17 years and 58 seconds
Chapter 7
Searching for a man like Logan isn't as easy as you might think. He's been on his own for more years than any of us know and has mastered the art of disappearing when he wants to. Apparently, he wants to. Despite the help of the Professor, I searched for Logan for more than 4 months.
During those months, I had time to think about what I'd say. I had very important things to tell him, but I wasn't sure how I'd tell him I was still alive. I decided I'd let the circumstances dictate how I told him.
The Professor had given me a satellite phone and some money for my trek. Once I got close to his last know location, I bought an old Jeep and took off after Logan. He had the advantage on me because he went where he liked without cause - north, west, south, it didn't matter. But as I got closer, I became more excited, more nervous.
Eventually I found my way to a logging camp, deep in the north Canadian woods. I checked into a cheap motel in the neighboring town and starting scouting. There were plenty of bars, as I knew there would be. I found out from a bartender that the loggers came to town every Friday to spend their paychecks and get drunk. My luck, it was Friday afternoon. I'd just have to find a spot and wait for him.
Rule #1 when you're looking for someone who doesn't want to be found: Never just 'ask around'. Someone might tip him off, thinking they're warning him against trouble, and then I'd be back to square one. So I laid low and tried to take in the sites, 'sniff' around on my own. The town was small with one bank, one church and five bars. I tried to imagine which one he'd more than likely hit. I didn't have to wait long for my hunch to pay off.
I was sitting in the back of the bar nursing a beer and trying to look bored. Like a stampeed, the men roared into the bar claiming all of the chairs and demanding beers. The waitresses were suddenly swamped when ten minutes ago they were standing around. I waited for the guys to settle in and start their b.s.ing before I'd scan the room. My eyes lept from face to face, searching for the face I knew better than my own. I didn't see him.
Before giving up, I ordered another beer. Just when I was taking a pull from the fresh beer, I saw something. A turn of the head, a glimpse of a profile. There he was! My heart lept and I nearly jumped out of my chair. He was so vital looking, fierce and masculine. So close! I felt the reaction to him throughout my entire body. I finished drinking my beer, my eyes glued on him across the room. He was sitting at a table playing poker with a bunch of loggers. The familiar cigar was clenched in his mouth, a grimace on his face as he concentrated on his hand.
Get up, I told myself. Get up and do it! I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out a small envelope. On the outside I wrote my hotel name and my room number. I laughed at myself when I saw my hand shaking a little. So close. So close. Don't blow it. I went over to a waitress and tipped her generously to deliver the envelope to Logan. She agreed and I stepped outside. I could see him through the window, and watched as he received the envelope.
When the waitress came over and gave him the envelope, he frowned and opened the envelope on one end, dumping the contents into his hand. His dog tags made a tinkling sounds as they hit his palm and glittered in the light of the bar. He stood up abruptly and scanned the room, his hand closed tightly around the tags. I turned away and hurried down the street to the motel. When I closed the door to the room, I quickly took off my coat and turned off the overhead light. The room was lit by a small lamp on a table on the far side of the room. Outside, I saw it started to snow.
I didn't have long to gather my thoughts because within a minute there was a pounding on the door. I hid in the doorframe to the bathroom, more than just a little afraid.
"It's open" I yelled. The door swung open and the entire doorway was consumed with his figure. I could feel his energy across the room. He didn't enter the room, just stayed in the doorway.
"Who are you?" His gruff voice was music to my ears after so long.
When I didn't say anything, he stepped inside. I knew he must see my figure in the bathroom, but I didn't come out yet.
"Where did you get these?" he yelled, holding up his hand, the chain from the dogtags dangling. He was growling, angry, fierce.
"You told me you'd be back for them." I stepped into the room and faced him, my eyes glued to his face.
"Who - What?" He stepped closer, coming right up to me. Scowling, he looked me up and down, concentrating on my eyes. He was breathing me in, trying to see if I was real.
"Marie?" He was confused, disturbed.
"Logan" I reached up a gloved hand and touched his cheek. He flinched, then grabbed my wrist. He pulled me closer to the door, checking my face in the light. He put both hands on my shoulders and frowned. Suddenly his face broke and he pulled me into his arms. I held on to him tightly, breathing in all of his smells: the cold, his cigars, the trees, engine grease. I lay my head on his shoulder as his hand stroked my hair.
"Oh god, Marie. Is it really you? How? I thought - The Professor said - "
I raised my head to answer and wasn't surprised to find I was crying. I struggled to find my breath.
"It's a long story. You may want to sit down."
He reluctantly let go of me and sat down on the bed as I closed the door. I paced the floor as I told him the whole story, trying to get it all out before I lost my nerve. I had to pause, however, when I got to the part with Siren.
"Do you remember a mutant named Siren?"
He shrugged, acknowledging in his own way.
"You were ... uh ... close to her? Uh ... I mean ... did you - do you have feelings for her?"
"What are you getting at? What's going on?"
