Title: Lost Souls, Part II: Out of Tune
Author: Jamie
Email: madjm@mac.com
Category: AU Logan/Marie. Some angstin' going on.
Rating: PG-13, because Marie has a potty mouth.
Disclaimer: X-Men and its characters are owned by a bunch of people. Sadly, I'm not one of them, or I'd have money. But I don't, so please don't sue me. Title and lyrics come from Hooverphonic, off their "Blue Wonder Powder Milk" CD.
Summary: Marie hitches a ride and learns she's not the only one with secrets.
~~~~
overwhelming as they are
with their mystifying glow
breeding hope by counting stars
as they hunger for the show
merge the bitterness, the pain
which i'm sure you can explain again
one gets hurt when she feels small
and she's longing for some peace
being the center of it all
slow attack but fast release
hear the difference in vain
out of tune but just not quite the same
~~ Hooverphonic
It's not like she wanted to talk to him or anything.
It was just the silence was so ... silent.
Marie didn't deal well with silence. It left so much time for that pesky thing called "thinking." Which always brought up nasty things like memories. Which really weren't an option for her at the moment, since she enjoyed her illusion of sanity, thank-you-very-much.
When she drove alone, she filled the silence with music, off-key singing and chattering nonstop to Fred. Before Fred forced her to give up buses and trains as a mode of transportation, she could always count on some talkative fellow passenger to make the quiet go away. And if they asked questions about her, she exercised her skill in storytelling and made up something entertaining that wasn't even remotely close to her real life.
Fred didn't seem to mind the quiet much. Sprawled across the seat with his head in her lap, he grunted a little and pushed at her hand with his nose to let her know some ear scratching wouldn't be out of line.
She absently scratched behind his ears, looking around the truck. It occurred to her that she didn't even know the driver's name. In the fight, he'd gone by Wolverine, but he hadn't said a word to her since they'd left the parking lot.
She wanted to ask his name, but the whole silence thing was turning into kind of a quiet grudge match. It was kind of grade-school, the way they kept glancing at each other, waiting for someone to speak. She figured she'd be the first one to break, but she didn't want it to be so soon.
Twisting, she peered back into the camper. God, what a pit. The man was a total slob. She wasn't exactly Martha-freaking-Stewart herself, but heavens, did he ever do laundry? And, geez, was that a pizza on the counter? It was fuzzy! Yuck.
Suddenly her pathetic life didn't look so bad. She thought about telling him so but decided against it. After all, the guy was giving them a ride, right? The last thing they needed was to get dumped in the middle of nowhere and have another long, cold walk.
Marie turned back, catching him staring at her again. She really wanted to know his name. She certainly couldn't call him Wolverine. Now that she got a close-up look at him, she wondered why he didn't just call himself Wolf. As far as she could remember, a wolverine was kind of like a bear, and this guy seemed more like a wolf than a bear. Of course, she'd never met a wolf or a bear, so ...
"Where you headed?" he asked, startling her.
"Um ... Anchorage," she said finally, smirking a little. Yessss! She had triumphed over the mighty Wolverine. Gotta take the small victories where you can find them.
"You're pretty far north," he commented.
"Yeah, I got ... off track," she said. "Fred ate my map, and I got off on this road to nowhere. And then my car broke down."
"He ate your map?"
"More like, he ripped it into tiny dog-slobbery shreds."
"What kind of dog is he?"
OK. We're going to talk about Fred. Nice, safe topic. "I don't know. I think he's mostly lab, but I'm not really sure."
"Why'd you name your dog Fred?" He honestly sounded curious.
"A) He's not my dog. B) He just looked like a Fred." She looked down at the dog, who was grinning up at her, no doubt remembering the map-chewing incident with glee. Damn dog.
"He's not your dog?"
"Full of questions, aren't we?"
"Never mind," he growled, and she immediately felt bad. As long as he only asked about Fred, it wouldn't hurt to answer him. It wasn't like he was asking questions about her.
"I found him," she said softly. "In a little town. In Minnesota, I think, a while back. He'd been abused, and he was starvin'. I fed him. He's followed me around ever since."
He was quiet for a few minutes. Marie started to get fidgety again when he spoke. "Hard to imagine somebody hurting a dog like this."
