Frozen In Time

Marie Evans had never been a heavy sleeper. When the door to the guest bedroom where she stayed at Sam and Lil's house swung open with a creaking noise, she sat up slowly and smiled at the hesitantly intruding pair of brown eyes peeking in on her. "Good morning, sunshine," she said with forced cheeriness. "What are you lurking out there for?"

"Didn't want to wake you up," Logan mumbled sheepishly as he crawled over the mound of discarded blankets into her lap. "Sorry, I was just…looking at the angel on my window, and it was a big reminder that last night totally sucked."

"Oh, sweetheart," Marie sighed, kissing the top of his head. "You have nothing to apologize for; is that clear? Where are your grandma and grandpa?" she asked.

"Making breakfast, I think," Logan said softly. "I'm not really hungry."

"Your parents still aren't back, I take it?" she pressed gently, and Logan shook his head miserably. "What's on your mind, kiddo?" At her persistent tone, Logan glanced over his shoulder and returned to the hallway connecting the various bedrooms. There were some ominous thuds, and Marie frowned at the doorway, but before she could get up to investigate, her grandson re-emerged, clutching a red leather-bound book protectively to his chest. "What's that you've got there? Did you drop something from the shelf?"

Logan shook his head as he laid the notebook between them on the bed and flipped it open to a random page. "Did you know about Mommy's journal?" he asked. "It was one of my birthday gifts last month. Dad said it was time I could answer some questions about her on my own. Apparently, she wrote everything down."

"Oh yes," his grandmother smiled. "That's a pretty awesome present, huh? Did you start reading it already?"

The eight-year-old nodded absently, still turning the pages of the book. Halfway through the journal, Logan stopped on a page with snowflakes sketched in dark blue ink at every corner. "I really like this one," he smiled, trailing his finger across the loopy handwriting at the top of the page.

Marie leaned towards the book curiously. "Logan's first Christmas," she read the entry's title. "Good choice, buddy," she said approvingly. "You were only a month old then. It snowed on Christmas Eve that year; I was the one who kept an eye on you so your parents could have some fun, actually. Your mommy absolutely loved Christmas, you know."

"Seems like it; this page is the fanciest," Logan grinned at her. "What was that day like?"

"That's a good story," his grandmother said, beckoning the little boy closer to her. "You slept through it all, but I pretty much had a front-row seat to a great snow day."

December 2010 – Eight Years Earlier

"Sara Kay Evans, did you not swear to me all through summer you'd be the first one out the door when it finally snowed?" twenty-four-year-old Clay Evans challenged his wife playfully, pulling on his thick snow gloves as the blonde kept staring longingly at their one-month-old son Logan.

"I know, I know," she sighed; "I just can't get enough of my little sunshine over there. I mean, look at this baby!"

"We made him," Clay smirked proudly, wrapping his arms around her and following Sara's loving gaze to where his mother stood with the infant fast asleep in her arms. "I think my mom can handle him, angel; lighten up already."

"I second that one," Marie Evans chipped in, affectionately cradling her grandson. "I did raise that knucklehead, you know."

"Mom," Clay groaned as Sara giggled at his expense. "Why do you choose to hurt me like this?"

"I like knuckleheads," Sara whispered seductively in his ear and backed slowly towards the front door. "She's right; it's not even like we'll be far. The yard has so much snow right now that Logan can even watch the fun if he does wake up."

"Exactly," Clay said pointedly. "Next year, he'll be old enough to come and play in the snow with us. Have patience." He was too busy gazing lovingly at the baby to notice that Sara's infectious giggles had faded suspiciously away in the distance. Marie's bright blue eyes twinkled knowingly as she carried Logan over to the window for a better view of the antics. "Ah!" Clay gasped as a freezing clump of snow hit him in the back. "Oh, you'll pay for that one, Sara Kay," he warned the blonde, peeking out from behind a big tree at the other end of the lawn.

"Evans," she called back teasingly. "Hit me with your best shot, babe."

Clay smiled at Logan, clinging to the front of Marie's shirt in his sleep before taking the bait. "Mommy's asking for it now, isn't she, Wolverine?"

"Clay, that's cheating," Sara whined from the other end of the snow-covered lawn. "You're the one who said to ease off the kid, traitor!"

"Just making sure he's on my team," Clay winked as he finally stepped outside and bent down to scoop up a handful of snow. "It's payback time, angel; watch your back."

