Logan wiped the dripping sweat from his brow as he trod lightly through the lush forest. The humidity was almost suffocating, and the shade provided by the forest was a small mercy. He examined the canopy above them. There were no birds to be seen nor heard, and even the whispers of insects were barely audible. He paused, adjusting his grip on the M2 Carbine in his hands. Something wasn't right. He glanced at Lawrence who was standing to his right and saw that he had done the same. Just shy of seven feet away their point man, McKay, had stopped and signaled for them to stand back. Logan held his breath and scanned the forest.
"It's too quiet." His soft whisper sounded like thunder to his own ears. Lawrence nodded, clearly on edge. While he'd hardly known the man for more than three months, he could read him like an open book. Logan's stare flicked over to where McKay was standing. As he took a step forward, Logan's eyes widened as he saw the faint outline of a landmine. He only had a split second to react. With a cold and quick calculation, he realized that there was nothing he could do for McKay. The mine hadn't detonated, but in Logan's mind he was already gone. Without hesitation, he turned to his right and shoved Lawrence to the ground. He landed hard on the grass with a grunt and Logan swiftly covered his body with his own. A deafening explosion quickly followed suit and Lawrence immediately curled into a ball beneath him. Black smoke filled the air in thick clouds. Logan's ears rang from the blast and the copper smell of blood and gunpowder assaulted his senses. As the moment passed, the searing pain set in from the shrapnel that had sunk into his back. He grimaced as he lifted himself high enough off the ground to let Lawrence slide out from underneath him. Both of them coughed from the sooty air.
"James? Are you okay?" He asked. His eyes were red from the smoke and his fear mixed with the other smells that lingered in the air.
"I'll be fine." He groaned as he remained doubled over in pain.
"We need to get you back ASAP, you're seriously injured! Your back is…it's…"
"I said I'll be fine, now just give me a damn minute!" He snapped. Lawrence's eyes settled on the broken flesh that had been exposed by Logan's torn shirt. After a closer look, his jaw dropped as he realized that his body was healing and working out the lodged pieces of metal.
"Holy shit, you're one of them. You're a mutant."
As his back finished healing, Logan sat up and locked eyes with him. "If you tell them I swear—"
"Tell them?" Lawrence looked offended by the suggestion. "Who says I'm telling anyone? You saved my life. I owe it to you to take your secret with me to the grave."
Logan eyed him, his brow furrowed in confusion. Despite his currently overloaded senses, he could still tell that the man in front of him was telling the truth. "You'd really do that?"
Lawrence nodded as he rose to his feet and offered him a hand up. "As much as I'd like to ask you a million questions, we've got to get out of here. There's no doubt they heard that explosion."
He took his hand and then glanced at McKay's remains. "Stay here." Watching his step, he cautiously went over to what was left of the corpse and retrieved the dog tags. As the ringing in his ears began to cease, he heard the sound of faint footsteps in the distance. He swore under his breath and turned back to Lawrence.
"We've got to go now!" He ordered. The sound of gunfire followed, and they began to run. As they ran, the trees began to change into towering buildings and Logan slowed to a stop. They were suddenly in an alley, their army uniforms replaced by civvies. Lawrence stopped and turned to face him. He was saying something, but Logan couldn't hear him. Confused, he began to walk towards his friend. A single gunshot rang through the alley, a different caliber this time and semi-automatic. He flinched before stopping dead in his tracks. Lawrence dropped to the ground, blood pooling on the asphalt below him. Every part of him wanted to run to his friend, but it was as if he was frozen in place. All he could do was gape at the sight.
"I warned you about double-crossing me." Carlisle said as he appeared in front of him. He then raised his pistol at Logan, who clenched his fists and released a feral snarl.
The sound of an air horn jerked Logan out of his dream. He jolted upright, fists flying up into a guard position with a sharp snikt. His eyes darted around the room, partly searching for Carlisle as he tried to understand where he was. His damp shirt clung to his body and the pounding of his heart thrummed through his head. A moment later he realized that he was no longer in the horrific dream but instead in a familiar apartment. Logan stared at his clenched fists. The bony protrusions had extended on their own, his instinct taking over before he could even think. With a shaky breath, he sheathed his claws.
"That was quite a nightmare." Lawrence said. His voice startled him, and he whipped his head around to see him standing back at a safe distance. He set the air horn down on a nearby shelf and Logan recognized it from when he used to live with him. "When did they start coming back?"
He rested his sweat drenched brow in his hand and focused on slowing his breathing. "They never left."
"That's why you take the barbiturates, isn't it?" When Logan didn't respond, he continued. "Was your nightmare about what happened last night?"
