xXx
Logan sat at the table, his brow creased with effort, a pen gripped tightly in his hand. His other hand propped up his forehead as he worked at the table. He sat writing a note.
Behind him, a faint hissing whine accompanied the flaring disk of energy that slid from the floor, leaving in its wake an attractive young woman with reddish hair.
"Logan, you rang?" she said.
He turned in his chair and looked at her for a long moment. "I did," he said. She turned and glanced at the easel set up in his personal quarters. Scrawled on the paper with a thick black marker were these words:
Lisa
Need to talk
Now
"Here I am," she said.
He looked her in the eye. "I've got the cure for Tymaz Nine," he said evenly. "An injection is all ready for you, whenever you're ready for it."
For a long moment there was silence; Lisa swayed as the implications of what he was saying overwhelmed her.
"I'll be free of it?" she gasped.
"Forever," Logan nodded. "You ready?"
"You bet I'm ready!" she said, a smile spreading across her face.
He stood and opened the door, headed out into the hallway. She followed.
"This is incredible, Logan," she said. "Did Stark make the cure?"
"Nope," Logan said. "I mean, he synthesized a quantity of it, but he didn't figure it out."
"How'd you get it?" she asked, breathless.
"Doesn't matter," he said, his expression dark as she had only seen it a few times. She dropped it.
After another minute of walking, Logan opened the door to a clean sterile lab. Lisa followed him in, looking around.
"Wow," she said.
"That's the reaction we go for," said a dapper man with dark sleek hair. "I'm Tony Stark." He smiled. "Pleased to meet you."
"The Tony Stark?" Lisa asked, her eyes growing large. Stark's smile grew.
"Just hop up on the table here," he said. "Make yourself comfortable and we'll administer the shot."
"I'm surprised Logan didn't just have a syringe to stick me as soon as I showed up," Lisa said wryly.
No one had anything to say to that. Her eyebrows raised, but she climbed up on the hospital bed.
A nurse came forward and prepared her arm, tying the rubber cord around her bicep and swabbing at her vein. Stark stepped around to the foot of the bed.
"Tymaz Nine is a remarkably clever weapon," he said. "It comes on two stages, pre adaptive and post adaptive. The pre adaptive stage can go into anyone. It's pure, and a sample is not available outside the KGB. However, once it is injected into the host, it adapts to their unique physiology. The virus shapes itself," he said, gesturing, "to meet the biological makeup of the host. That way it is guaranteed to kill when activated, and also it can't be replicated should an infected unit be captured."
"You sure this will work on a post adaptive strain?" Lisa asked in a small voice.
"Oh yes," Stark nodded. "You're the third person it's been tested on. The other two are now fine."
Logan stood with his arms crossed, expressionless. "Let's get on with this," he growled. Everyone in the room stopped and looked at him.
Stark nodded to the nurse, who swiftly and painlessly administered the shot. Then she stepped back. Stark smiled.
"We'll need you to stay in the area for the next few days," Stark said, "in case of complications. But that should be it," he said with a winning smile.
"Just like that," Lisa said, "I'm just cured." She snapped her fingers and smiled with deep-seated relief.
"Yep," Logan said tensely. He turned and left the room.
Lisa glanced at Stark, who shrugged. She hopped off the bed and jogged after Logan.
"Hey Logan, what's wrong?" she said, catching up to him. "I thought you'd be happy for me."
"I am, darlin," he gritted out.
"Oh, fine," she said. "Don't go all mushy on me. Don't you even care?"
He stopped walking, eyes still fixed forward. "Course I care," he said. "My honor is satisfied." He looked her in the eye. "I surrendered to the Project to get you a cure. They wouldn't make one. So I got it another way. Things between us are settled up."
"What, that's it?" she asked, irritation creeping into her voice. "I thought friends didn't keep score."
"They don't," Logan managed. He looked down the hall and started walking again.
"Hey!" she said, "don't walk away from me like this. Logan. Logan!"
He stopped and faced her.
