Chapter 17.
I think I've already lost you
I think you're already gone
I think I'm finally scared now
You think I'm weak, but I think you're wrong
I think you're already leaving
Feels like your hand is on the door
I thought this place was an empire
But now I'm relaxed, I can't be sure
I think you're so mean, I think we should try
I think I could need, this in my life
I think I'm just scared, I think too much
I know this is wrong it's a problem I'm dealing
If you're gone, maybe it's time to go home
There's an awful lot of breathing room
But I can hardly move
If you're gone, baby you need to come home
'Cause there's a little bit of something me
In everything in you
I bet you're hard to get over
I bet the room just won't shine
I bet my hands I can stay here
I bet you need, more than you mind
I think you're so mean, I think we should try
I think I could need, this in my life
I think I'm just scared, that I know too much
I can't relate and that's a problem I'm feeling
If you're gone, maybe it's time to go home
There's an awful lot of breathing room
But I can hardly move
If you're gone, baby you need to come home
'Cause there's a little bit of something me
In everything in you
I think you're so mean, I think we should try
I think I could need, this in my life
I think I'm just scared, do I talk too much
I know this is wrong it's a problem I'm dealing
If you're gone - maybe it's time to go home
There's an awful lot of breathing room
But I can hardly move
If you're gone - baby you need to come home
'Cause there's a little bit of something me
In everything in you
Logan stood nervously in front of Victor's massive security gate. She could still leave.
What if Creed was still upset about how she'd reacted to the news that he was leaving? What if he'd gotten over whatever infatuation he'd had for her in Westchester, and was now back to hating her. What if there was another woman. What if…
"Can I help you, miss?"
Logan looked down at a very small, rather creepy man in a brown suit. "Uh, I'm looking for Victor Creed. Is this his house?"
"Maybe. Who's asking?"
"Logan."
"Don't know you."
"Creed does."
"Creed knows a lot of women, miss."
Logan looked down at the little man. "Oh does he now?" She unsheathed her claws, pointing them in the man's face. "Well I think he'll know me for sure."
The man grew pale. "Uh, yes. Right this way Miss…Logan, was it?"
"Yeah."
Logan was lead into the huge mansion. She was surprised to find that Victor actually had a sense for decorating. Or at least knew someone who did.
"Mr. Creed! Visitor!"
Logan heard Victor's voice boom down from the top of the stairs. "Who is it, Larry?"
"She says her name's Logan! She was very insistent that I let her in!"
Victor bounded down the stairs, all but running to Logan. He stopped a few feet in front of her, deciding at the last moment to cut down on the enthusiasm.
"I thought you weren't visiting me. Loyalty to the X-Geeks and all."
"Well, about that…"
Victor began to laugh. "They kicked you out, didn't they?"
"It's not funny, Victor! The X-Men were my life!"
"Then you should be glad they kicked you out, 'cause that's damn pathetic, babe."
She blinked, but didn't respond to that. "I'm sorry to just show up on your doorstep like this, but I didn't know where else to go. Can I stay here?" Victor was silent, and Logan wondered if maybe she really had miscalculated.
Suddenly, Victor picked her up, slinging her over his shoulder. "Larry, hold my phone calls."
"Yes, sir," Larry said, smirking as he listened to Logan scream her protests to Victor's "caveman behavior" all the way up to his room.
"Woman, get yer hot little ass in here!"
Logan sighed, not turning away from the television. An hour ago, they'd been at each other's throats, screaming about the latest problem of the day. Now he was calling her as if she were his dog.
"C'mon, darlin'! I need ya in here!"
Logan upped the volume on the television. She'd known that living with Victor Creed was going to be difficult but this was ridiculous. Everything was a battle between them. Deciding what movie to watch the night before had all but set off World War III. She had figured that seeing Victor as something other than a constant adversary would be an adjustment, but it wasn't going as smoothly as she'd hoped.
He just made everything so damn difficult.
Victor stalked into the room, leaning against the doorframe in nothing but a pair of faded jeans. Logan rolled her eyes and kept watching the show. If he thought that was going to work on her this time, he had another thing coming.
"You still mad about this mornin'?"
Logan turned the volume up even more.
"Aw, frail, it wasn't that big of a deal. What do you want from me, an apology?"
Logan turned around, narrowing her dark blue eyes. "Might be nice, Creed."
"I don't apologize to no one, girlie."
"Then I hope you enjoy your cold bed."
Victor smirked. "You can't resist me, Logan. Now that you know what I can do, you could never tell me no again."
"You are so damn full of yourself."
Victor went over to the couch and grabbed her to her feet, pulling her off the ground and to his mouth so he could kiss her. He waited until she stopped struggling, then threw her back on the couch.