"Yes and no," he looked up at him, "listen, I appreciate what you're trying to do but I'd rather not talk about it right now."
"I figured you'd say that." he replied as he walked back into the kitchen. It was then that Logan noticed the smell of something burning combined with instant coffee and the sound of it percolating. He watched Lawrence pop the toaster and toss a charred bagel into the trashcan.
"Sorry about your bagel."
"It's only a bagel, I'm just glad you didn't gut the couch." He replied with one of his carefree grins. "Nice bedhead by the way."
Logan rolled his eyes and smoothed his disheveled hair by running his hand through it. "What time is it?"
"Ten in the morning,"
"I need to get going." He sighed as he rose to his feet and stretched.
Lawrence cringed as he heard his joints pop. "You're going to tell me how it goes, right?"
"Sure, but if you don't hear from me by tomorrow assume that I'm dead, or worse."
"That's not funny." He huffed.
"I wasn't trying to be." He closed the door after him and ascended the steps until he reached the fourth floor. He then entered his apartment and discarded his clothes before heading for the shower. Knowing that he had an hour or so to get ready, he took his time and simply stood under the showerhead and closed his eyes. The relaxing sensation of the warm water hitting his skin helped wash away the remnants of his nightmare. He sighed as the vivid images of his dream eventually faded. He would need to play his cards right if he wanted to avoid the horrific scenario he'd dreamt of. It wasn't going to be easy, but it was possible.
He shut off the water, styled his hair back, and dressed himself in a patterned button-up and jeans. As he rolled up his sleeves, he glanced at his watch. Shrugging on his leather jacket, he exited his flat and went down the stairs. The sky was overcast, and an autumn breeze greeted him as he stepped outside. He strode down the sidewalk where he passed a man in a wheelchair. The man, who Logan assumed to be homeless, had a ragged appearance and was holding a sign that read 'Vietnam vet, please help'. He paused, pulled two fifties from his jacket, and handed them to the man. A familiar twinge of guilt ran through his chest as the man thanked him profusely and accepted the cash. His mutant abilities were both a blessing and a curse, but he was convinced it was mostly the latter. There was no question that he would've been in the same predicament without his healing factor. Giving the stranger some change to help him survive a life he didn't ask for was the least he could do. The veteran thanked him, and Logan gave him a respectful nod before he continued walking.
The diner, also known as Tom's, was only three blocks away and it didn't take long for him to reach it. Logan pushed open the glass door and stepped inside the small, but crowded, restaurant. He searched the diner for June and found her sitting in a booth closer to the back. Her eyes flicked up from the menu in her hands and she waved him over. He hesitated as he checked his surroundings for anything, or anyone, suspicious. To say Logan's trust wasn't easily earned was an understatement, and his exchange with June from the day before had him more on edge than usual. There was no way to tell where her knowledge of his past started and where it ended. Once he was satisfied that there was no threat, he walked over and took a seat across from her.
"Look, Logan, before we get into this I want to clarify that my intention isn't to turn your life upside down. You've got to understand that I've received too many death threats to even count. There are people who want me dead for a number of reasons, and I have no choice but to be extra careful." She held out her hand. "Mind if we start over?"
He narrowed his eyes and stared at her hand before finally shaking it.
"However," she held up a single finger, "my threat from yesterday still stands if you make one wrong move."
"That's fair." He replied. "Although if you find out how to kill me for good, let me know."
She ignored his comment and picked up her menu. "Are you going to order anything?"
"Do they serve alcohol?"
She squinted at him. "No,"
"That's a damn shame." He sighed as he read through the breakfast options.
"Guess I'll have to add that to your file."
"Add what?"
"Alcoholic," she grinned. He glared at her in response as he turned over his coffee mug. A waitress with voluminous, brown curls came over and they gave her their orders. She then poured some coffee in Logan's mug before helping another table.
"So, how'd you come across the adamantium that's been going around." June asked.
"I was at a bar when some drunk started to brag about the money he'd made on a job. Said someone paid him twenty grand. Of course, that caught my attention and after smooth talkin' the guy a bit to boost his ego, he told me every little detail he knew."
"Why were you interested? I know you didn't do it out of the goodness of your heart."
"Twenty grand isn't chump change. I wanted to know how he earned so much in one night."
"Who's buying?"
"The guy said he wasn't given the name of the client."
"I don't believe that." June replied as she crossed her arms.
"Listen, that's how these things work. You do the job and get paid; the rest is irrelevant."
"Alright, so who employed him?"
