Logan drove south, every mile that separated him from his love and his life added a new dimension of anger. If he had been home he could have found release at the gym, or by taking Jesse and disappearing into the wilderness. Now he was faced with nothing but open road, and no direction. And a rage that threatened to send him over the edge. He had failed the one person that mattered to him the most. He had let himself believe that he could keep the life full of love and simple purpose that he enjoyed with Jesse, forever. He had bought the lie that 'forever' could exist in the first place. But worst of all he'd led another into believing it too. The only one he could remember that hadn't tried to take from him. From the first minute she'd seen him all she'd done was give.
Cracking a few heads in a bar later that night didn't ease his pain. Jesse's curse haunted him. Every time the wind blew across his skin, every time he found himself staring into the sky, she was there. Kicking his bike to life, he threw up gravel and continued his flight, heading toward the only other soul in his life he could vaguely remember.
He found Remy Le Beau at a card table in an empty bar off Bourbon Street, in New Orleans, looking much like he had the last time he'd been there: deck of cards in one hand, bottle in the other. Nothing had changed except for the addition of a dark skinned woman who stood by his side.
"Wolverine, ami, where the hell 'ave you been?" Remy smiled, pushing a chair out from under the table with a booted foot. Logan took hold of its back but didn't sit down.
"Tryin to start over," he grumbled. "Who's your new friend?"
Remy nodded slightly to the woman, who came out from behind him, hand outstretched.
"Dis here Lena Veiga. She make sure da' game stay clean."
Logan shook her hand. The instant they touched Lena let out a cry of pain.
"What you touch her with?" The Cajun jumped from his seat. Logan held his hands out, palms up.
"Nothin'." He dropped his hands. Much as the rage inside him wanted out, he hadn't come here for a fight.
"There's nothing in my hand," he growled again.
"What you touch before you come in here?" she asked in a thickly Caribbean accent. She stepped closer to him, and Logan noticed beads and bits of bone jewelry entwined into her dreadlocks. He thrust his hand into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out Jesse's wooden wolverine.
"What dis?" She asked, plucking the carved animal out of his hand. Her eyes closed and a single tear slipped down her mahogany cheek. Her eyes flew open. Logan saw her lips move but heard Jesse's voice.
"'Keep him safe and bring him back to me.'"
Hearing Jesse's voice hit Logan in the gut. He sank into the chair Remy had offered him earlier.
"How'd she do that?" he questioned.
Remy leaned across the table. "Some folk round here call her 'Voodoo,'" he kept his voice low. "She touch something, she hear its memory. What it's seen, heard, you name it."
Lena opened her mouth again, this time speaking in an unmistakably lilting accent of a Native American man.
"Bright One, see what I have for you today. Something stopped here looking for you."
A child's voice followed, "What, Poppa?" Logan didn't have to be told it was the voice of Jesse as a little girl. He listened to her laugh and imagined Charlie Ray first placing the carving into her hand.
"Dis a sacred piece," Lena raised an eyebrow at Logan as she offered it back. "Why you hurt dat girl? She need you back home."
"I can't go home," he grumbled. "If somebody's lookin for me, I'm not leadin' them to her."
"So you left her cuz you thought you'd keep her safe?" Remy ordered Logan a beer and Lena sat between them.
"I can't let whatever we were fighting on that Island get her too."
"William Stryker," Remy spat. "All dis time you still gonna let him control your life? You know a bunch a mutants got out of there cuz a you. Stryker's facing court martial. But there's a whole lot a other bad stuff waiting' right around the corner. Seem to me you left dat girl wide open."
Logan's body tensed when he heard the words 'William Stryker.'
"What happened there?" he asked. "I can't remember."
"We flew there to get Stryker. You don' remember this? You work for him once. He gave you that thick metal skull. Tryin to make a perfect weapon. Why he choose you… I'll never know."
"Cuz I heal quick." Pieces of the puzzle finally came into place.
"Well Stryker didn't only experiment on you. I spent some time in his company myself. You busted 'em all out an they got away. By da time you an me got there, fella hold a full house. You go crazy on dat place an bust em all out. Then you had a hell of a fight with his new weapon. When I foun' you da whole place was fallin apart. After dat you went your own way. I went mine. Those kids you set free were picked up by a guy with a helicopter."
"When did this happen?" Logan asked.
"Four year ago dis past summer, I reckon. I came back home. You disappear."
"I met Jesse in the winter. She saved my life."
"Den why you go an leave her," Lena broke in. "Dat chile need you by her side. Folk don' run when things get tough. They take a stand an' fight."