"I just wanted to thank you," she said, suddenly feeling awkward. "For all the countermeasure every day. For the notes on your board so I knew you were thinking of me. You know, for everything." She blushed.
"Yer more than welcome," Logan said. "Have a nice day." He started walking again.
She stared after him for a moment.
A voice boomed behind her. "Is there no end to the women Logan brings here?" said an amused man. She turned to look at the newcomer.
He was tall, confident, a trim bulk of muscle. His dark hair accentuated his pale skin, and his eyes flashed with mirth. Then his jaw dropped, all color left his face, and he swayed on his feet.
"By the White Wolf," he gasped. Then his eyes rolled up in his head and he fell senseless to the floor.
Logan and Lisa ran to where he lay. "Get him some water," Logan muttered gruffly, fanning the senseless Russian.
"Why does he look familiar?" Lisa asked, unmoving.
"Get some water, dammit," Logan said, not looking at her.
The huge man on the floor moaned and stirred. He blinked, opened his eyes. He looked at Logan, then gripped him with both hands.
"Logan," he gasped, breathless. "I have just seen my mother!"
"An here I thought you hatched," Logan muttered. "C'mon, Pete, get a hold of yourself." He winced. "And not me."
"I am sorry, comrade," the big man said, releasing Logan. He sat up and rubbed the back of his neck. "I could have sworn—" He stopped cold, eyes fixed on Lisa.
"Who are you?" Lisa asked, curiosity in her eyes.
"I am Piotr Nikolaevitch Rasputin," he breathed, wonder in his eyes. "Who are you!"
"I'm Illyana," she said, a wrinkle of puzzlement in her eyes.
"No! No, it cannot be!" Rasputin said with a dramatic gesture that almost knocked Logan over. Rasputin scrambled to his feet. "My sister, Illyana Nikolievna Rasputin fell through the ice and drowned so many years ago in Russia!"
"That name, say it again, quickly!" Lisa said, straining as though to pick out a strand of music in a crowd.
He drew himself up proudly. "Illyana Nikolievna Rasputin, my sister," he said.
For a long moment they stared at each other.
"I was six," she blurted.
"And I was eight," he replied. "That day has been written in my heart with ash and tears and guilt since you were lost to me, and now, here!" he said with a gesture. He was overcome with emotion.
In a rush they clasped each other. "My first step," Illyana said, "I remember it was so cold…"
"Whoda thunk," Logan said with a small smile, tugging out a cigar. "Yer own flesh and blood, a capitalist piglet." He shook his head, and lit up.
"We must check with Stark immediately, so he may analyze our blood," Rasputin said quickly. "Though my spirit saw you with eyes beyond those of flesh and recognized you for my sister, still we must see what science can confirm."
"Wow," the woman who was both Illyana and Lisa breathed. "This is incredible."
"Come! We have no time to lose! Then you must tell me everything about your life! Do you live in New York?"
"You bet, not far from here," Illyana said as she jogged to keep up with her brother's strides. They headed down the corridor of the medical wing, looking for Stark.
Logan shook his head, turned, and walked away. He thought for a minute. "Hm. If I'm Illyana's dad," he mused, "that'd make me Pete's step dad. Maybe I should start calling him Junior." He smiled.
Then he stopped smiling.
xXx
Night was falling as Logan trotted along the perimeter fence. He stopped short when he saw Stark, straight out of Casablanca, in a white suit smoking a cigarette, looking out through the fence.
"Stark," Logan said, strolling up. "What brings a busy guy like you out here? I thought you had your fresh air imported in expensive plastic bottles."
"Oh, that smarts," Stark said with a little playful wince. "Actually, I came out here to talk to you."
"How'd you know I'd be coming by here? Cameras have trouble with my route."
"Your route, if you didn't know it, is legendary here," Stark said. "Everyone knows about your roaming. I think it helps the staff feel safe, like someone is watching over them."
Logan blinked. "People know about this?"
