you were an Avenger before you became and X-Man," I tease.

"Good point. Maybe I'll go to the Avengers Mansion an' ask 'em for my membership card," he replied in good humour.

"Let me know how that goes," I say patting his shoulder.

"Sure," he says, carrying the joke. "If they let Quicksilver join, they'll take anyone."

Then Stavros returned with the knife.

"A fine blade, which has served me well over the years," he said as he came back to the table. "A Fairbourne dagger."

"Nice," said Logan, as he poured another glass while Stavros put the dagger on the table. "Not seen one of those since the war." Then his eyes went wide as he saw the knife, showing the pain and loss that it showed him. The word on the sheath of the dagger was a name. The name was 'Logan.'

"What the?" he asked as everyone around the table saw what the word said, what it meant. All except Stavros, who was unable to read.

"It's a coincidence," I said, trying to restore the calm to Logan's mind, the turmoil evident on his face.

"What is it, Little One," asked Stavros, not knowing what he had done.

"The dagger," I answered as Logan lifted it up and placed up close against his nose. "It had Logan's name on it."

"Canada?" he asked, looking at him. "Could it be?"

"Yup," said Logan. "Guess it is."

"A scent?" I ask and he simply nods, pulling the dagger from the covering. "After all these years, are you sure?"

"It's faint, faded after all this time but there's definitely my scent on it. I can feel the memories, as I run my fingers over the cloth, as I see the blade shining in the candlelight."

"What do you mean?" I can see a fear in his eyes and the youth that he seemed to have gained in the past few days was gone, replaced by an oldness that seemed to stagger him.

"I mean, that who and what I thought I was could be all wrong. Have to be all wrong." He got up from his chair and started to walk away, as he muttered. "I thought I was done with all of this..."

As I got up to go after him, Stavros placed his hand on my good arm to stop me. I looked at him.

"Let Canada be," he said. "He has much to think about, much to work out within his own mind. His life is not what he thought it was."

"But he needs someone to help him through this."

"If he needs help, Little One, he will ask."

"Perhaps," I replied as I watched Logan walk away to be swallowed by the darkness of the night. "Or perhaps not."

Morning came, and Logan did not return. I checked the garages as soon as I woke from a restless sleep, and I noted that the cars were still there. Logan was without money, without travel and though he had his own resources I was worried for him. What if this triggered a regression back to what he had been? So much of the past had been torn from him of late.

The death of Xavier, the death of the Samurai in Japan and the burning of the Yashida Compound. The Hand was no longer in the control of an enemy he knew and the present had changed to make the future uncertain. Now the past was coming unglued as well and whatever inner demons plagued Logan had gained an advantage.

Towards lunchtime, Theo, Stavros' adopted son, came with word that they had found tracks leading towards the mountains. That was where Logan had headed, obviously to be alone and I wondered if I would ever see him again. There was a longing for him that I couldn't understand and I stayed at the balcony watching for him as the day slowly began to end. Then I saw him down at the beach and I headed down towards him.

Stavros' advice had been good, but Logan was a friend who needed a friend right now, which brings us to where we are now.

"Darlin', I remember bits and pieces but I can't connect them. Even Xavier never managed to knit my head together. Now he's gone, and I don't have any help to fix my head."

"You have me."

"Do I?"

"Yes," I say. "You have me as long as you need me. I can't deny there's an attraction to you, and I have a curiosity to see where that could lead us, but more than that you are a friend. When I needed you, you were there. When you needed me, I was there for you. Now you need me again. We can piece together the missing pieces of your life somehow. There has to be a way."

"Darlin' I've been lookin' fer years an' I ain't gotten very far."

"Maybe you're just not looking in the right places. Maybe the places you need to look are places you've never even thought of. Maybe I can help."

"Maybe." Logan turns towards the sunset again. "I don't know."

"Neither do I. But I'll try anyway." I place my hand in his and he gripped mine.

"Thanks."

"It's a beautiful sight isn't it," I say, changing the subject.

"Yup," he says, almost as solemnly as when I first got to him. If it weren't for the tenderness in his touch, I wouldn't have known what he was feeling.

"Logan?"

"Uh huh?"

"Kiss me."

His lips meet mine as I close my eyes to savor the moment and I know he'll be all right. We both will.

NEXT ISSUE: The past is confronted, as Logan and Elektra go on a quest to find the truth behind Logan's conflicting memories of World War II. But who else is also looking into the past?