We set up in a rinky-dink little motel next to an almost-empty strip mall. The motel mirrors its surrounds, clean but faded and a bit run down. At least we have the clean part going for us, and a quick search on my phone as Logan checks us in confirms that both the Chinese place in the strip mall and a pizza shop down the road deliver. Now we have to figure out how to do breakfast and we'll be set.
Logan returns from the front office with the single, old-fashioned metal key. I expected this, of course. It isn't going to be a problem because one of us will be "on duty" at any given time while the other one sleeps, in case someone notices us and decides we're a problem they need to take out. That's even more likely for us than for Kitty and Piotr even though they will also be sharing a room. Someone might see me take off into the air at some point during my recon, and I can't afford to only do night flights.
"Our room is in the middle," Logan informs me.
Again, standard. Either end is more noticeable. No one pays as much attention to the rooms in the middle, especially not if two people are going in there and don't come out for a while. They'll jump to their own conclusions, which will suit us just fine.
"Got it," I acknowledge and toss him his duffel. He catches it with a grin and leads the way to our room.
It's small, although not too cramped which is a bit of a surprise. That's because the bed is a double, covered in the kind of scratchy blanket that seems to come with motels of this quality. The color is green, so at least they have a little taste, but they make up for that with the orange low-pile carpet and pictures of lurid yellow and orange flowers on the wall.
"Someone needs a new decorator," I sniff as I drop my duffel next to the single green chair in the room.
I'll try sitting in it later, but I can tell from looking at it that it'll be too stiff with very little padding to cushion the bones while we're on watch. The chair sits next to the wide window. Two layers of curtains, one opaque white that lets let filter in and the other a bizarre pattern that combines yellow, orange, and green, do their best to block out the rest of the world. Well, at least they can keep with a theme.
"You always say that."
He's right. I do.
"I can't help it if all these places used the same crappy decorator forty years ago."
I let a small whine creep into my voice to cover the sound of him opening his duffel. He takes out a little gadget that Hank invented and runs it along the walls. I know my line once he gets toward the window.
"How's the view?"
"Some factory across the street. Nothing great."
That's our place, then. I know he'll be able to see through the white curtains. Hell, I pretty much can even without enhanced eyesight. Calling them opaque was a bit generous.
Logan keeps moving around while I make some cover noises. I unzip my duffel and pulling out the hygiene kit that will let us avoid using the low-quality soap and shampoo that may not even be provided, plus it has a brush and some hair ties for me, several toothbrushes, and toothpaste. Always be prepared. I should have been a Boy Scout. Or do the Girl Scouts have a motto like that, too?
Shrugging the thought off, I take the kit into the bathroom and drop it on the sink with a loud clatter. The bathroom isn't much to look at. A single-sink vanity tucked up next to a toilet, all located across from a tub and a dingy vinyl shower curtain that's seen better days. Folded white towels grace a metal shelf that looks only half-anchored to the wall above the toilet.
"Charming," I mutter to myself. Logan chuckles from the bedroom.
I meander back out of the bathroom and plop onto the bed, making the springs squeak. Well, that would be awkward if we were here for what people will assume we're here for. Or maybe not. It's never seemed to bother any of our neighbors when we've been on similar ops, which has led to quite a few raunchy joke fests.
I grab the TV remote off of one of the two white night stands and point it toward the TV perched precariously on top of the white dresser across from the bed. Again I wonder at the choice of decorations. White hasn't done any favors for this room's appearance of cleanliness. But I suppose they need to offset all that color they've splashed around.
A news channel pops on too loudly, causing Logan and I to both wince even as he runs his little device along the opposite wall. I turn the sound down to an acceptable level that will still provide noise cover. Then I start to flip through the twenty available channels. Nothing seems interesting, so I switch it back to ESPN knowing that at some point something will come on to catch our attention.
Logan circuits the room as I watch. He runs the scanner over every inch of wall, the small mirror hanging on the wall next to the TV, and even the light fixtures including the tiny silver lamps on each night stand. Then he heads into the bathroom. He runs the water in the sink, but I know he's testing the walls, mirror, and light fixtures in there. I hope he doesn't forget the faucets, although those aren't usually prime targets.
