Chapter 9 – Healing Words
It started snowing harder on their way back to Laughlin City and when Logan switched on the window wipers Marie was mesmerised by their hypnotic motion: back and forth, back and forth.
She desperately needed the distraction.
Logan filled her head, an overwhelming maelstrom of thoughts and images swirling around inside her much like the frenzy of snowflakes that bombarded the van. They were coming at her from all sides, nothing like David's memories had been. Nowhere near as calm and innocent. She hadn't expected Logan to be a saint but…a shiver ran down her spine…but neither had she expected this much darkness, this much pain. She felt as if there was now a vortex dominating the centre of her mind and she was balancing precariously on the edge, being pulled by a dangerous current of tortured emotions towards the abyss that was now her inner-Logan.
She never would have believed that someone could survive through this much torment, could exist in such a damaged world. But now it was her world too, at least internally, and she wasn't sure that she had the strength to face it. She had lost David and that had all but broken her heart, but to have another ravaged soul within her when she had barely started mending her own…it was almost too much to bear.
Which was why she was trying to focus elsewhere, like those window wipers. Nowhere else. Just that repetitive motion: back and forth, back and forth, like a soothing mantra.
"You OK?"
Logan's voice made her start and she turned quickly to face him. "Fine," she lied, forcing a weak smile.
"No, you're not." His eyes flicked from the window onto her, and grudgingly back to the window again, the rapidly deteriorating weather demanding his complete attention.
She shrugged. "It's just…just a little headache."
She saw him grip the steering wheel tighter. "Yeah, that I gave ya," he deduced wretchedly, anger swift to follow. His fingers uncurled and he slammed his hands down onto the circle of worn leather. "That I fuckin' gave ya."
His reaction both alarmed and upset her and she instinctively reached out a hand to his jacket sleeve in an attempt to calm him, try to reassure him. "Logan, please…don't do this."
He took a deep breath, vehemently claiming the wheel once more. "I just can't seem to…" he struggled, "…can't seem to get it right. Every time…every fuckin' time."
She slowly drew back her hand. "Rome wasn't built in a day," she offered gently, hoping that he would take her words with the sincerity she intended, and not find them in some way mocking or sarcastic. Some people said that her way with words was a gift; others admitted to finding it just plain irritating.
And Logan?
He was initially silent, and her heart seemed to mirror the weather, freezing anxiously as she awaited some sort of reply, the swish of the window wipers the only sound. But to her relief, he finally let out a short, if somewhat awkward laugh. "Guess it wasn't."
He shook his head in disbelief. "Ya really have somethin', y'know? Somethin' – I dunno – somethin' with words. I don't know how ya do it, but…" he stopped, looked at her, despite the need to keep his eyes on the road, and offered her a small smile. "Thanks, kid."
She smiled back, happy that she was able to help him feel a little better. "Anytime." She wished, so much, that he would stop being so hard on himself all the time but realised that if what she had of him in her head was anything to go by, this self-loathing literally went back decades, and wasn't going to change overnight.
He returned his gaze to the road for a few seconds and then peered back at her again. "But seriously - what I did - have I hurt ya?"
She decided to be honest this time. "It's a little overwhelming, that's all. It doesn't hurt exactly but I'm finding it difficult to focus."
She noticed him swallow uncomfortably, his face darkening with guilt. "I'm sorry…if I had known..."
"It's done now, Logan. It just takes a while to calm my mind again, that's all."
His eyes darted back to the road. "If ya need to lie down, we can stop somewhere."
She couldn't help but grin. "Stop fussing. I'm fine right here."
"So…so I'm in there now?" he persisted, his curiosity getting the better of him.
"In a way." She wondered how on earth she could explain it and decided that perhaps a diluted down version of the truth might be best under the circumstances. Not a lie exactly, but what it would (hopefully) be like after a few hours, when her mind had a chance to settle once more. "You know when you have a song in your head, that just won't go away? And it's really a challenge to try to centre on something else to make it quieten down. Well, at the moment that's what it's like with what I absorbed from you. Only a little stronger, I guess."
