Disclaimer: I don't own em'
Title: Mourning
Rating: PG
Spoilers: All episodes
Summary: Logan, Bling and Charlie deal with the death of Max and Tinga.
Chapter 2. Logan
Logan woke up in his own bed. The sunlight streaming through the window shone on his face causing him to squint. He raised his right arm to shield his eyes from the brightness which only exacerbated the throbbing in his head. His hand drifted to his temple where he could feel the cause of the throbbing. There were stitches there, holding the wound together. He remembered Lydecker stitching him up somewhere along the road back. The blood was gone now, Bling had obviously washed it away. The exoskeleton and his clothes were also gone. He was lying in his shorts under the blanket.
He sat up with a start at the thought of his clothes. He pushed his legs over the edge of the bed and steadied himself for a moment as a wave of vertigo hit him. Then he slid into the wheelchair, which Bling had placed, by the bed.
He found Bling at the kitchen table, his head in his hands.
"Bling, where are my clothes?" There was a note of franticness in his voice.
"Laundry hamper." Bling looked up. His red swollen eyes barely registered in Logan's consciousness.
Logan quickly wheeled to the bathroom followed closely behind by Bling. He tossed the lid off the hamper and yanked out the bloodied heap of clothes. They were stiff now, the blood darkened and dried. Max's blood.
"Oh god oh god oh god." The words escaped involuntarily from Logan's mouth.
Bling stood in the doorway, tears streaming down his face, as he watched Logan clutch the clothes tightly to his chest, his head and shoulders bowed by the enormity of his loss.
"Logan..." Bling placed a gentle hand on Logan's shoulder hoping to offer a little comfort. At his touch Logan turned and handed him the clothes.
"Don't wash them." His voice was barely a whisper. Logan's face was tearless, dispassionate. He was holding onto his grief, suppressing it. He couldn't allow himself to mourn.
As Bling left the bathroom with the clothes Logan rolled himself into the shower and shut the door. He stripped off his shorts and tossed them out of the stall. He turned on the water and focused on its warm steady stream as it drummed on to his back. He watched the soap wash away the blood and grime and sweat of the week. It pooled in small puddles by the drain before pouring over the edge and into the pipes. He closed his eyes as he washed his hair feeling the shampoo work through its coarseness. He let the water pour over him again listening once more to its drum beat. Eventually he opened the shower door and reached for the towel that always hung on the hook just outside the door. He dried himself thoroughly finishing with his hair then leaned forward in his chair and wrapped the towel around his waist. He pushed himself to the sink pulled out his shaving kit, changed the blades and adjusted the razor. He worked up a lather with an old fashioned brush his father had given to him years ago. He worked carefully as he shaved a week's worth of growth from his face. He washed the brush and razor thoroughly and washed the shavings down the drain. He dried his face with a facecloth then used it to wipe away any residue remaining in the sink. He pulled out his toothbrush, brushed his teeth then followed up with some mouthwash. He swished it in his mouth driving the burning liquid between his teeth and around his gums. He spat in the sink then stared at himself in the mirror. Not satisfied he started the routine again.
He rolled back into the shower and started the water again. He washed faster, more agressively, this time trying to scrub the last few days off his skin. He stayed under the water even longer trying to get lost in the beats. He retrieved an extra towel from the closet then moved back to the sink to shave a second time though he didn't need to. He brushed his teeth again taking longer this time, feeling every stroke then he pulled out the mouthwash and took another swig. The burn was stronger this time, stinging his gums which were sensitive from the excess brushing. His skin felt raw too from the extra round of washing. This was good. It was something he could focus on. He picked up his shorts and threw them along with the towels into the now empty laundry hamper.
Logan wheeled himself into the bedroom and put on a clean pair of shorts. He retrieved the exoskeleton from its post against the wall and strapped it on. He turned it on then stood up and walked to the closet. He threw on a tshirt and sweater, found a pair of jeans and pulled them on. He was glad they still fit over the exoskeleton, that he didn't have to buy new pants. He checked the clock as he walked out of the bedroom. 1:00 pm. It had taken him two hours to get dressed. Two hours survived and an eternity to go.
He found Bling at the computer checking for communication from Syl or Krit or even Lydecker.
"Nothing yet." Bling turned toward Logan. His eyes were still red. There were fresh tear stains on his cheeks which he hadn't bothered to wipe away. He had been crying again.
