If he placed his hand on a stack of Bibles, Logan could not have sworn to what took place in the minute after he pulled back the blanket. As cliché as it sounded, time stood still for Logan as he looked into her eyes. The blood rushed through his ears and he felt as if his world had shifted sideways. Those eyes. There was something about them that both captivated and unsettled him.
She blinked and he came back to reality in a heartbeat. God only knew what she'd been through and here he stood staring at her like an incompetent asshole while he had his gun trained at her head. So much for priding himself on his ability to remain calm, cool and collected.
He moved forward cautiously, lowering his weapon as he did so.
"Hey…hey…everything's alright. I'm gonna come over and get you out, okay?"
The woman nodded her head slowly.
Logan continued his approach. The woman's body language told him she wasn't as wary as she was before, but her face still held that hint of fear. He leaned into the camper and first removed her gag. He hadn't expected her to say anything right away but he found himself disappointed when she didn't. He went to work on the duct tape binding her hands and feet. In just a few minutes, she was sitting up, rubbing her wrists.
"Are you alright, Miss…"
He anticipated her finishing the sentence with a name but she sat completely still.
"Can you tell me what happened?"
She shook her head. Logan could tell she was trying to be strong but the tremble in her voice told him she was fighting tears.
"I don't remember."
He wasn't sure if that meant she couldn't remember being taken or if it meant something more serious.
"You can't remember anything? Your name? How you got here?"
She rubbed the back of her head, wincing with pain. He could hear her take a deep breath and sigh.
"No. I've been trying but it's like I just hit a wall. My head is killing me and I…I don't…"
Panic swept over her face. Her eyes darted back and forth as she searched the recesses of her memory, trying desperately to give him…and herself…an answer.
"…I don't know who I am."
Logan's chest clenched tightly when her head dipped down and she leaned forward, putting her head in her hands. He struggled with wanting to give her a moment to herself and putting his arm around her. Logan gently placed his hand on her shoulder and stood in silence for a few moments. There was something primal about his desire to be near her. He was fighting desperately to suppress the feelings that were surfacing.
It's not like he hadn't been attracted to women before. God knows he wasn't a monk. But Logan preferred to keep his associations restricted to the physical. Meet them, fuck them and then hit the road. He never allowed his heart open too far. Sure, it was shallow and selfish but it was also a necessity. Women complicated his life and the last thing he needed was relationship bullshit.
Now, this complete stranger made his blood pound in a way he'd never experienced before. It made him feel completely out of control. And Logan liked to be in control.
He needed to get a fucking grip and do his damn job.
"Hey, it's okay. It sounds like you got hit pretty hard. It's probably just some temporary memory loss. I'm sure you'll remember everything in no time."
Logan began to run through scenarios in his head. He always had to have a plan. Plans kept you alive.
"Look. I'm gonna call in my deputy and search the car. Maybe we'll find something in there that can tell us what happened."
She nodded her head.
"I'm also gonna call our town doctor to check you out. That alright with you?"
"Yeah."
Logan took a step backward and the woman lifted her head, wiping her eyes as she sat in the back of the filthy camper. She looked at him with such hope. Those eyes again.
"I'll be right there…" He pointed to his Sheriff's vehicle. "…if you need me."
She sat motionless as Logan moved away. He made it to his SUV, reached in and picked up his radio. The button clicked under his thumb.
"Bobby?"
No answer. Logan's voice was more firm now.
"Bobby."
He had a feeling the third time would not be the charm.
"Goddamn it, Bobby, pick up the fuckin' radio!"
Robert Drake was a good deputy with zero ability to remember to keep his radio with him at all times. He was the kind of kid with good street smarts and a wicked sense of humor but who possessed the organizational skills of a rhesus monkey.
Just before Logan put the radio down and prepared to pull out his cell phone, the speaker crackled.
"Here! I'm here, Sheriff! Sorry, I was in the shower. What's up?"
"I need you out on Route 59, about three miles east out of town. We've got a man down and a woman who needs medical assistance. Call Hank and tell him he's comin' with you."
"Copy that."
"Bring the bodywagon."
"Got it."
"And, Bobby, get here yesterday. Copy that?"
"Yeah, copy that, boss. Over."
Logan put the radio back down and looked at the woman in the back of the truck. She'd moved forward now, her legs dangling out of the back of the camper door. Her rich auburn hair glinted in the sunlight. She was wearing a light jacket, jeans and tennis shoes. It was then Logan noticed something visible just underneath her coat. He walked back to the woman, trying his best to remain calm and in control and not show that he wished she would look up and meet his eyes again.
He reached the car and stood next to her. Logan pointed to her jacket.
"I think there's something on your shirt."
She looked down and gently moved her coat further aside. There, pinned to her shirt was a plastic nametag.
Hello, I'm Marie
Marie.
She unfastened it and took the small piece of plastic in her hands, caressing the letters with reverence. Her voice was barely audible.
"My name is Marie."
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000
Author's Chapter Notes:
I honestly can't say thank you enough for the 'warm reception' and your great reviews. Your support, encouragement and feedback is genuinely appreciated and welcomed. :)
Chapter End Notes:
Clickety click, my lovelies!