The Cards We Are Dealt

{0.3}

Lorraine saw Logan every day he was on the island. She usually saw him when she woke up from a blackout sleep, her metabolism starved of the food she desperately needed. He always brought food, though she would have been happy if he'd just brought his company. She would admit, though, that the food made his visits even better.

"Are you feeling okay?" she asked once she woke up. He looked drained and tired, as if he'd lost some inner battle. He shook his head, handing her a soda, an apple, and, Praise God, an entire turkey sandwich. Logan was her hero. She took a large bite of her sandwich, chewed, swallowed. "What's wrong?"

"Have you ever- have you ever felt like-" Logan sighed, running a hand through his hair frustratedly. She looked at him with sympathy. Some people just sucked with words, her father used to say. Her father would have probably said that Logan, if he had ever gotten around to meeting him, was one of the few people who really sucked. Logan looked at her tiredly, as if he was struggling to say what he meant. She smiled softly at him.

"Just spit it out. No fancy words. No saying what you don't mean. I don't need pity, Logan."

"I'm leaving," he spilled. She stopped chewing for a minute, allowed for the news to sink in. She fought back the tears that threatened to make themselves known. She would not play the guilt trip on Logan. He did not need this now, and certainly not from her. She understood, from their month or so of communicating, that Logan did not enjoy his work here. He didn't like seeing her in a cage everyday. She could tell it upset him, that he blamed himself. She chewed again, swallowed. Logan did not need her sadness to add on to the weight on his shoulders or the guilt in his stomach. She had to be strong for him, and most of all, she needed to tell him that she understood and that she was not angry, even though she didn't entirely, and even though she was.

"Why?" she asked. She prayed that her voice didn't betray how broken she felt. Logan winced. It probably did.

"I can't stay here anymore. I can't work with Stryker," Logan explained. "I can't look at my brother anymore without seeing a murderer. I just - I just -can't, anymore, Lorraine. It's too much. It's too much work, too much murder, too much pain. I see you in this cage every day and all I can see in my mind is the fact that I put you here."

"You had help," she pointed out. Logan looked at her angrily.

"You know what I mean, Lorraine. We've been over this."

"I know. I was only trying to convince you otherwise," Lorraine sighed, looking at him. "Logan, I'm not angry with you. I'm unhappy that you'll leave and I'll undoubtedly miss you, but I know you're unhappy. If you're angry and unhappy and you can't be here anymore, leave. I understand, okay?"

"No, you don't," Logan muttered. Her anger flared.

"No, Logan, look at me," she ordered, something risky for some one to do while in a cage and talking to the man who put her there in the first place, or at least helped to. "If I was you, I would have left long ago. Don't let my being here chain you to this place," she told him, looking him dead in the eye. "Go, Logan. If you're unhappy, you have no need to stay."

Logan sent me a look that she was familiar with. It was the look that said he thought she was stupid. He shook his head.

"You're in a cage, God damnit, because of me! We don't know how long you'll be trapped here! We don't even know what will happen to you! You might die here, because of me! Why are you so determined to make sure that I'm happy?!" he roared, gripping the bars and looking at her, their faces an inch apart. Lorraine blinked, shrank back a bit, then looked to the floor.

"So that if it comes down to it, I can at least die here knowing that some one I care about is happy and alive."