Hope Returns

Chapter Eleven

By: Lily Handle

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Author's Note: If there is one thing I have learned from this, it's that I like writing Logan, but he's a hard character to keep in character. I keep trying to hang on to his character, which I've only really started to understand, and not deviate from what I know. I'm also writing Hank a lot too, but his character is easier to write for me than Logan. I miss writing everything from Hope's point of view, but that would make this a very short story. Anyway, enough ranting for me, here's chapter eleven. Please read and review.

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Île-a-la-Crosse was a town big enough that it was on a map of Saskatchewan, and riddle with donut shops. Logan had learned in Saskatoon that a van matching the description of the one Trask had been driving had turned up in Île-a-la-Crosse. Logan had quickly driven to the town, but S.H.I.E.L.D. already had the van, and it was long gone. The police wouldn't tell him anything about where the van had been found and warned him to stay out of the investigation. He hadn't listened to the warning, instead he was going to donut shop after donut shop showing around a picture of Trask and a picture of Hope, asking the owners if they had seen the two, the van and which car they might have driven off in. So far he'd turned up nothing, but the sun had only just set and donut shops stayed open late in this part of the country. He was getting a little tried of the smell of dough and sugar, he realized as he stepped into another donut shop. There was a marginal crowd in this one, but when he asked for the owner at the register he got a smile and the employee went to find her. He leaned comfortably against the front counter, a little off to the side, while waiting. When he had first crossed the border and gotten into the first stretch of lonely forest road he was surprised by the idea that he actually missed Canada. He came back often enough; he remembered things about his past sometimes when he wandered around the backcountry roads. It was home as much as any place was. His first stop had been Manitoba and Neal Hardy. Hardy had been very helpful, taking him to the exact spot where he'd stop Trask and the van. Logan had picked up on Hope's scent, he'd picked up on Trask's too and the van's. Logan had started following the scent trail, stopping at every intersection, cross road and turn to get out of Hope's SUV and make sure he was still following the trail. Trask had taken a very round about way to Saskatoon, but it was clear to Logan that each turn he had taken served a purpose. The Saskatoon authorities had been about as helpful as the Île-a-la-Crosse authorities, but they had told him where the van had turned up. When he'd stopped outside this donut shop there had been customers lingering in the parking lot, which left him unable to sniff out the scent of the van if it had been there, he did not want someone calling the authorities on him. So he had strode inside and ended up waiting for the owner. A few minutes of waiting later a plump woman came up to Logan.

"Heard you were asking for the owner," She said, "What do you want?"

"Did this man stop in? Maybe with this woman?" Logan held out the pictures of Trask and Hope, which the woman plucked out of his fingers and studied with a frown.

"Never seen the woman before, but the man, yeah, he was here," The woman handed the pictures back to Logan.

"When?"

"About a day or so ago. He asked if anyone could give him a ride north."

"He say where north?" Logan frown, north was a very big direction in Canada, and the farther you got from the border the less populated it became. Only a few small towns, hunting and ice fishing cabins would be in the north. There were a few forts too, how close would Trask get to them or would he start going west towards Alaska?

"Said just the Northwest territory border," The woman said, bring Logan's attention back to her. The woman looked him up and down and then shifted where she stood, "You one of them American private eyes?"

"Something like that. Anyone give him a ride?"

"No," The woman shook her head, "No one here's dumb enough to give a ride to a stranger, but we pointed him towards the bus depot. Just about a mile or so east of here, but they were closed, so he came back. We pointed him towards an inn, Falling Leaf Inn, it's a little place tucked back into the woods at the other edge of town."

"You hear about anything odd happening up there?" Logan asked. A little place tucked in the woods, secluded, but close to a town, sounded like a good hiding spot.

"Nope, it's the off season and the owner, Ms. LeBec she doesn't get a lot of visitors up there this time of year. She only comes in to town once in a blue moon though, so if anything happened we wouldn't know about it for a while." Logan's frown deepened, it sounded like the perfect hiding spot.

"And you told this to this man?"

