Notes: Another song fic, another one shot. This one is based on the song 'Which One of Them (will be you tonight?)' by the mighty Garth Brooks. I was listening to it tonight and felt all sad and then very angsty. It doesn't follow the song exactly, just the main gist of it. Oh, and I finally wrote something that brought Logan into my territory: the wild west. Yay!

Disclaimer: This was written for fun not profit, which I hope is okay because I don't own The X-Men and never will.

Which One of Them

He liked her smile. Wide mouth, full promising lips, bleached teeth. They had to be bleached the way she worked that cigarette. Nice skin too, considering her habit. It was smooth and pale. Probably soaked it in crème every night to hold back a few more years than was marked on her birth certificate. Thirty, thirty-three at the most but she was working the twenty-five racket, and working it well. The age wasn't the problem, though usually it would have been. It was the hair. Blond. Bleached just like her teeth.

"Can I buy you a drink cowboy?" she breathed through a haze of smoke. It was sexy as hell. She certainly new how to work those lips.

"No thanks."

Logan picked up his nearly gone bottle and moved to the other side of the bar casting a fleeting glance around the room. The place was almost empty. What did he expect on a Thursday night? He had even gone against his usual lurks and chosen the bar with the big red neon sign and what he thought was supposed to be Christmas lights in the shape of chilies hanging from the windows. He had to get out of the South West. This hill billy, country twang whine they called music was going to drive him mad if the heat and tacky bars didn't first.

The music in the juke box switched and now a slow sullen baritone emitted from its speakers. It was the same thing he'd been listening to all night. Broken hearts and missed chances, didn't they write about anything else? He leaned into the bar resting his head on one hand and twisting the brown bottle with the other.

"Getcha another?"

"Yeah, fine." He told the bartender.

Someone was watching him from the other side of the room. The young one. She'd been sitting in the booth in far the corner with a boy not much older than her. He figured she was underage and the two of them were trying to keep it under the table. Not that this guy was going to care. The bartender looked bored as all hell. They could have walked in with a school bus of kids and he'd have served them all.

An iced beer clanked on the counter in front of him and Logan took it shifting a little to peer over his shoulder in the girl's direction. Her eyes snapped away.

Lord, she was pretty. Pretty in that wide-eyed innocent sort of way. The boy was gone, probably in the john, and she was sitting there all alone tucked up against the corner of the booth, the low red lamp overhead casting her features into a crimson hue. Her gaze was concentrated on the juke box now, then the light over head, her beer, her hands and finally they shifted back to him. Logan knew he shouldn't have but he couldn't resist a fleeting wink. A smile sprang to life on her lips. Her small hand reached to swipe away a strand of her dark, wavy hair and the gesture, so simple, made Logan's heart leap.

A thin body suddenly blocked his view of her. The boy glanced backward once in Logan's direction then sidled in next to his girl making sure to wrap an arm around her shoulder before casting another pointed glance toward Logan.

He could have snapped the boy with one hand but Logan wasn't looking for a little girl. He wasn't that desperate, not yet at least. Still, he had a notion if she'd come in alone he'd have found himself in that booth next to her or better yet, out in the parking lot where his truck was parked. She wasn't twenty-one but she was definitely over eighteen and though he didn't want to admit it, that round face and those wide brown eyes were closer to what he'd been looking for than anything else in this bar.

The blond had moved on to a trucker in a plaid flannel button up. Maybe he shouldn't have let her go so quickly. Three years ago she'd have been just his type. The top she was wearing cut low down her chest, leaving nothing to the imagination. What she had was about what any man would conjure up to fondle anyway. She brought another thin cigarette to her mouth and like some twisted sort of Masterpiece Theater the trucker pulled out a lighter in one gentlemanly sweep and it flamed against the tip.

There goes the blond.

"Low tonight huh? What'd she do? Sleep with your best friend? Brother?"

Some old drunk was using Logan to hold himself up. He smelled of alcohol, as he should but there was also a strong stench of urine. Logan shoved back with his shoulder and the white haired old man stumbled backward but caught himself at the bar.

"Easy, fella. Can see you don't care to discuss it."

"No I don't."

"Hey Ernie…" The old man's head turned in the direction of the bartender's voice. "What are you doing Ernie? I told you not to bother the other customers."

"I'm just trying to help him work out his troubles."

Logan resisted the urge to roll his eyes and cursed himself again for choosing the place when the song changed and something upbeat and sassy filled the bar. He should have gone to the dark one at the end of the street. What was it? O'Keefe's, O'Grady's? Well, something Irish anyway. The drunk seated himself right next to Logan which irritated him to hell. He'd already moved once and now because of this old-timer he was going to have to move again.

"My wife left me in fall of '79. Or was it '78? We been married 15 years, then one day – gone!"

"Ernie…" the bartender chided. Which was good for him because Logan was about to tell the old fool where he could find his wife.

Ernie covered his mouth, winked, then zipped his lips, locking it shut with a twist of his fingers. Logan swallowed another mouthful from the bottle. Things weren't looking good and now he was in a piss poor mood wondering if he'd walked in with a sign that said, 'rejected loser' written on his face. But maybe the old man started that line of conversation with everyone.