Stark chuckled. "You're more famous than you know, Logan." He took a swift pull on his delicately held cigarette. "That's why it stings to lose you."
"You gonna fire me again?" Logan said, his eyebrows raising in surprise.
"Not at all," Stark said, shaking his head. He looked out through the fence. "No need for that. You have the cure for Tymaz Nine, and so does Rasputin. He got a sister to boot." Stark shrugged. "That makes me expendable. Doesn't it." He breathed out a thin streak of cigarette smoke.
For a long moment Logan stood unmoving. Then he glanced swiftly out through the fence, at the urban jungle beyond a short strip of darkness that served to buffer the installation. "Bein expendable is a heavy load, Stark," he said. He shook his head. "I was never in it for the money. I didn't work for you just because of Tymaz Nine. You an me, we can learn from each other. That's why I'm really here, Stark. It's about two people helpin each other."
"Touching," Stark said, his smile souring. "Credible." He took a pull on his cigarette.
Logan looked out through the fence. "I'd be lyin if I told you that I never thought about leavin as soon as I had what I needed from you. But you just showed me somethin that changed my mind about that."
"What's that?" Stark asked, only a hint of bitterness in his voice.
"You'd notice if I was gone," Logan said softly. He looked at Stark. "Maybe you're payin closer attention than I thought."
Stark looked over at him. "I'm not sure I understand."
"You make it easy to feel overlooked, Stark," Logan shrugged. "There've been whole weeks I felt like a little cog in yer master plan, and believe me that's not somethin I can be." He looked back out at the city. "Stark," he sighed, "You could be a great man. Not a great industrialist, or a great philanthropist, or a great inventor. A great man. I see it in you when you fergit ta pay attention to yer grand schemes, when for just a moment," Logan said, squinting and pinching his fingers, "you let down your guard." He shook his head. "I'm a romantic," he said with a shrug. "I wanna believe that anybody can be a hero."
Stark struggled with a smile. "Not much in the way of benefits. Does the 401k roll over in retirement?"
"I don't know about that," Logan grinned, "but I can say the benefits are great." He nodded to himself. "You can tell a hero because when he's down on his luck people come outa the woodwork ta pay him back for the good he did in their lives."
"No paupers grave for your heroes, huh," Stark said.
"What can I say?" Logan said, grinning at him. "I'm a romantic."
Stark sighed. "I was just checking to see if you planned to stay because I'm having Pepper put together the invitations for the staff picnic next week, and I needed to know who would be attending." He dropped his cigarette and stubbed it out.
Logan chuckled. "Shouldn't you be inside countin yer beans?" he said.
"No no, I pay people to count those for me," Stark said. "I'll be in playing with my tinker toys."
For a moment they were more serious than they wanted to be. The shadows by the fence were deep, and their eyes gleamed with the reflection of the sentry floodlights pointed elsewhere.
"Thank you, Logan," Stark said.
Logan tried to shrug that off. "Any time, Stark. Have a good night."
Stark smiled, then turned and walked with his purposeful gait back towards the compound.
Logan watched him go, thinking things over. He shook his head, and continued on his run.
xXx
An hour later, he moved quickly and quietly through the dorm wing, almost as though he was infiltrating it. His heart was beating fast when he spun into his room and slid the door shut. He finally relaxed, locking the door.
Not a moment too soon. He heard laughter in the lounge outside. He walked over and sat in his comfortable chair. Lisa or Illyana, finishing a story, the healthy booming laughter of her new brother Piotr.
His doorbell chimed. "Logan my friend, are you back?" Rasputin said into the door.
"Nobody home," Logan whispered. He could almost see the big man shrug.
"Let me tell you of my top score on the pinball machine," Piotr said, and his sister laughed.
Logan sat in his dim room alone and wondered if he'd ever be able to hold on to a family.
He stood, walked over to the note he had been writing Stark. With a deep sigh, he tore it into little pieces and dumped it in the trash. "So much fer my resignation," he muttered.
He felt an entirely different breed of resignation as he lay on his bed and did not sleep.