"What kinda things? Thoughts?"
"Yeah, recent thoughts, feelings - snatches of memories. If I had held on for longer there would've been even more." Secretly, she had to admit that she was glad that she hadn't held on for any longer. Those facets of Logan she was now struggling to contend with were quite enough and she feared that a larger dose might almost comatose her own sense of self. "I also pick up a little of you: personality traits and stuff. Things you like and dislike." She felt herself blush as one of his more erotic memories slipped to the front of her mind. "Things you like to do in back alleys…"
He rolled his eyes but seemed genuinely embarrassed, running his fingers through his hair uncomfortably. "Christ, ya must think I'm one hell of a perverted bastard."
"No, Logan," she was quick to point out. "I don't. And do you know why? Because I have the emotions to back up those images. I know the truth." She was tempted to add exactly what that truth was: the bitterness that fuelled his desires, the loneliness that he refused to acknowledge, even those times when he had been a heartbeat away from begging for redemption, but felt that some things were best left unsaid for the time being.
"I'm not proud of who I am; things I've done," he admitted gently. "I just…"
She watched him sadly.
"…I just dunno how to live any other way."
But Logan, you're not living, she longed to say. You're dying. You've been dying from the moment you escaped that lab. She didn't have the full story in her head; just remnants of emotions and images, kind of like a badly filmed home movie. But it was enough to acknowledge the psychological trauma that Logan had lived with for so long.
She didn't think he'd be the only one to suffer nightmares from now on as the memories were unwittingly roused: his pain and confusion that, steered by his frantic need to escape, had turned to rage; flashes of glinting metal and blood, chorused by the terrible sound of screams – his as well as others.
She mentally shook the horrors away, her gaze wandering over his profile, jaw pulled stubbornly tense again, eyes like liquid night as they blinked beneath the effort of restraint.
She didn't want to sound as if she was trying to lecture, even if it was with the best of intentions, and so the there's always another way that lingered upon the tip of her tongue, dissolved away to be replaced with something lighter, something she felt Logan would rather hear.
"It's a good job you found me then," she teased softly.
A flicker of a smile softened his rigid jaw line. "Is that right?"
"Yeah," she insisted firmly, albeit light-heartedly. "And for your information…" She felt heat pool between her legs as she thought back to last night: his powerful body caging hers; their tongues writhing as he moved inside her bringing heaven to earth… "…I haven't got anything against back alleys."
When his eyebrow shot up in surprise she laughed shyly. "Do I shock you?"
"Nothin' shocks me, darlin'."
She folded her arms, jutting out her chin determinedly. "Maybe I'll get to prove you wrong one day. I've never been able to resist a challenge."
And you're going to be my biggest challenge yet, she thought purposefully. But I will conquer you, Logan. I will mend that shattered soul of yours.
Even if it kills me.
Logan appeared about to reply, his smile turning devilish, when a light began to flash on and off on the dashboard and a scowl instantly gutted his humour. "Shit."
"What is it?" She prayed that he wasn't about to have car trouble too. She was sick to death of faulty mechanics.
"Runnin' outta gas. We'll have to stop at the next station."
She nodded, thankful that it wasn't anything more serious. "I need to buy a few things anyway," she announced. "My phone could do with some more credit." She had charged her mobile that night, before she had gone to Logan's room, only to discover that she only had a few dollars of talk-time left.
Logan cast her a puzzled look. "That why ya needed the bar phone?"
"Oh, no. It had run out of charge." She smiled. "Although either way, I'm glad fate steered me to that place." She refrained from adding and to you hoping that Logan would know what she meant.
His chest rose and fell beneath his leather jacket as if he was taking a subtle deep breath. "Straight back at ya, darlin'."
She settled comfortably back in her seat, struck – not for the first time – by the speed at which all of this was happening. That she had fallen in love with a man in less than twenty-four hours and had slept with him in roughly half that time. What would her momma say?
But could she really be in love with Logan? Already? She scarcely knew him. And yet, it just felt so right.