"You hungry?" Logan walked into the kitchen and checked the supplies, bread, swiss cheese, lettuce, tomatoes. He pulled out the loaf of french bread and cut several thick slices. He found the mayonaise and dijon mustard and spread it on the bread. He sliced the cheese and the tomatoes focusing on the rhythm of the knife on cutting board. He tore off a few leaves of lettuce and washed them under the sink. He built two sandwiches placed them on plates and walked back over to Bling. He sat on the edge of the desk as he handed Bling a plate. They ate in silence.
Logan took the dishes back to the sink and washed them up. He put away the food and wiped down the counters. He rinsed out the dishcloth, wrung it out and folded it over a rack to dry. He dried the dishes and placed them back in the cupboard. 1:45 pm.
Logan walked over to the window and stared down at the city below. An hour later he walked into the bedroom and stripped down to tshirt and shorts. He left the exoskeleton on and walked back at the training room.
He picked up a couple of dumbbells and lay back on the bench to warm up the bench press. He continued to warm up several exercises military press, triceps kickbacks, lat pulldowns, and bicep curls doing 15 repetitions each. He selected a heavier weight and started on another round of 15. He selected a heavier weight again this time completing a set of 10 repetitions. He continued building a pyramid with each exercise, working through sets of 8, 6, 4 and 2 repetitions, increasing the weight each time. As he worked his way back down the pyramid he decreased the weights and increased the repetitions then moved on to the next exercise. He stopped for a drink of water then started a second round. He could feel fatigue begin to affect his muscles so he focused more intently on technique as he completed each repetition. Abs engaged, elbows slightly bent, posture relaxed, exhale on exertion and repeat. As he worked through a third set he could feel his muscles shaking with exertion and his breathing get heavier. He stopped for some more water and started on a fourth round. He pushed through each repetition forcing his muscles to do the work. He counted out each set as he worked focusing on the rhythm of the numbers in his head. By the end of the set he was barely able to complete the repetitions. He took a small break and moved on to the next exercise. At the end of the round he drank some more water, his heart pounding and his breathing laboured. He could feel his arms shaking as he reached for the bottle of water. He would be sore tomorrow. This was good, another thing to focus on. He waited a few minutes to allow his muscles to recover then picked up the weights again. As he moved towards the bench to start a fifth round he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"That's enough." Bling's voice was quite.
Logan looked at the clock again. 5:00 pm. He put down the weights and walked back into the bedroom. He sat in his wheelchair, took off the exoskeleton and headed to the bathroom for another shower. Six hours filled and an eternity to go.
Logan prepared dinner for Bling grateful for the familiar routine of cooking. He set the table and they sat down to eat once again.
"Logan?" He looked up to meet Bling's gaze.
"If you want to talk..." Bling's tears had been replaced by an intense look of concern for Logan.
Logan nodded his head in acknowledgement, but there was nothing to talk about.
Logan cleaned up the dishes and the kitchen then returned to the window. He watched as the sun set and the city wound down for the night. There was nothing else to do. Max was dead.
At 2:00 am he grabbed his keys and left the apartment. He climbed in the car and headed out into the night. Thirty minutes later he pulled up at the gate of the space needle and climbed out of the car. He slipped through the hole in the chain link fence that he and Max had cut when she had brought him here just last week. The ends of the wire were still fresh where they were cut. Max had never bothered to cut a hole the fence before, she would always jump over it, but for Logan she had brought a pair of wire cutters.
Logan walked in the building and looked up the elevator shaft. It was long since out of commission. Even the box was missing. Someone had probably claimed it to build a shelter somewhere. Logan opened the door to the stairwell and began the long climb to the top. He stopped every five flights to take a break. The exoskeleton didn't do all the work for him, it just magnified the signals to his leg muscles, so strength and fatigue were still a factor. He discovered this when he had tried to pick up Max in the forest. The exoskeleton ground out the signal but his legs could not bear the weight. He was at the fifteenth floor now, halfway there. He was grateful for the trip to the top, the time it took, the work involved, the concentration it required. He was in no hurry, he had so much time to fill. He took a swig of water from the bottle he brought with him and started on another five flights. He immersed himself in the routine, fifteen stairs per flight, five flights up, rest for five minutes, drink some water and start again. At the top he pushed open the roof maintenance hatch and climbed out onto the roof.
