Note: Thanks for the great reviews! ::grins:: Sorry it's gonna be such a short story Sketty, I would've liked ta do more, but plot bunnies attacked my muse and I've got some other fics in the works. There's another Ororo/Logan one in there! Hehe. Hope you readers like this chappie!

The Barn

Chapter 2: Leaving

Ororo couldn't sleep. She lay awake in her bed, sitting up and leaning against the propped up pillows close to the headboard, staring across the room at the door. How could she sleep with him in her house. Alive. Logan was alive, she had known that when she was called three years ago and told he'd come out of his coma. She couldn't even force herself to go and visit him. Instead, she took the easy way out. She wrote him a letter to break off the engagement. How cold-hearted was I? She thought with tears rolling down her cheeks. After all he's been through, I send him a letter and tell him I'm in love with Scott? How could I. I wasn't really in love with Scott...and he knew it. That's why Scott proposed I moved with him to the city and we get married. That's why I couldn't go. Scott knew I was still in love with Logan. Ororo bit her lower lip and pulled her blankets closer around her. Winter was fast approaching and the recent weather showed as much. Some days remained somewhat warm, but others were bitterly cold.

She sat up when she heard the shower running. Glancing at the clock, Ororo saw that it was nearly eleven p.m. and almost wondered why Logan chose now to take his shower. She remembered how he always used to rise early, around quarter past five in the morning and take his shower before getting to work. Only on weekends would he take a shower at night and sleep late, but never later than ten a.m. Glancing toward the window to her left, Ororo noticed the bright light from the crescent moon shining in and casting shadows on the wooden floor of her bedroom. As she heard the water turn off, she sunk low into her bed and listened quietly as Logan shuffled about down the hall.

- - - - -

Logan felt much better after he had taken a shower. His hair was damp, but no longer gritty, and though he hadn't shaved, atleast his scruff and sideburns were clean. He strode out of the bathroom and into the dark hallway in a pair of boxers, carrying his dirty clothes in a bundle under one arm. If Ororo had been up he would've dressed more decently, but he was sure she was asleep, that's why he had taken his shower so late. As he stepped into the guest room, Logan pulled out a laundry bag from his duffle and stuffed the dirty clothes into it. He settled down on the bed while flicking off the lightswitch and sat there a moment, lost in thought. Sighing rather loudly, Logan flopped back against the pillows and pulled up the blankets half-way before drifting off to sleep.

His sleep was soon plagued by memories before his accident, coming fast to his mind in stages of his dreams.

"Write to me as often as you can," Ororo called after him, blowing a kiss through the air as he hung half-way out the military bus' window and pretended to catch the kiss. "I love you Logan!"

"Love you too 'Ro. It'll only be a few months, hopefully!" Logan told her as the bus started to pull away from the near-vacant curb and he watched the distance between him and his fiance grow further apart.

His dream shifted, taking place during the accident that left him comatose for three years and almost killed him.

"Sarge! They're shooting at us!!" one soldier called from the back mounting gun of the camoflauge Hummer, while ducking live ammo.

"This is supposed to be a Safe Zone dammit!!" Sergeant Griswald cursed, reaching for his helmet and calling out to his men, "If ya don't got your vests on, get 'em on pronto!!"

Logan secured his Kevlar vest, and was about to fasten his helmet when a stray bullet soared through the air from the hills along the left of the army vehicles and struck the side of his head. He went down fast and fell limply against one of the seats within the armored Hummer. Muffled sounds entered his ears as some of his fellow soldiers gathered around him, looking frantic and yelling words he couldn't make out. He felt something thick and warm sliding down the side of his face, but before he could deduce that it was blood, blackness enveloped him and he was lost to the world.

His dream yet again taking a different course, Logan shifted uncomfortably on the bed, twisting slightly in the sheets.

He was awake again, but in a hospital. Three years had passed and he was out of his coma, working on physical therapy. He had already gotten the letter from Ororo, telling him the news of their now null engagement. Devastated, but not willing to show it to the doctors and nurses around him, Logan put all his thoughts and efforts into getting back to his physical peak. He could barely sit up on his own for the first few weeks, and doctors were wondering if he'd suffered permanent brain damage that inhibited his motor functions. Logan refused to give up trying, no matter what the doctors said.