And now she had him in her head…would know him before she really knew him. It really was the most surreal situation she had ever found herself in. Part of her still wondered if it wasn't all just a dream; a wonderful dream that had somehow become entangled with a nightmare along the way. Perfection could never be absolute, she grieved, there always had to be flaws and conditions. Wasn't that just life in a nutshell?
Best not to think about it, she told herself. Just concentrate on the wonderful part.
As the warmth of the cab lulled her, her ears picked up on that sound again… swish…swish…back and forth…
Although her mind was gaining control once more and that vortex was starting to calm, her gaze sought out the window wipers again. Just for a moment of respite, until the worst was over and she was herself again. It wasn't that she didn't want Logan in her head, that couldn't be further from the truth; she just wanted the storm clouds to stop churning so that she could welcome the rain and begin understanding.
Charles Xavier waited until the room was empty before pulling out a cell phone from the breast pocket of his suit jacket. He hit speed-dial and lifted the phone to his ear.
"It is done?" he asked plainly, when contact was made. "The tracking device has been attached?" He smiled his satisfaction when it was confirmed.
"Where are they now?"
He nodded thoughtfully, not altogether surprised. Scott had been right. It was only natural that the Wolverine would return to the scene of the crime.
"And where are you now?"
Amusement crinkled the corners of his soft blue eyes at the initial reply and he smirked back: "No. Contrary to common belief, we telepath's do not know everything."
When the answer was finally delivered he turned serious, appearing to ponder for a few moments before responding with: "Do not make contact yet. Continue your surveillance; follow wherever they go. I do not think the Wolverine will be aware that he is the target yet, at least not until he learns about…" his voice trailed off as he promptly altered his approach, face tensing. "Has he been anywhere where he could obtain a newspaper yet?"
His countenance relaxed at the reply but he realised that it was only a matter of time. "…Hmm…well, as soon as he does I think he will come to the same conclusion that we have. Whether this will change his plans I do not know. I fear that he might actually be eager for confrontation."
He hesitated, finally wrapping up with: "Thank you. Call me as soon as anything significant transpires."
Snapping the phone shut he popped it back into his pocket and manoeuvred his wheelchair around and across the short distance to the window.
Staring out across the Institute grounds he found himself thinking about Scott and experienced a pang of guilt. His team leader was obviously not happy with some of the secrets he was keeping from him and he had every right to be angry. Of course, it could be argued that by not divulging certain pieces of information that he was, in fact, protecting the young man, but that excuse was wearing thin in his mind now - Scott was intelligent and capable enough to look after himself. No, what it actually boiled down to were his own selfish insecurities. Like the thought of losing the young man that he now looked upon as a son. He would trust Scott with his life and the lives of all the X-Men, if necessary, and felt he had failed him today by holding back.
Charles sighed quietly. Just like he had failed the Wolverine by not making contact for all of these years. Years that could have made all the difference. Could have prevented what he had witnessed in Cerebro. Just thinking back to that image of him, so vulnerable and broken in the snow, turned his eyes glassy and he cleared his throat as way of a distraction.
His fingers gripped the sides of his wheelchair. He might be a powerful telepath, but he was not impervious to making mistakes. Indeed, he was still making them. But what was done could also be undone. Amended. Beginning with Scott.
And a rendezvous with his number one contact would be the perfect place to start.
Logan pulled into the first gas station they came to, crawling up alongside one of four vacant petrol pumps.
He killed the engine and turned to face Marie. "If ya wanna go ahead and buy what ya have to buy…I'll be a while here 'cause I wanna fill up some cans for the bike."
"Yeah, sure. Anything you want?"
He reached across to gently caress her cheek, making her shiver pleasantly. "I've got everythin' I want right here," he growled huskily.
She reached up to thread her fingers through his, relishing the warmth of his skin against hers. "Flatterer," she laughed happily. "I take it that's a no then."
"Well, if they've got anythin' to eat that aint candy or chips."
"You hungry already? We only had breakfast a few hours ago." She grinned, putting it down to men and fast metabolisms. "But I'll see what I can do." She attempted to pull her hand back but he only clasped it tighter. Her smile widened. "Can I have my hand back?"
