Title:  Slave Lake

Author:  Azora

Rating:  PG 13- for language and sexual situations…

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The roads were starting to get icy as the storm that promised to turn into a blizzard picked up around him, and Logan wondered if he would make it to another town before it hit.  That was all he needed, a mid afternoon blizzard.  He was only a few hours out of Edmonton.  His camper full of provisions, he was trying like hell to make it to his cabin in the Northwest Territories. 

The past few months were a haze.  He'd found his niche as a bare-fisted fighter.  It was a perfect situation.  The thrill of the fight gave him the outlet for his rage that he required and the money that he needed. 

Life in the city had begun to wear on Logan, and as winter had begun to announce its approach, he felt the pull of the road and the desire for isolation.  It had been this way for two or three years.  Before that, Logan had no memories.  And if the nightmares that plagued his head were any indication of his past, then amnesia was a blessing. 

When Logan had informed the bar owner of his intention of leaving for the winter, the man had almost cried.  He had convinced Logan he needed the Wolverine for a few more months.  Against his better judgment, he had stayed.  It was January before he started out, and the snow packed roads showed it.  He had serious doubts he'd make it all the way to the cabin now, even with the chains on his tires.

The snow was getting heavy and the radio was promising at least a foot when signs of civilization began to show itself through the trees.  He'd passed two dilapidated farmhouses and an abandoned car before he finally rolled into town.  The sign proclaimed it Slave Lake.  It was not a bad sized town.  He could see several businesses but could barely make out what they were through the snow.  He passed a diner on his right and was scanning for a place to pull over when he noticed the figure in front of his truck.  He slammed on the brakes, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.  The truck came to a skidding halt, its silver bumper resting gently against the person.

Logan leapt from the truck, his eyes blazing.  The snow swirled around him and the cold air shocked his system.  "What the hell do you think you are doing?"  He rushed forward, preparing to grab the guy by his collar and shake some sense into him. 

Instead, the figure turned and revealed an undoubtedly feminine face peering out of the thick coat hood.  "Trying to cross the street," she said, with a touch of sarcasm in her voice.  "What the hell were you doing?"

He stopped, holding himself back from smacking her arrogant little mouth.  The hairs on the back of his neck prickled with anger.  "Don't you look before you cross the street?" he said through a clenched jaw.  "I almost killed you."

The woman pushed her hood down to her shoulders.  She was pretty in a shocking sort of way, with fiery hair and strange violet eyes.  She gave him a little smile, and gestured to the snow swirling in the air.  "I don't know if you noticed, but we're about to have a blizzard.  Makes it a little hard to see things sometimes." 

The fact that she was finding this amusing was pissing him off.  Something was very strange about this situation, he just couldn't quite place it.  Instead, he pointed a finger at her.  "Start watching where you're going," he said in a deep growl, and he turned to get back in his truck.

"See you later, stranger," she called back, pulled up her hood, and crossed the street.

He slammed the door to the pickup, glad to be back in the warm truck.  The wind had begun to pick up and the snow was falling harder.  He tried to regain a little composure.  She had almost got hit by a car!  And she seemed so smug about it, like it didn't bother her at all.  See you later, she had said.  Not if he could help it.  He might have to stay in this dump tonight, but he was going to try like hell to get out of here in the morning.

Logan woke the next morning, reeking of sweat and whiskey.  He vaguely remembered passing out on the mattress in the back of his trailer with most of his clothes still on.  His head throbbed and his body ached.  He forced himself to sit up anyway, knowing he'd begin to feel better once he found something to eat.

This town had turned out to be quite profitable after all.  The bar he'd found was large, and the patronage had been high despite the blizzard raging outside.  It had a boxing ring in the back that hadn't been used in awhile, but he made a deal with the bartender and put on quite a show.  The number of people in the bar had increased all night as word got out about the spectacle.  The bar owner, Louie, had been delighted.  "You come back tomorrow night, and I'll make it worth your while," he had said as he thrust a wad of cash into Logan's hands.  "The 'Wolverine' is going to be very popular around here." 

A little extra money never hurt. Maybe this blizzard wasn't such a bad thing after all, he thought as he pulled on his boots.  He remembered the little diner he'd passed on the way into town.  Breakfast was sounding mighty good.  His stomach rumbled in agreement.

He set out walking from the parking lot of the bar.  Part of the agreement with the bar owner was parking for his truck.  The blizzard had done a good job of snowing everything in, the truck included.  He wouldn't be leaving today, even if he wanted to.

The diner was small and more crowded than he expected it to be.  He went in the bathroom and washed off some of the stench of the bar before he found booth and sat down.  His head was still throbbing.  He needed coffee, now.

"Well, hey, stranger," said an unpleasantly familiar voice.  The redhead he'd almost made a hood ornament set a pot of coffee and a cup on the table in front of him.   She gave him a smile too big for this early in the morning.  "Hit anyone else with your car lately?"  She poured him a cup as he frowned up at her.