"Mr. Howlett, the nurse will be in shortly to take you to therapy now." a voice echoed in his head, but it was a familiar voice, it was Ororo's.

Opening his eyes and suddenly sitting up in bed, Logan shook his head to clear away the memories that surfaced in his dream. He ran a hand over his face and checked the clock on the nightstand. It was nearly four in the morning, but he knew he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep. Climbing out of bed, Logan dug around in his dufflebag and pulled on a pair of jeans, a wifebeater, and a red, black, and brown checkered flannel shirt. He lazily combed back his wild hair with his hands, then zipped up his bag and headed for the bedroom door.

- - - - -

Little sunlight entered Ororo's room, but instead when she opened her eyes and looked out the window she was met with a dreary, grey morning. Sitting up, surprised that she had actually fallen asleep, Ororo crawled out of bed to stand in front of the window and look outside into the driveway. She frowned when she realized that Logan's motorcycle was no longer there, and a sudden fear gripped her heart and caused her stomach to turn in knots. Hoping that he wasn't gone for good, and determined to go looking for him, Ororo quickly ran out into the hall to take a shower and dress before getting in her car and tracking him down.

She pulled her Jeep onto a dusty little road that she had been so familiar with. This was the road that led to the property in which the house she and Logan lived in together once stood, along with the old crumpled barn that had once been brand new. She knew that Logan would be there, and seeing his bike parked in front of the barn entrance made her sigh in relief as she parked the Jeep and climbed out. Ororo just stood there a moment, taking in the scenery. She hadn't been on this property in so long, and it was obvious that no one else had either. The tall, brown grass swayed slightly as a dull breeze picked up before it died. She strode toward the collapsed barn entrance where she found Logan sitting on the hood of the old Chevy. "I thought I'd find you here." she said softly.

Logan looked up slowly and shifted on the rusted hood of the truck. He looked around, gesturing toward the wrecked barn. "What happened?"

Ororo's gaze shifted to the ground sadly as she walked forward a little. "Last spring, there was a tornado that ripped through here, a tree fell on the barn, crushed it." she sighed slightly, then looked up. "They removed the tree, but the damage was done."

"Oh." Logan said quietly. His brows furrowed as he turned on the hood of the car and fully took in the wreckage behind him that fell over the rear-end of the Chevy and crumpled even further beyond that. He looked up, his eyes locking with Ororo's. "And the house," he began slowly. "That happened before?"

"Yes," Ororo admitted softly with a nod. "It was about a year after...your accident." She paused, the memories of how their once-beautiful house met it's demise. "I didn't have the heart to tell you." She regretted the way she phrased that as soon as the words left her mouth and she mentally cursed herself. Oh, but I had the heart to tell you I was with another man.

Instead of making her feel worse, which he easily could have, Logan just nodded for her to continue her explanation.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and sighed. "There was a terrible brush fire and everyone was told to leave the county. That's when the house was burned to the ground." she managed a brief faint smile and shrugged. "Surprisingly enough, my mother's house remained intact." Ororo absently rubbed her arms and stared up at the grey sky for a moment. "The tornado that destroyed the barn finished off what was left of the house....The foundation just crumpled."

Logan's eyes distantly scanned over the slightly swaying fields behind Ororo, then patted his leg and slid off the hood of the truck. He dusted off his jeans, then rubbed at the back of his neck. It was kind of funny, he felt more sad about the barn getting destroyed then the house. Maybe it was because the house had been there a long time, but he'd built that old barn up from the ground himself. A lot of work and fond memories went into the building of that barn, and he suddenly stood there, wishing he could go back in time.

The same memory soon passed over both Logan and Ororo's thoughts and they each seemed lost in a daze for several moments.

It was a rainy night, loud thunder clapped in the distance, a bit too close for comfort and causing the house to rumble. Ororo raced outside to the barn where she was sure she'd just seen Logan head off to. She pulled the hood of her raincoat over her head and stuffed her long white locks of hair in it as she ran. "Logan, what are you doing out here?!" she exclaimed as she entered the barn to find him standing there beside his truck and staring up at the beams above.

"Damn roof needs patchin' again." he growled irritably, shaking his head.

Ororo just sighed, then walked over to him and grabbed his arm as water dripped down and splashed silently among the hay. "Come on, you can't do anything now, let's just get inside, it's pouring."