Logan walked to the edge of the roof and peered over at the city below. Logan sat down near the ledge and hugged his knees to his chest. He didn't fear the height any more. His worst fear had already come true and all others were insignificant in comparison. Max was dead. The scar on his temple and his bloody clothes were constant reminders of this fact. They were covered in Max's blood, they blood that had streamed out of her chest and onto his shirt, his pants and his hands. She was dead. He knew it. Yet he couldn't help hoping that she was somehow okay. That she was still out there. They had abandoned her body back in the woods. There would be no memorial service, no funeral, no gravesite. There would be no closure.
Logan watched as the sleeping city below began to awake. The sky changed from black to navy to grey as the light began to come over the horizon. It was accompanied by a stream of people heading to the downtown core. It began as a trickle, a few headlights here, a pedestrian there, then continued to grow into a river of people.
When the sun was full in the sky Logan stood up, climbed through the roof hatch and began the long walk down the stairs. He stopped again at the halfway point to rest his legs. He counted the steps to each landing, the numbers in his head accompanying each foot fall as he worked his way down. He slid through the hole in the fence and climbed into the car to join the stream of people heading into the city.
The drive home was slow as he worked his way through the morning traffic. He was just another cog in the wheels of the city, moving in slow motion, watching the world go by. When he got home Bling had already made breakfast. He sat down to eat it then went to bed for a few hours.
He had established his routine, go through the motions, focus on the details, pretend to be engaged, get through the day. One day survived and an eternity to go.
Three mornings later Logan walked into the apartment to the smell of Bling's cooking. There was toast on the table, dark brown the way he liked it. Bling was dishing scrambled eggs onto a couple of plates. Logan opened the cupboard, retrieved two glasses and placed them on the table. He walked over to the fridge removed a pitcher of orange juice and returned to the table. As he poured the juice Bling brought the plates to the table and placed one in front of him. He accepted a glass of juice and sat down across from Logan. They ate in silence lost in their thoughts.
"Were you up at the needle again?" Bling's voice punctuated the quiet. Logan nodded and they went back to their food neither wanting to fill the air with useless words.
"I'm going to visit Charlie." Bling's head shot up at Logan's statement. Logan was still looking at his eggs pushing them around his plate with his fork.
"I'm coming with you." Bling got up to clear the dishes away.
To be continued...
Title: Mourning
Rating: PG
Spoilers: All episodes
Summary: Logan, Bling and Charlie deal with the death of Max and Tinga.
Chapter 2. Logan
Logan woke up in his own bed. The sunlight streaming through the window shone on his face causing him to squint. He raised his right arm to shield his eyes from the brightness which only exacerbated the throbbing in his head. His hand drifted to his temple where he could feel the cause of the throbbing. There were stitches there, holding the wound together. He remembered Lydecker stitching him up somewhere along the road back. The blood was gone now, Bling had obviously washed it away. The exoskeleton and his clothes were also gone. He was lying in his shorts under the blanket.
He sat up with a start at the thought of his clothes. He pushed his legs over the edge of the bed and steadied himself for a moment as a wave of vertigo hit him. Then he slid into the wheelchair, which Bling had placed, by the bed.
He found Bling at the kitchen table, his head in his hands.
"Bling, where are my clothes?" There was a note of franticness in his voice.
"Laundry hamper." Bling looked up. His red swollen eyes barely registered in Logan's consciousness.
Logan quickly wheeled to the bathroom followed closely behind by Bling. He tossed the lid off the hamper and yanked out the bloodied heap of clothes. They were stiff now, the blood darkened and dried. Max's blood.
"Oh god oh god oh god." The words escaped involuntarily from Logan's mouth.
Bling stood in the doorway, tears streaming down his face, as he watched Logan clutch the clothes tightly to his chest, his head and shoulders bowed by the enormity of his loss.
"Logan..." Bling placed a gentle hand on Logan's shoulder hoping to offer a little comfort. At his touch Logan turned and handed him the clothes.
"Don't wash them." His voice was barely a whisper. Logan's face was tearless, dispassionate. He was holding onto his grief, suppressing it. He couldn't allow himself to mourn.
