Logan parked his Mustang along the street in front of the bar where he knew Carlisle would be. As he finished his cigar, he eyed the brick apartment complex before his stare drifted to the bar's storefront below. On the outside, the brick building looked like any old run-down bar. In fact, the average passerby wouldn't have given the place a second thought and the establishment was just as deceiving on the inside. While the place functioned as a bar, the inner walls belonged to one of the most wanted men in New York. It amazed him how no one realized what happened behind those walls, and that those who were aware never spoke a word about it. Logan exited his car and stubbed the cigar under his heel against the pavement before descending the steps to enter.
The inside was dimly lit as usual and he squinted his eyes as they adjusted. As a Sam Cooke record played on an old jukebox in the corner, he scanned the bar and found only two patrons sitting at the counter. He and the bartender, Mike, exchanged a curt nod before he walked over to the sliding double doors on the right. He stepped into the wood paneled room and was greeted by the pungent smell of cigarette smoke and the notorious, citrusy musk of Eau Sauvage cologne. It was here where Carlisle ran his 'business'. A quiet and secluded place in the middle of the city that never slept. Wrinkling his nose, he slid the door shut behind him before a hand stopped him in his tracks with an iron grip. Logan tensed and glared at the hand on his shoulder.
"Do you have an appointment?" A man nearly twice his size asked with narrowed eyes. He recognized him as Frank, one of Carlisle's bodyguards.
"I'm a walk-in." Logan retorted as he squared up his shoulders.
"Let him through, Frank." He heard Carlisle say.
"You heard the man." Logan smirked. Frank gave his shoulder a painful squeeze as a warning before letting go. Logan ignored the gesture and walked over to Carlisle who was seated on a beige armchair. The way the lean, well-dressed man's lips formed a crooked smile around the smoldering cigarette in his mouth made Logan's skin crawl. He might have worked for the guy, but that didn't mean he liked him.
"To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you today, Jimmy?" He asked as he gestured to an equally beige sofa in front of him. "Please, have a seat. Make yourself at home."
"I thought I'd stop by to discuss last night's job." He said as he complied.
"Oh yes, they had exceptional things to say about you. Not that I'm surprised, you're the best there is at what you do."
Logan chose to ignore the compliment. "I know these sorts of things function on a need-to-know basis, but I have to ask. What was in that briefcase? Drugs don't normally run that high of a price, Carlisle."
He laughed. It was a sharp and breathy noise that was harsh on the ears. "You're too smart for your own good. I'll tell you, but only because you're my favorite. What you were transporting is known as one of the strongest metals in the world."
"What?" He knit his eyebrows together, thoroughly confused.
"They call it adamantium, and there's a military man fixing on collecting as much of it as he can."
"Why is this, adam-whatever, being dealt like an illegal weapon if it's just a metal?"
"Because the adamantium is going to be used to make one." Carlisle took a drag on his cigarette and motioned to a waitress. "In other news, I'm glad you came by today. I've found a new assignment for you."
"Does it deal with more of this adamantium stuff?" Logan asked with a raised eyebrow as the waitress handed him a glass of whiskey.
The corners of his mouth pulled downward as he shrugged. "Yes and no. It pertains more to someone who is trying to stick their nose where it doesn't belong."
"And you want me to take him out?"
"Her," Carlisle corrected as he handed Logan a photo, "she works for an organization known as S.H.I.E.L.D and her name is June. I know she doesn't look like a threat, but she's starting to cause problems for our client. He's willing to pay forty grand for someone to take care of her, and I thought you might be the best man for the job."
He stared at the photo in his hand, taking note of her warm, brown skin and heart-shaped face. The way her short, black hair was styled reminded him of the actress Dorothy Dandridge. Logan stroked the facial hair on his chin as his lips pressed into a hard line. Even though he couldn't remember how or why, he was familiar with the agency she worked for. The more he stared at the photo, the more the uneasy feeling from yesterday pressed in in him.
His gaze flicked up to meet Carlisle's as he pocketed the photo. "New York is a big place. Do you have a lead on her location?"
"We know a S.H.I.E.L.D. rat who told her that someone with intel on the adamantium was willing to meet along Prospect Park West tonight. That someone, of course, will be you." He paused, noticing the hesitation in Logan's eyes. "I hope you're not going soft on me because she's a broad."
"Of course not." He snapped before downing the whiskey.
"I expect to hear good news from you in four days. You know how much I hate being disappointed."