"Yup, he asked about the place, seemed pretty pleased with the idea." Logan scowled now, but thanked the woman and went back to the parking lot. He ducked into the shadows, and started sniffing. He followed his nose to a spot taken up by a beaten up pickup truck, the van had been parked there. He walked around to the back of the truck and picked up on Hope's scent as well as Trask's. So he'd taken her out of the van, Logan thought, standing staring at the snow as if it would tell him which way to go. Did he walk with her to the Inn? Logan sniffed again; the trail did lead towards the other buildings behind the donut shop, and towards the woods, which could be seen just beyond them. Still scowling Logan walked back to the SUV, jumped inside and pulled out his little tourist map of Île-a-la-Crosse. He found the donut shop, used a little black marker and drew a line from the shop, to the buildings behind it, and it ran straight to the Falling Leaf Inn. Logan turned the engine over, and still using the map followed the roads to the Falling Leaf Inn. Sitting in Hope's car was an unusual experience for him. He was surrounded by her scent, but she wasn't there with him. A lot of the time during this hunt he would just pull the SUV over to the side of the road to sleep for a few hours. He dreamed a lot about Hope when he did, most of the dreams weren't pleasant ones and were brought on by her scent. When he wasn't tormented by dreams of finding Hope dead, he had dreams about his past, which were equally disturbing. He didn't get a lot of rest, but he didn't need a lot of it. There was a long snow covered driveway that led to the Falling Leaf Inn, and when he reached the start of it, Logan got out of the SUV and sniffed. Trask had not come up the driveway, his scent wasn't there and neither was Hope's. Logan checked the line he'd drawn on the map, Trask would have come from the western side of the Inn, through the woods. Logan got back in the SUV, drove up the driveway and frowned at the sight of the Falling Leaf Inn. All the lights were off, unusual, as it was dark but not late enough in the evening for everyone to have gone to bed. Then again, the owner could have turned in early, but Logan thought that was unlikely. He got out of the SUV again, walked up the steps and knocked on the front door. He couldn't hear anything from inside, but didn't smell any blood.

"Anyone inside?" He called through the door and tried the doorknob. It was unlocked, a pretty common thing in Canada, but when he stepped inside the Inn it was almost as cold as it was outside. "Hey! Anyone here!" He called again, then noticed the thermostat and turned on the heat.

"Ms. LeBec you in here!" Logan paused to listen then slid his claws out and started to move slowly through the first floor. The inn would have been a nice place, cozy and warm, but with the lights off and the air cold it had more of eerie feeling. It was in the kitchen when he heard a noise, like someone yelling for help, but very muffled. Logan followed the noise to a door, opened it slowly and saw steps to a cellar. He switched on the light before descending the stairs. At the bottom he saw a blonde haired woman tied up and tucked in a corner.

"You all right?" He asked, kneeling down and quickly cutting her bounds.

"A little cold," The woman said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Logan told the woman while helping her to stand, "You Ms. LeBec?"

"Yes," Ms. LeBec frowned up at him, "How did you know?"

"I'm looking for the man who tied you up," Logan said, "Why don't we go upstairs, we can talk there." Helping her climb the steps Logan set her down in a kitchen chair, then grabbed a blanket he had seen earlier and wrapped her up in it. Ms. LeBec was a tall woman, just edging into her forties, and was watching him with wide, shocked blue eyes.

"The thermostat is by the front door," Ms. LeBec said, "I should turn the heat back on."

"Already did," Logan said, staying standing by the back door. Trask had come through it, as well as Hope, he could smell them around it. He could also smell Trask on Ms. LeBec, the trail led down the stairs to the cellar, back up and through the front door. He wanted to follow it, but wanted Ms. LeBec's story first. "What happened to you?"

"A man came through the back door with a gun and a woman," Ms. LeBec recited, fidgeting with her hands, "He told the woman to wait here, unless she wanted him to shoot me, then forced me into the cellar. He tied me up and then left."

"Did he take anything?"

"My keys, I think he also took my truck."

"What kind of truck was it?"

"Turquoise Ford pickup, it has a white cab cover."

"Can I look around?"

"Are you an American police officer?"

"Something like that."

"Yes, I guess it can't do any harm."

"I suggest you call the authorities while I look around," Logan said.