Logan covered his hesitation by taking a sip of his coffee. To get her to trust him, he concluded that he had to give her at least a kernel of truth. "Carlisle."
June leaned forward, her eyebrows knit tightly together. "That lousy bastard is involved in all this?"
"Please don't make me repeat myself." He replied. "The guy said that another deal may happen again this week." The waitress brought over their food and Logan realized how hungry he was. While he ate, June was deep in thought. Her eyes then lit up and the wide smile that graced her lips made Logan suspicious.
"That's it! We'll have you deliver the adamantium so we can get some answers."
Logan almost choked on his food as his fork clattered onto the plate. "What?"
"Come on, you did worse things in the early 60s. This should be a walk in the park for you." June scoffed.
"First of all, that was with Team X. Second, what's in it for me?"
June shrugged. "I could redact sensitive information from your files."
He considered the tempting offer as he chewed his food. "If I'm going to do this, I need to see those files first."
"I figured I'd need them as an incentive, so I brought them with me. Although I'm sure we can both agree that here is not the best place to look them over." She said as she began to enjoy her meal. He nodded and then stared at his half-finished omelet. The implications of possibly agreeing to be a double agent made him lose his appetite. Carlisle was just one man, but he had eyes and ears all over New York. There was no telling what would happen if word of this reached him. Without warning, a tightness settled in his chest and disrupted the rhythm of his breathing. He closed his eyes and forced himself to take a deep, steadying breath. June stopped eating the eggs on her plate and watched him with concern.
"Logan? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine." He replied firmly, and maybe a little too quickly, as he gave her a look.
She wasn't convinced. "Have you seen anyone about what you're going through?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Your PTSD, have you sought help?"
He glared at her. "I don't have PTSD."
"I think you do, and you know it. The anger and irritability? The anxiety? You're trying to use alcohol to cope, but it's not working." Her gentle and sincere tone threw him off.
"Maybe I'm just an asshole who likes his liquor, have you considered that?" He retorted.
"Trust me, I did. But according to your file, you've been in three horrific wars."
"Four," he corrected, "I've been in four."
"Exactly my point. Have you even talked to anyone about them and what you saw? The horrific things you experienced?" She asked. Logan picked up his fork and toyed with the omelet on his plate.
"I have a friend who was in the same platoon during Korea." He finally replied.
"But have you talked about it?" She insisted as she resumed eating her meal.
He felt his fist clench on its own, a bad habit of his. Or just animal instincts, really. A fight or flight response. Logan could feel his frustration escalating, and he couldn't tell if it was directed towards her or himself. "Why the hell do you care? Yesterday you were threatening me, and now you're worried about my mental health?"
Her warm, brown eyes met his. "Let me tell you something about my grandmother. She's seen and been through a lot. For as long as I can remember, she's had an incredible knack for reading people. In fact, she could've been a great agent for S.H.I.E.L.D., but as a woman of color that wasn't going to happen during her time. Logan, she had every reason in the damn book to avoid you. Yet, she chose to bake you a batch of cookies and then invited you over for dinner. She sees something in you, and that's enough of a reason for me to look past your unpleasant façade."
Logan remained silent. He had hardly known this woman for a day and she was already able to see through most of him. Her skill and tact were disarming, and he wasn't sure if it was the PTSD that made him more transparent, or if she was simply as talented as her grandmother was at reading people. Granted, she had a whole file on him to help her, but it was obvious that there were a few personal details of his that she had worked out herself. He drank the rest of his coffee, debating on what to say next and how much information he should give her.
"Be careful who you trust at work, June."
"Why? What do you know?" She asked.
"Remember that guy at the bar that I mentioned?"
"The one that you sweet-talked?"
"Smooth-talked." He corrected with narrowed eyes. "He mentioned that you have a rat infestation, if you catch my drift."
She leaned back against the booth and took a moment to soak in the new information. "Did he mention any names?" Logan shook his head and she sighed. "One last question, how did you know that I was the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent you were supposed to meet?"
"How did I know?" He stalled by forcing himself to take a bite of his omelet. As he chewed, he quickly racked his brain for something believable. "The agent who told you about me was at that same bar. Originally, he had planned to talk to the guy himself, but I got in the way. He talked with me afterwards and convinced me to relay the information I'd gathered to you. He gave me your name and showed me a photo of you." Much to his relief, she seemed satisfied with his answer. Logan set his silverware down and the waitress came back and picked up the dishes. He signaled to her that he had the check before she left their table.
"You really don't have to do that." June said.
"Old habits die hard." He replied.