Logan let out a frustrated sigh, but he went along with her anyway. "You shoulda let me help Pete finish the roof in the first place. He ain't much of a carpenter." He shook his head.

Ororo smiled a little and patted his arm. "There was no way in hell I was going to let you go up there with a broken leg."

Logan just smirked with a slight snort before he wrapped an arm around Ororo's waist and they made a run for the house.

"Looks like it's gonna rain."

Ororo suddenly looked over at Logan and nodded distantly as she gazed up at the sky like she was thinking the same thing. "Yeh," she said quietly, then glanced at her watch. It was still pretty early, almost nine o' clock. "How long have you been out here?" she asked curiously.

Logan took a look at his own watch. "Not long," he lied. He'd been there since quarter past four, but he wasn't going to tell Ororo that.

"Did you have anything for breakfast? Are you hungry?"

He didn't answer right away. But now that he thought about it, Logan hadn't eaten since lunch the other day. He fidgeted slightly and kicked at the dirt beneath his feet. He wasn't so sure that being around Ororo so much was a good thing right now. Logan had some things to work out, and was sure that she probably did too. "Nah, I ain't hungry." he lied again. He hated lying to her. They used to tell eachother everything when they were together. We're not together anymore. He reminded himself with a slight frown. "I'm jus' gonna go fer a ride." There I go lyin' again.

"Okay," Ororo smiled tightly and turned around to head back to her Jeep. She paused as she opened the door. "Will you be back?" she began tentatively. "To my mother's house I mean. You're welcome to....if - if you want, that is."

Logan offered a half-hearted smile, then mounted his Harley. He sighed softly. "I dunno yet."

Ororo seemed to accept that since she got inside her Jeep with a simple nod and drove away.

Slumping his shoulders, Logan hung his head a moment before starting up his motorcycle. He knew the county was pretty much abandoned except for the few remaining farmhouses here and there, and some businesses in town, but thought maybe there was a nearby diner that was still standing. Gripping the throttle, Logan turned down the dusty road in search of a place to eat and do some thinking.

- - - - -

Dust clouds rolled over the dirt parking lot of the small diner, a single pick-up truck parked outside the desolate building. The swinging sign above the door read: OPEN in large bold letters, but it was doubtful anyone really cared whether the place was open or not. No one but Logan that is. He killed the engine of his bike after parking beside the lone truck, then slowly dismounted and tucked his helmet under one arm as he strode toward the door. The chiming of a cow bell signalled his entrance, and he glanced around the place that was seemingly rather empty. If he didn't see the cook poking his greasy head out from the kitchen, Logan would have thought the place abandoned. He took a seat in a corner booth with a window and sat back, glancing over the menu on the table.

"What'll it be hun?" the accented voice from the waitress that sauntered toward him caused Logan to look up. She was a plain-looking woman; less than silky brown hair tied back in a bun, slightly weathered skin, a rounded nose, and thin pink lips. She was middle-aged and slightly pudgy, but seemed to a have a genuine smile on her face and a friendly personality.

Logan looked up slowly with a soft sigh. "Just a coffee, black, and uh...steak an' eggs." He was pretty hungry, and he couldn't remember the last time he had steak and eggs.

"Sure thing." the waitress scribbled down the order on a little pad of paper from her apron, then pocketed the pen she used and smiled before turning toward the kitchen. "I'll have it out in a jiff."

Leaning back against the old red plastic-like material of the seat, Logan rested his head back and closed his eyes in thought. He remembered this diner, though his recollection of it wasn't so clear. The people in it now he didn't remember. It used to be owned by an old couple, and it was much better kept then. The whole town must'a went ta hell after that tornado. He thought, grimacing as his headache returned. Logan rubbed the left side of his head, tracing his fingers over the slightly raised skin under his hair, the scar from the bullet's entrance wound. He looked up with a start as a plate was shoved in front of him on the table and he saw the waitress hovering over him. Hm, musta been lost in thought fer a while...

"Ya'll right hun?" she asked with a look of sympathy crossing her features.

Logan grunted. "Yeh," He looked down at his plate, then arched an eyebrow up at the waitress. "That was fast."

She half-smiled, jerking a thumb toward the kitchen. "Cook ain't got any other customers ta prepare for. Slow mornin'."