"I - She ... Siren is the mutant I got my new powers from. Mystique arranged it. She called it her 'gift' for my birthday."
"You touched her? You killed Siren?" He stood up, shocked.
"No No! She's alive. She's with the Professor now but she's in a coma. I held on to her too long. Now ..." I shrugged, unable to find the words. He sat back down on the bed, trying to absorb what I was telling him.
"And you got her memberies too ... just like me?" I nodded.
"You got her memories of me?" Again I nodded. The flashes of Siren and Logan in bed together were both exciting and enfuriating. He rubbed his face with his hand.
"I-I don't know what to say. I'm speechless." I started to step toward him when he suddenly spoke, angry. "I mean, I think you're dead for what - a YEAR?! Then you just show up one day, 'Surprise! I'm not dead and oh yeah, I put your old girlfriend in a coma and stole her powers!'"
I was stunned. I faltered back from him. He was so angry, bitter - and I had no defense. He was absolutely right, on all points.
"I'm *sorry*, Logan. Honestly! The Professor and I are trying to figure out a way to help her. Maybe get her out of my head and back into her own."
Nothing. No reaction.
He just sat there, looking at me like he'd never seen me before. The silence was killing me.
"Logan..." I reached out a hand and but he leaned away from me, then stood up. I could feel him slipping away from me. The words started to tumbled out of me. "I felt I owed you an explanation. The truth. I couldn't let you think I was dead - "
"A fucking year?!? A year I thought you were dead! I thought you killed yourself because of me! Jesus! Do you have any idea what that feels like? Do you have any idea how I felt? The guilt - And now you tell me you spent all that time with the Brotherhood and Mystique. Well that's just fucking great!"
Enraged, he threw the dogtags against the wall, breaking the lamp and sending the room into darkness. I could barely see him through the tears that blurred my vision. I felt my lower lip trembling as I watched, wide-eyed. I shook my head mutely, unable to accept what was happening.
"I'm so sorry" I said in the dark, but my words seemed to be swallowed up by his anger.
"Not good enough." He brushed past me, opened and slammed the door before I could take another breath. When he was gone, I fell to the floor, stunned.
It had all gone horribly wrong. I had tried to make it right and I'd succeeded only in turning him against me. He'd been tortured for a year, while I had lived comfortably with his enemy. *Was* there any excuse? Was there anything I could say to make things better?
I didn't sleep that night. I had lost my beacon - the one constant that got me through the nights. Logan's affection. Gone. I'd never felt so alone.
--
Chapter 7
Searching for a man like Logan isn't as easy as you might think. He's been on his own for more years than any of us know and has mastered the art of disappearing when he wants to. Apparently, he wants to. Despite the help of the Professor, I searched for Logan for more than 4 months.
During those months, I had time to think about what I'd say. I had very important things to tell him, but I wasn't sure how I'd tell him I was still alive. I decided I'd let the circumstances dictate how I told him.
The Professor had given me a satellite phone and some money for my trek. Once I got close to his last know location, I bought an old Jeep and took off after Logan. He had the advantage on me because he went where he liked without cause - north, west, south, it didn't matter. But as I got closer, I became more excited, more nervous.
Eventually I found my way to a logging camp, deep in the north Canadian woods. I checked into a cheap motel in the neighboring town and starting scouting. There were plenty of bars, as I knew there would be. I found out from a bartender that the loggers came to town every Friday to spend their paychecks and get drunk. My luck, it was Friday afternoon. I'd just have to find a spot and wait for him.
Rule #1 when you're looking for someone who doesn't want to be found: Never just 'ask around'. Someone might tip him off, thinking they're warning him against trouble, and then I'd be back to square one. So I laid low and tried to take in the sites, 'sniff' around on my own. The town was small with one bank, one church and five bars. I tried to imagine which one he'd more than likely hit. I didn't have to wait long for my hunch to pay off.
I was sitting in the back of the bar nursing a beer and trying to look bored. Like a stampeed, the men roared into the bar claiming all of the chairs and demanding beers. The waitresses were suddenly swamped when ten minutes ago they were standing around. I waited for the guys to settle in and start their b.s.ing before I'd scan the room. My eyes lept from face to face, searching for the face I knew better than my own. I didn't see him.
Before giving up, I ordered another beer. Just when I was taking a pull from the fresh beer, I saw something. A turn of the head, a glimpse of a profile. There he was! My heart lept and I nearly jumped out of my chair. He was so vital looking, fierce and masculine. So close! I felt the reaction to him throughout my entire body. I finished drinking my beer, my eyes glued on him across the room. He was sitting at a table playing poker with a bunch of loggers. The familiar cigar was clenched in his mouth, a grimace on his face as he concentrated on his hand.
Get up, I told myself. Get up and do it! I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out a small envelope. On the outside I wrote my hotel name and my room number. I laughed at myself when I saw my hand shaking a little. So close. So close. Don't blow it. I went over to a waitress and tipped her generously to deliver the envelope to Logan. She agreed and I stepped outside. I could see him through the window, and watched as he received the envelope.