Logan set the glass on the table, the glass making a sharp resounding clang. He stood and stared into Carlisle's icy gaze. "You'll get your good news."
Logan sat on a park bench as he waited for his target. Leaning back, his mind recalled Lawrence's warnings. There was no doubt that he was in over his head, especially if S.H.I.E.L.D. was involved. It took him some digging, but if his memory served him correctly, he had encountered them briefly during World War Two. S.H.I.E.L.D.'s involvement was a clear sign that this adamantium potentially posed a graver threat than he realized. Perhaps settling for a blue-collar job like Lawrence suggested would have been better, and the thought made Logan chuckle grimly to himself.
The sun soon descended below the horizon and the road became illuminated by yellow street lights. As the night grew darker, the windows of the brownstone houses began to illuminate the street like urban fireflies. He checked his watch and noted that it was seven-thirty. With a sigh, he rested his arm atop the back of the bench. Carlisle hadn't given him a specific time frame as to when June would meet him. It had been several hours now, and he was growing impatient.
As he wondered if the agent would show, his ears picked up a distressed cry. He looked around, searching for the source of the sound, but saw nothing in his immediate vicinity. The cry sounded again, and Logan pinpointed the location with ease. When the wind shifted, he caught the scent of fear and adrenaline in the air.
Any other night he would've shrugged it off. This was New York City after all, and unfortunately each night claimed its own victims. What made him reconsider, however, was that he couldn't deny the fact that the voice sounded familiar. Logan swore, realizing he a choice to make. Either he could sit around indefinitely and wait for the agent or help whoever was in trouble. He decided to go with his gut and ran towards the sound.
It didn't take him long to reach the source and he slowed his pace as he approached an alleyway shrouded in darkness. He peered around the corner and his keen eyes saw three men surrounding an elderly woman. The woman was backed up against the corner and her arms were raised in a feeble attempt to defend herself.
"Come on lady, just give us the damn purse!" One of them shouted as he took a step closer.
"Please, I don't have much." She pleaded. Logan's eyes widened as he realized that the woman was Ida. Without hesitation, he clenched his fists and moved in.
"If you want to leave this alley with your life, I suggest you back off." He threatened as he came up behind them. The three men spun around and one of them aimed their pistol at him.
"Why don't you go fuck yourself! You're outnumbered and unarmed." The man holding the gun replied.
"Don't say I didn't warn ya." Logan threw a swift punch to the man with the gun and he landed hard on the ground. The shorter of the three pulled out a switchblade and went to slash at Logan's side. His martial arts training kicked in and he dodged the movement with ease. Grabbing hold of the man's wrist, he swiftly broke it and then used the man's momentum to throw him. As he landed, the man cradled his wrist and cried out. Logan whipped his head towards the remaining mugger who had his fists up, ready to fight. He stepped forward to take him on when he heard the familiar click of a gun cocking to his left. He and the man both looked over to where Ida was standing. The expression on her face was stony as she aimed a revolver at the man.
"You best get out of here before I shoot." The man glanced at his two friends and then hightailed it out of the alley. An unexpected gunshot sounded from behind Logan and his shoulder burned like fire as a bullet sunk into his flesh. He grunted and then spun to face the man who had shot him. Confusion was written all over the mugger's face as Logan stalked towards him, unaffected by the wound.
"What the hell are you?" he asked as he frantically tried to back away.
"I'm just a soldier." Logan said before rendering the man unconscious with a kick to his head.
Ida de-cocked her revolver and then slipped it back into her purse. "James? Is that really you? Are you alright?"
He turned to face her and nodded. "I'm fine, he missed. Did they hurt you?"
"No, you stepped in before they were able to. The three of them surrounded me before I could get to my revolver." She looked up at him. "Thank you, I don't know where you came from or how you found me but thank you."
"I was out getting some fresh air. Why are you out here at this hour?"
"Same as you, except I forgot how short the days are in November." She chuckled.
"May I walk you back?" He asked. She nodded and the two of them exited the alley. Their apartment was only a few blocks away and they carried a casual conversation as they walked. When they arrived at the building, Logan and Ida stepped inside and he called the elevator. As they waited, he sensed her studying him.
He looked over at her with a raised eyebrow. "What?"
"You mentioned back there that you were a soldier. I didn't realize you were in the military." She said. "If you don't mind me asking, which war did you serve in?"