Hmph. Bet I'm the first customer they've seen all week. He thought, but didn't say anything. Logan just nodded a thanks as the waitress poured him his coffee and sauntered back into the kitchen. As he dug into his breakfast, he decided that the food wasn't all that bad despite the greasy look of the place, and either way, it was better than nothing at all. Logan began to wonder why he had come down to Arkansas in the first place, why he had bothered to drop in on his ex-fiance, the love of his life. 'Cuz I still love 'er, he thought absently.

He finished off his breakfast and left a rather large tip tucked under his empty coffee cup before getting up and stalking out of the little diner. As he got back on his motorcycle, Logan thought about the barn again. He still had ownership of the property, as far as he knew, and he almost wondered what it would be like if he decided to fix up the old place.

- - - - -

When Logan didn't come back by late afternoon, Ororo was getting worried that he might have left for good. She'd been working at the garden shop in town that she had joint-ownership with a friend, and when she came home she found no evidence that Logan had been there. After a long moment of indecisiveness, Ororo decided to stop by the old barn just to check if he was there. She had a feeling that's where she might find him again, after he looked so lost in thought when she found him there earlier.

- - - - -

"Here, I brought you some lemonade." Ororo smiled sweetly as she set the glass on a nearby stack of wood in the barn.

Logan pushed himself out from under the old Chevy and sat up. There was grease and motor oil all over his face, arms, and shirt. "Thanks 'Ro, coulda used a beer though." he smirked and gave her a wink.

Ororo laughed softly, then handed him the glass of lemonade and sat down beside him on the ground, leaning up against the truck. "Boy is it warm today," she shook her head, then wiped some sweat from her brow with her forearm.

"Tell me about it," Logan grunted, pulling up the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. He just managed to smear more grease and motor oil on himself.

Shaking her head, Ororo let out a squeak of laughter and smiled widely as she rubbed her thumb against his chin. "You're filthy." she laughed.

Logan shrugged with a partial smile and gulped down half the glass of lemonade. "That's what you get when yer workin' on a heap like this ole' thing." he jerked his thumb toward the '63 Chevy they were leaning against.

Ororo smiled contently and rested her head comfortably on his shoulder.

- - - - -

With the sun sunken behind thick, grey clouds, darkness spread over the landscape early. It was still a fairly warm late afternoon, and it hadn't started raining after all. With winter soon approaching, the evenings had gotten cooler, but this evening remained a comfortable fifty-five degrees or so. After his breakfast at the diner, Logan had gone back to the old barn, first stopping at a mechanic's shop to get a few things he needed. He'd been spending the rest of the day there, getting to work on the rusted old pick-up that was still half under the crumpled mess. It took Logan a few hours to clear away the old broken boards, then he was able to get in the truck and put it in neutral so he could push it out of the barn.

Logan climbed out from under the truck and dusted himself off. He had to use a jack and raise the Chevy off the ground to rest on cinderblocks so he could get underneath. Unbuttoning his flannel shirt and tossing it toward his parked motorcyle, Logan let out a sigh and wiped the sweat from his brow. He rubbed the back of his neck before stripping off his sweaty wifebeater and tossing it with his other shirt. As he got back to work on the truck, Logan popped the hood and began tinkering with the engine, figuring he had much to do before it would start.

- - - - -

Driving down the long dirt road toward the old barn, Ororo spotted Logan's motorcycle and that old familiar '63 Chevy pick-up out front. The hood was up and the flat tires lay scattered about in the dirt while the vehicle remained propped up on cinderblocks. She suddenly felt as if a tightness had relaxed around her heart at the relief that Logan was still around. She couldn't bear to think about how she would feel if he was gone, because it would probably be for good this time.

Parking her Jeep, Ororo stepped out of the vehicle and looked around with a delicately raised brow. His motorcycle was here, but she hadn't spotted Logan yet. Walking toward the old truck, she gasped slightly in surprise when he came out from the shadows of the debris-cluttered barn carrying a rusted old tool box. She couldn't help but notice that he wasn't wearing a shirt, and realized fondly, that his muscles seemed more defined then she remembered. Ororo cleared her throat to gain his attention as she suddenly averted her gaze.

Logan glanced up, shifting his grip on the handle of the tool box. "Uh.." he paused, then rubbed at the back of his neck with his free hand. "Hey, 'Ro."

