AUTHOR's NOTE – I admire all those of you who can write Marie's Southern drawl so well. I'm afraid I can't so I'm not even gonna try. Also, living in the UK I know virtually nothing about Canada and it's geography except what I am learning from the net (maps, websites etc), so please excuse any inaccuracies concerning natural features, weather- conditions etc. I'm sort of bluffing my way through it but trying to keep things as neutral as possible.

OK...on with the story!

Chapter Two – Not Only Mutants Have Gifts

Marie didn't know what had just happened between her and the guy at the bar but she found it quite unsettling. Not unsettling in a bad way exactly, but she couldn't decipher its implication quickly enough to view it as a positive experience. She only knew that it had stirred something in the pit of her stomach that she hadn't felt since David.

She promptly severed the connection, wrenching their glued eyes apart, and quickly turned away.

Yet instead of feeling relief, she only felt...regret?

Regret?

Struggling to regain her composure she hurriedly approached the man behind the bar. "I wondered whether you could help me? Do you have a telephone I can use?"

The man gestured and she followed his pointed finger through to another room, separated from the bar by a wall of wooden slats. "Through there, honey. But it's being used right now."

Marie had worked that out for herself the minute she had laid eyes upon the fat balding man swearing down the receiver at some unfortunate soul, demanding money that he was owed.

She turned back and the bartender offered her a sympathetic smile. "Dan may be on there a while. Some business he's trying to sort out."

She sighed beneath her breath. Great!

There was a moment's uncomfortable silence before the bartender prompted the conversation again. "Can I get you a drink whilst you wait?"

Marie hesitated, sweeping her gaze along the many rows of bottles and glasses laid out behind him. She mentally shrugged. Well, it couldn't hurt. She didn't think she was going to be driving anymore tonight. Even so, and much to her frustration, that sensible side of her intervened before she could stop it.

"Do you have one of those low alcohol beers?"

The bartender grinned, but not unkindly. "Sure, honey. Might have to dust the bottle off a bit first though."

Despite her less than ideal circumstances she found his comment amusing rather than insulting and couldn't help but grin back. "Don't s'pose you get asked for them much," she joked sheepishly, dragging a lock of hair behind her ear. After what had happened with that guy when she had first entered the bar, the bartender's friendliness came as a welcome relief. Made things seem almost normal again.

"Not really," he returned with quiet laughter as he turned and proceeded to hunt around on one of the lower shelves for the beverage.

As she regarded him idly Marie felt her uneasiness gain momentum once more. She could feel that guy's eyes upon her still. In fact, she didn't think they had left her once since she had severed their gaze. They seemed to burn into her like branding irons, scorching into her soul, almost as if he were claiming her with his stare.

His interest in her continued to rouse weird emotions within her, emotions she couldn't explain. Emotions that seemed too crazy to even dare to contemplate. It had only been a look, she told herself, perplexed, they had only exchanged a simple look...

She felt a shiver run down her spine.

So why had it felt so much more?

Shaking away her pathetic notions she tried to be realistic. She had noticed that he was sat with a woman – his girlfriend - wife even - and was surprised that she hadn't protested of his blatant staring by now. She didn't look the type who would stand by and watch her man leering at another woman.

Leering? Well, in all fairness she couldn't really call it that. His stare had been too intense to be classed as mere leering, too full of...how could she describe it...desperation? And it hadn't made her skin crawl like leering did. Quite the opposite, actually.

She swallowed down something that was more anticipation than nervousness and slowly – so very slowly - turned her head.

His eyes flicked down to his beer label the minute hers landed upon him.

But to her surprise, the woman seated beside him immediately cast her a friendly smile. Not wanting to seem rude, Marie forced a shy smile in return.

"You're from down south, aint yer?" the woman announced, obviously spurred on by Marie's positive response. "I love that accent."

Her openness took Marie aback. "Mississippi," she returned, a little guardedly. She noticed that the guy had lifted his gaze from the beer bottle and was watching her again, although he seemed a little uncomfortable about doing so this time.

"Long way from home?" the woman pointed out.

Hearing warning bells sound off in her head, Marie was glad when the bartender placed her drink before her and she found herself too preoccupied to answer. She didn't want to seem impolite, but she was wary of revealing too much of herself to anyone whilst she was travelling alone like this. Women could be sicko's too.

"One low alcohol beer," the bartender stated, in the process of dusting himself off as well as the beer and in doing so confirmed that he really didn't sell too many bottles of the stuff. Either that or he didn't keep the shelves very clean, Marie decided, amused. He pried the lid off with a bottle opener as quickly and as efficiently as only a bartender could.