"No bugs," he announces as he comes back into the room, and I relax a little.
"Good. How's the view of the factory?"
"We're able to see their loading docks, as promised. We're even at a good angle to see what they're loading into trucks instead of only the trucks themselves, thanks to the angle this motel sits at. Whoever found this for us did a good job." He takes position at the window again, looking out.
I nod. Chances were good it was Ororo. She's one of the best at finding good hideouts for us.
We lapse into silence. For once, it's not the normal, companionable quiet I'm used to around him. There's an edge I can't define, or maybe I don't want to. It's better to try and keep up our normal friendship right now, isn't it?
"So what's on TV?" he finally asks after staring out the window while I stare at the screen without paying much attention.
"Not too much. A badminton tournament. Not either of our thing, but other than that we've got sitcoms and dramas, and I know you hate both."
He nods and goes over to his bag laying on the floor. He puts away the bug detector and pulls out his tablet. That's a good idea, so I jump up to do the same. Unfortunately, I misjudge and jump right into his space as he straightens up. We're an inch apart, which I guess is better than if I had crashed into him while he was leaning over.
"Uh, I, uh, sorry," I stammer out. I rush away while he stares at me. I'm sure he thinks I'm acting like an idiot. I'm kind of surprised he hasn't said so.
I fumbled into my own duffel bag and pull out my tablet and charging cord. Of course, this room only has one outlet, and it's on the side of the bed he settles onto. So I put the cord onto the nightstand on the other side and climb onto the bed next to him.
"You gonna finally tell me what was up with Kitty?"
"Do you really want to know?"
"No, but you better tell me anyway."
I laugh. This isn't an unfamiliar conversation for us. I'm not sure if he remembers, though.
"Apparently, she's been seeing Piotr. Doesn't sound serious, at least not yet. But Bobby saw them kissing before they left for the mission."
"Didn't go well, huh?" He does the ironic eyebrow raise that looks so good on him while keeping his eyes on his tablet while it boots up. Oh, no, I didn't think that.
"Nope. Good news is that I don't think she's as mad at me for breaking up with Bobby anymore, and we may be able to go back to being friends again."
That caused him to turn and look at me. "What?"
I let out a bitter chuckle. "Since we'd been pretty stable for the last half year or so, she finally gave up on him and went for someone more attainable, I suppose. Although why she went for his best friend is something for a psychologist to examine."
He shares my laugh. We've talked about this before. With the cast of characters who inhabit the mansion, teachers and students alike, we would do well to have a full staff of psychologists on hand twenty-four seven. We mostly rely on Hank and, in a pinch, Jean to try and help us figure things out—when they aren't the stars of the drama themselves.
"She was blaming you for breaking things off with him for good, which set him free to come after her again."
It wasn't a question, but I answer it anyway. "Yep."
"Pretty messed up."
"Yep."
I turn on my tablet and wait for it to load. I don't expect him to still feel like talking, but I guess he's in the mood.
"And what about you?"
"Are you taking first watch?"
He sighs. "Sure."
"I don't regret breaking things off with Bobby for good. It was impulsive, and I still have to work through my issues about whether anyone else will want me or not, but I realized that I need to. And I'm trying."
"So no moping?"
"No moping. I promise. Only a lot of soul searching."
To my surprise, he loops an arm over my shoulder and pulls me into his side. "I'm proud of you, darlin'. It takes a lot of courage to face your fears like that."
I accept the praise and snuggle against him for a moment. He smells like motor oil and cigar smoke, pretty normal for him, and it's a comfort for me. And maybe a little arousing, but I try to push that one to the very recesses of my awareness as always. It's more difficult now.
He must not have picked up on it, thank goodness, because he squeezes my shoulder one more time, always the sign that he's done with displays of affection. I start to pull away, but to my surprise he doesn't let go. I smile a little and settle back, my side against his, and open up my email.