Logan's eyes were dark, almost black, and her breathing was heavy and unsteady. Victor smirked. Resist him, his ass. He covered her body with his, pressing her into the couch with his massive weight. Logan just grabbed him, holding him to her.
Victor bit up her neck to her ear. "I knew ya still wanted me. Ya always do."
"I always have," Logan moaned. "Always, Victor… I love you."
Victor paused. He'd had his theories, but he hadn't expected her to say it. What did he do now? Women didn't love him, they just wanted him. He looked at her, his breath catching. She was beautiful, and she loved him. Maybe his life wasn't as crappy as it seemed.
Logan sat on the end of the couch, her knees at her chin. She couldn't believe she'd told Creed she loved him. She hadn't meant to, hadn't even realized it until then. She'd just said it. She wished she could take it back, but she couldn't. It was the truth, even if she didn't want it to be.
Victor got up, slipping his pants back on. "That was a good one, frail."
Logan stared at her toes. "Yeah. Great."
Victor took her face in his hand. "You didn't like it?" he asked, startled. Women always liked it with him.
"It was wonderful, Victor. There's nothing like being ravished by the king of virility."
Victor caught her sarcasm. "Gee, thanks, babe."
"What is this, Victor?" Logan asked.
Victor's eyes grew wide. It was that "talk" women wanted to have when they decided that the relationship called for more than sex. Victor hated that talk. It usually precluded his exit. "It's great sex," he said.
Logan snorted, getting off the couch. She dressed mechanically, not looking at him. Victor walked over, putting his hand on her shoulder. "Hey, we got a lot between us, Logan. That makes this…" he gritted his teeth "mean somethin'."
"What does it mean, Victor?"
"Means I let ya sleep in my bed insteada kickin' ya to the guest room."
"Gee, I feel so honored," Logan snapped. "Maybe I should move into the guest room, leave your bed open for someone else."
Victor grabbed her by the shoulders. "Yer my woman, dammit."
Logan pushed him off. "I'm not your goddam property." She walked haughtily out of the room.
Victor sighed. "But I'm yer man, too," he said, softly.
Logan was in Victor's massive kitchen making a drink when she smelled him come in. He had kept his distance since that tense afternoon, which wasn't hard in his enormous house. Logan sighed.
"What do you want, Victor?" He frowned at her.
"I thought maybe you were over whatever was buggin' ya."
"Well, I'm not," said Logan shortly, putting the cap back on his Jack Daniels bottle.
"Jesus, Logan, you are such a woman sometimes." Logan looked at him with a cocked eyebrow.
"I thought you enjoyed that fact." Victor growled.
"Stop turnin' everything I say against me, woman."
"You better not start that shit again, Creed." Victor moved in, towering over her, an expression of real anger in his eyes.
"Yer mine," he said dangerously. "And that makes you my woman!" Logan stood on tiptoe, pushing her heart-shaped face into his.
"Fuck you, Victor!" she responded.
"I think I've exhausted my supply of witty comebacks to that one, frail," he smirked.
"Not surprising, considering you couldn't even say 'I love you' back to me," said Logan quietly. She picked up her drink and started to leave.
Victor grabbed her arm. "Don't you even think about leavin', frail. I'm so damn sick of you stormin' off every time somethin' gets heated between the two of us. Stop runnin' from yer damn feelings."
"I'm running from my feelings? What about you, Victor? You can't even tell me how you fucking feel about me!"
"Dammit, Logan, why does it matter? We're together. Why do I have to start gettin' all poetic with the hearts and flowers bullshit?"
"Maybe it isn't bullshit to me, Victor. Maybe it's important."
"Then get over it! I ain't Mr. Romantic."
"No, you're not," Logan said, her eyes steely. "Guess your father beat the love out of you a long time ago."
Victor snarled, striking out hard. He backhanded her cheek, knocking her backwards and her drink from her hand. It shattered as it hit the hard tile, and Logan reeled, touching her bruised face in shock. "You…you hit me…"
"You need to learn when you should shut yer mouth, frail."
Logan's eyes lit angrily, and she punched him, her fist making contact with his nose with an audible klunk. Victor stumbled, his hand going to cover his smashed, bloodied nose.
Logan fled the room.
"Mr. Creed?" Larry poked his head into the kitchen, seeing Victor sitting at the table with his head in his hands. A small pool of blood had dripped onto the table beneath him.
"Go 'way, Larry." Larry came closer.
"Are you okay, sir?" Victor growled.
"What the fuck do you want, Larry?"
"What happened to your nose, sir?" Victor heaved a sigh and took his hand away. Larry took a step back at the bloody, pulverized mess in the middle of Victor's face. It was healing, but slowly, and it looked indescribably painful to Larry's eyes.
"The woman hit me," he muttered.
