After her secret dinner in the kitchen, well after the normal feeding time, Marie ventures out onto the deck. It’s a little too warm to be so covered up, but in that she never really gets a choice.
Hells bells, her mood grew dark after her meeting with the Professor. During their time together he gave her assurances that he would look into Carol’s activities before she had left that final day, but Marie took no comfort in it. She still doesn’t. She figures his mouth is probably writing checks his ass either can’t or won’t cash, but it wouldn’t be the first time someone promised her something and didn’t deliver.
That thought is followed by a notion that she should be slinging back shots in a grubby bar if she’s going to be flinging around clichéd lines like that. Since she’s alone with the stars Marie lets herself laugh at that.
“You goin’ crazy again?”
Marie startles and turns in the direction she thinks she heard the growl come from. Her ears barely catch the soft, faint sounds of grass giving way. A small orange glow flickers to life before dying in intensity as the looming figure the cigar belongs to lumbers up the stairs of the deck.
“You lurking in the dark again?” And there is that mouth of hers again. Talk about mouths writing checks…
“Yep.” Is his only response as Logan settles himself, bracing his forearms on the railing and looking over whatever his keen eyes can make out in the darkness. She knows that he’s purposely keeping her sitting form in the corner of his vision though.
Marie has the absurd idea to get pissed for about half a second. She was here first dammit and part of her wants to let him know. Sure it’s a big deck, but big enough for the both of them to brood? She doesn’t think so. Then again, Marie doesn’t exactly think telling him that would be the best idea either. That line of thinking stops when she shifts in her seat, her elbow bumping something on the arm of the chair. Looking down she spots the ashtray she almost knocked over. Full of ashes and cigar stubs. Looks like she wasn’t here first after all. Damn damn damn.
“You mind handin’ me that?” He doesn’t bother to look her way, preferring instead to favor the dark landscape with his attention. Well if he’s going to be an ass about it.
“Here.” Technically she is handing it to him. He never specified that she should get up and deliver it to him. So Marie holds her arm out, ashtray balanced on her palm to avoid getting ashes all over her borrowed gloves.
This time he does look askance at her and he clearly isn’t impressed with her cheekiness. With a frown he reaches over and plucks the tray from her hand, placing it on the railing next to him after giving her one last sideways scowl.
“You’re welcome.” She points out, because she’s sure that wherever he’s from, he didn’t have a Southern mother who instilled any manners. The man in question huffs out his smoke harder than usual in response.
No they haven’t lost their eloquence.
Deciding that a territory dispute is a terrible topic to address with the Wolverine, Marie curls back into herself on the deck chair. As much as she really wants to avoid the trouble her mouth will cause her by talking to the guy, remaining silent is going to be a problem. Already, she can feel a light tingling in her limbs, a shiver crawling up her spine, but Marie can’t tell if it’s Carol or…something else. It might be the former X-Man beginning to test her limits or a more unfamiliar response that Marie doesn’t have a name for.
Either way, Marie can’t deal. Taking a haphazard guess, she chooses to blindly go in one direction. With her teeth clenched, Marie envisions a thick, solid metal door sliding into place, shutting everyone out like a panic room. It isn’t the most elegant solution; it’s not one that she’s heavily relied on in the past. It’ll also give her one hell of a migraine later, but it’ll have to do while she’s in Logan’s presence.
“How d’you think the Professor is at body language?” The question is out of her mouth before she can think the entire thing through, which is probably why it comes out sounding messier than she wanted.
Logan turns to her, affording her a view of his profile, the side that doesn’t house The Eyebrow, but she knows it’s cocked and ready to go on the other side of his face. Marie half expects his response to be along the lines of “You talkin’ to me?” and the image of this man doing that scene in his own mirror, with claws pointed instead of a finger does wonders to shut down worries of Carol.
He takes a drag on his cigar before speaking. “What d’ya mean?”
“Well he’s a telepath. He’s used to being able to get answers from people’s minds even if they don’t say anything out loud.” Logan nods, still clearly not sure where she’s going with this. “He said he couldn’t with me because of my mutation and all…the other people…the voices in my head.” She checks his expression, anticipating the “where do we keep the straightjackets?” look her confession would elicit, but Logan is as neutral as ever. She isn’t entirely sure why she’s unloading this onto him, but he’s here and he hasn’t killed her in all this time, despite the multiple opportunities he’s had. Marie is almost convinced that he might not even be considering it.
When he fully turns to face her, leaning his back against the railing and folding those formidable arms across his chest, she realizes that she’s let the silence linger a little more than comfortable. Clearing her throat, she tries to put the rest of her thoughts into words. “So I was thinking that a guy like him, someone who’s depended on his mutation, on reading minds, wouldn’t really know what to do with me.”
Logan scratches the stubble on his chin as he thinks about her words. “That why you think he can’t help you?”
“No – well, maybe. I’m…not sure. I thought about that, but that wasn’t what I was really trying to get at. I figured that if he’s so used to plucking things out of people’s minds, then he’s spent his life ignoring other things and now that he’s dealing with me, someone who can’t have her mind read, he’s…he’s just…at a loss, I guess.”
“What other things?”
“Hmm?”
He huffs. “You said he spent his life ignoring other things. What other things?”