"You the only waitress in this dump?  Or do I have to put up with you to get something to eat?"

"Ouch," she said, a look of feigned hurt on her face.  "First you try to hit me, now you hurt my feelings.  Maybe we got started out on the wrong foot."  She sat down on the bench across from him.  She pointed to her nametag.  "Elise."  She stuck out her hand.  "And you are the Wolverine.  I've been hearing about you all morning."

He ignored her outstretched hand.  "You always talk this much?" 

"Pretty much."

"What do I have to do to shut you up?"

She sighed.  "Fine, fine, be all grumpy like that.  I'll get you some breakfast to cheer you up."  She stood and looked him over.  "You look like a steak and eggs kinda guy to me.  Over easy and extra rare?"  She strode off without waiting for a confirmation.

Logan scowled.  Steak and eggs was what he wanted.

"Elise!" bellowed someone from the kitchen.

"Coming, coming," she shouted back.  "Hold your horses!"

Logan drank his coffee and took in his surroundings.  The diner was old but well taken care of, and the patrons were a mix of older white men and local Indians.  There were a few truckers thrown into the bunch, their unwashed smell making Logan's nose wrinkle in disgust.  No one would meet his eyes as he scanned the room, but he could feel them staring when he wasn't looking.  He was an outsider, like usual.  Plus his antics last night seemed to have gotten around.  Even the waitress knew his name.

The waitress.  Elise.  She couldn't be very old.  30 at the most.  Her hair was pulled up on top of her head and her neck was long and white.  She never stopped moving, bouncing around from table to table.  She spoke with all her customers in the same direct, almost flirty way she spoke to him.  She seemed to remember everyone and forget nothing.  She gave him a killer smile as she slid his plate in front of him, then was off again.  As she darted away, his nose caught her scent.  It was light and sweet, almost floral.

He was having a harder time keeping his eyes off her.  It had been a long time since he'd had a female in his bed.  This one wasn't half bad looking, either. 

The breakfast crowd had begun to clear out as he was finishing his meal.  He was mopping up the last of his eggs with his toast when Elise sat down across from him.  She stretched her legs out and propped her feet on his bench.  "Whew!  Busy morning!  Blizzard must have snowed in a few people."  She let out a big yawn.  "So, tell me.  What's a prize fighter doing this far north?  Surely not just cruising bars for something to hit with your fists."

"It's not really your business."

"I'm just making small talk!  You are so defensive!  It's not like you live in your truck, right?"

He glared at her.

"Nomad, huh?  Don't see many of those up here."  She dropped her feet back to the floor and propped her elbows on the table.  "What's your name?  Or were you born a 'Wolverine.'"

"Logan."

"Just Logan?"

"Yup."

"Just Logan.  I suppose that's a nice, proper name."  She slid off the bench and put her hands on her hips.  "You be careful tonight.  The word's out on you, and some lumberjack types will be down to see what kind of damage they can inflict on the Wolverine."  Her sly smile lit her face again, and she dropped her voice a little.  "You and I know you can handle them, but I wouldn't want you to not be warned."  She slapped the bill on the table.  "Welcome to Slave Lake, Just Logan."  She gave him a wink.  "Told you I'd see you later."

Elise had been right.  A few boys built like tree trunks had been in the night before.  They'd gone down like all the others, but Logan's body was sore from the exertion. 

He slept all morning and a good portion of the afternoon.  It was beginning to get dark when he left the trailer and headed to the diner again.  He hadn't eaten since his steak and eggs the day before and his stomach was letting him know it. 

I must be a glutton for punishment, he thought as he headed off to the same diner.  Either that, or I really want to get laid.

The diner lights were off.  Logan watched as a portly man came out, with Elise trailing behind him.

"See ya tomorrow, Joe," she shouted as she crossed the street.  Joe waved as he paused to lock the door.

Logan watched her cross the highway, hidden from her view in the twilight.  She still hadn't bothered to look both ways.  Chuckling a little to himself, and unable to fight the urge, he began to follow her.

She walked up one of the cross streets.  Houses that were clustered together close to the highway began to thin out the farther she went.  Logan's boots made little noise on the snow.  The trees were thick and good for keeping in the shadows.  The last thing he needed was for her to see him and open her big yap.

She turned down a road barely big enough for a car, heavily lined with trees.  Her boots crunched loudly on the snow.  Stealthy, she was not.  A little white house, no more than a shack, stuck out beneath the forest.  She paused at the door and was fitting her key into the lock, when she turned around and looked directly at the dark where Logan was standing. 

"You might as well come out.  Unless, of course, you want to stand out here and freeze."

He walked into the moonlight and crossed to the house.  "How did you know I was there?"

She shrugged and held the door open for him.  "I just did." 

He paused, puzzled and intrigued.  She knew, or guessed, quite a bit.