As Bling left the bathroom with the clothes Logan rolled himself into the shower and shut the door. He stripped off his shorts and tossed them out of the stall. He turned on the water and focused on its warm steady stream as it drummed on to his back. He watched the soap wash away the blood and grime and sweat of the week. It pooled in small puddles by the drain before pouring over the edge and into the pipes. He closed his eyes as he washed his hair feeling the shampoo work through its coarseness. He let the water pour over him again listening once more to its drum beat. Eventually he opened the shower door and reached for the towel that always hung on the hook just outside the door. He dried himself thoroughly finishing with his hair then leaned forward in his chair and wrapped the towel around his waist. He pushed himself to the sink pulled out his shaving kit, changed the blades and adjusted the razor. He worked up a lather with an old fashioned brush his father had given to him years ago. He worked carefully as he shaved a week's worth of growth from his face. He washed the brush and razor thoroughly and washed the shavings down the drain. He dried his face with a facecloth then used it to wipe away any residue remaining in the sink. He pulled out his toothbrush, brushed his teeth then followed up with some mouthwash. He swished it in his mouth driving the burning liquid between his teeth and around his gums. He spat in the sink then stared at himself in the mirror. Not satisfied he started the routine again.
He rolled back into the shower and started the water again. He washed faster, more agressively, this time trying to scrub the last few days off his skin. He stayed under the water even longer trying to get lost in the beats. He retrieved an extra towel from the closet then moved back to the sink to shave a second time though he didn't need to. He brushed his teeth again taking longer this time, feeling every stroke then he pulled out the mouthwash and took another swig. The burn was stronger this time, stinging his gums which were sensitive from the excess brushing. His skin felt raw too from the extra round of washing. This was good. It was something he could focus on. He picked up his shorts and threw them along with the towels into the now empty laundry hamper.
Logan wheeled himself into the bedroom and put on a clean pair of shorts. He retrieved the exoskeleton from its post against the wall and strapped it on. He turned it on then stood up and walked to the closet. He threw on a tshirt and sweater, found a pair of jeans and pulled them on. He was glad they still fit over the exoskeleton, that he didn't have to buy new pants. He checked the clock as he walked out of the bedroom. 1:00 pm. It had taken him two hours to get dressed. Two hours survived and an eternity to go.
He found Bling at the computer checking for communication from Syl or Krit or even Lydecker.
"Nothing yet." Bling turned toward Logan. His eyes were still red. There were fresh tear stains on his cheeks which he hadn't bothered to wipe away. He had been crying again.
"You hungry?" Logan walked into the kitchen and checked the supplies, bread, swiss cheese, lettuce, tomatoes. He pulled out the loaf of french bread and cut several thick slices. He found the mayonaise and dijon mustard and spread it on the bread. He sliced the cheese and the tomatoes focusing on the rhythm of the knife on cutting board. He tore off a few leaves of lettuce and washed them under the sink. He built two sandwiches placed them on plates and walked back over to Bling. He sat on the edge of the desk as he handed Bling a plate. They ate in silence.
Logan took the dishes back to the sink and washed them up. He put away the food and wiped down the counters. He rinsed out the dishcloth, wrung it out and folded it over a rack to dry. He dried the dishes and placed them back in the cupboard. 1:45 pm.
Logan walked over to the window and stared down at the city below. An hour later he walked into the bedroom and stripped down to tshirt and shorts. He left the exoskeleton on and walked back at the training room.
He picked up a couple of dumbbells and lay back on the bench to warm up the bench press. He continued to warm up several exercises military press, triceps kickbacks, lat pulldowns, and bicep curls doing 15 repetitions each. He selected a heavier weight and started on another round of 15. He selected a heavier weight again this time completing a set of 10 repetitions. He continued building a pyramid with each exercise, working through sets of 8, 6, 4 and 2 repetitions, increasing the weight each time. As he worked his way back down the pyramid he decreased the weights and increased the repetitions then moved on to the next exercise. He stopped for a drink of water then started a second round. He could feel fatigue begin to affect his muscles so he focused more intently on technique as he completed each repetition. Abs engaged, elbows slightly bent, posture relaxed, exhale on exertion and repeat. As he worked through a third set he could feel his muscles shaking with exertion and his breathing get heavier. He stopped for some more water and started on a fourth round. He pushed through each repetition forcing his muscles to do the work. He counted out each set as he worked focusing on the rhythm of the numbers in his head. By the end of the set he was barely able to complete the repetitions. He took a small break and moved on to the next exercise. At the end of the round he drank some more water, his heart pounding and his breathing laboured. He could feel his arms shaking as he reached for the bottle of water. He would be sore tomorrow. This was good, another thing to focus on. He waited a few minutes to allow his muscles to recover then picked up the weights again. As he moved towards the bench to start a fifth round he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"That's enough." Bling's voice was quite.