"I served in both Korea and Vietnam. Lawrence and I were in the same platoon in Korea. That's how we know each other."
"It's not easy fighting in wars, especially wars people don't like. I know many people who have strong feelings regarding Vietnam, but you boys are just following orders."
"I appreciate the sentiment, but we're not exactly blameless either." He sighed. "Good, bad, it's all the same and people still die. This war has just opened people's eyes to that fact.
"You sound like my husband when he was around your age. He was part of the 92nd Division during the First World War." She paused as they entered the elevator. "He was killed in action during the Second World War."
"I'm sorry for your loss, Ida."
She shrugged. "It's like you said, people die. Sometimes the person who dies is someone you know, but I'm sure you know that quite well."
He was silent for a moment as he recalled the faces of people he once knew. Unfortunately, he knew that intimately well. After serving in four bloody wars, it was simply a fact he had to live with. Logan cleared his throat and decided to change the subject. "I assume that Colt revolver was your husband's?"
"Yes, it was his firearm during the First World War. He brought it back with him and gave it to me."
"I thought I recognized it." Logan mused. In fact, he still had his own tucked away somewhere. Of course, he only held onto it for the sake of it being an antique rather than a weapon to use. The elevator reached the third floor and Logan walked her to her unit down the hall.
"I can't thank you enough for helping me back there, James. Why don't you come over for dinner tomorrow?"
Logan raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you want to invite someone like me over?"
"Please, you just risked your life to save mine. I think I can trust you." She grinned.
"As much as I would love to, I've actually got some work that needs to get done." He had missed his chance to meet the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, and therefore had to work harder to find her before Carlisle's deadline.
"I'm sure you can make time for dinner."
He sighed, finding himself unable to politely refuse her generous offer. "Alright, but I can't stay for more than an hour." They bade farewell to each other and Logan climbed a flight of steps to return to his own unit. After bolting the door behind him, he grabbed the bottle of butabarbital that was sitting on the counter. He began to head over to his bedroom when he remembered the cookies that were still on the kitchen counter. Realizing that he hadn't eaten anything since lunch, he took a handful with him into his bedroom.
After finishing his fifth cookie, he placed the pill bottle on his nightstand and took his shirt off to assess its damage. As expected, there was a small circular tear where the bullet had penetrated. Thankfully, Ida hadn't noticed the hole nor the stain around it. He tossed the ruined, dark button-up onto the floor and made a mental note to toss the garment in the morning. It had been a mentally exhausting day, and even now he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was very wrong about his assignment. To top it all off, he had missed what was most likely his only opportunity to find the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.
He swapped his jeans for sweatpants and fell into his unmade bed with a sigh. What was he going to tell Carlisle? The man was unpredictable at best, and the possibility of him knowing about Lawrence made Logan's blood run cold. He ran a hand over his face and squeezed his eyes shut. He would never forgive himself if the very actions that Lawrence despised led to him getting hurt, or worse. Rolling over onto his side, he grabbed the bottle of butabarbital and took three. As he closed his eyes, his thoughts faded into static and sleep came over him.
The day started for Logan around six in the morning. After getting dressed, he made himself a quick pot of coffee and then began his search for the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. His search started in Manhattan before driving through the lower end of Brooklyn. When he hadn't seen any sign of June, he drove through Long Island all the way up to East Hampton. It was almost three in the afternoon when he finally decided to end his search for her. He had practically driven through every street in Long Island and had found nothing. He rested his arm on the doorframe and fidgeted with his hair. If he didn't find her before Friday, this would be his first time returning to Carlisle empty handed. He smoked his fourth cigar for that day as he drove down Route 25 heading west towards Brooklyn.
It was four-thirty by the time he had returned to his apartment complex. Seeing that he had some time to spare before he joined Ida for dinner, he decided to stop by Lawrence's flat on the first floor. When he arrived at his door, he hesitated before finally knocking.
"Lawrence? You in there?" Hearing no answer, Logan knocked harder. Worse-case scenarios began to creep into his mind and he toyed with the idea of busting down the door. The sound of shuffled footsteps finally sounded from behind the door and he forced his tense muscles to relax.
"The hell man, can't a guy nap in peace?" Lawrence muttered as he opened the door.
He shrugged. "I thought maybe this month's payment would make your sleep more restful."
"Sleep isn't ever restful with you around." He rubbed his face as he stepped aside. "Come on in."
Logan shook his head. "I can't this time."