"If I could get ahold of those bastards, they'd be the ones hurtin'," she said. That was an ass-kicking she'd imagined many times.
"I bet they're shakin' in their boots," he said.
"They should be," she said, smiling faintly. "I'm Marie Gordon, by the way."
"Yeah, I think half the state heard that when you were givin' that poor guy hell over the phone."
She snorted. "That poor guy sold me a shit-mobile car that broke down in the middle of nowhere."
He chuckled. She waited another minute, and when he didn't say anything, she remarked casually, "This is the part of the conversation where it's customary for you to tell me your name."
He looked at her but didn't answer.
"Or I could just call you Wolverine," she said. "Or, oh! Hey, I'll just call you Wolvie. Yeah, I like that. Wolvie."
"Logan," he said. "My name's Logan."
"First name or last?" she asked. It seemed to fit him, whichever it was.
"Yes," he said.
All-righty, then.
Marie stared at him for a moment, noticing he wore dogtags. "Were you in the Army?" she asked, pointing. "Doesn't that mean you were in the Army?"
He frowned and tucked the tags under his shirt.
OK. Topic off-limits. Got it. She wanted to ask him more, but having more than a few off-limits topics herself, she decided to keep her mouth shut for once.
She stared out the window, watching the gray trees flashing in the glow of the headlights, then blending into the dark night. Was everything in this stupid state gray? It was such an ugly damn color, and it reminded her of Seth's eyes. Light green-gray, then dark, then cold ... No. Don't think about it. We agreed on this one right, girl? No thinking.
Logan cleared his throat. "I need to stop in the next town for the night. They've got a place where I'm fighting tomorrow night. It's a little out of the way."
It almost sounded like ... "Are you asking my permission?" She knew it was a mistake to ask before the words left her mouth.
He scowled at her. "No. I'm just telling you. I'm stopping there."
"Fine," she said.
"Fine," he said. Then, "I wasn't asking permission."
"OK," she said.
"OK."
After a moment, he spoke again. "You talk a lot."
"I'm not saying anything."
"If I'd known you talked this much, I wouldn't have given you a ride."
"You're the one who was playing twenty-freakin'-questions a minute ago," she said, annoyed.
"I think we should just not talk," he said.
"Fine."
"Fine."
She held out for a few more minutes before she couldn't stand it anymore. "Could we listen to some music?"
"Radio doesn't pick up much," he said.
She remembered her CD player and dug around in her bag. "Does that tape deck work?" It looked ancient.
"Dunno."
"Don't you ever listen to music?" She found it unbelievable that he could drive around by himself and not listen to some kind of music. Then again, maybe he didn't have thoughts and memories that crept up on him like malicious whispers. She bet he'd never had to pull off the road, crying and shaking and wanting to drive off a cliff somewhere and just silence everything.
"Not much," he said, and she shook her head quickly, throwing off the thoughts, pushing them back as always. She flipped on the radio and hooked her portable player up to the tape deck.
"We'll start you off easy," she said. "A little Shawn Colvin."
Logan glanced at her case as she flipped through the CDs. "I don't know about this," he said. "I don't know if I'll like it."
"Well, if there's music, I won't be talkin'."
"Put it on," he said.
She pressed play, smiling as she heard the opening notes of "Steady On."
After a moment, Logan relaxed, and Marie smiled even more.
She'd promised not to talk, but she hadn't said anything about singing.
***
It was surprisingly easy for Marie to reconcile the vicious cage brawler of the previous night with the man who was, at the moment, playing an endless game of fetch with Fred in the motel parking lot.
It was a little more difficult to understand the man who left them to freeze their butts off by the side of the road, then relented and gave them a ride, and then gruffly offered to pay for her motel room last night if she couldn't afford one.
Normally that would have set Marie off because, damn it, she could take care of herself. And coming from anyone else, she might have thought he was suggesting something different than a decent night's sleep. But something about Logan seemed too honorable for that, and she was able to calmly turn him down. She even managed to thank him for the offer.