"All right," Ms. LeBec said but clearly the shock was still clearing out of her head. Logan would do it himself once he was done with looking around. He walked back outside the front door, following the trail to a little wooden garage about ten feet away from the main house. The door to it was left open, there were tire tracks just beginning to fill in with snow that led right out of it and down the driveway. Logan stepped inside the garage and filled his nostrils with the scent of the truck. He looked around the garage a bit; trying to see if Trask had taken anything with him, but it looked like the only thing he took was the truck. When he stepped outside Logan knew hanging around was pointless. Trask's scent was stronger here, but it was old. Trask had taken the truck, Hope and run again. Had Trask really gone north towards the border between Saskatchewan and the Northwest Territory? Or was that a lie to throw S.H.I.E.L.D. off his trail? Only one way to find out. Logan walked back to the SUV, called the authorities and reported what had happened to Ms. LeBec. He then took off, went a few miles north on the road before pulling the SUV over and hiding it just inside the woods. He grabbed a flash light from a pack he had in brought with him and started walking down the road. He wouldn't go very far down the road, only to see if the scent stayed the same strength or got weaker. If it got weaker Trask went a different direction, maybe back south through the town and back to the main highway. But the scent stayed strong, Trask had gone north. So Logan walked back to the SUV and started north on the road. He'd stop at the next intersection, cross road, or turn and look for the trail again.

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Hank sat in the glow of the computer screen, reading another file on Peter Akelm. He was just about through his college record, which was so far sparklingly clean. Peter Akelm was a man of above average intelligence with the highest grade point average the university had ever seen. He was never late to class, past all his exams and tests, and never got into any sort of trouble. He worked on the school radio station, volunteered his time to old people and the mentally disabled. All in all Peter Akelm should be up for canonization any day now. Hank didn't like it. Like Logan and Fury a too perfect record was a tip off to him that something was wrong. He'd started with Akelm's FBI record, nothing wrong with that. Painstakingly reading every word, Hank had started working backwards from the FBI records, to college. While he had all of Akelm's school records, he had the Institute's computers running a search through the news and the newspapers for Akelm's name and any mention of Canada in the same article. He had yet to attempt hacking into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s computers, when he finally ran out of things to search in the legal area, he'd try the illegal search.

"How's it going?" Scott asked, coming up behind Hank.

"So far nothing," Hank said, turning around to face Scott, "Does Jean have anything new?"

"No," Scott frowned, "Nothing yet."

"Has Logan called?"

"No, nothing from him either. Are you sure it was a good thing to let him go off on his own?"

"No," Hank answered honestly, "But he wasn't going to let any of us go with him anyway."

"He didn't take the van, you know," Scott said, sitting down next to Hank in another chair, "He took Dr. Chandler's car."

"Odd, but he probably has his reasons," Hank sighed, "He's not going to tell us everything."

"He never does," Scott muttered, "You think he'll find Dr. Chandler first?"

"He's good at what he does and very determined. If anyone's going to find her first, it's him or S.H.I.E.L.D."

"They're going to look for him," Scott said.

"Fury came to the hospital shortly after Logan talked me into coming back here," Hank thought about the encounter, "He seemed to be determined to get Logan back. S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't seem happy with the way he left, again."

"What's up with him?" Scott asked angrily, "He's acting like…"

"A selfish teenager?" Hank suggested, and Scott nodded, "For as long as I've known Logan, which isn't very long mind you, he's been a loner. He works best by himself, he likes being in charge of people when he has to work with them, and it makes him come off as either selfish or egotistical." There's a lot more too it, Scott, Hank thought, but didn't explain it to the boy. Logan's past and his reasons for his behavior were not stories to tell a frustrated teenage boy. "He's just doing what he knows best."

"You want help?" Scott said after a while.

"Yeah, I've got the second computer running a search, can you start looking through what it's turned up."

"Sure thing," Scott pushed himself away from the first computer and rolled over to the second one. Hank stretched his arms towards the ceiling, annoyed when his shoulder protested the movement and then turned back to the computer. He read the last of the college report and was about to start what promised to be an equally boring high school transcript with Scott called out.

"Hey, the computer found something," He said, and Hank got up from his chair and walked over to stand over Scott's shoulder.

"It's a pretty old article," Scott said, "A Lieutenant Akelm was discharged without honors from Fort Smith, a Canadian military outpost, for attacking a higher raking officer. He vanished about a week later."

"I'll call Logan."