She eyed him. "When you say old, how old are we talking? With your regenerative ability, you don't look a day over thirty."
Logan raised an eyebrow but decided to humor her. "I'm almost ninety."
She raised her eyebrows in surprise, mulled it over, and then shrugged to herself. "Makes sense."
"Thanks," he huffed sarcastically. The waitress came over with the tab and he handed her enough cash to cover it with a sufficient tip. "Let's get outta here."
He slid out of the booth and June shouldered her purse as she followed suit. When he stepped outside, he noticed that the skies had started to clear. The turning leaves rustled against each other and Ida zipped up her coat as she came up beside him.
"I take it you walked here?" She asked.
"Yep,"
"Is it alright if I walk back with you? I parked my car by your apartment complex."
He nodded, and they began to walk down the street. Logan's eyes caught an alleyway up ahead and he frowned, remembering the agreement he had made with Carlisle. His words from two days ago replayed in his mind as the images from his nightmare resurfaced. The alley drew nearer, and its shadows called to the worst parts of him, drawing him closer. In the back of his mind, dark thoughts insisted that this would be his only chance to fulfill his task. It was now or never. As they came upon the alley, Logan stopped.
"Mind if we take a shortcut?" He asked.
She hesitated, her eyes studying the alley before returning to him. "Not at all."
He began to walk between the two brick buildings, but after a few paces he realized she wasn't following him. He paused and looked over his shoulder. "Are ya coming or not?"
She lingered at the edge of the alley for a moment before she nodded and walked over to his side. "Sorry, I'm just used to avoiding alleyways."
The farther they walked down the alley, the more his heartrate increased. He kept his eyes fixed on the light at the other end, trying to muster up the motivation to follow through. However, his hands were like two cement blocks inside his jacket pockets. Part of his mind screamed for him act now and to get it over with. Another pleaded for him to disregard Carlisle. He rolled his shoulders and scowled, frustrated by his conflicting feelings. He didn't understand why he was having so much difficulty with this assignment. Other than the tail end of his time with Team X, he had never experienced such an internal dichotomy. It was a battle between his instincts and ideals, self-preservation against moral principles. The end of the alley was approaching quicker than he liked, and he took in a steadying breath. All he had to do was stab her once. A mere slice of the carotid or axillary artery would be enough. If he chose not to, he would be accepting his role as S.H.I.E.L.D.'s double-agent while risking the safety of both himself and Lawrence. He closed his eyes, cleared his mind, and made a decision.
June glanced at him. She could sense the change in his demeanor and she fidgeted with the sleeve of her coat. "Logan? Are you alright?"
"Peachy," he replied dryly. Logan opened his eyes again as they emerged from the alley and stepped out into the open. He sighed, accepting the choice he had made. There would be no turning back from this point. The rest of the walk to the apartment complex was no more than a blur to him, his mind swimming with the implications of his choice. As they neared the entrance of the apartment, he was pulled back into the present when June rested her hand on his arm. Logan looked down at her hand and couldn't help but notice how small it looked compared to his forearm.
"Hey, are you sure you're okay with taking that job? You've been off ever since we left the diner."
His gaze flicked up to hers, noticing the sincerity in her eyes, and nodded. "I'm your best bet at tracking down the adamantium."
"That doesn't mean you're obligated to help. You're not an agent."
"I can handle it."
"Do you even know where to find Carlisle?" She asked.
"Don't worry about it. I'll get the job." He insisted. "However, I do want to see those files first." June nodded, and they entered the apartment lobby.
They reached his apartment and he unlocked the door. She walked in after him and assessed the unit. The few furnishings that he had were clearly secondhand and the walls were bare. From what she gathered, he had either just moved in or didn't care for aesthetics. She took off her coat and draped it over the couch. "Did you move into this unit recently?" She asked, deciding to err on the side of caution.
Logan paused clearing his small dining table and cocked an eyebrow. "I've been here for almost a year."
"Oh," she scratched her arm, "sorry." June walked over to Logan and set her purse on the table. She pulled out a manila folder and placed it in front of him. The papers stacked inside the file were about half an inch thick altogether.
"Is this all there is?" He asked as he discarded his jacket and hung it on the chair beside him.
"You sound surprised."
"I thought it would be thicker."
"Well, S.H.I.E.L.D. has barely been around for thirty years. Did you really think they'd have your whole life story?"