"On one condition." His eyes positively smouldered.
"What?" The look he was giving her made her heart rate suddenly kick up a notch.
"That we slip to the back of the van when we've checked out the bar," he smirked. "I've got a mattress."
Despite recalling his sad looking bed from the first time she had entered the cab, the idea still made her stomach flip. "Won't it be cold?"
"I'll keep ya warm," he promised wickedly. "Besides, thought ya wanted to shock me?"
"Is that a challenge?"
"You betcha it is."
"I suppose I did say that I couldn't resist a challenge." She frowned at him, feigning indignation. "Hmm, manipulating my words to your advantage? You know, you're very devious Mr…" she hesitated, cocking her head to one side inquisitively. "Actually, what is your surname?"
Logan's face instantly turned bitter, all traces of humour drained in one foul swoop. He promptly released her hand. "It's just…Logan. I dunno the rest."
Marie cringed inwardly. "I'm sorry…I've said the wrong thing." She had yet to register either a memory of him not knowing, or a memory of the actual surname.
"Nah, you weren't to know," he returned casually, although she could tell that he was struggling to remain neutral. That it was obviously a raw subject.
She tapped the side of her head defensively. "That fact doesn't seem to be in here…or at least, I haven't registered anything on that subject yet." She felt bad, however, because she had noted his amnesia and so should have put two and two together. "I'm really sorry, Logan."
"Stop apologisin'." He reached across to cup her face in his hands and drew her close. "Now who's fussin'?"
"I care about you, that's all," she choked out. "It makes me hurt inside knowing that you're -"
"I know what ya trying to say," he interrupted. "An' I want ya to know…well…" his head gestured behind them, to the back of the van, indicating his errant proposal, "it aint just about sex." His thumb gently caressed her cheek. "What happened to Treena…then out in the snow…I…I need ya, darlin'. More than I've ever needed anyone before."
"Oh Logan…" she murmured, his confession filling her stomach with butterflies.
Taking her by surprise his mouth crushed down upon hers, kissing her hard, his lips warm and soft and excitingly demanding. Marie simply melted into him, like ice surrendering to fire; moaning beneath her breath as his tongue sought out hers, as his fingers swept back through her hair, down to the nape of her neck, making her quiver.
When he finally pulled away, leaving her breathless and achingly unsated, he offered her an apologetic smile. "Better go fill her up."
Marie nodded mechanically. "Yeah…OK…" But she just couldn't seem to tear her gaze away from his.
"Right…" she was amused to notice that Logan was experiencing the same problem.
She eventually blinked away his hold on her. "So," she started. "Not candy and not chips. Check."
As she turned to go he stopped her. She twisted around to glance back at him questioningly.
"Grab us a newspaper whilst ya there."
"Will do," she confirmed.
"A local paper." His added, eyes dulling. "Just wanna check out anythin' 'bout Treena."
She found her vision blurring as she smiled despondently. "Yeah, 'course you do."
Struggling to open the door she hurried out into what was rapidly turning into the dawning of an angry snowstorm. Popping up her hood and pulling her coat tightly around her she made a mad dash for the station shop praying that she wouldn't slip over along the way.
Once inside she let out a discreet sigh of relief and hastily organised her dishevelled state. When she felt she looked presentable again she set about doing a little shopping, satisfied to note that the gas station was pretty well stocked considering it was located in the middle of nowhere.
She scanned the length of the nearest aisle recalling Logan's request – not candy and not chips – and wondered, slightly bemused, what on earth she could buy him instead. At the same time she searched for anything that might resemble a local newspaper, her heart tightening at the thought of Treena. When she finally found what she was looking for, her grief turned to nausea as her eyes zoomed in upon a single glaring headline:
Mutant Slain
She felt dizzyingly light-headed, the newspaper making it suddenly seem so real, so fresh - the fact that Treena was dead, that she had been murdered.
And moreover, that Logan wanted to hunt the killer down.