She chuckled a little and shifted on the concrete block she was sitting on. The man was certainly a puzzle. It was a little disturbing how safe she felt with him, though. Marie, the girl who didn't trust anybody, actually fell asleep in the truck with him. She tried to remember the last time she'd felt so comfortable with someone. It must have been Chicago, nearly a year before, she decided. Of course, that almost didn't count, as her time in Chicago was mostly a big, drunken blur.
But speculating about Logan was much more fun than pondering her own sorry life. And the man wasn't bad to look at, either, she thought as he bent over to pick up the tennis ball he'd bought for Fred.
You know boys are only after one thing, the Momma-voice reminded her. And after they get it ...
Yeah, no shit.
She knew exactly what boys were after, but it occurred to her it might be fun to find out what exactly men were after. Immediately, she took back the thought. The last thing she needed was to add something else to her list of mistakes and regrets.
Logan laughed out loud at Fred's antics, and she sighed. No mistakes, no matter how tempting.
Then he turned and shot her a charmingly childlike grin before tossing the ball to her. She caught it without thinking, just before Fred crashed into her, knocking her to the ground.
She lay on the ground, staring at the sky, until Logan moved into her view. "Come on, lazy," he said, pulling her to her feet. "Let's get something to eat."
***
They ate at what was apparently the only restaurant in town, a diner just down the street from the motel. Marie crumbled crackers into her soup and looked out the front window. Just down the street was a pretty seedy-looking bar.
"That where you're fightin'?"
"Yeah."
"You like fightin' for money?" she asked.
He shrugged. "It's a living."
"Hmmm."
"What do you do?" he asked her.
It was her turn to shrug. "I work wherever I find something. Bartending, waitressing, stuff like that. Once, I was a stripper."
He froze, his eyes narrowing. "You're kidding," he said finally.
"Yep." She grinned. "But I thought about it. There's big money in stripping."
He shook his head. "A girl like you shouldn't be doing something like that."
"A girl like me?"
"A nice girl," he said seriously.
She choked on her soup. "A nice girl? Are you on crack or somethin'?"
"A nice girl with attitude," he amended.
She rolled her eyes.
"Where are you from, anyway?" he asked.
Marie nibbled on her grilled cheese sandwich and debated with herself. She never told anyone the truth about herself. Ever. She made up wild stories, borrowed stories she'd heard from other people, or else told them to mind their own damn business.
"Mississippi," she answered honestly, surprising herself.
"Got family?"
"Nope." Well, that was a lie. But no way was she getting into that subject.
"What's in Anchorage?"
Marie sat back and fiddled with her silverware. She didn't really have an answer to that. Anchorage was just a place she'd always wanted to see, and she certainly didn't have anywhere else to go. She shrugged. "I'll find out when I get there, I guess," she said.
"Look," he said. "I can ... I'll give you a ride as far as Anchorage if you want."
"I'd appreciate it," she smiled gratefully at him. Without a car, traveling with Fred was a challenge sometimes. That obviously wouldn't be a problem with Logan. He was half in love with the mutt already.
"It's no big deal," he said gruffly. "I'm sort of heading that way anyway."
They finished their meal mostly in silence and waited for the check. Marie watched Logan's hands, mesmerized, as he played with his glass. Damn, the man had beautiful hands, she thought, as he rubbed his thumbs up and down, trailing through the condensation on the glass. She wondered what they would feel like on her skin.
"So, you comin'?" he asked.
"Uh ... I ... huh?"
"Tonight? To watch the fights?" he said, looking at her strangely.
"Um." Marie flushed. Fights? Right. Fights. Her mind had gone to a very different place. What a time for her to develop a libido. "Um ... yeah. I'll be there."
"I figured," he said, smirking.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Well," he sat back. "You know, by the way you were checking me out last night ..."
"I was not checking you out!" Her exclamation drew the attention of almost all the diner's patrons, but she was beyond caring. She was outraged, though honestly, she had been checking him out, and who could blame her?
"No?"
"I was only watching because I'm always fascinated by the dumb-ass things people will do for money."
"Uh-huh."
"You arrogant bastard," she hissed. "I don't think there's enough room here for both of us and your ego." Marie got up, grabbed her coat and stormed toward the door. She remembered the check just as she heard him laughing behind her.
Screw it, she thought. Let the jerk pay.