"Thanks," Marie returned and he offered her a final smile before whipping down a cloth that had been resting upon his shoulder and turning away to clean some glasses.

She lifted the bottle to her lips and took a small sip, immediately grimacing at the taste. She didn't drink beer often, but she realised that she much preferred the alcoholic version. Oh well. Too late now.

"How you hacking the cold?" the woman persisted and Marie didn't know whether to feel irritated or grateful of her sociable personality.

Marie turned back to her again. "Not too bad." But she couldn't help turn her attentions, even fleetingly, back to the man – Dan? – on the telephone – his voice raising considerably as he attempted to convince whoever it was at the other end of the line that it was not $100 but $150 he was owed.

She rolled her eyes despairingly.

"Dan shouldn't be too long," the woman reassured, contradicting what the bartender had said earlier. "He's been ranting for a while now."

Marie offered her a weak smile suddenly craving the warm comfort of a motel room.

"You OK?" the woman asked softly, concern filling her face. "Do you need the telephone that bad?"

"My jeep broke down," Marie revealed with a frustrated sigh and immediately chastised herself. So much for not revealing too much!

She noticed that the guy's features seemed to prick up at her words and she felt that anxiety stir again. Was he glad she had broken down?

"Oh Christ," the woman commiserated. "I'm sorry. Not a great night to break down."

"Tell me about it," Marie grieved.

The woman slipped off her stool and walked the short distance to where Marie stood.

"Look, I'm Treena and misery-guts back there is Logan." She smiled warmly, genuinely, and Marie felt her resolve weaken and her guard lower as some sixth sense convinced her that she could trust this woman.

"I'm Marie."

"Who were you gonna call? Breakdown?"

"Yeah. I'm a member of the AAA."

"Might take them a while to get here in this weather."

Marie shrugged gloomily. "I'll just have to wait, I s'pose."

A mischievous smirk suddenly tugged at Treena's scarlet lips and she gestured with a flick of her head to the man sat a short distance away. "Logan could always take a look at it for you."

Marie snapped her eyes onto the guy – Logan – and although he seemed mildly stunned by Treena's suggestion he didn't appear annoyed.

"Oh, I wouldn't want to impose upon his time," she blurted. "The weather is awful out there."

"Nothing the mighty Wolverine can't handle." Treena shook her head in mock disbelief. "You Southern Belles are full of good manners, aint yer – put us northern girls to shame."

Marie felt herself blush. She didn't know what to say to that. At the same time she was puzzled as to why Treena had referred to Logan as the Wolverine.

"You won't be imposing on 'nothing, Marie," Treena insisted. She turned to Logan, the smirk returning. "Will she, Logan?"

Before he could answer Marie quickly intervened. "But I think it's the alternator," she pointed out hastily. "It's a very tricky part to reach."

Logan raised an eyebrow, amusement overpowering the genuine surprise on his face. "You know about mechanics?" he queried, and the sound of his voice – so low and husky - made Marie's throat go dry with anticipation.

She coloured even deeper. "No," she admitted awkwardly. "It's just that the same thing happened to my parent's car a few years back and it was the alternator then."

"Right," Logan returned and he sounded almost disappointed.

Treena shrugged. "It wouldn't hurt to take a look though, would it? It might not turn out to be the...alter-thingie, after all."

Logan grinned at his friend. "Alternator," he rescued and Marie was pleasantly surprised by the instant change to his countenance. All it took was a single smile to chase those dark shadows away. He was actually quite handsome, strange facial hair aside, she decided.

"Yeah – whatever," Treena laughed at herself.

Marie found herself laughing with her, realising that she was warming to the woman very quickly. She wasn't the sort Marie would have usually found herself enjoying a conversation with – the word tarty came to mind, which made her feel guilty, even a little snobby – but then tart with a heart quickly followed it, and Marie settled for that.

"So how's about it, Logan?" Treena prompted. "Are you gonna help this damsel in distress or are yer gonna go back to yer brooding?"

Brooding? Marie wondered what he might be brooding about and she suddenly had the feeling that those dark shadows, so evident on his face, would have quite a story to tell. Something tragic. She glanced at Logan and he seemed to subtly flinch from her gaze as if he knew exactly what she was thinking and the idea pained him.

At the realisation she felt her heart constrict. Yes. There was something... something tragic about Logan's whole persona. He didn't seem a man who intended for it to show, in fact, he looked the type who tried desperately hard to retain a hard impenetrable exterior, but whatever was eating away at him seemed too intense now to keep restrained inside.