When Jesse did finally rise from the place where Logan had left her, it was only to go to the bathroom. Then she went to her room and pulled out her old wooden box. Charlie Ray's ancient long knife gleamed there. She hefted it in her hand, bringing the blade up to run a thumb across it. Still sharp. She knew it would work for what she needed. Taking the box to Logan's room, she sat cross-legged on his bed. His pillow beckoned her. She drew it to her chest, burying her face in its softness for one brief moment and wishing she had Logan's sense of smell. Memories threatened to crash over her like fierce ocean waves. So many times had she loosened her braid here, watching as Logan inhaled her scent. So many hours had been spent dreaming in each other's arms. So much had died when Logan left her. There was so much to mourn, and only acceptable way to do it. She steeled herself against her memories and raised her grandfather's blade, unconsciously singing his song underneath her breath. Soon a line of red ran across her lower left arm, just past where it bent at the elbow. Its twin then blossomed on the right. The cuts weren't deep enough to cause much damage, but the release she felt at the sight of her own blood gave her strength to continue.
"Every little thing… is gonna be alright," she chanted, waiting for a sense of peace that never came. Reaching over her shoulder, she pulled her braid forward, sawing at it till the blade released it into her hand. Tears threatened again as she studied the symbol of her mourning.
"Every little thing…"
Clutching the braid to her chest, she cried out to whatever spirits might be there to listen. Pouring out her hurt like a sacred offering, she placed her future in the hands of the Universe. She wanted Logan back. She begged for Logan back, but she also recognized and submitted to a higher power. The Great Spirit, the Creator. The only one who knew the end from the beginning. And then it was over. She coiled her braid into the box, along with her other treasures. Emotionally spent, she dropped backward on the bed. Sleep beckoned and finally overcame her. She gave in to its peace-filled promise, hoping only that she might at least be with Logan again in her dreams.
Each of her days ran right in to the other after that. A new one started just like the last, with Jesse going through the motions. She supposed there would come a day when she felt like herself again but for now, she couldn't work up a reason to try. Those who knew Native American tradition didn't ask about her hair or her scars. Those who didn't could tell it was better not to ask. Cedar Ridge was a small place. Everybody knew Logan was gone.
Ben Greyhawk had always been a regular at Tony's but when he saw Jesse's shorn locks he made it a habit to check in for breakfast every morning.
"Your braid's gone," he observed one day, as she served him his coffee. Jesse shrugged and set down a small pitcher of cream, even though she knew the Sheriff took his coffee black.
'So's Logan," he continued, despite the fact that his words made her eyes swim with unshed tears.
"Nothing lasts forever, Jesse," he reminded. "The sun will always rise and the moon is gonna set, but underneath the skies, things always change. You can't give up on life, Bright One. That's not what Charlie Ray would have wanted."
He reached across the counter and took her hand, turning her arm over to count the scars trailing down to her wrist.
"People are worried about you."
Jesse pulled out of his grasp, wrapping both arms around herself. If she tried to tell him she'd be alright it would be a lie. She'd long since stopped singing the song her grandfather had ingrained into her soul. She knew every little thing would never be right again, so she simply disappeared into the kitchen, then out the back door, to take her familiar place on the back steps. This was where they used to sit on sunny days when Logan crossed the street for lunch. Now it was just a cold, hard place. Without him, all of Jesse's life felt like the cement she sat on. Hard, unyielding, and empty.
But customers continued to show up at Tony's a little before seven. Jesse took their orders then ducked into the kitchen to help Sophie fill them. It would be well after one o'clock every day before things would slow down at the diner. Jesse cleaned tables, Daniel washed dishes. Tony kept both of his waitresses on for the dinner crowd. Mostly because he was afraid to let Jesse spend much time alone.
"Tell me 'bout Jesse," Lena asked Logan during an especially slow night at the bar. Remy was dealing a game of five-card stud at a table of four drunken tourists. He'd given his girl the task of keeping Logan out of trouble. Something he'd given up on.
"She's Iroquois," Logan started, eyes glazing as Jesse's memory filled his soul. "Mohawk, Bear Clan. What more do you need to know?" Logan closed his eyes and brought a bottle to his lips.
'Cuz I can tell ya,' he thought to himself. 'How many tribes call themselves People of The Long House… How the North Star made it to the sky…
"Not what she is, Logan," Lena persisted. "Tell me 'bout Jesse."
Logan's eyes flashed as he wondered what this little woman from the depths of the Dominican Republic was getting at.
"What do you wanna know? She's the other half of everything I am, or wanna be. I called her Pocahontas, my Native American princess." Logan closed his eyes, remembering the things he loved about Jesse. His voice lowered. He forgot he was talking to Lena as his description clarified her image in his mind.
"She can walk through the woods without making a sound. When she's out there the whole forest stops just to watch her move. She can hear things on the wind, feel the pulse of the planet by holding a feather in her hand. There are ways she can sense things even before me. She loves playin hide-n-seek in the woods. Last thing she'd do every time it was her turn to hide was touch my nose and say 'No fair sniffin' me out.' Only lotsa times I couldn't find her without sniffin' her out."
"She's always talkin about bringing people back to the ways of her grandfather." He stopped, realizing that he'd gone on longer than he'd meant to.
"She's brave. She's strong. And she'll be alright without me."
"What 'bout you, Logan?" Lena questioned. "Will you be a'right widout her?"