“Oh! Yeah, well the body language thing that I mentioned. I don’t see a telepath really having any need to study that. That got me thinking and…well, I guess there’s really a lot that goes unsaid in conversations. So sometimes we have to rely on the nonverbal things to help us figure out what’s going on with a person. Someone like the Professor wouldn’t have to do that.” And that’s her piece on the subject, what’s been bugging her since she left Xavier’s office that afternoon. Even if Logan isn’t conversationalist of the year, Marie still feels a little lighter getting that off of her chest, out of the intangible swirl of her mind.
Logan’s staring at the scuff marks he’s creating as one of his boots rub over the other. No, definitely no speech awards hiding in this guy’s closet. She feels like leaving now that she’s said what she needed to, she isn’t expecting a lively dialogue with him.
“Yeah, he’s kind of shit at that.” That isn’t at all what she thought he’d say and her expression must have shown it. He just looks at her and shrugs, shoving his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “What? You called it like you saw it and you’re right.” He goes back to examining his boots for a few seconds before fixing her with a glare. “Doesn’t mean he can’t help you though.”
Marie just nods, not bothering with a verbal answer if her heart isn’t in it.
She’s not sure how long he’s going to stand there, watching as he ruins his own shoes even further, but the silence is becoming uncomfortable again. At least for her. She gathers that Logan is the type of guy who prefers not having a conversation. He’s probably out here for the sole purpose of avoiding one, thinking that the rest of the mansion would be occupied inside. Well that may have been his nature, but it just isn’t hers.
“We’re not having any more of those…sessions, are we?”
He turns his attention back to her, looking like she’s just asked him “are you sure the sky is blue?”. The tone of the “Yeah” he gives her is pretty similar to his expression.
Marie has to stop herself from flopping back in her seat and sighing in frustration. She really doesn’t want another one of those Wolverine Brand Cold Showers. She still needs to scrounge up a new shower curtain from the last one. Taking a much more measured deep breath, Marie meets his stare and makes sure to check her tone. “Do you honestly think that’s going to work? You saw how terrible I was at it.”
“Yeah, that’s why you gotta keep at it.”
“Look, I just don’t really think it’s my thing.”
“You don’t know that. The session ended early.”
That dents her composure a bit. “That’s because you ended it!” She’ll bet she’s doing a good impression of a goldfish right now. Screw the calming breaths, she’s on the edge of her seat, pointing an accusing finger his way without fully comprehending how easily he could slice it off.
Logan’s composure doesn’t falter. He shrugs with his response. “Yeah because we were gettin’ nothin’ done. You weren’t committing and I was gettin’ pissed. And get your damn hand outta my face.”
“Ah – I – you - ooooh! Are you serious? So I gotta follow your whims now too?!”
“Would you just calm your ass down? Listen, this shit doesn’t take overnight. You gotta work at it. It takes practice. Time.”
“I don’t have time!” She wants that to sound more heated instead of the desperate whine it turns into. Logan is about to retort when Marie points to her head and continues. “You think she’s going to give me time? You think she’s just gonna sit up here and behave while I get my act together? That isn’t gonna happen!” She smacks a gloved hand against the wooden arm of the deck chair to accent her point. “She wants out and she wants it now! I’m running out of time.” Her tone is a little more pleading than she likes, but at least she isn’t crying. Yet.
The silence stretches out between them again. She turns away from him and in her periphery Marie can see his blurry form facing her, knows he is openly watching her, but she keeps her head turned, resolutely staring into the endless dark. Internally she’s grasping at straws. Scrambling to mentally find one of her tried and true methods of shutting off whenever the absorptions get out of control. Surprisingly no one within her mind is taking the opportunity to start a brain revolt, but she still needs the dulling repetitions she uses to block everything out. Logan doesn’t seem to get the memo about that when he interrupts her thoughts with his rumbling question.
“What d’ya mean?”
Marie has to swallow a few times before she can get her voice to work, battling past the ache in her throat that comes with fighting tears. “You saw how it is with her. What she does to me.”
His blurry form in the corner of her eye reaches up to rub a hand against the back of his neck. “It’s gettin’ worse?”
This time Marie does face him and makes sure she lifts her chin, giving him as defiant a glare as she can muster. “It’s not getting better. You’ve seen it.” She slowly stands to leave and Logan straightens his posture to match hers. “Whatever reason she wants out it has to do with Scott, Jean…and you.” His gaze narrows at that and the growing ache in her throat forces her next words out as a whisper.
“So I don’t think any amount of time is going to matter for long.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
What's crackin', ya'll? Sorry about that. It's early for me & I woke up to a really weird, shitty dream. So to turn things around I'm posting Chapter 9, selfishly anticipating reviews to help make my day. Have I told you guys how much I heart you? Also, I leave for spring break tomorrow & then will be bombarded with work when I get back, so I'm not entirely sure when the next update will be. Thanks & a chocolate covered Wolverine go to Moviemom for the beta & providing re-writes that were far better than my words. Any mistakes are my own since I always eff up the uploading process.
Chapter End Notes:
Oh hey again! Sorry this isn't super long, but if you could leave a little tidbit of your thoughts I'd love you forever. Promise. I might get eaten by a mountain lion or a mountain bear or a mountain armadillo next week! My pilots could be drunk on my St. Patrick's Day return flight! Don't you want to leave something in case I don't come back? Pleeeeassee!