A breath came near his ear and Logan was out of the stool before Ernie could get another word in about lost loves and broken hearts like every song in that juke box. He found a comfortable spot against the wall facing the room. Not what he would have chosen if he'd had a choice, but he got a nice view of the dance floor and it was nicer still because the boy was leading the girl out from the booth to sway to the music.

She had a nice body, shapely like the one back in New York who'd turned him down. And she was wearing a short denim skirt with tall brown cowboy boots which he'd never really gone for before. But like the blond worked her mouth, she worked those boots. He stared openly, eyes on her calves, flitting up the curve of her toned thighs then sensing her gaze again he caught her eyes. She was pressed against the boy with her head leaning on his shoulder but turned in Logan's direction and damn if she didn't just bite her lip while she scoped him. He felt the corner of his mouth twitch; his vision went hazy. For a moment the soft light overhead played tricks with his eyes. It danced around the hair that framed the girl's face, casting it a shade lighter than her dark locks. She smiled and Logan's lips parted as he drew in a shallow breath.

Then the couple turned and the light faded along with the vision.

Logan took one last swig of the beer. No matter how hard he tried to pretend the cheap stuff was never a Molson. Inferior products claiming superior taste, that's what was in this bar. He knew where to find the real stuff. It was north where snow was falling right about now, where he had promised himself he'd never go back. He'd have to learn to settle for second best no matter how much he wanted the original. But this place was wearing him thin. The girl was watching him again and if the boy wasn't such a young, scrawny kid he might have picked a fight then taken his date out back to show her what real men called dancing. She was game for it, he could tell, but with odds so much in his favor it didn't seem worth it to crush the boy's pride like that. The poor kid was tipsy and forgetting about keeping things low key, he was obviously showing off the treat he had in his arms.

Logan sighed, pulled out his wallet then tossed a few bills on the counter.

"She'll come around young fella. They always do. Sadie did. Saw the light and found her heart in mine. Course she left again, but she'll come back."

Ignoring the misplaced words of comfort Logan stalked to the door, glanced back once more at the girl and her brown boots, maybe trying to see the trick of light again, but then plunged outside.

He pulled out a cigar and lit it on the way to his truck. It was December for crying out loud but it felt like New York in June. Dust balls were billowing up in the warm breeze around his truck. The bottom of the bed was a paler shade of blue now from all the dirt. With a jingle he pulled the keys from his pocket as a car door slammed behind him.

"Ah don't care, Riley. Go on if you want! Ah'll walk back if Ah have to!"

"Get back in the car, Jess."

"No. Ah'm getting' my kicks while Ah'm still young enough to feel 'em."

An engine roared. "Last chance…"

"Go!"

The woman was standing with her arms crossed, tapping her toe on the gravel. Her long jeans clung around her legs and with her arms flung over her chest like that Logan was getting an enhanced view of what was hidden below her emerald blouse. And she was brunette.

The car peeled away, a dust trail following it onto the main road when she finally took notice of Logan leaning against his truck, sucking on his cigar, watching her.

"See something you like?" she smiled, a little feistier than he would have wanted but laced heavy with the drawl.

Logan grinned, exhaled. "Maybe."

And she did too, eyeing him like most women eyed him, like the blond and the girl dancing in the bar. "You just comin' or just goin'?"

"That depends on whether your friend's coming back."

Her smile played around her lips better than the blond's. "Him? That was mah brother and yeah, he might just."

Brother. Things were picking up by the second. She dropped her arms to her hips, holding them in a way that was absolutely suggestive, glancing up and down his body once more. "Ah didn't see you round here last night. What's your name sugah?"

"Logan."

"Logan?" She rolled the 'L' along her tongue slowly in a way that was familiar to him, in a way that made him catch his breath and wish suddenly at the back of his mind that he wasn't in the middle of New Mexico but back home drinking a Molson and hearing that heavy 'L' come a from voice a little less assertive and a little less hard.

But that drawl. It wasn't near perfect but it was close enough. Second best.

"Ah'm Jess."

"So I heard."

Jess laughed, shyly, another plus on her part and another reason for him to stick around a little longer. "Ah guess Ah made a scene. But it's our last night here and you know where the dud wanted to spend it? At the midnight showin' of Superman. Well Ah'm not goin' back to Jackson with nothing to show for this road trip."

"Jackson?"

"Mississippi."

And suddenly he didn't care that she was brass, only that she was a looker and brunette and had that drawl that sent shivers down his spine. He imagined it calling out his name with the slow, heavy play of the 'L', just like he'd wanted months before he stopped in this no-where's-ville.

Her smile widened, not missing the clear mist of lust in his eyes. She turned toward the bar, then back at him with her head cocked. "So you decided?"

Logan tapped the burnt ends of the cigar away, dark eyes meeting hers. "Looks like I'm coming."

He hoped that when he had her back in his hotel room she wouldn't be too angry if he choked out The Kid's name. It was the fastest way to end a good night but he could tell he wouldn't be able to stop himself. Not if she laughed shyly like that again. She was no Marie, just a cheap imitation, but if that's all he could get that's what he was going to take.