He shrugged. "I usually expect the worst." Logan took a deep breath and saw that the file was labeled as 'James (Logan) Howlett, The Wolverine'. He opened the folder to the first page that had a brief description of him with a photo. Most of the details, such as his date of birth, were left blank. His eyes settled on the photo of him and he swallowed. It was a monochromatic picture of him in his World War Two uniform. He was smiling with a cigar in one hand and playing cards in the other. His fingers traced along the space outside of the photo, noticing how the two other soldiers who had been playing Rummy with him had been cropped out. He lingered on the page. The two troops, brothers who went by Giles and Ryan, had been close friends of his. He had watched their service, as well as their lives, come to a violent end while storming Juno Beach on D-Day. The memory of that day and its grisly details resurfaced without warning. In his mind, he could hear the sound of whizzing bullets and the crump of mortar all too clearly. Logan cleared his throat and quickly turned the page with a trembling hand.
"What is it?"
"Nothing," he replied as he scanned the next page. June crossed her arms but let it go.
The more Logan read, the more he realized how little S.H.I.E.L.D. knew about him. They had been able to record the bigger moments in his life, but the finer details were lacking. When he reached the entry regarding his involvement in the Korean War, he was relieved to find no mention of Lawrence.
"See anything you'd like blacked out?" she asked.
"I haven't decided yet, but you're missing something." He replied as he pointed to the page that documented his time with Team X. The way it was written was ignorant at best, assuming the worst of mutants rather than acknowledging the corruption of the people who had started it.
"And what would that be?"
"Team X wasn't just a group of mutants out for blood that the government kept on a leash. It was the CIA's special black ops team and they wiped our memories after each mission, sometimes implanting new ones."
"That's awful, I thought it was a group you all joined voluntarily."
"It was, but they manipulated us." He squinted at a picture of a short-haired man in a military uniform. Logan guessed that he was in his late twenties and the cold smirk captured in the photo made his skin crawl. Beside it was another photo of a bald man with glasses who gave him the same disturbing vibe. "Who are these men?"
"William Stryker and Truett Hudson, aka Professor Thorton. There's some circumstantial evidence that connects them with Team X as well as the adamantium dealing we've been trying to track. Do you recognize either of them?"
Logan knitted his eyebrows together, tilted his head, and held the loose page closer. "I don't know." As a matter of fact, he couldn't trust his memories from that time. With all the mind wiping, he had lost track of what was true and what wasn't. Usually, he erred on the side of caution by only trusting memories that involved Lawrence during his years spent with Team X. Since no one affiliated with Team X knew he existed, Logan could trust that those memories had been left untampered. A familiar knock sounded at his door, disrupting his concentration.
"Door's unlocked," he called.
June raised her eyebrows. "You sure you want someone waltzing in here with these clandestine files out on display?"
"It's just Lawrence. What he knows would make these files look like a lousy CliffNotes summary." He assured. Lawrence entered the apartment and froze when he saw the two of them. His gaze flicked from Logan, to June, and then back to Logan. He then saw the papers spread out on the table and he ruffled his hair, a nervous habit of his.
"Care to explain what's going on, Logan?" He prompted tersely as he eyed June.
"Long story short, I'm helping June find out who's collecting the adamantium and where. In exchange, she's letting me erase sensitive information that S.H.I.E.L.D. has on me." He replied. Lawrence rubbed his face as he slowly exhaled. Logan could see the gears turning hard in his friend's head. He knew Lawrence was smart enough to connect the dots, and he didn't have to be a mind reader to know he had a dozen questions that he wanted to ask.
"Oh," he finally said. He then walked over to the table and held out his hand to June. "I'm Lawrence, by the way."
"June," she replied as she shook his hand. "How do you know Logan?"
"We were in the same platoon during the Korean War." He then picked up the stack of pages that Logan had finished reading. "Hey, this is a really good picture of you! I don't think I've seen you smile like this in years."
Logan ignored him as he finished reading the last page. His narrowed eyes flicked up to June. "This is bullshit."
"Excuse me?" She huffed.
He tossed the stack of papers onto the table and pulled a cigar from his pocket. "There's nothing worth redacting here. Sure, you know the agencies I've worked with, but nothing remotely jeopardizing." He lit his cigar, locking eyes with her. Of course, he was lying. He was simply laying out bait in hopes that she would bite. The fact that S.H.I.E.L.D. even had this much information about him was chilling. Everything he had worked for in order to preserve his secret was at their mercy. This was his chance to turn the tables.
"What are you saying?"
"I need a bigger incentive than just the crossing out of one or two paragraphs worth of information." He took a puff of his cigar and blew out the smoke. "I know where Carlisle is, and I can get that job. Hell, I'll lead you right to the men buying the adamantium. But only if I can keep every single page in this file."
"Wait, how do you know where Carlisle is?" She asked, her hands resting on her hips.
