Logan's Christmas Carol (or "Angels We Have Heard Say 'Hi'")

This is more of the In Time, In Tense story AU. It is NOT the Marvel explanation of Logan's background--sheesh, the guy was confused enough before all that. It still has TBAA crossover elements and remarks about other (not in this AU) X-men. This part occurs about eight months after Here and Now.

Disclaimer: Martha and Stan own their stuff. I just borrow and return in better condition.

Rating: PG

Logan's Christmas Carol (or "Angels We Have Heard Say 'Hi'")

Logan stood outside in the cold night air. The stars seemed far away tonight. He pondered going back inside the mansion that served as the school where he occasionally taught. 'Nah, too much cheer, getting ready to go home for the holidays.'

Jamming his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, he started walking toward the edge of the school grounds. He found a bench near a tree and sat back. 'Why am I mopin'?' he asked himself. He imagined Scott's reply. 'Getting angsty in your old age, Logan?' Allowing himself a small chuckle, he turned to gaze back at the light from the school. Even at this distance he could hear the faint melody of the Christmas carols on the breeze. 'Nat King Cole,' he thought, 'I always liked him.' A twinkle in the sky caught his attention and he watched a streak of light race across the sky. He was still studying the stars when a voice sounded behind him.

"Mr. Logan?"

He turned, knowing it was the new student. 'What was her name again? So many come and go.'

"Hi, I'm Gloria."

Logan grunted.

"Are you going to be here for Christmas? This is my first one away from home and it is all new to me. So many things to take in and see. Anyway, the Professor wanted me to ask if he should plan on your staying this year. Where would you go? Didn't someone say you were old? You don't look very old, but then..." she trailed off as she watched him watch her, waiting for a break in the deluge. "I'm so, so sorry. I tend to run on sometimes. It's just so new, all of this stuff."

Tilting his head, Logan appraised the young woman before him. She looked the right age but had a naitivety that didn't quite jive.

"Um, Mr. Logan.."

"Just Logan."

"Oh, okay. The Professor is waiting for an answer." Gloria beamed at him.

The night breeze blew between the two, causing Logan's unruly hair to wave wildly about. A thought occurred to him.

"Tell the Prof that I'm goin' home this year."

With that, Logan began walking toward the garage where his Harley was parked. Gloria trotted along side, chattering as they went.

"So where is home? Will your parents be there? What is your favorite part of Christmas? Why do you ride a motorcycle in this weather? Won't you get cold? Why do they call you 'old man'? How—"

The 'old man' held up his hand to forestall anymore question and asked one of his own. "Did the Prof send ya ta come with me?"

Perplexed, Gloria replied "No."

"Then get on," he said as he handed her a helmet and heavy jacket.

The roar of the Harley split the stillness of the night as it surged out of the garage. Its departure was observed from the second floor of the school. A gentleman in a wheelchair turned to the auburn haired woman standing before him.

"You knew he would go."

"Yes," said the woman.

"And you knew he would take your friend. How?"

Smiling, the petite woman replied, "There are more things in heaven and earth of which ye know not of, Charles." With that she left the room.

As quickly as he could, the Professor wheeled to the door, but the hallway was empty. Returning to the window, he steepled his fingers together and pondered the infinite spread of stars glistening like diamonds in the velvet night sky.

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Gloria was in the dark. Literally. She was riding late at night on a motorcycle in winter with a man she didn't know to a place she didn't know. And why? Because that was her assignment. To learn about Christmas by helping someone else remember it. That part she didn't quite understand but the Father always knew and He would let her know at the right time. The petite brunette took as deep a breath of fresh air as her helmet would allow and settled in to enjoy the physics of the ride.

Meanwhile Logan's head was about to explode. His olfactory sense was working overtime. The smell of cherry blossoms in close proximity was strong. 'What did she do, bathe in them?' And then the memories started, pouring into his mind like a flash flood. Recent memories of time spent in Japan, studying various fighting styles, among other things. A tinge of heartache tweaked his emotions but he shoved it aside. 'Focus, Logan,' he told himself. He was glad that he was almost to his destination. The torrent was about to overwhelm his senses. If he was alone, he would've crashed, but the arms around his waist forced him to zero in on his exit. 'Just a few more minutes.' He gunned the bike faster causing Gloria to gasp at the sudden acceleration. She had no idea of the emotional wringer Logan was in.

They arrived at a gated area and Logan stopped the bike, barely keeping it upright. Tearing off his helmet, he stumbled through the gate and ran blindly toward the tree line.

"Mr. Logan, wait!" Gloria struggled with her helmet. As she got it off, she lost sight of him as he disappeared into the trees. "Father?"

A warm breeze snaked through the cool night and swirled around the newest angel. It seemed to tell her to stay with him and to do what was needed.

"Okay."

She went through the gate and followed as best she could in the darkness. The trees were thick enough to blanket the starlight but Gloria could hear Logan crashing around ahead of her. The noise stopped and she knew he was close. Coming into a clearing, she saw the man hunched over on the ground, his hands gripping his head as if in great pain.

A sudden sympathy welled up within her and she approached the distraught man. "Mr. Logan," she whispered, "How can I help you?"

At this point Logan could not even hear her. His memories had totally taken over. All he could see was his mother and father and past Christmases. The sounds, smells, feelings had him immersed. "Too—much. Too fast," he managed to grind out. Inhaling sharply, he caught the scent of cherry blossoms. "Kid, sing fer me."

Gloria nodded. The mysterious breeze fluttered by and she began to sing the Christmas carol of her namesake.

---

--Angels we have heard on high....

His mother waking he and his father...

--Sweetly singing o'er the plain....

With her sweet contralto voice...

--And the mountains in reply...

His father humming along...

--Echoing their joyous strains

The light and the fire dancing in time...

--Come to Bethlehem and see...

His father reading from the Bible...

--Him whose birth the angels sing...

From Luke the second chapter...

--Come adore on bended knee...

The angels, shepherds and wise men...

--Christ, the Lord, the newborn King!

His family kneeling in a circle of Love.

---

Logan looked up to see a radiant Gloria singing praise to her Father who created all things. He closed his eyes and reveled in the sound. The puzzle pieces fell into place then. Christmas time, cherry blossoms and carols. Things that reminded him of his mother especially.

The petite angel finished her song and waited quietly for the man in front of her to open his eyes. When he did, she saw a deep peace there.

"Is this your home?" Gloria asked.

Logan nodded.

"But I don't see anything."

He pointed to a spot behind her. Turning, she saw the grave marker. The angel moved closer to read the inscription and looked back at Logan, questions tumbling like water over a fall.

"Is that you? Are these your parents? This was your home? Where exactly is this place? How long have you been gone? Is this why they call you 'old man'?"

A single eyebrow went up at that.

"Sorry," Gloria grinned sheepishly. "So, are you going to answer?"

"Kid, how old are you?"

"You mean my real age?"

He nodded.

"Only about a year."

"Figures."

She tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

"Ask Monica." He got up, took her hand and headed back toward his bike. Once there, he put on his helmet. "Thanks, Kiddo. I'm goin' back to the school now. Tell Monica I said 'Hi'."

Gloria stood there, looking after the strange man she had helped. The warm breeze returned and caressed her face.

"Well done, my good and faithful child."

She smiled and disappeared in the night.

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Questions? Comments? Anyone--Bueller? Bueller?