"Yeah, I can take a look," he agreed, although his voice had taken on a rather gruff edge to it now, as if he was angry that Marie had managed to read him so well. And she was certain that she wasn't just clutching at straws, that her conclusion was right about him. So many looks had passed between them since she had first entered the bar; it was as if they were somehow communicating without words. It felt both scary and thrilling.

"Thank you," was all she could manage as their eyes locked again. But this time Logan stubbornly kept his blank of emotion, placing a mental wall between them, and it was he who finally severed their gaze as he quickly rose from his stool.

"Take me to it," he demanded vacantly. "And I'll see what I can do."

As he passed Treena he ruffled her hair light-heartedly. "Catch yer later, kid."

"Hey! Not the hair, Logan!" Treena protested, swiftly smoothing down the peroxide-blond layers. She twisted in her chair, following him with her gaze, eyes narrowing as she feigned irritation. "And stop calling me kid!"

Logan glanced back at her, eyebrow raised in mischief, before he turned his attention to Marie. "You comin'?"

Mind in a whirl from all that was happening, Marie slapped some notes down onto the bar counter for her drink, flashed Treena an appreciative if somewhat disorientated smile, and followed Logan out into the night.

Treena watched them exit the bar with a triumphant smile plastered upon her face. She didn't know exactly what had passed between Logan and that young woman, but she hadn't been blind, something had happened the moment they had locked eyes with one another across the bar.

She felt a little tingle of exhilaration coarse through her - and fuck, if it hadn't been something. She had literally seen the electric charge in the air, like static, sparking between them. If she didn't love Logan like a best friend she would've almost been jealous by what she had witnessed.

But she had moved on and accepted that she and Logan were never meant to be, and now simply cherished the fact that he trusted and cared for her enough to call her his friend. Ironically, being Logan's friend warmed her a whole lot more than being his lover ever did regardless of how good the sex had been. And that's why she had encouraged things along just now, just like a good friend would, knowing that Logan would never have approached the young woman no matter what he may have felt towards her. Would never have thought himself good enough for her.

But Treena had read those undercurrents. She might not be a mutant like him, but she did have certain gifts. She had known that something special was gonna happen between Logan and Marie and had immediately acted upon it. For Logan. Because his happiness meant more to her than anything else in the world.

She had a definite hunch that this sweet Southern belle was just what he was searching for. Just what he needed.

Her smile stretched into a smug grin. He owed her big time.

"You all alone tonight, gorgeous?"

Treena started and turned, her eyes widening with surprise when she realised that it was Logan's last fighting partner. The first guy, in a long time, who had very nearly defeated the Wolverine.

She gave him the once over, liking what she saw. He had been impressive in the cage tonight and although she had naturally been rooting for Logan, she had also found herself attracted to his opponent. "Might be," she flirted back, flicking her long blond hair over her shoulder and giving him her best sultry look.

"Buy you a drink?"

Never one to resist cage fighters, especially the good-looking ones, she felt the desire flare inside her. "You betcha-can, sweetheart."

He grinned and something flashed in his eyes that Treena found mildly disturbing, a tiny hint of madness that should've warned her to back off. But she had always been drawn to bad boys – Christ, that was what had first drawn her to Logan (although she had soon discovered that he wasn't such a bad boy after all) – and tonight was gonna be no exception.

The guy slipped onto Logan's stool and regarded the burnt out cigar and unfinished beer bottle suspiciously.

"Sure I'm not disturbing anything?"

Treena leant closer to him. "Nah. He won't be back tonight, you mark my words."

Pleased, he followed her lead, also moving in closer and claiming her stare. "Good." He had the strangest smell about him, not exactly unpleasant but rather potent. Garlic. That was it. He smelt of garlic.

An odour that most people would have found unappealing, Treena accepted, but for her, who had Greek relatives (although no one would believe it to look at her) and had spent many happy childhood holidays in Athens, it proved to be surprisingly nostalgic.

It also made him all the more appealing in her eyes, reminding her of the handsome Greek waiter she had lost her virginity to.

Logan wasn't the only one who had got lucky tonight, she decided as her eyes wandered over her new friend's rugged face.

Logan stepped out into the bar car park, immediately zipping up his leather jacket and turning up the collar as the snowstorm swept around him. As Marie walked passed him and led him across to her vehicle, a very nice looking jeep, he realised that she hadn't been lying about the weather. It was quite a contrast to when he had first arrived at the bar several hours earlier.

Not a good night for a young woman like her to be stranded like this.

