Disclaimer: Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. You just remember that, Marvel, when it comes time to mail the lawsuits. Just remember.
Author's Note: I found it pretty hard to write this entirely fron Logan's POV, not to mention in the first person. You have to try not to stray far from your storytelling, but avoid using terribly big words that Logan has probably never heard before (but i'm not judging here. That would be wrong). All of this, plus his general malice and bad grammer, adds up to my computer and its spell check hating me for a good week. Oh, sorry. Hatin' me.
Space and Privacy Part Three
I remember the time the kid asked why I left so much. I shrugged, plannin' to not answer, but then I got a brilliant one in my head.
"Space, kid." I placed two hands under my head and grinned. "A guy needs his space."
"Yeah," she agreed immediately. "I totally get that." I only nodded, leanin' my face back to take in the sun. I don't like rich people, but Chuck sure did have a great pool.
Jubilee waited a couple minutes, sittin' next to me quiet like a mouse. "In that case...why do you come back?"
I shrugged. Even with my eyes closed, I could sense her watchin' me. It was starting to bug me. "Why do you want to know so bad?"
"I'm just tryin' to figure some things out," she replied in a small voice before scurrying away.
Damn, sometimes that kid is just plain weird.
I'll admit it, she's grown on me, that little twerp, but I'd also be the first to admit how funny she's gotten to actin'. I think it's just around me, nobody seems to notice (or care). And the questions she's workin' into our conversations (which are startin' to get shorter and shorter), with a technique she thinks is subtle. Her questioning, I don't mind, usually. But suddenly, they turn all philosophical and junk. Not to mention I ain't no philosopher in the first place.
But I got my moments.
Sometimes, Hanky boy would recite some poetry junk from his huge collection of poetry crap. Some people would listen, wrapped up in the pretty words (I've never been one fer 'em- pretty words that is). 'Course, I'd pretend he was speakin' Latin and that I didn't care either way. But I did, and I listened.
"Love is not a tender thing..." I overheard one night while not listening. And holy shit, did that fucker ever hit the money. All those people out there, tryin' so hard to believe love as all flowers and moonbeams and midnight phone calls. It's bullshit. Having somebody to love is the worst thing I'd wish on a guy. Worse yet when somebody...when somebody loves him back.
I think I've done one purely romantic thing in my life. And you should see what happened there. A mess, a total FUCKING mess.
This is where, I guess, havin' a mother would come in handy. In fact, if I could remember dear ol' Mum, maybe she'd already have doled out some great advice on the right girl to marry. Mothers are smart like that; they know what they want for their kids. A hundred times, I'd wager, I wondered if she-my mother- I wondered what she wanted for me, her little boy. Hard to believe I was little once. Would she have warned me not to go fallin' in love with the wrong girl? Maybe then she'd go on about the definition of the wrong girl. In length. What I wouldn't give for a lecture like that. Just once.
Mom would have warned me, I'm positive, to watch out for the pretty ones. They're always trouble.
Funny thing is, I'm holding the letter in one hand, and have been fer a while now. The words have bled through the page, I'm pretty sure. Not that it matters, I know it all by heart. I can't read it again. It...it hurts. It hurts that she's right.
Again.
The way she tells it, it was Chuck who made it all happen.
'Course, it's just like to Red to try and find some reason, somethin' logical to explain why we ended up in a different city, alone, together.
According to her, Chuck figured she and Scoot needed space apart, that they were becomin' dependant on each other (he decided this, so One Eye kept his mouth shut). Normally, he'd mind his own friggin' business, but he had two assignments and four people free to go. He'd have to spilt the four of us up, so (as I'm sure ya guessed by now) Cyke went to Chicago with 'Ro, and I got Jeannie.
I knew there was some reason I liked Chuck.
Anyway, so after I planted my best smirk on my face, I waved to Ro and Cyke when they were packin' up the car, about to leave.
He only said one thing to me before he climbed in the car. "Watch yourself, Logan. I'll know."
I nodded smugly, thinkin' how very pissed he had to be. "Duty calls, Cyke," I called after his car. And I woulda done a little happy dance right there on the porch, but that went down the drain when Red appeared beside me.
"Got your things packed?" she asked me. I shook my head instantly. "Well, hurry up. All my stuff is in the car, and I want to leave in an hour."
"Yes, ma'am," I saluted her. She didn't seem too amused, though.
"Don't, Logan, just don't." She turned and slammed the front door behind her. Ouch. Somebody wasn't too happy. I didn't get discouraged or anything. Encouraged is probably more like it.
I laughed when I saw what we were takin'. "Me? Drive that?"
"What's wrong with it?"
"I am not goin' anywhere in a Sedan."
"For heaven's sakes, don't be ridiculous. It's a car."
"Come on, we're takin' mine." I opened the trunk and hoisted out the three suitcases (one was mine, the other were hers).
"A Jeep?"
"That's right, a Jeep. Climb in."
She rolled her eyes and gave up, sliding in the passenger's seat. About ten minutes of cruisin' on the highway she announced, "It should take us about four hours or so to get to Philadelphia-"
"Four hours? Are you nuts, woman?" She held up a corner of the map stretched in front of her.