"Bring it on," Sara laughed, shaking snow from the sturdy tree branch above her head into her hand as ammunition. She carefully stepped out from behind the tree trunk and launched her snowball right when Clay sent his flying toward her. "Well, that was artistic," she mused when the two clumps of snow collided in mid-air and disintegrated, neither having met their original targets.

"Nice aim," Clay told her mock-teasingly. "Even your snowball is in love with mine; give in to temptation and save us all the trouble of getting really cold."

"Where's the fun in that?" Sara shot back and danced out from behind her tree as he watched in amusement. "Warming up is the best part," she said, twirling gracefully towards him with her tongue sticking out to catch the occasional snowflake. "Don't you think?"

"Hell yeah," Clay moaned as her arms looped around his neck.

Suddenly, the opening strains of Angel Flying Too Close To The Ground drifted out to them from the open window. "Your mom is psychic," Sara said gleefully. "I love this song."

"It could also be that very few other records ever see the light of day in this house," Clay pointed out, returning his mother's wave and staring at Logan's tiny figure in her arms.

"Whatever," Sara said dismissively. "Dance with me, you goof!"

"Now?" he asked.

"No, next year," she said sarcastically. "Yes, now, dummy." She leaned up and kissed his lips; "Unless you're not up to the challenge of keeping me warm, that is."

"Is that seriously a challenge, angel?" he teased. "Careful what you wish for; I might never let you go."

"That's what I'm hoping," Sara whispered, pressing her head against the padding of his jacket as they began to sway in unison. "I love you, you know?"

"I kind of love you, too," he replied. "This is forever, I promise."

"It better be," she said, grinning when he kept a firm hold on one of her hands so she could spin away from him and safely return to his arms. "I'll make a dancer of you yet, Clay Evans."

"I know you have many talents, angel, but I'm pretty sure world-class dancing is not in my future, I'm sorry to say," he laughed.

"I'll show you talents," Sara smirked, backing away from him as she spoke. Stretching her arms to her sides, the blonde flopped into the deep snow coating the lawn. "This angel loves angels," she said, spreading her arms and legs wide to form a classic snow angel. "It'll give you some work to do later, Mr. Warm Up," she giggled breathlessly up at him.

"Why later?" Clay demanded with a teasing glint in his dark blue eyes. "You don't get to be all pink-cheeked cuteness and expect me to ignore it, angel. Good try."

Sara's eyes widened as he knelt at her feet and leaned forward, pinning her arms to the ground so he could reach her lips uninterrupted. "Oh no," the blonde squealed. "God, that's freezing…I hate you!"

"Getting snow down the back of your jacket?" he laughed mischievously. "I was just giving Mr. Warm Up a real job to do, you know," he said as Sara's teeth chattered uncontrollably.

"Shut up and kiss me, you knucklehead," Sara moaned insistently, sitting up when he finally released her. "That's what you get for ruining my perfect snow angel, idiot."

"Hmm," Clay murmured, too busy sucking on her rosy lips to speak for a moment. "That's where I have an advantage," he said at last. "Nothing can stop my angel from being perfect every minute of every day."

"Okay, that's a good line," Sara said reluctantly as Clay stood up and pulled her to her feet. "Very smooth; I knew there was a reason I love you."

"That can't be the only reason," he pouted, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

"Well, no," Sara admitted, leaning back against his chest with a contented sigh. "The biggest reason is over there," she said, nodding at the window where Marie was still holding Logan and watching them fondly. "And you're kind of a super-agent," she winked. "We did alright, huh?"

"I'd say we did great," Clay corrected. "Come on, let's go freeze the kid and see how tough he really is."

"No freezing my baby," Sara protested, punching his arm playfully. "You're officially Mr. Warm Up now; bring on the cuddles!"

"Our baby," Clay smiled, pressing her close as they returned inside. "Your wish is my command. Lead the way, angel."

"Nana, did you hear that?" Logan interrupted the story suddenly, twisting around in her arms to stare into the hallway. "I think Mom and Dad might be back." He slid off the bed and padded quickly down the stairs, his grandmother following him anxiously.

Lil stood near the kitchen door, beyond which they could still hear frying pans sizzling. But the sympathy in her eyes barely registered compared to the sight of Clay, standing in the middle of the hallway awkwardly holding Quinn bridal style in his arms. Her head was pressed against his shoulder, and her half-closed eyes made the tear tracks on her cheeks even more glaring. "Honey, you can put her down now," Lil said gently, guiding him over the couch.