When the waitress came over and gave him the envelope, he frowned and opened the envelope on one end, dumping the contents into his hand. His dog tags made a tinkling sounds as they hit his palm and glittered in the light of the bar. He stood up abruptly and scanned the room, his hand closed tightly around the tags. I turned away and hurried down the street to the motel. When I closed the door to the room, I quickly took off my coat and turned off the overhead light. The room was lit by a small lamp on a table on the far side of the room. Outside, I saw it started to snow.
I didn't have long to gather my thoughts because within a minute there was a pounding on the door. I hid in the doorframe to the bathroom, more than just a little afraid.
"It's open" I yelled. The door swung open and the entire doorway was consumed with his figure. I could feel his energy across the room. He didn't enter the room, just stayed in the doorway.
"Who are you?" His gruff voice was music to my ears after so long.
When I didn't say anything, he stepped inside. I knew he must see my figure in the bathroom, but I didn't come out yet.
"Where did you get these?" he yelled, holding up his hand, the chain from the dogtags dangling. He was growling, angry, fierce.
"You told me you'd be back for them." I stepped into the room and faced him, my eyes glued to his face.
"Who - What?" He stepped closer, coming right up to me. Scowling, he looked me up and down, concentrating on my eyes. He was breathing me in, trying to see if I was real.
"Marie?" He was confused, disturbed.
"Logan" I reached up a gloved hand and touched his cheek. He flinched, then grabbed my wrist. He pulled me closer to the door, checking my face in the light. He put both hands on my shoulders and frowned. Suddenly his face broke and he pulled me into his arms. I held on to him tightly, breathing in all of his smells: the cold, his cigars, the trees, engine grease. I lay my head on his shoulder as his hand stroked my hair.
"Oh god, Marie. Is it really you? How? I thought - The Professor said - "
I raised my head to answer and wasn't surprised to find I was crying. I struggled to find my breath.
"It's a long story. You may want to sit down."
He reluctantly let go of me and sat down on the bed as I closed the door. I paced the floor as I told him the whole story, trying to get it all out before I lost my nerve. I had to pause, however, when I got to the part with Siren.
"Do you remember a mutant named Siren?"
He shrugged, acknowledging in his own way.
"You were ... uh ... close to her? Uh ... I mean ... did you - do you have feelings for her?"
"What are you getting at? What's going on?"
"I - She ... Siren is the mutant I got my new powers from. Mystique arranged it. She called it her 'gift' for my birthday."
"You touched her? You killed Siren?" He stood up, shocked.
"No No! She's alive. She's with the Professor now but she's in a coma. I held on to her too long. Now ..." I shrugged, unable to find the words. He sat back down on the bed, trying to absorb what I was telling him.
"And you got her memberies too ... just like me?" I nodded.
"You got her memories of me?" Again I nodded. The flashes of Siren and Logan in bed together were both exciting and enfuriating. He rubbed his face with his hand.
"I-I don't know what to say. I'm speechless." I started to step toward him when he suddenly spoke, angry. "I mean, I think you're dead for what - a YEAR?! Then you just show up one day, 'Surprise! I'm not dead and oh yeah, I put your old girlfriend in a coma and stole her powers!'"
I was stunned. I faltered back from him. He was so angry, bitter - and I had no defense. He was absolutely right, on all points.
"I'm *sorry*, Logan. Honestly! The Professor and I are trying to figure out a way to help her. Maybe get her out of my head and back into her own."
Nothing. No reaction.
He just sat there, looking at me like he'd never seen me before. The silence was killing me.
"Logan..." I reached out a hand and but he leaned away from me, then stood up. I could feel him slipping away from me. The words started to tumbled out of me. "I felt I owed you an explanation. The truth. I couldn't let you think I was dead - "
"A fucking year?!? A year I thought you were dead! I thought you killed yourself because of me! Jesus! Do you have any idea what that feels like? Do you have any idea how I felt? The guilt - And now you tell me you spent all that time with the Brotherhood and Mystique. Well that's just fucking great!"
Enraged, he threw the dogtags against the wall, breaking the lamp and sending the room into darkness. I could barely see him through the tears that blurred my vision. I felt my lower lip trembling as I watched, wide-eyed. I shook my head mutely, unable to accept what was happening.
"I'm so sorry" I said in the dark, but my words seemed to be swallowed up by his anger.
"Not good enough." He brushed past me, opened and slammed the door before I could take another breath. When he was gone, I fell to the floor, stunned.
It had all gone horribly wrong. I had tried to make it right and I'd succeeded only in turning him against me. He'd been tortured for a year, while I had lived comfortably with his enemy. *Was* there any excuse? Was there anything I could say to make things better?
I didn't sleep that night. I had lost my beacon - the one constant that got me through the nights. Logan's affection. Gone. I'd never felt so alone.
--