***
She burned off her mad taking a walk around town, then spent the rest of the day and evening watching game shows and sitcoms and taking a nap with Fred, who was a champion napper.
By 8 p.m., she had showered and put on a clean pair of jeans and a wine-colored sweater. Leaving Fred behind, she headed for the bar.
Logan sat on a stool at the bar, smoking a cigar and glaring at people.
She grinned. The bar's patrons apparently knew enough to stay away from him, since several stools on either side of him were empty.
"Hey, sugar," she said, sitting next to him. "Buy a girl a drink?"
He looked at her for a moment, then smiled faintly. "Beer?"
"How 'bout a diet Coke?" she suggested. "Alcohol and Marie don't really mix. Or, actually, they mix a little too well."
Logan ordered her drink and leaned on the bar. "Didn't know if you were gonna show."
"Hey, couldn't miss a chance to drool over your manly chest," she said, only halfway joking.
"Smartass."
"Well," she drawled, "I figure I can win some money bettin' on you, sugar. So don't lose."
"Not a possibility, darlin'," he said.
She rolled her eyes. "Look out for the rapidly expanding ego, folks."
Logan went into the cage a few minutes later and started pounding the crap out of the idiots who were dumb enough to challenge him. Marie found herself getting more turned on, watching his lean muscles straining and the sweat rolling off his body.
Damn, girl, get a grip on yourself!
Becoming some trashy fight groupie was really not in her plans for the future. Although, technically, she really didn't have many plans for the future at all, and the man was looking mighty hot ...
Just then one of the aforementioned trashy fight groupies sauntered up to the cage with a glass of bourbon and handed it to Logan before coming back to the bar. She slid on a stool nearby and laughed. "I'm gettin' me some of that tonight," she told her friend next to her.
Think again, bimbo.
If anyone was going to lay hands on that prime piece of man brawling in the cage, it wasn't going to be some big-hair-havin', spandex-wearin', whiskey-drinkin' skank. It was going to be Marie Catherine Gordon, and nobody else. The end. That's all she wrote. Call the fat lady and tell her to get singin', 'cause it's all over, baby.
Her decision made, Marie reveled in the desire that flooded her body. She was going to have this. She was going to have him. It might be a mistake, but she imagined it would be worth some trouble later on to have those hands on her body now.
Of course, Logan easily beat all his challengers, and Marie cashed in on her bets with a smile. Logan walked up as she sat at the bar, counting her money. "Hey, Wolvie," she said, grinning. "You made me a couple hundred dollars. Now I can buy you a drink."
She stood up, brushing her body against his deliberately as she shoved the cash in her jeans pocket. She sank back onto the stool and smiled at him.
He moved closer, nudging her legs apart and standing between them. "I could feel you watching me," he said, sliding his hands up her thighs. "Admit it. You were checking me out."
Marie grinned and shrugged. "Yeah. So? What're you gonna do about it?"
"I can think of several things," he said, hands squeezing her thighs slightly. Her breath caught in her throat, and she shivered at the tone in his voice. She decided maybe now would be a good time to adjourn to a more private location.
"You owe me some money, bitch," a man said angrily next to them. Marie recognized him as one of the men Logan had beaten to a pulp. The right side of his face was already one big bruise. "You and your mutie freak boyfriend."
There were so many things wrong with that statement. Where to begin? She settled on the most obvious. "I bet on him because it was obvious he could kick your pansy ass halfway across the state," she said calmly. Logan snorted out a laugh.
Marie stood up slowly, rubbing against Logan again. Mostly just because she could. "Maybe we should go," she suggested.
What happened next was so fast she never quite grasped what was going on. One minute, she was standing pressed up against Logan, the next minute, she was on her ass on the floor behind him where he'd shoved her.
Before she could complain, she noticed that the other man had pulled out a knife. As he lunged toward Logan, there was an odd noise, and six huge metal claws popped out of Logan's knuckles. The bar went entirely silent.
"Holy shit," Marie murmured, the sound magnified by the quiet of the room.
The man across from Logan had frozen, all the color drained out of his face by the shock.
Marie heard the strange sound again, and the blades vanished. Logan turned and helped her up. He settled her back one the stool, and giving one last glare at the room, he walked out.