When she reached the jeep she stopped in her tracks, her back to him, before finally turning, her long hair dancing wildly around her face, whipped up by the wind. "I'll understand entirely if you want to forget it," she reassured softly, trying to drag the unruly strands from her eyes. "The weather really has turned nasty."

He shrugged and for a moment he was mesmerised by the sight of her. Moon-kissed snowflakes glistened like diamonds in her hair, whilst the biting cold sprinkled a rosy glow the length of her cheekbones that in turn brought out the youthful sparkle of her eyes. He felt his breath snag in his throat. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

"I'm out here now, might as well take a look," he finally managed, his own hair unable to escape a ravaging by the aggressive wind. He ran a hand through the disorderly strands in a fruitless attempt to tame them a bit. "You get inside and pop up the hood for me."

She nodded gratefully and he watched as she quickly unlocked the driver's door and slipped into the seat. A few seconds later he was able to prize up the hood and take a look inside, thankful that she was parked beside the only streetlamp in the car park.

His hands were practically numbed by the cold by the time he had finished fiddling around. Slamming down the hood he hurried around to the passenger side, wrenched open the door and pulled himself into the seat.

"I think you're right," he confessed as he vigorously rubbed some warmth back into his hands. "Can't see anything wrong with any of the assessable parts of the engine. Probably is the alternator."

Her eyes dropped down to his hands guiltily. "God, you're half frozen."

He shrugged, offering her a hint of a smile, secretly relishing her concern. "I'm used to it."

"I really appreciate you taking a look."

He nodded and turned to stare blankly out of the window, not sure what to say next. He had never been a man of many words.

"Guess I'll have to call the AAA after all."

"Yeah," he agreed regretfully. "Although -"

"Although?" she repeated softly and he felt her eyes boring into him.

He hesitated. He didn't want to lose her company so soon and his mind whirled for a way to remedy the situation.

He glanced at her, conscious of how close they were, of how her sweet scent was already overwhelming him. "I could..." he started and then his voice trailed off as he wondered whether this was a good idea. But the way she was looking at him, those beautiful brown eyes virtually imploring him to continue, he couldn't help himself. "...get you fixed up with a new alternator first thing in the morning." In truth, he wasn't sure if he could but it was worth a shot. "The AAA will probably do the same but there aint gonna be any garages open until tomorrow."

She sighed gently. "That had crossed my mind," she admitted, and Logan could detect the anxiety overpowering her scent. "That they wouldn't be able to fix anything themselves."

"Where were you headed?" he found himself asking.

"A motel." She looked at him hopefully. "It's about twenty kilometres from here."

"Can I make a suggestion?" This was it, he prepared himself. Time to see whether that look they had exchanged had meant anything to her too.

She nodded and he sensed a further change to her scent. She was nervous. That might be a good sign. He frowned slightly. Or it might not. He realised that her answer to his next question could result in him losing her forever.

"Leave the jeep here," he started, voice gravelly and tense as his own nervousness seeped through his attempt at a tough exterior, betraying the true man within. "Let me drive you to your motel." His hazel eyes wandered over her face trying to cover his urgency with an air of casualness. "We can return in the morning and you can either call out the AAA then or you can let me tow it to the nearest garage for you."

"Yes," she gushed, before he had barely finished his sentence, and their eyes locked once more.

Logan felt elated – her answer speaking volumes – and his body heaved with relief... and something else...a glimmer of optimism? He hadn't felt like this in a long time. In fact, he had forgotten what it felt like to feel...happy? Yet this woman had been in his life for less than twenty minutes and already he was feeling the misery he felt earlier begin to lift from him like a dispelling mist.

He pushed aside his fears. Doubts that warned him that he was clutching at straws...that such a woman would never be attracted to someone like him...that he was creating illusions that weren't really there...

Because whatever the truth might be, it didn't change the simple fact that he could sit watching her in this uncomfortably cold jeep like this forever, oblivious to the snow plummeting the windows or the wind whistling noisily across the roof. It didn't matter anymore that he was cold because she was filling him with a warmth that felt...felt so good.

"Thank you, Logan," she said softly - even the sound of her speaking his name was like an instant drug to his senses - and he was shaken to realise that he wanted to hear her say it in a completely different way. Over and over again...

"No problem," he finally managed, but still he couldn't summon the energy or desire to move from this spot, from this perfect moment.

She seemed to sense his predicament, even seemed to be experiencing the same thing herself and he suddenly had to fight the urge to reach across, cup her face in his hands and kiss her.

"Logan?" she prompted and he finally came to his senses.

He turned reluctantly to the door and reached for the handle. "Grab yer stuff and follow me."