"Why? Do you have a certain prescription that you have to take?" Lawrence asked dryly.
Logan ignored the comment. "Believe it or not, Ida invited me over for dinner tonight because I stopped some muggers from robbing her." He then held out the wad of cash that was in his pocket. "This is yours."
Lawrence stared at the cash with jaded eyes and didn't move.
"Are you gonna take it or what?"
"Not today. I'm still mad that you're back on those damn drugs."
"Are you seriously turning down cold, hard cash because of that?" Logan scoffed.
"Yeah, because I'm trying to prove a point." He retorted. "I care more about your life than the damn money."
Logan swore under his breath and shoved the money back into his pocket. "You're ridiculous."
"I'm not the one doing drugs and playing mercenary because I'm depressed and shell-shocked, but God forbid I talk about it."
"You know what? Fuck you, Lawrence." He retorted as he stalked down the hallway.
"I'm only being an ass because I care!" He called after him. Logan ignored him and rounded the corner to call an elevator. He arrived at the third floor and made his way over to Ida's apartment. Still heated from his conversation with Lawrence, he paused and calmed himself with a deep breath before knocking on the door. She answered the door soon after and smiled up at him.
"Welcome James, I'm glad you could make it!" He thanked her and followed her inside. The furnishings of her unit were modest, but the place was still warm and inviting. On the windowsill sat multiple plants and, on the walls hung paintings that varied in cubism to impressionism.
"Did you paint these?" He asked.
"No, I bought them from some local artists. Someone has to support them." She replied before a knock sounded at the door. "I wonder who that could be."
As she went to answer the door, Logan took a step closer to the culturally rich paintings. Ida's surprised shout captured his attention and he whirled around to see her embracing another woman who seemed to be in her mid-thirties.
"What a pleasant surprise! I thought you lived out by Midtown now. Isn't that almost an hour away?" She asked.
"A little less than that, but you're worth the trip. And I was in town for work." The other woman replied.
"James, this is my granddaughter, June. She'll be joining us for dinner." The two of them exchanged an equally confused stare, each for their own reasons. Logan could hardly believe his eyes. June was a fairly common name, but the woman's ebony hair and heart-shaped face matched the photograph perfectly. His stomach turned as the implications of his situation dawned on him. June gave her grandmother a questioning, but concerned, stare.
"Did you invite him?"
Ida nodded. "He helped me fend off a few muggers."
"Did you now, James?" June asked as her rich brown eyes bore into his.
He pulled himself out of his brief shock and nodded. "I did, but you should have seen your grandmother. She sent one guy running like hell."
"I believe it." She grinned.
"I'm going to finish up dinner, it'll only take about two more minutes." Ida said as she made her way towards the kitchenette.
"Do you need any help?" June asked.
"Hun, you just rest. There's not much left to help with, anyway." Ida called. June turned back to Logan, squared her shoulders, and walked over to him.
"Alright, what do you want from her?" She demanded.
Logan raised his hands in defense. "I don't want anything; I swear. Your grandmother insisted I join her for dinner after helping her out. That's all."
June inspected him with drawn eyebrows before pointing a finger at him. "I'll buy your story for now. But if you ever try to hurt her, you'll find yourself six feet under the ground and no one will find you. Is that clear?"
"Crystal," he replied. Without another word, she walked towards the small kitchen. Logan followed her and began to help set the mahogany table. Once they were all seated, Ida said grace and they began to serve themselves. While Ida and June started a conversation, Logan's mind was preoccupied with the current situation at hand. Here he was, casually dining with his target, who so happened to be the granddaughter of his downstairs neighbor. The very same neighbor whose life he saved the other day. While he was unable to shake the tightness growing in his chest, he couldn't help but enjoy the family dinner he was partaking in. The normalcy of the moment was unfamiliar. The hand that he had been dealt in life made these experiences far and few between. He hadn't felt this sense of community since he was deployed in Vietnam, and before that when he and Lawrence had been roommates after the Korean War. Dining with Ida and June reminded him how he missed the comradery he'd once shared with others. Unfortunately, he didn't have the luxury to fully enjoy the evening. There was a deadline that he had to meet, and he had to figure out how to discreetly let June know he was her contact while he could. Logan's thoughts were interrupted when Ida finally addressed him.
"You know, James, I don't think I've asked what you do for a living."
"I work as a temp, so I fill in a variety of positions depending on the job." He answered as he forced a small smile. "I was actually supposed to meet someone the other day for a government related position, but I couldn't make it." He glanced up at June and locked eyes with her for a brief moment.
