Sorry for this part being so short. I seem to be lacking the time to write.
As to those of you who aren't familar with the rest of this story, it is a dissection of Logan's mind, in moments that have great impact on him. In the case of this chapter, it tries to show some of his feelings of fustration and insecurity, after the scene from the bar in the episode HAVEN. In my next story, I'll try to describe Logan's thoughts after the killing.
AUTHORS NOTES (2):
For those who are not familiar, MORPHEUS is the greek god of sleep
(or dreams).
/Logan's thoughts driving Max back from the bar fight in Haven/
~ Only one more mile ~
Only one more mile...
Only one more mile until I can seek refuge in my room. Embrace the
sweet oblivion that is sleep.
Only one more mile until I will no longer have to restrain myself from
looking into her eyes.
I know what I'll see when I look at them. Pity. I don't want her pity.
I don't need it. I feel small enough already. Pathetic. Not a man at all.
I have to keep my eyes on the road ahead. Forget about her haunting
presence at my side, on the passenger seat.
Sigh! Only one more mile...
/Back in the house/
~Praying to Morpheus ~
I'm alone in my room now, but her presence still haunts me.
As I lay here in my bed, I pray to morpheus to take over my conscience,
and provide me the forgetfulness I so much desire.
God! Why did I have to wake up this morning at all?
First, I have a fight with Max, who thinks everything I do is an obsession. In her mind. Why should I try to bring the people behind a "simple" massacre to justice, when I could stay here, eating s'mores all day? It's so typical of her.
Then, I find out, that this whole trip to Haven was a waste of time. The guy I came here to see, won't talk. He's too confortable burying his past, along with all guilt and regrets from his fomer life. I'd might as well just gone to my uncle's cabin with Max. Then again, I might as well just stayed home sleeping.
Finally, to finish, what already wasn't the best day of my life, I suffered one of the most humiliating moments to be experienced by men. She must still be wandering why would I do such a stupid thing. Me, a guy in a wheelchair try to defend her, a genetically enhanced killing machine. She's probably saying to herself that it's a guy thing. Well, she's correct. But she can't possibily begin to undestand what I'm going through. How could she? She's not a man, and she's not weak. I, on the other hand, am both. I'm supposed to be the one who protects her, who takes care of her. It's in my genes. It's part of my primal male intinct, going back to the time mankind lived in caves. But even through my weakness, I'm still a man. I have to see myself as one. And most of all, I have to make her see me as one.
To let those guys disrespect her in my face, would be the proof, that what this small voice in my head was saying was true. That I wasn't a real man. I had to shut that voice down, no matter the consequences, I would have to stand my ground, and prove to myself, Max and those bastards, that I deserved respect.
Well, things didn't go as well as expected, to say the least. The respect I so much longed for, was gone, along with the little I had left. My so called male ego, was crushed to a pulp, taking a beating with each blow Max delivered upon those goons, while I laid there struggling patheticaly on the floor, like a turtle who's been flipped over on it's back.
But the worst part was still to come...
I had to keep myself from crying of shame, as I wheeled myself out of the bar, while what seemed like a million eyes, burned my skin, with all their unwanted pity.
So I lay here in my bed, praying to morpheus, to release my mind from
this night, and deliver me to a new morning. And hopefully, to a better
day.
TBC