I - prologue
It's been a while.
In some ways, Minerva had become used to the monotony. The heavy air that coated their little hideaway had settled into her hair and dust had slipped between her pores. It was always the same. Work in the city. Ride home with Logan. Fight with Logan. Rant to Caliban. Wait for Logan to apologise, like he always does. Pretend like the meds that she's been stealing from the hospital are still enough. Know that they aren't. Know that they're all running out of time and ignoring the signs anyway.
And then Laura. Laura was different. Laura made their lives something again. Minerva had been so eager to jump into that car and ride away, from one border to another. Logan accused her of just needing a purpose again, but his words were so tired Minnie couldn't help but wonder if he wanted a purpose, too.
She's aging. Almost 50 now. She's a far cry from the twenty-one-year-old, brand-new teacher that Logan met at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters so long ago. She still looks good, but there's a maturity in her dark eyes. Doctor Minerva Halltomine is getting older.
They weren't friends for so long, anyway, until after Westchester. It was just a fluke that Minnie wasn't at the school when it happened. She met Logan in a coffee shop afterwards, all sun-tanned from her vacation. They sat there for a long time, the last two X-Men and their grief, and pretended that everything was okay.
Then they moved. Minerva found a job at a hospital and treated Charles under a fake name for as long as she could. They were found out – of course they were. Somebody wanted Charles's brain for something. Minerva and Logan weren't perfect, but they were the kindest caretakers Charles Xavier would receive for the rest of his life.
So they fled to El Paso. Another hospital, another fresh start. Minerva started stealing, passing it off in miniscule amounts and waiting until they had enough for a dose. She was careful. She got good. She could lose her license for this and by then, who knew what would become of them?
Caliban came to live with them in that little house right across the border. Logan started driving – at first he drove Minnie to and from work in that fancy Chrysler 24, and taxi'd around the rest of the city during the day. Then the more profitable rides came in at night so Minnie bought her own car, and they pretended like nothing was wrong. Like Logan wasn't coming home later and later with scrapes and bullet wounds and whiskey on his breath. They don't talk about it.
They stopped talking about anything, really.
Caliban is a provocateur. In some ways Minnie appreciates it. He doesn't let Logan get away with shit like she does, but she's always had a soft spot for that gruff old mutant anyway. Caliban is bitter and smart and Minerva can't help but like him. Sometimes, when she and Caliban sit down for a cup of tea, Minerva sees Logan watching from the doorway until he catches her eye. Then he leaves. They don't talk about that either.
Really the only time they speak is at night. They aren't together but they're not… not together either. A while ago, Logan's nightmares got worse so he practically threw her out of the room, growling at her, waiting after the door slammed to see if Minerva would come back. She didn't come back. Logan doesn't really sleep anymore.
But she knows how to deal with that part of him better than anyone. She's been doing it since Westchester like an instinct. Because Minerva is a mindwalker, a blink-and-you'll miss it influence that feels so good when she's in your head. Like you want to be doing what she wants to do. It's calming. Logan can't help but trust her, and he hates it.
But even still as their daytime interactions are strained, Minerva knows him. She knows his moods and his insomnia. She is there when he needs her most. And he can't stand to rely on her.
That's where they are now. So yeah. It's been a while.