"What a coincidence! June works for the government, too. Maybe she can put in a good word for you."
"Gram, there are many different government agencies and bureaus. It's highly unlikely that he's temping for the same thing that I do."
"She's right, the position I applied for merely dealt with securing and delivering classified information." He said. By now, he could tell that she had connected the dots.
"If that's the case, perhaps your temp job is in fact connected to my field of work." She replied. "Do you have a resumé put together?"
"I don't." He replied, catching her drift.
"That's fine, I can help you build one. Let's meet at the corner diner tomorrow at noon."
"Works for me."
"June has excellent writing skills! I doubt anyone will turn you down once she's put something together." Ida added.
She smiled at her. "Gram, you're too kind."
"It's the truth." Their interaction made Logan smile. June and Ida were clearly close. If he was reading them right, Ida was like a mother to her. When Logan finished his meal, he stood and stacked June and Ida's empty dishes onto his own.
"You're a guest, James. Let me do that." Ida insisted.
"It's the least I can do after the wonderful meal you made." He took them to the sink and began to wash them. "When Lawrence and I shared a flat, we had a rule that the cook shouldn't end up with the dishes."
"I think I like that rule!"
"I'm surprised that you even know how to wash dishes." June quipped.
"It's one of my many talents." He replied sarcastically.
"While you're taking care of the dishes I'm going to watch the news." Ida chuckled as she left the small kitchen. June waited until she heard the television come to life in the other room before walking over to Logan. She leaned against the off-white laminate countertop to his left where Logan sensed her trying to read him.
He paused washing the dishes to return her stare. "What?"
"How did you know that I was the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent you were supposed to meet yesterday?" She asked. The question took him off guard and he tried to think of a credible answer. Much to his dismay, he couldn't think of one at the moment.
"Can't we talk about this tomorrow?" He asked as he began washing the cutlery.
"No, I want to know that I can trust you."
"Word to the wise, you really shouldn't trust anyone. Especially as someone in your line of work."
"Please, I'm not naïve. You're trying to avoid the question."
She had hit the nail on the head, but Logan couldn't let her know that. "Look, I'll tell you everything tomorrow. It's been a long day."
"Right," June picked up a dish towel and began drying some dishes, "let's see if you'll answer this question instead. What was it like fighting in the Second World War, James? Or should I call you Logan? Unless, you actually prefer being called the Wolverine." The string of questions startled Logan and his hand slipped on the knife he was washing. The knife sliced deep into his palm and he swore. A smug grin pulled at June's lips and she crossed her arms, intently watching his skin heal. Logan turned to face her, his anger flaring.
"How the fuck do you know about that?" He snapped quietly.
"S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't oblivious to your existence. Although what you're doing with it as of late, we're not too sure of." She replied nonchalantly. "I've studied your file before, so I recognized you the second I stepped through the door. Although, I didn't think the Wolverine, of all people, would be my contact."
"What else do you know?"
"Hm, I think we should talk about this tomorrow. It's been a long day." She replied, mimicking his reply from earlier. He clenched and unclenched his fists, suddenly feeling cornered and vulnerable. The only mild comfort he could find was that it sounded like she didn't know about his true 'profession'.
"Are you two done with those dishes yet? Last time I checked, we didn't feed the whole apartment." Ida called from the living room. June flashed a smile at Logan before she joined her grandmother in the living room. He glared at her and then cleaned up the remaining blood in the sink and what remained of the dishes. Logan placed the dishes on the drying rack and then headed towards the door.
"As much as I'd love to stay Ida, I've got some errands that I need to get done. Thanks for dinner." He said.
"Of course, have a good night James."
"You too," Logan exited the unit and descended the steps two at a time. His breathing quickened as he exited the stairwell. A weight suddenly made itself at home on his chest and he found himself unable to shake it. Its icy grip caused his heart to stutter and all at once he was both hot and cold. He arrived at Lawrence's door and knocked loudly. As he waited, he closed his eyes and tried to focus on slowing his breathing. He heard the door swing open and reopened his eyes. Lawrence took one look at Logan's expression and immediately recognized that something wasn't right.
"What's the matter?"
"Do you have a minute?"
His eyes looked him over before he stepped aside. "Looks like you need more than just a minute." Logan thanked him and entered the dimly lit flat. Lawrence closed and bolted the door before walking over to where he was now standing. Logan simply stared out the window for a minute. His arms were crossed over his chest and his chin rested on his fist.