"I have my sources. Do we have a deal or not?"
She studied him with a wary expression. June had every right to be suspicious of him, but he knew his offer was too good for her to refuse. "Fine, I'll play your game, but only because this adamantium problem is bigger than you."
"I also want the original copy of this file. I know you've been doing this for a while and that you know better than to bring the original with you."
She took a deep breath through her nose and narrowed her eyes. "You're asking for a lot."
"You think asking me to get involved with Carlisle isn't?" He scoffed.
"I'll give you the original file, but only after you've completed the job and we have the intel we need." She took out a pen and a business card from her purse. She wrote down a number on the back of the card and handed it to him. "Here's my number. Call me when you have the details of where and when you'll be delivering the adamantium. You may be a pain in the ass, but we'll make sure your back is covered."
Logan pocketed the card. "Thanks,"
"I expect a call in forty-eight hours." She said, jabbing a finger into his chest. She then collected her belongings and nodded at Lawrence. "It was a pleasure meeting you." He returned the nod and she exited the apartment. The two of them waited in silence for a few minutes to make sure she was no longer within hearing distance.
"What the hell are you doing?" Lawrence demanded with wide eyes.
Logan took a seat and massaged his temple. "It's exactly what it looks like. You're smart, figure it out."
"You're seriously going to double-cross the one guy who has the city in the palm of his hand?"
"I couldn't just kill her!" He snapped as he withdrew his hand.
"For Pete's sake," Lawrence sat beside him and rested his head in his hands. "I'm not advocating for you to continue your gig with Carlisle, but to do something like this is completely insane! I mean, sure he can't kill you, but he could definitely keep you at the bottom of some river where we'll never find you."
"Would ya calm down? I'm only going to take the job, and then lead S.H.I.E.L.D. to the people buying the adamantium. Simple as that."
Lawrence lifted his head from his hands and stared at him. "And what will you tell Carlisle when he asks about June?"
He averted his eyes and continued to smoke his cigar.
"That's what I thought."
"I'll think of something." He grunted.
A thick silence settled between them. The click of a lighter caught Logan's attention and he looked over to find Lawrence lightly sucking on a cigarette as he held the flame to its end. After knowing him for ten years, he knew that his friend's smoking habit only showed when he was stressed. "You nervous?"
He let out a smoky gust of laughter as he put the lighter away. "Nervous? Nervous doesn't even begin to cover it. I swear you've added ten years on me."
Logan studied him as he took a long drag on his cigarette. Now that he had mentioned it, he could see the crow's feet that had begun to pull at the corners of his eyes and the stubble growing on his face was flecked with silver hairs. He scratched his beard and looked down at the papers spread out on the table. Seeing the paperwork in front of him put Lawrence's loyalty into perspective. After being around for almost a century, it was easy for him to forget the weight that two decades had on the average person. With a twinge of guilt, Logan knew his baggage only added to that weight. His hazel eyes shifted back to Lawrence who had pulled off his gray jumper and was currently rolling up the sleeves of his button-down.
"Why are you still friends with me?" Logan asked.
"You have a sparkling personality." He grinned.
"I'm serious."
He shrugged. "Someone has to keep you in check. I'm the only one who knows how and enjoys your company."
He raised an eyebrow. "You actually enjoy my company?"
"Only when you're not trying to be an asshole." Lawrence replied. Despite the insult, his tone was light and Logan couldn't help but chuckle.
"Thanks,"
"Don't mention it." He picked up the page with Logan's photo and inspected it. "Say, is that Rummy you're playing?"
"Yeah, we had lost our dice and couldn't play Craps."
"Do you have some time to play a few rounds?"
A wry smile formed around his cigar. "I always have time to beat your ass in Rummy."
"You certainly talk big for someone who has the worst luck. I'll get the beer if you get the cards." He smirked as he left the table. Logan rolled his eyes and fetched a pack of cards from the shelf of the coffee table.
A few hours later, they decided to call it quits when Logan had gained the upper hand by default. After three beers, Lawrence could no longer read his cards and, in his drunkenness, claimed that Logan was using his healing factor to cheat.
"This is why we can't have anything nice, Logan. You're a walking curveball." He slurred as he threw down his cards.
He laughed. "You're drunk."
"What's ya fuckin' point?"
Logan tried to hide his amusement at the sudden thickness of Lawrence's accent. "Careful, your Brooklyn roots are showin'."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever."
"I should've stopped you after your second beer. You're a damn lightweight and all the cigs you've smoked don't help." He said as he began to gather the cards. "I'm making you crash here for the night. You haven't been this drunk since our first night back from Korea, and I don't think it's a good idea to leave you alone."