Logan looked at the clock again. 5:00 pm. He put down the weights and walked back into the bedroom. He sat in his wheelchair, took off the exoskeleton and headed to the bathroom for another shower. Six hours filled and an eternity to go.
Logan prepared dinner for Bling grateful for the familiar routine of cooking. He set the table and they sat down to eat once again.
"Logan?" He looked up to meet Bling's gaze.
"If you want to talk..." Bling's tears had been replaced by an intense look of concern for Logan.
Logan nodded his head in acknowledgement, but there was nothing to talk about.
Logan cleaned up the dishes and the kitchen then returned to the window. He watched as the sun set and the city wound down for the night. There was nothing else to do. Max was dead.
At 2:00 am he grabbed his keys and left the apartment. He climbed in the car and headed out into the night. Thirty minutes later he pulled up at the gate of the space needle and climbed out of the car. He slipped through the hole in the chain link fence that he and Max had cut when she had brought him here just last week. The ends of the wire were still fresh where they were cut. Max had never bothered to cut a hole the fence before, she would always jump over it, but for Logan she had brought a pair of wire cutters.
Logan walked in the building and looked up the elevator shaft. It was long since out of commission. Even the box was missing. Someone had probably claimed it to build a shelter somewhere. Logan opened the door to the stairwell and began the long climb to the top. He stopped every five flights to take a break. The exoskeleton didn't do all the work for him, it just magnified the signals to his leg muscles, so strength and fatigue were still a factor. He discovered this when he had tried to pick up Max in the forest. The exoskeleton ground out the signal but his legs could not bear the weight. He was at the fifteenth floor now, halfway there. He was grateful for the trip to the top, the time it took, the work involved, the concentration it required. He was in no hurry, he had so much time to fill. He took a swig of water from the bottle he brought with him and started on another five flights. He immersed himself in the routine, fifteen stairs per flight, five flights up, rest for five minutes, drink some water and start again. At the top he pushed open the roof maintenance hatch and climbed out onto the roof.
Logan walked to the edge of the roof and peered over at the city below. Logan sat down near the ledge and hugged his knees to his chest. He didn't fear the height any more. His worst fear had already come true and all others were insignificant in comparison. Max was dead. The scar on his temple and his bloody clothes were constant reminders of this fact. They were covered in Max's blood, they blood that had streamed out of her chest and onto his shirt, his pants and his hands. She was dead. He knew it. Yet he couldn't help hoping that she was somehow okay. That she was still out there. They had abandoned her body back in the woods. There would be no memorial service, no funeral, no gravesite. There would be no closure.
Logan watched as the sleeping city below began to awake. The sky changed from black to navy to grey as the light began to come over the horizon. It was accompanied by a stream of people heading to the downtown core. It began as a trickle, a few headlights here, a pedestrian there, then continued to grow into a river of people.
When the sun was full in the sky Logan stood up, climbed through the roof hatch and began the long walk down the stairs. He stopped again at the halfway point to rest his legs. He counted the steps to each landing, the numbers in his head accompanying each foot fall as he worked his way down. He slid through the hole in the fence and climbed into the car to join the stream of people heading into the city.
The drive home was slow as he worked his way through the morning traffic. He was just another cog in the wheels of the city, moving in slow motion, watching the world go by. When he got home Bling had already made breakfast. He sat down to eat it then went to bed for a few hours.
He had established his routine, go through the motions, focus on the details, pretend to be engaged, get through the day. One day survived and an eternity to go.
Three mornings later Logan walked into the apartment to the smell of Bling's cooking. There was toast on the table, dark brown the way he liked it. Bling was dishing scrambled eggs onto a couple of plates. Logan opened the cupboard, retrieved two glasses and placed them on the table. He walked over to the fridge removed a pitcher of orange juice and returned to the table. As he poured the juice Bling brought the plates to the table and placed one in front of him. He accepted a glass of juice and sat down across from Logan. They ate in silence lost in their thoughts.
"Were you up at the needle again?" Bling's voice punctuated the quiet. Logan nodded and they went back to their food neither wanting to fill the air with useless words.
"I'm going to visit Charlie." Bling's head shot up at Logan's statement. Logan was still looking at his eggs pushing them around his plate with his fork.
"I'm coming with you." Bling got up to clear the dishes away.
To be continued...