She smiled faintly, still trying not to admire his barechestedness all that much. "Planning on driving the old Chevy out of here?" Ororo asked lightheartedly, gesturing toward the primer and rust-covered hunk of metal.

"Dunno." Logan grunted, setting the tool box down on the ground. "Been workin' on it." He wiped his hands on his jeans, then crouched down and opened up the tool box, taking out a socket-wrench before standing straight up again.

"I see that." Ororo was at a loss of what to say. Atleast she could relax in the fact that Logan would have to be sticking around for a little bit if he planned on fixing his old truck. She fiddled with the hem of her shirt and glanced off to the side at the browning grass that reached over the entire field.

Blinking rapidly a few times, Logan stepped forward hestitantly, soon grimacing in pain and dropping the socket-wrench in his hand as he clutched at his head.

"Logan?" Ororo grew worried and instinctively went to his side and gripped his arm. When he didn't respond she started leading him toward her Jeep. "Come on, sit down for a minute."

He complied slowly, the sharp aching in his head striking him with blinding pain before he collapsed in the passenger seat of Ororo's car.

- - - - -

Logan groggily opened his eyes, squinting at the soft light that was seemingly coming from behind him. He blinked several times to focus and gain his bearings, when he soon realized he was in a comfortable bed. Groaning barely audibly and rolling onto his back, he noticed that Ororo was sitting on the other side of the bed watching him with concerned eyes. "What happened?"

Ororo's brows furrowed. "You passed out at the barn. I brought you back here."

"Here?" Logan groaned, seemingly not fully aware of where he was. His mind was reeling, lost in a memory of the past and for a moment he could've sworn that it was over five years ago and he and Ororo were still together.

"My mother's house." Ororo watched as he slowly pushed himself to a sitting position and leaned against the headboard of the bed. "You must have over-exerted yourself or something," she began quietly when Logan started to shake his head.

"No," he said raspily at first, then cleared his throat and tapped the left side of his head. "It was my head." Logan grunted, then said. "I'm okay now."

Ororo tilted her head to the side slightly and partially frowned. "Has it ever gotten that bad? The headaches, I mean. So bad that you passed out?"

Logan sighed and scratched his shoulder before he rolled his head until his neck cracked. "Yeh, not too often though."

"How on Earth did you manage to drive all the way down here safely?" she raised a delicate eyebrow, then shifted slightly on the bed and folded one leg under her.

"I ain't s'posed ta be drivin' really." Logan answered with a partial smirk.

Ororo looked away a moment, then changed the subject a little after a long silence passed between them. "Why didn't the doctors remove the bullet? Were they unable?"

Logan jerked his head up a little, caught off-guard by the nature of the question. He hadn't expected she'd even want to talk about his accident, although she had asked the nature of his headaches which were caused by it. He scratched his head. "Uh, the Docs said sugery'd be too risky, but where the bullet was it was jus' gonna stay there an' wouldn't cause too much harm." he shrugged. "So they left it."

Ororo just smiled tightly in sympathy and nodded. "So...what went on after you - you know...after you came out of the coma." She felt odd about asking him such personal things after she hadn't seen him in five years, but she wanted to know.

He paused, and for a moment Ororo thought he wasn't going to answer, but then he spoke. "Spent a year in physical therapy, during that time they also had someone fill me in on stuff that happened over the years I missed."

Quickly wiping away a guilty tear that threatened to spill down her cheek, Ororo reached out tentatively and put a hand over Logan's. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you," she said, fighting the lump in her throat.

Logan stared down at Ororo's hand that covered his for a moment, then grimaced slightly and pulled away. He turned toward the wall and flung his feet over the side of the bed so he was facing away from her. "I - " He began, but the sound died in his throat and he never finished. Logan didn't know what to say. His emotions were running toward past feelings and memories of being utterly alone after he came out of his coma. There were no familiar faces, no one he loved. Suddenly Logan stood up and began scanning the floor for his t-shirt and flannel, trying not to look at Ororo. Upon finding the discarded items, he first pulled the wifebeater on over his head, then slipped his arms into the unbuttoned flannel shirt and left it open.

Ororo watched as he moved hastily about the room in a hurry to leave her company. She noticed the hurt expression on his face, even though he was trying not to look at her. Bowing her head sadly, she sat there helplessly as he left the room with his things.

- - - - -