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Logan was dreaming, this time his past was blending in with images of Hope and Trask. He was back in that tube, hooked up to hoses and breathing through the oxygen mask. Through the green water and glass he could see Trask, instead of the scientist he normally saw, standing over Hope. She was calling out to him, begging for his help, but no matter how hard he beat against the glass Logan couldn't get out. He pushed back from the glass, tried to slash the glass, but he had no claws. He stared at his hands, amazed that he didn't have them, then heard Hope calling out to him. He tried charging the glass with his shoulder, tried tipping over the tube, but nothing he tried worked. He was helpless, trapped inside the glass and could only watch as Trask pulled out a gun and turned it on Hope. She reached out to him, crying. Logan jerked awake at the gunshot, and the image of Hope falling back, dead. His heart pounding in his chest, Logan realized it wasn't the gunshot that had woken him; it was his phone, which was ringing loudly in the silence of the SUV. He picked up the phone while rolling the kinks out of his shoulders and pushing away the lingering image of the dream.

"What?" He asked, a little tersely, annoyed by the dream.

"I found something on Akelm," Hank said on the other end of the line.

"Yeah? What?"

"His great grandfather was discharged from the Canadian army, dishonorably. He was working at Fort Smith, went back to a town, Lutselke, and then left about a week later. After that no one heard from him again. I'm looking to see if I can get the military record, but thought you might want to check it out."

"Lutselke, that's in the Northwest Territory, correct?" Logan thought, reaching for the map he had of Canada.

"Yes, you want me to send the students up there? The town Hay River has an airport, they can pick you up there."

"No," Logan opened the Northwest Territory map, and started to scan it, "The trail isn't heading in that direction, but Trask takes some round about routes."

"Well, it could be nothing, but it was something," Hank said.

"Yeah. Have you found a connection between Akelm and Trask?"

"No, but I'm not completely through the records yet. Scott and Kitty are helping me with that."

"All right, the squirt's good with computers. Try narrowing your search of the records down to anything mentioning Akelm and Trask together. We need some proof they know each other before sending the kids to Fort Smith."

"Makes sense, but I'm going to have Jean check around there for any trace of Hope."

"Yeah, all right," Logan studied the map, "Call me back when you get something more." He hung up and thought about it. If Trask was heading to Lutselke and Fort Smith, then he knew something about Akelm's great grandfather, and that could prove that what Mystique had said was true, that Akelm was Trask second in command. If there were a cabin up there, it would be a good place for a hide out. The Northwest Territory was one of the least populated provinces in Canada. The weather made it particularly inhospitable, the winters were hard, and the summers short. It was a place with a lot of natural parks, Indian reservations and small distant towns. There was a down side to the gaps between towns; they were like separate countries to each other. If one town gossiped about a turquoise pick up coming through town, the next may not know the truck existed. There were tons of side roads that led to hunting cabins or ice fishing huts, and Trask could pick any of them to hide out. The scent trail was the only really solid thing to follow. If the truck had gone the way of Fort Smith or Lutselke, the trail would lead Logan that way, if it hadn't he'd have to follow it to where ever it might lead. He had pulled over just across the border, on another one of those back country roads he liked so much. There was no traffic around him, he couldn't hear anything but the sounds of the forest, so it seemed like the perfect place to rest. No passer by to ask if he was all right and wake him up. He glanced around the forest, but what had brought on the dream? He didn't feel or think he'd been here before. Often he would get a feeling of déjà vu when he came to certain places, but he was pretty sure he'd never been on this particular stretch of road before. So the dream had been the production of his exhausted mind and some stress. It still pissed him off he couldn't have a few dreamless naps along the roadside. He probably wasn't going to sleep well again until he was out of Canada and this whole mess was finished.

"I need you! Please Logan, help me!" Dream Hope's pleading echoed in his head and Logan rubbed at his eyes, trying to get it out of his mind. He was still tired, but lingering images and Hope's echoing words from the dream made him turn the engine on. As he started on the latest road the scent trail had brought him to he glanced at the clock. Five days left.

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Author's Note: I have to thank my atlas and all the maps of Canada that it has. Personally I've never been to any of the towns mentioned in this chapter, so I might have described them wrong. You still don't have a clue what happened to Hope either, which I can tell is annoying you all. Well, I hope you're all enjoying reading this as much as I'm writing it.

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