Nothing new that matters, a few pieces of junk mail, lesson plans for the next week from Hank for the classes he'll be taking over, like I sent to him when he went on his mission. We're good about that, trying to make sure we'll be able to keep up when we get back. I'm sure Logan has a similar email waiting for him, although a quick peek at his tablet shows that he's opened up solitaire. I chuckle to myself and keep checking the email.
It's nice and warm snuggled up against him, and I must fall asleep without meaning to. The next thing I know, he's shaking my shoulders with the arm still wrapped around them. I open my eyes, and the light from outside has changed. I can tell that it's lamp light, probably from only one working lamppost because it's dimmer than I expected. Logan hasn't turned on his bedside lamp and his tablet is off, but I know he's awake. I can see him looking down at me in the dim light.
"Feel better?"
"I felt fine before," I tell him, pulling away. He finally lets me. I sit up and look around.
"No lights?"
"Didn't want to wake you. You're taking second shift, remember?"
"I assume you were able to see what's going on out there even through the curtain."
The look he gives me is easy to discern even in this level of light. He's offended I even asked. I give him an apologetic smile. "Of course," is all he says.
"Well, I'm not going to be so lucky." I rise and stretch a little, my muscles protesting at the unusual position they've been subjected to for hours. "I guess I'll take the chair."
"If you want."
"I'll need to fly out later, when it's late enough that no one will notice me take off this time. I'll stay in the until dawn, see if there's any movement as people are coming into work."
"There might be some leaving as well."
"There might," I agree, swiping up my tablet and then turning back to the window. "I'd like to start getting a good idea who the regular workers are and who might be coming in special. I doubt we'll luck out and catch the owner, although that would be a coup."
"Best case scenario would be if they don't have overnight workers."
I'm not surprised his thinking has gone in that direction. Mine has, too. The Professor and Scott didn't explicitly say so, but if we are able to disable the factory, or at least sabotage the components inside, that will allow us to reduce the number of machines on the market. I know the Professor has a thing against direct action unless necessary, but that's why he gave Logan lead over this mission. He knows how to use his people to their best advantage. It's also why Kitty is with us.
Of course, this might turn out to be a normal surveillance op that turns up no evidence of what we're looking for. It wouldn't even be the first time. I try to convince myself that it's even a fifty-fifty shot, but our intel is usually better than that, when we get any at all. The Professor likes his sources to do their due diligence, and they know that. He pays them well enough to make up for the inconvenience.
"Do you think it will come down to that?" He'll know what I mean.
"Hard to tell right now."
"I know."
With a sigh, I turn toward the window and find a spot near one edge to peek through. I can see the empty docking doors from this angle, which also happens to be where the chair is. Thankfully, sitting in it doesn't lower me below the window edge. It's unusually large for such a cheap place.
That has me thinking. "This motel is almost built for surveillance." I glance over at Logan, and he nods.
"I don't think it's on purpose. Place was built in the 80s. Big windows were popular back then."
"I guess…" I turn back to looking outside. "You're lucky you can be more comfortable watching." I mean the comment as a joke, but a pillow hits the side of my head a couple seconds later. I hear him chuckle.
"Hey!" I don't throw it back, though. Instead, I tuck it behind my back and try to settle in for a while.
"Should have taken it with you in the first place."
"Didn't want you to be uncomfortable."
I chance a dirty look towards him and get another laugh in return. It's good to hear him laughing again, a real one instead of strained with worry about what he'll remember and what he won't.
That makes me think about one of the things I've neglected in the last few weeks. I haven't been checking on how his memory is returning—or whether it even is.
"Have you remembered most of this life yet?" I ask in a whisper.
"A lot of it."
His answer is non-committal at first. When I look over at him, he sighs.
"It's harder than I thought it would be, to match up the two lives. It's more like I'm remembering them both than melding them together into one because so much has changed."
I frown. "For others, they say the old past and even future became more like a dream."
"They weren't dealing with decades."
He has a point. It sends a pang through my heart. "Isn't there anything you can do?"
"Xavier thinks time is the answer. At least I've got most of the memories of this life back, even if the other is there, too. That's something, he says."