He scrunched up his face. "Am I sleepin' on the couch? That thing is a cheap pain in the ass. You'd think with all that money in your pocket you'd buy some decent furniture."
"Fine," he rolled his eyes, "I'll sleep on the couch and you can have the bed."
"You have a queen, we could both sleep on the bed. No need to be a martyr." He suggested.
"And risk slicing you open in the middle of the night? I think I'll pass. I'm fine with sleeping on the couch, I just need to get a few things first."
"Like your drugs?"
He gave him a warning look as he got up from the table. "Don't be a dick."
"Am I wrong?" Lawrence asked. He wasn't, but Logan ignored him anyway and went into his room to change. When he finished, he pocketed two capsules of the barbiturate and hid the bottle between the mattress and the bed frame. He stepped away and examined the bed to make sure it was hidden. Content with his work, he re-entered the living room and made his way over to his friend. Lawrence had begun to drift off and the corner of Logan's mouth pulled up in a grin at the sight. He picked him up with ease and Lawrence grunted in protest as he was lifted from the chair and brought into the other room.
Logan lowered him onto the bed and pulled the covers over him. "Night, Lawrence." He said as he turned off the light. He then left the room and dropped onto the couch where he pulled out the two capsules from his pocket. His eyes lingered on his open hand. The teal pills were hot in his palm and he glanced at his bedroom door. He swore under his breath and placed them on the table. With Lawrence being as drunk as he was in the other room, he couldn't take the chance of something going wrong while having the sedative in his system. Even if it was a low dose. Letting out a sigh, he laid down on the couch and closed his eyes.
However, as tired as he was, sleep never came for him. Between listening for Lawrence's even breathing to make sure he was fine and recounting all that had occurred in the last twenty-four hours, he should have known sleep would be impossible. He tried nearly everything to calm his racing mind and he tossed and turned until it was three in the morning. Logan stared up at the ceiling. What had he gotten himself into? His reckless behavior wasn't anything new, but this was ridiculous even for him. With a huff, he grabbed the remote and turned on the television. He absentmindedly flipped through the channels until he stumbled upon M*A*S*H. He'd heard about the new show but had never been able to watch it. Then again, he didn't watch much TV in the first place. As the watched the show, his eyes would occasionally flit to his bedroom door and he'd mute the volume to make sure Lawrence was alright.
It wasn't until the sun was shining brightly through the shear curtains that he squinted at his watch. Reading that it was eight in the morning, he sat up and shut off the television. He ran a hand through his tousled hair and walked over to his bedroom door. He leaned against the doorframe and the corner of his mouth slid upwards in a half-smile. Lawrence's breathing was deep, and he had tucked one of his pillows underneath his arm. Being careful not to wake him, Logan changed into a black button-up and his jeans from the day before. He caught his reflection in a mirror and furrowed his brow. In all honesty, he looked like crap. Using his hands, he fixed his hair and used the shirt he slept in to wipe the oils off his face. Once his appearance was mildly presentable, he walked over to his table and shrugged on his jacket. The papers from yesterday were still strewn about its surface and he picked one up. Flipping it over, he used the pen that June had left and wrote a brief note to let Lawrence know he was going to visit Carlisle.
He breathed in the brisk November air as he exited the apartment complex and crossed the street to his parked car. The Mustang started with ease and he drove to Mike's bar where he knew he would find Carlisle. On the way there, he mulled over what he would say to him. His words had to be carefully chosen and precise in order to fool Carlisle. There was also the challenge of convincing him to let him transport more adamantium despite the fact that June was still alive. On the other hand, he could lie and claim that he had bumped her off. Although, while lying would be easier, it was undoubtedly riskier. If Carlisle found out, which was very likely, he would be out for blood. Telling the truth had its own risks, but there would certainly be less collateral damage.
He parked along the street and stepped into the bar. At this hour, Mike was the only person inside. He stopped buffing the counter and quirked an eyebrow at him.
"You're earlier than usual."
"Couldn't sleep." Logan replied as he walked over.
"Fair enough, Carlisle is in there with someone else at the moment so you're gonna have to wait."
"Anyone important?" He asked.
Mike shrugged. "Not particularly, but he does have valuable information."
"I'm sure he won't mind me waiting inside."
"You can wait out here while they do business." He countered as he poured some whiskey into a glass and set it on the counter. "Come on, it's on the house."