"Did tonight's dinner not go well?" Lawrence asked. When he didn't respond, he cupped a hand over his mouth. "Earth to Logan, come in Logan, over."
"I need to come clean about the latest job I accepted." He finally said as he turned away from the window. His friend's amusement from his own joke faded. "I was hired to off someone."
"Not something I'd condone but go on."
"I found out tonight that the target is Ida's granddaughter, June."
The color drained from Lawrence's face and he swallowed. "You're not going to kill her, are you?"
"I don't know yet, but she works for a government agency that knows about me." He replied. Lawrence slowly took a seat on his teal mid-century couch as Logan watched the weight of his words sink in.
"What…what do you mean they know about you?"
"They know that I'm a mutant, that I go by Logan, and that I fought in the Second World War before working with Team X. Other than that, I'm not sure. They have a whole file on me."
"I—I don't know how to get you out of this one Logan." Lawrence let out a shaky sigh as he ran a hand through his sandy hair. "You need to get out of here, go back to Canada, and start over."
"I can't, not while I have unfinished business with Carlisle." Logan took a seat beside him. "I meet with June tomorrow at noon. As far as I know, she thinks I'm only passing information about the adamantium that I transported two days ago."
"What the hell is adamantium?"
"One of the strongest metals in the world, apparently. It was in that briefcase that ran for twenty grand."
"Right,"
Logan closed his eyes and sank into the couch. The two of them sat in silence and he waited for Lawrence to lecture him. To his surprise, the lecture never came. He then recalled why he had maintained a strong friendship with him after the landmine incident in Korea. While Lawrence wasn't afraid to challenge him, he was also sympathetic and knew when to hold his tongue. Logan knew the latter about him from the start when he had promised to take his secret to the grave. The sound of the television turning on brought his mind back to the present and he opened his eyes. He chuckled when he recognized the show as Hogan's Heroes.
"Man, I haven't watched this since I first came back from Vietnam."
"I thought you could use a laugh or two right about now." Lawrence smiled as he turned the volume up.
He sighed and looked over at him, the light of the television flickering against his sharp features. In his opinion, he didn't deserve Lawrence's friendship and loyalty. It blew his mind how despite his rough edges and outbursts, his friend was still willing to take the time to comfort him. Guilt gnawed at him as he reflected on his reckless and hurtful behavior since returning to the states.
"I'm sorry for how I've been acting towards you since I came back. I've been a complete ass." Logan said after a while.
"You haven't really talked about what you witnessed over there, but I know that Korea was hell for both of us. From what I've seen on the news, and what little you've told me, Vietnam wasn't much better." He paused. "I also know I don't need to tell you how right I was about this mercenary gig of yours. Regardless, I sincerely hope that this all gets sorted out somehow. You're welcome to crash here for the night."
"Thanks, Lawrence."
"That's what friends are for."
Friends. Hearing the word coming from his mouth was reassuring. Oftentimes, he wondered if Lawrence valued their friendship as much as he did. Moments like this helped quiet the doubts that tried to convince him otherwise.
It wasn't long before Logan had fallen asleep on the couch. His soft snoring reached Lawrence's ears and soon after he noticed a weight on his shoulder. Looking down, he saw Logan's head pillowed on his shoulder. He couldn't help but smile at the sight. It was rare to see this side of his friend. Logan wore a tough almost impenetrable façade, but Lawrence had learned over the years that while deeply hidden, there was a softer side to him. A part of him wished he could see more of this side of Logan. A man who wasn't so stoic and hesitant to reveal what lay beneath the surface. Lawrence knew that while Logan had let him in, there was still an iron curtain that kept him from understanding more of who he was and what he had been through.
After a while, he turned off the television and briefly considered staying by his side the rest of the night. Perhaps some company would help him sleep easy. Yet thinking back to his previous experiences, he decided against it. In the past, Logan had abused barbiturates to relieve his flashbacks and nightmares. His relapse gave every indication that he was suffering from them once again. Lawrence knew firsthand how volatile and violent they could make him, and he concluded it would be unwise to stay by his side. He scooted forward and as he eased his shoulder free, he guided Logan down with gentle hands as he slumped to his side, filling the space behind him. Being careful not to wake his sleeping friend, he slowly rose from where he was sitting and retired to his bedroom for the night.