"Sounds pretty confusing, though."
"It is."
We fall silent at this. What else can I say? He doesn't need my help remembering this life anymore, and I'm not sure how to help him except to be as supportive as possible when he wants to talk. Which I don't think is now, so I go back to my vigil. I had forgotten how boring surveillance missions can be.
That is, until they aren't. I straighten as I see several shadowed figures slip around the side of the factory building toward the loading docks. Logan notices the change in my posture, or maybe it's my breathing, and he comes over to stand next to me, hand raised toward the curtain as if he wants to pull it back but doesn't dare in case the movement is seen despite our darkened room.
The shadows enter a door to the left of the loading docks. "I guess this means that there's a night crew."
"Maybe. They aren't moving like any workers I've ever seen, though."
"Should we contact Kitty and—" I'm interrupted by the buzz on Logan's wrist next to my ear. He moves his hand away from the window and toward his mouth so that he can speak into his smart watch quietly.
"Wolverine here."
"Wolverine, this is Colossus. We have movement at the front entrance. There is something odd about it," Piotr's accented English betrays his nerves. His accent always thickens when he's anxious.
"We're seeing something similar back here. Not quite a shift change, right?"
"Exactly," Kitty comments in the background.
Well, either she's allowing herself to stand close enough to Piotr to actually be heard, or they're on a shared line. Either way, it seems like they aren't letting their disagreement from earlier affect the mission, just like Kitty promised.
"How many were you able to identify?" I join in the discussion.
"Two."
"We've got six back here. Maybe because it isn't the front door."
"I should go up and take a look around. It's dark enough, and probably late enough. I haven't seen a car go by since my watch started," I offer, moving toward my duffel.
Logan stares hard at me for a moment. "That's strange."
It takes me a few seconds to catch on. "Where did they come from if they didn't drive a car here."
It's not a question, not really.
"New group?" Kitty asks the question we're all thinking.
Logan tilts his head a little to the side, and I know he's weighing what little facts we have against what we saw. "Doubt it. Charles would have said something if he was sending a second team. We'll need to be careful."
"So, I should go up and take a little look around," I repeat.
He grimaces and the other two are silent. Finally, he nods. "Yeah, that's our best bet. See if you can figure out what they're up to. Maybe we're all being paranoid."
Pigs might start flying—well, they might, but not any time soon. Jean and Hank have been doing a pretty good job keeping track of other possible mutations in the animal world, and so far it's only humans.
"Okay, then." I grab up my duffel and head into the bathroom to change into uniform.
This is the easy part. I strip, pull on the leather, and zip up my boots in less than five minutes. Routine, quick, and then it's time for the final preparation. I gather up my clothes into a pile and shove them in the duffel to deal with later then head back out into the main room.
Logan watches as I sit on the bed and close my eyes. This should take a few seconds, seconds we might not have, but I want to concentrate to make sure I have the right level.
Allowing my mutation to go full power feels like a rush of energy infusing every cell of my body. It always does, at least for a few moments, and then it's down to its normal dull buzz again. I open my eyes and smile.
"Ready."
Logan eyes my hands. His own are down by his side, so I know he already cut off communication with the others. "No gloves."
I stare at him in surprise. It doesn't take a lot of time to strip them off if necessary, and they're a good precaution to have in case I encounter someone innocent. This tells me that he's not expecting me to encounter anyone innocent if something comes up. I take a deep breath and nod, pulling off first one glove, then the other.
"I'll be back in an hour if there's nothing odd going on."
"I'll be waiting." Something I can see in his eyes, even in the dark, tells me he's said those words before, but not in this timeline. Not that I can remember. There's a lifetime of meaning behind it.
I nod and hurry toward the door. He catches my arm before I can open it and presses something into my hand, careful not to touch my skin. I open my hand to see a key.
"Oh, yeah." I suppress a giggle and smile instead. I tuck the key into a small, almost invisible zippered pocket on my left arm. He nods and releases me.
"Be careful."
"I will." I leave quietly, closing the door softly behind me so that I won't attract attention from any of the surrounding rooms that might be occupied.