"No, I'm just going by these little numbers you've scribbled everywhere." She grinned. "So, you're nuts."
"Must have made a mistake," I muttered under my breath as my eyes combed the road ahead. "Where do I turn?"
"Right here," she said. I swung the wheel. "No, no! Not here! I meant right up there!"
"You said right here. To me, that means turn RIGHT HERE!" I bawled while still tryin' to drive.
"I didn't mean turn right, I meant turn up ahead," she yelled at me, about three seconds from beatin' me with the paper map. "Great. Now we have to drive until we find another exit."
"In your world, maybe," I spat, swingin' the Jeep around.
"Logan! It's a one way exit!"
"Boo hoo."
"You are so lucky there aren't any cops around here."
"I ain't worried. Can't you just work yer magic?"
"I hope for your sake you're talking about my irrepressible charm, because if you mean what I think you do-"
"Oh, right, I forget. God forbid you use your power for evil. Like getting' outta a traffic ticket." I let out a deep sigh.
"Asshole," she mused as she rolled down her window an inch.
"What's that?" I pointed to the envelope I had seen outta the corner of my eye.
"This," she answered, holding it a little tighter, "is the reason we're going to Philadelphia. We're delivering it."
"Why don't he use send it?"
"Because it's a very delicate, private delivery. Charles was afraid the mail wasn't the safest place to send it." She looked at me. "You weren't listening at all when he explained all this, were you?"
"No," I stated proudly. "I was tryin to remember if Philadelphia was the Windy City or the Drunken City."
She shook her head. "It's neither. The City of Brotherly Love. And I've never even heard of the last one."
"I think I made it up," I admitted, easin' up a little. "So, we're deliverin' it, huh?"
I'm pretty sure she rolled her eyes. "Yes, for the last time."
"To where?"
"I can't remember, I gave you the address. Just get that."
"Oh, uh, I..." I realized that I didn't remember havin' the address on me, possibly had never had it to begin with. Did I just drop it somewhere...?
"Relax, I was kidding. I've got it right here." I glanced over and she was tryin' not to smile. "It's for a Professor Gerald Kilmer at the Academy of Natural Sciences, on the corner of 19th and Cherry."
"Geez, you got his social security number there too?"
"Pardon?"
"Never mind. Where we stayin' at?"
"The Fredrick Plaza on York St."
"Already I don't like it."
"Well, I didn't make the reservations. Besides, you'll live."
I had a great comeback to that, but I held it back. If there was one thing I didn't need, it was a pissed off woman in my car with the doors locked.
"Gee, think they'll make some mistake in the rooms?" I asked as soon as we got to the hotel Chuck set us up in. I made sure she knew exactly what I meant by the question.
"No, I don't think so," she answered. "Considering Scott made all the reservations. You know how detail-oriented he is."
Well, sure, that was a nicer way of puttin' it, I guess.
"Here are your keys. You're in Room 311," the lady behind the counter handed Jeannie a brass key, followed by my own. "And sir, you're in 445."
"445?" I asked, positive they had to be some fuck-up. "Where's that?"
"Right down the hall," Jean answered with a satisfied grin. "One floor up." She headed for the elevator, leaving her luggage for me to carry.
Great. Just fuckin' fantastic.
I knocked on Room 311 just before midnight and stood there waitin' in the hall like a tool for at least five minutes. When Red finally opened the door, I was about to leave.
"Hi Logan," she said in the most civil tone she'd used all day. "How's it goin'?"
"Been better," I muttered. "Just wanted to make sure everything was okay."
"Well, that's nice of you, but I'm fine. Look," she pointed a thumb to inside the room. "I even figured how to get them to give me an extra pillow." And back to the sarcasm.
"Good for you." We stood in silence for a few awkward minutes. "So...you want me to wake ya tomorrow?"
"No thank you, I'm quite capable of doing so myself. I'll meet you in the lobby at ten." She made a move to close the door, but my hand whipped up to stop it.
"Why so late?" I'm pretty sure I was smirkin'.
Her eyes narrowed as she accepted my challenge. "Fine then. Nine."
"Nine it is," I said seconds before the door slammed in my face. I was makin' progress.
At ten to nine, Red walked out of the elevator, lookin' sharp and much better than I'd expect anybody to look so early (well, early to most people, not to me). She talked to the lady at the counter before breezin' her way over to me.
"Logan." She said in a voice that stopped between crisp and friendly. Her mood from yesterday lived on. "Did you sleep well?"
"Sure," I said, hands stuffed in the pockets of my leather bomber. "What'dya talk to her for?" I gestured to the front desk.
"Oh, nothing. Just left a number where I could be reached," she replied, the last part mumbled under her breath.
"For Chucko, of course," I reasoned, walkin' quickly to keep up with her.
"Well, of course." The way she answered left a lotta questions.
I nodded, "Good enough. You wanna drive?"
She looked startled by the question. "What?"
I dangled the keys in front of her. "Wanna drive?"