She quickly shifted the cushions around to prop up Quinn's head comfortably, and Clay reluctantly laid her down and sat down with her feet in his lap. "I can put her down, but I won't let go," he said softly. "I can't do that again!"

"No one's asking you to," Marie told him gently, and he looked at her with pain-filled eyes, the hand that Quinn reached for trembling desperately in her grasp. "Nobody's letting go, okay? Not this time."

"I thought you said I was too long to carry," Quinn joked weakly. "What do you call that hero action back there?"

"I call that not letting go," he said, squeezing her fingers tightly. "There are exceptions to every rule."

"Dad, what happened?" Logan's small voice suddenly asked, and Marie guiltily realized that he had been lurking behind her while Quinn was settling. Obviously, he was more nervous than he had let on after the initial burst of enthusiasm that his parents were finally home.

"You didn't tell him?" Clay asked his mother, sounding so exhausted that she wished she had interrupted Logan's sleep the previous night.

"He was asleep by the time you called last night," she said apologetically. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

"Don't worry about it," Clay said absently, beckoning the eight-year-old over to the couch. "Get over here, kid." Logan climbed awkwardly onto the sofa's armrest and braced his hand on his father's shoulder for balance. "Do you mind if we talk about this later?"

Logan shook his head slowly; "I'm just happy you're home," he said softly. "Last night was miserable, even Nana cried."

"She did, huh?" Clay murmured, shooting his mother another sad smile. "How are you feeling about all this, bud?"

"Jamie says Aunt Haley used to tell him that sometimes people need to cry out all their tears to make room for a heart full of smiles, or something like that," Logan quoted. "I think hugs work fine."

"I think you're right," Clay told him. "But we won't tell Aunt Haley that she's a cheeseball, okay? We can just do lots of hugs."

"Like now?" the little boy suggested, frowning slightly when Quinn's shaking hands pressed over her eyes. "I wish hugs worked for Mom."

"Now is perfect," Clay nodded, and Logan looped his arms around his father's neck like a clingy monkey, staring over Clay's shoulder at Quinn. "I love you, Wolverine."

"Love you too," the eight-year-old sighed, watching Quinn sadly. He slid down from the couch's armrest and approached her head hesitantly. "Don't cry, Mom," he begged. "It's gonna be okay."

Quinn stared blearily at the concerned boy for a moment and then shifted her hands so they were pressed hard against her stomach again. "No, it won't be okay," she gasped. "It won't be okay because I'm not your mom, and now I won't get to be one."

"Quinn!" Clay hissed in horror as Logan backed towards his grandmothers with quivering lips. Lil pressed the shocked little boy close to her while Marie approached the couch and squeezed Clay's shoulder. "Take that back, please," he pleaded with his wife. Quinn's words might just as well have been a knife stabbing him straight through the heart, his mother thought.

"I can't," Quinn said pitifully, her eyes swimming with tears when she looked up at him again. "I'm really sorry, honey, but this is your home, not mine. I need Haley," she finished. Without another word, she wriggled upright and bolted up the stairs, where they soon heard the click of a door locking.

Marie dropped into the space Quinn had so hurriedly vacated and allowed Clay's head to press against her shoulder. "How am I supposed to fix this?" he choked. "It's like you used to say when Dad died: Life isn't fair, being miserable is never going to change that."

"Maybe so," Marie consented sympathetically, patting the small space between them as an invitation for Logan to squeeze onto the couch with them. "But sometimes everyone is allowed to be miserable; just try to remember that it gets better in time."

Logan crawled into Clay's lap, his eyes still wide in sadness. "We were reading Mommy's journal before you got home," he told his father. "Can we go say goodbye before going back home?"

"That's the best idea I've heard all day," Clay said fervently. "You know your mom didn't mean what she said earlier, right?"

"She sounded pretty convincing to me," Logan replied sadly. "You won't leave me again, right? Pinky swear?"

He held up his tiny pinky finger, and Clay linked it with his without a moment's hesitation. "Never ever," he promised. "I'm not making that mistake again. It's gonna be sad for a while, but you make everything better, squirt. I should have realized that when you were little, and I'll never stop being sorry for that, okay?"

"I forgive you," Logan smiled. "Will it work if I tell you it's gonna be okay? Mom didn't like it so much."

"You know what, kiddo? It just might," Clay said softly. "You and time are going to make everything just fine."

A / N Clara is so naturally bittersweet and tragic it was strange as a hardcore multi-shipper for me to give them the fluff and Clinn the angst. But I hope everyone enjoys xx