"Hey…" As the world seemed to close in around her, she felt two strong arms attempt to steady her and she lashed out defensively. "Marie…hey, kid, it's me…"
"Logan?" She practically fell into his arms, pressing her face into the soft flannel beneath his jacket, the heat of his broad chest instantly comforting.
She felt him tenderly stroke her hair. "What's this all about?"
Reluctantly pulling away from him, she gestured to the display of newspapers.
His body immediately tensed, his face paling, and she could only watch as he snatched up the paper and began to read.
"I…" she began softly. "I didn't realise that Treena was a mutant."
She noticed his fists clenching, crushing the paper slightly. "She wasn't."
"Then I don't understand -"
He shook his head, his eyes sparking in alarm. "We've gotta get outta here. Now."
"To get to the bar?"
He didn't answer her. "Pay for your things and get in the van."
"Logan, you're scaring me."
He gripped at her arm. "Please Marie," he demanded urgently. "Do it now."
She nodded compliantly and hurried to the pay-desk. Flicking worriedly back and forth between Logan and the cashier she noticed that he got more and more anxious the further he read into the story.
When they were back in the van again she waited until they had buckled up and were heading back out onto the freeway before she spoke. "Logan, tell me what's going on." She was startled to note that he was not continuing back in the direction of Laughlin City. Instead they were going back the way they had come. "Where are we going?"
"My place in the Rockies."
She remembered him telling her about it yesterday. "Your cabin?"
"It's miles from anywhere. No one knows about it, 'cept Jack." He stared frustratingly out onto the road. "I should really give him notice though, so that he can warm the place up a bit."
Marie felt frightened although she couldn't explain why. It wasn't just down to Logan's abrupt change in behaviour. "Why are we going there? Please Logan…I need some answers."
"He's after me."
"Who?"
"The killer," he spat angrily. "He fuckin' used Treena as a message-board, the sick bastard." Heated tears pricked at his eyes as he shook his head in shock. "He cut her…he fuckin' cut her. Christ, why d'he have to hurt her like that? She was just an innocent kid."
"Oh god." Marie hadn't had the chance to read the full story yet but she didn't know whether she wanted to now. Something terrible had happened to Treena, that much was crystal clear.
"I'm gonna gut him like a fish," he snarled, making her flinch. "Slow and deep."
Marie felt bile rise up to her throat.
"Yeah…slow and deep," Logan repeated menacingly. "But first," he flicked his gaze onto her and Marie almost didn't recognise him; he looked like a man possessed. "Gotta make sure you're safe. Jack'll look after ya. You'll be safe with him."
"With Jack?" she didn't like where this was heading. "What about you?"
"He targeted Treena 'cause she was with me."
"You don't know that."
"Trust me, I know," he returned brusquely.
Marie sank back into her seat, disheartened. "I think I'd feel safer with you."
"I don't want ya to get hurt."
"We've been through this all before, Logan."
"Look," he relented. "Let's just get to the cabin first."
It was plainly obvious that he was not prepared to discuss it any further. "How long do you think it'll take?"
"Couple of hours."
Two hours? Marie's head was already a lot calmer and she didn't think she'd need the assistance of the window wipers again. OK, she decided in frustration. If the outer Logan wasn't going to cooperate she would turn to the inner Logan for some insight.
"Look, I'm sorry," Logan blurted unexpectedly. "For bein' so abrupt with ya."
A small smile shivered across her lips. "That's OK."
He scrubbed a hand across his face. "Just dunno which way to turn. The Wolverine is demanding blood whilst Logan doesn't wanna keep ya outta of his sight." He looked at her, eyes desperate. "Tell me what I should do."
His words took her aback and she gaped at him in bewilderment before whispering: "I can't do that."
Those demons were flooding into his face again, almost like separate entities, mocking parasites masking his features and leeching off what precious little hope had gathered there. "What if I need ya too?"
She shook her head slowly. "Forget Logan, forget the Wolverine. What does your heart tell you to do?"
He didn't, or couldn't, answer and silence swept into the cab around them like an unwelcome guest. It was at the exact same moment that the Rockies began to erupt from the winter landscape to greet them forbiddingly.