She gave him an exasperated sigh.  "C'mon!  You're letting all the heat out!"

The house was tiny.  Her scent permeated everything.  Good.  Just her.

She took of her coat and threw it on a chair.  "Don't take this the wrong way, Just Logan, but you stink."  She opened a closet, pulled out a towel, and thrust it at his chest.  "I'm going to make dinner.  Please, take a shower."  She shoved him toward the bathroom.

Logan felt a little speechless.  The Wolverine inside him told him he was being a pussy, letting this forward woman take control; however, a shower was a shower.  And he did stink. 

He stood under the water for a long time.  He let the heat relax his overused muscles and unwind him a little.  The tension of being in a woman's house was getting to him.  'Maybe I should have taken a cold shower,' he thought to himself.  The Wolverine growled that a cold shower was not going to be necessary, whether she liked it or not. 

Logan told him to back off and got dressed.  It hurt his nose to have to put on the same clothes, but he didn't have a choice, short of walking out to the kitchen naked.  Which, to the Wolverine, didn't sound like a bad idea.

The smell of fried chicken hit him as he walked out of the bathroom.  He rounded the corner, and immediately forgot about eating.


She stood in the kitchen, facing away from him.  She had taken her hair down and it hung in orange waves down her back.  "Enjoy the shower?"  She turned, a plate of food in her hand.  "Glad you took your time, because dinner is --."  She stopped when she met his eyes, and barely had the plate set back on the counter before he grabbed her and pushed his lips against hers.  She kissed him back fiercely, wrapping her fingers in his hair and pushing his mouth harder against her own.

He put his hands under her shirt.  Her back was warm, her skin smooth beneath his fingers.  She arched her back as he ran his nails down, pressing her breasts against his chest.  He growled and resisted the urge to shred her sweater with his claws.  He settled for ripping it over her head and snapping the hooks off the back of her bra.  He moved his mouth down her chin and nipped her neck, feeling her pulse quicken in the vein beneath her skin.  She sighed her approval and managed to murmur, "Bedroom…"

They barely made it there.

"You know, it's better we did it in this order, anyway," she said as she brought the now cold chicken to him in her bed.  "I don't have a kitchen table."

He wolfed down the chicken.  "You do this a lot?"  Not that he really cared. 

"Cook chicken?" she asked slyly.  Logan gave her a look.  "No," she answered, smiling.  She lay back down on the bed.  "I don't 'do' this often.  I knew this was going to happen between us.  What's the use in playing a bunch of games?"

He licked the chicken off his fingers.  "You seem to know a lot of things."

She shrugged.  "It's a gift."  She giggled as he grabbed her around the waist.  She licked a small piece of chicken off his lip, sending a shiver down his spine.   Her violet eyes twinkled, and she caught his mouth in a deep kiss, sucking on his bottom lip as she pulled away.

"Unusual eyes," he said as he traced their lids with his fingertip.

"Genetic abnormality," she smiled, and began nibbling on his jaw.

"You mean like a mutation?"

She stopped and pulled away from him, her eyes blazing.  "Listen, bub, I don't know where you come from, but up here it's not polite to call someone a mutant, especially after she just let you lay her out on her own bed."

His eyes narrowed  "I didn't mean it as an insult."

"Oh, you meant it as a compliment, then?  Hey, baby, nice eyes.  There must be something wrong with you."

"I suppose the fact that you seem to know so much shit is a coincidence?"  He could feel his voice rising.  "You tellin' me that's normal, too?"

She leapt from the bed and stood over him, almost shaking with anger.  "I am not a fucking MUTANT!"  She stormed from the room.

Logan sat up and started looking for his pants as he tried to check his anger.  Psycho bitch.  He needed one of those like a hole in the head.  Best to dump the baggage now.

He'd put on his jeans and was starting to pull on his boots when she came back in the room.  She stood in the doorway, still nude, with a bottle of Jack Daniels in her hand.  "I apologize."  She held out the bottle.  "Peace offering?"

She walked over and sat down on the bed next to him.  "This is Canada.  It's the eighties.  There aren't very many mutants wondering around, and they certainly aren't waitresses.  Mutants are people like that kid in D.C. that can shoot fire out of his eyes."   She took a big swig from the bottle and handed it to him.  "I'm just like the fortune tellers and psychics you can find in every culture since the beginning of time."  She sighed.  "I'm sorry I got snippy.  I got called 'mutant' enough in high school.  I don't like hearing it anymore."

Logan took a big drink of the whiskey.  "Try to keep your guns holstered."  He took another big drink.  "I have a bad temper."  Elise smiled and started to open her mouth.

"And I don't want to hear that you already know that!"

She climbed on to his lap, facing him, and wrapped her legs around his back.  "How 'bout I just keep my mouth closed then?" she asked, running her fingers back through his sideburns.

Best thing he'd heard all night.