"I guessed you two had a fight, sir…"
"I smacked her around too," Victor admitted. "Damn adamantium." He looked up at Larry. "What do you mean you guessed?"
"She left, sir." Victor jumped up, knocking his chair over.
"When?!"
"About twenty minutes ago, sir. She said something along the lines of "I'm never coming back to this lunatic asylum again"." Victor grabbed Larry by his lapels.
"Where did she go?!" Larry looked slightly uncomfortable.
"She didn't say, Mr. Creed."
"Shit…" Victor muttered. "This can't be happening…"
"Mr. Creed?"
"Huh?"
"Could you let go of me, please?" Victor released him. Larry had seen his boss go through the entire spectrum of mood swings, but this was a new state for him. He looked pathetic, helpless. Defeated.
"Thirty years," Victor muttered. "It took me thirty years to get her and I've already lost her."
"Sir?"
"Leave me alone, Larry." Larry knew enough to leave Victor alone when he said to. The phone rang before he could get out. Victor grabbed the receiver off the handle and listened, not breathing.
"Victor?"
"Dammit, Logan, where are you?" he said, letting his body slump against the kitchen walls.
"The airport."
"Why?"
"I'm leaving, Victor. I can't live with you. I'm going home to Canada."
"I need you here, dammit!"
"No, Victor. We're over. You proved that tonight. I made a mistake."
"Logan…" it was almost a whimper.
"Goodbye, Victor." The dial tone sounded in his ear.
Logan hung up the pay phone, tears glistening in her eyes. She brushed them away angrily. Victor Creed wasn't worth it. He hadn't been able to give her any more than any of the other men she'd loved. She'd wanted something solid, something she could hold on to and rely on.
She'd finally accepted that she'd have to give up on that dream.
She picked up her bag and walked to her gate.
Victor allowed himself a good ten minutes to sulk before he formulated a plan. He'd come too far with Logan to let her just walk out of his life. Didn't she realize she was his woman—his mate?
"LARRY!"
Larry slunk back in the room. "Yes, Mr. Creed?"
"What sorta flowers are you supposed to give angry women?"
"Um, sir, I don't know if flowers…"
"Answer the damn question, Larry."
"Roses, sir."
"Right, roses. Where do I get those?"
"Florist, sir."
"Take me to one of those, and then to the airport. And step on it, Larry."
Larry held in a sigh. "Yes, Mr. Creed."
"What do you mean the damn flight is delayed?"
The stewardess gave Logan her best fuck you smile. "Ma'am, there's a big snow storm in Calgary. The pilot couldn't see to fly."
"Don't you have some sort of jet with infrared sensors?"
"No, ma'am, I'm afraid all we have are the standard-issue passenger jets. Now please, sit down and I'll inform you and the rest of the passengers when conditions improve."
Logan sulked back to the waiting area. She'd had enough of Seattle. It was Victor's town, and therefore tainted with his memory. As long as she was there, she wouldn't be able to get him off her mind. She needed to go to Canada and lick her wounds. It was safe territory there.
"Sir, I don't care how narrow you make your eyes, I'm not letting you past that gate without a ticket."
"But I don't want to get on any of the damn planes—I just want to find my woman!"
"Sir, again, for security reasons, I cannot allow you in the boarding area without a ticket."
Victor growled in frustration, pulling a wad of one-hundred dollar bill from his pocket. "Then give me a goddam ticket."
"To where, sir?"
"I don't give a flyin' fuck, just anywhere!"
The woman booked him a flight to Hoboken. "Here ya go, sir."
Victor snatched the ticket from her hands. "Gee, thanks."
She smiled. "And will you be checking any baggage?"
"No!" Victor snapped, storming over to the security checkpoint.
"I didn't tell you ya could leave me, frail."
The hair on the back of Logan's neck stood on end. "Creed…"
He walked around in front of her, crouching down so he was almost on eye level with her when she was sitting. He thrust the flowers at her. "I bought you roses."
"And I'm supposed to be impressed?"
"Hey, I've never done this before!" Victor ran a shaky hand though his hair, suddenly at a complete loss for words—even a sarcastic comment. "Darlin', I'm sorry."
Logan took the roses from him, playing with the petals of one. "Victor, we just aren't working out."
"I can try harder, I swear."
"But how much improvement are you capable of?"
"Look, I can't promise you I'll become a model boyfriend by any chance, but I can give you all that I am, Logan—and I can accept what you are in return. I like ya the way you are, Logan. I can take the good with the bad. You said you loved me—if there was any truth to that, you'd do the same fer me."
Logan opened her mouth, then shut it again. What could she say to that? "Victor…"
He reached up, wiping her eye. "Yer leakin' there, frail."
Logan laughed. "Victor, I want to go home."
He smiled from ear to ear and picked her up, spinning her around as he kissed her.