Logan muttered under his breath but complied. He'd have to be either insane or dead to turn down a free drink. Taking a seat at the counter, he waited and nursed his glass. He rarely had to wait to speak to Carlisle. Normally, people waited for him to finish. Sure, he had arrived unannounced, but normally that didn't matter. After all, he was known as his right-hand man. While the individual currently speaking with Carlisle wasn't necessarily important, he must have meant big money.
When he heard the door slide open, he turned and saw a dark-haired man enter the room. He breathed in his scent, catching a hint of something almost jarringly familiar. While there was the smell of printer ink and paper that hung on his clothes, it was the hint of gun oil and Kevlar that struck him as odd. A deep crease formed in his brow as the man straightened his tie. He soon noticed Logan's scrutinizing stare which caused him to jump ever so slightly. The micro expressions he noticed told him that the man was afraid of him, and the pounding of the stranger's heart betrayed the stony expression he used to mask it.
"What are you looking at?" He threatened.
"Just keep walking, bub."
The stranger's eyebrows pulled together, and he took an aggressive step towards him. "You want to run that by me again?"
"Hey! What's wrong with you? There's no fighting in my bar, so just get the fuck out!" Mike snapped. The man kept his eyes locked with Logan's for a moment longer before he finally turned away.
Logan smirked. "Like I said, keep walking." The man scowled at him before shoving the door open and he stalked off. Mike shook a finger at Logan and leaned over the counter.
"What's the matter with you? If I have to, I'll kick you and your damn mouth out too."
"Don't worry, Mikey. I'll take him from here." The two of them turned to see Carlisle smiling in the doorway of his private room. He rolled up the sleeves of his white button-down and smoothed his blue vest. "James, you're just the man I wanted to see today. Come on in."
He gave Mike a tip despite the free drink before following Carlisle into his private room. Looking around, he noticed that the only other person in the paneled room was Frank. He exchanged a curt nod with him as the doors behind him were shut. His attention returned to Carlisle who stood in the center of the dim room.
"I hope you came here with some good news for me." He said as he removed a cigarette from a silver case. "Did you take care of that S.H.I.E.L.D. agent for my client?"
He locked eyes with Carlisle. From this moment on, his conversation would have to be played with the tact of a chess player if he wanted to stay under the radar. "She never showed."
Carlisle narrowed his eyes as he placed the cigarette in his mouth. "What do you mean?"
"I looked up and down that whole damn street from four to nine, and there was no sign of her. I even searched Manhattan and Long Island the next day." He replied. Carlisle walked over to him, stopping when his face was just half a foot away. Logan knew better than to move despite the invasion of his personal space. This was all part of the game. Carlisle gestured to his unlit cigarette as his eyes bore into his. Swallowing his pride, Logan pulled his lighter from his pocket and held the flame to the cigarette's tip. With a smirk, he took a long drag on his cigarette and exhaled the smoke into his face. Logan wrinkled his nose as the foul, slow-moving cloud of smoke caressed his face.
"I have to say, I'm a little disappointed. They asked for the best, so I sent you. Yet, here you are empty handed."
"I didn't come here to throw in the towel."
"No? Then why did you come here?"
"I came to find out where I'm supposed to be for the next case of adamantium."
Carlisle's eyebrows lifted high and he let out a brittle laugh. "You're asking for another job when you haven't even completed the other? Do you take me for a fool? How do I know you're not a fucking rat?"
"I've pulled through on every job you've assigned. This S.H.I.E.L.D. agent is the outlier, not me." He countered. While he held his stony expression, his confidence in his cover story was starting to crumble. Carlisle had been in this business for nearly a decade, and there was a good chance that he would sniff out his duplicity.
His piercing eyes inspected Logan for a torturous amount of time. "I'm not convinced, but you have a point. I'll let you run that job tonight, but if you make one wrong move," he shrugged, "let's just say I'd hate for something…distasteful to happen to my favorite mercenary. Capisce?"
Logan gave a curt nod, refusing to give away the relief that washed over him.
"Good. Same time, same place. You'll pick up the briefcase at the same bar as last time in four hours." He stepped away and went over to his liquor tray that sat on a chestnut sideboard. "You have any close friends, Jimmy? People who you care about? People who you'd hate to see get hurt?"
Logan clenched his jaw as the blood drained from his face, the relief he felt quickly turning into alarm. "What do you think?"
"It seems to me that you prefer to be a lone wolf," he poured himself a shot of vodka, "but not everything is as it seems, is it?" A knock sounded on the door and Carlisle downed the liquor. "Now if you don't mind, I have other matters to attend to."
Frank's hand grabbed his shoulder and Logan shoved it away. "I can walk myself out."