She started to shake her head, but instead grabbed them from my hand. "Love to, thanks." She slid behind the wheel of the Jeep. I climbed in my side.
"I've never driven one of these before, you know," she told me as she started the engine. It came to me that my life was suddenly in serious jeopardy.
"You mean, ever?" I fastened my seatbelt a little tighter than usual.
"Don't worry. I learn fast." She fiddled with the buttons next to the windows.
"They unlock the doors."
"Oh." Chicago was lookin' real good right about now.
"I'd better pull over," she remarked as we neared a gas station.
"Why? We have a full tank."
She jumped onto the pavement. "For directions." I threw my head against the seat. Directions! We were in the Jeep three minutes and she wanted directions! When Jean returned, she handed me a plastic bag.
"What's this?"
"I thought you might be hungry, so I got you some stuff." She started up, glancing at the map half unfolded, with a thick pen line tracing our route.
My eyebrows raised. That was...nice of her. I eyed the food suspiciously. "Kit Kat?"
"Well, I reasoned. Everyone likes chocolate."
"I don't."
"You can't starve!"
"How do you I didn't already have somethin' ta eat?"
"I'm psychic?" She offered. "Besides, I bought it for you."
"Here, you have mine."
"Okay, here's the deal. You eat the chocolate and I'll let you pick the radio station." She'd let me? Right.
But I caved. "Sounds fair." I ripped off the wrapper and swallowed a good chunk of the stuff before reaching for the knob.
"You're joking, right?" She laughed. "Tom Jones?"
"What's wrong with that?" I said in a growl.
"Uh, nothing," she replied, thinkin' I was serious. "Just didn't have you pegged as a 'Tom Jones' kind of guy, that's all." Sighin', I switched the radio off.
"Then what do ya wanna listen to?"
"Look, I don't care. Go ahead, turn it back on," she said. "I insist."
"I don't like Tom Jones, Red."
"Colour me shocked." She peeked at me out of the corner of one eye. "For a minute there, I believed you." And then she smiled. Which made me smile. I shook it off.
She handed me the map, pointing where we were headin'. "Tell me when to turn."
"Three blocks ago."
"What?"
"The turn. It was three blocks ago."
The jeep braked with a jolt. Jeannie rested her head on the wheel. "You're kidding me, right?"
"Maybe I should drive?" She nodded weakly and climbed out. After I heard her door slam next to me, I picked up the map and ran my eyes over her scribbles.
"Besides, I'm more of a Frank Sinatra fan myself," I muttered under my breath as I tired to find a way off the busy street.
The rest of the trip was pretty quiet.
I finally found the address. And I didn't even stop for 'directions', either. So there. I leaned over and nudged her awake.
"Wakey, wakey, sleepin' beauty," I muttered as I whipped off the seatbelt (she insisted I clicked it on). She slowly sat up and stretched while I was already out the door.
"Hey, wait up!" she called once she realized I was half way to the door. "You'll look pretty stupid with nothing to deliver." I waited on the top step while she broke her back tryin' to hurry.
"Gimme the thing."
"Don't even ask me." She hugged the thing closer.
"I'm just sayin' I could take better care of it." I paused while she streamed past me into the building. "What's in there anyway?"
"I promised I wouldn't tell."
"Like you even know."
"So what? I get to carry it."
"Quit braggin' or the good doctor is getting' it in pieces."
She smirked at me before whippin' around a corner into a small office. I ran in and caught her talkin' to a lady behind a desk.
"Yes, this is for Professor Gerald Kilmer," Jean said to the tired lookin' lady. She gave me a suspicious look before Jeannie spoke up again, "From Charles Xavier."
"Oh yes," the lady nodded and rubbed her hands together. "He's been expecting this, thank you. Could you just wait over there?" She nodded toward a little couch in the corner of the room. Jean sat down.
"You've been here before."
She had picked up a magazine lyin' next to her and began to thumb through it. "Yes, so?"
"Nothin'. Just an observation."
"Fair enough," she answered, standing back up a few timed seconds before the secretary re-entered.
"If you would be so kind as to take this back to Mr. Xavier," the blond haired woman said, handin' a much smaller, slimmer envelope to Jean.
"Certainly."
"Thanks so much," she said again, sittin' back at her desk and signalin' it was time for us to go. Jean left, with me behind her.
"So, now that that's done, what are we going to do for the few hours?" she said, half to herself, as we exited the Academy of Natural Sciences.
"What?"
"Well, that's the one thing we were assigned. And it's done. What now?"
"I dunno. Wanna...just hang?"
"What, are we fifteen or something?" She motioned to get in the car. "Let's be creative."
"Not exactly my strong suit, Red."
"Oh come on, we're in Philadelphia, for cryin' out loud."
"Food?" I offered, staring the engine.
She was quiet fer a minute, then agreed. "Well, if that's the best you can come up with, very well."
"Okay then." I turned off the parking lot sharply and nearly knocked her outta her seat. "You really should be wearin' your seatbelt, Red."
And if Chuck hadn't taught her so well, I'm pretty sure she wanted that handy TK of hers to maybe find out what sound a Wolverine makes when it hits solid pavement.