Not for beer. For you.
The words echoed in her head, making it difficult for Marie to find sleep. She had spent weeks trying to get the man to talk, and now that he had spoken...
Six little words, that’s all he had said, and yet just remembering them was enough to make her heart beat faster, to make her stomach flutter. His name, and then...
Not for beer. For you.
She turned the words around and around in her mind, wondering what the hell she was getting herself into. She had come out to this cabin with a single purpose -- to be completely alone, to gain control of her skin. When had that goal been eclipsed by the need to win Logan’s trust?
Pretty much the second he risked his life to save yours, she acknowledged wryly. Looking back, from the day that the mountain lion had attacked her -- from the moment when Logan had rushed to her defense and she had taken him into her head -- her focus had shifted. Learning more about him and winning his trust had become more important to her even than controlling her mutation.
At first she had told herself that it was just so she could apologize. He had been hurt so much, she didn’t want him to think that she had stolen his gift deliberately, trading her injury for his. But then, after she had told him that -- why had she kept on, trying to bring him closer? What was she hoping to accomplish?
Maybe it was as simple as wanting to justify how he felt about her. Seeing herself in Logan’s thoughts -- how much warmth and comfort he derived from being near her -- maybe she had just wanted to live up to that image. But, no...that didn’t seem to fit. She wasn’t trying to bolster her own ego. Nor was she doing this out of some sort of altruistic notion. He wasn’t some kind of charity project.
For you.
How could his words affect her so much?
Because you like him, she realized, the notion managing to feel both surprising and yet like something she had known all along. She tried to dismiss the thought. How could she like someone she didn’t even know? But you do know him, she argued with herself. You have him in your head. You’ve seen his thoughts and his memories. You’ve spoken to him for weeks, even if he never spoke back before today.
She sat upright in bed, giving up on sleep entirely. Could it be that simple?
She went downstairs and started to make some chamomile tea, letting the fragrant steam from the cup soothe her unquiet mind. She stared into the swirling grounds of tea, frustrated with herself. Why did she have to think things to death? Maybe she didn’t. Maybe she could leave the planning and strategy to people like Scott. She was the Rogue, and she had always been prone to impulsive decisions -- even if they didn’t always work out so great. She liked being with Logan, and he liked being with her. Maybe she could just trust her gut for now, and see what happened.
_____________________
She woke up with her head feeling fuzzy, and took a longer than usual shower before dressing warmly. Frost had started to gather on the windowpanes in the morning. Soon it would be too cold to paint outside, already sometimes her fingers were growing clumsy in the chilly air.
She took her breakfast out to the porch swing as usual. She was still shaking off the effects of her sleepless night, and so it took her a few minutes to realize that something was different. She took her coffee with her, walking out to the chopping block. She touched the splinters left behind thoughtfully.
Had he come while she was sleeping, or while she was in the shower? Whenever he had done it, he had split all the wood for her, stacking it neatly on the rack against the house. She smiled, thinking of how they had laughed together yesterday when she had reminisced about her wood-chopping disaster. She felt a new confidence in the decision she had made last night. She liked him, and for now she would trust her gut.
She picked up a small piece of bark that had been left behind on the stump, putting it in her pocket. She finished her breakfast, and then went back inside the cabin. She rummaged around until she found a piece of twine. She poked a hole in the bark, and pulled out a tube of her lesser-used acrylic paint and a small brush. “FOR LOGAN” she painted on the bark, and then tied it to a six-pack of beer. She went back outside and left the gift on the chopping block for him.
________________________
The beer had disappeared some time during the morning, but it was afternoon before he showed himself. She had just flicked out the picnic blanket, wondering if he was even going to appear today, and he was suddenly there.
He looked the same as ever -- a little wary, in his jeans and flannel shirt. She wondered if he was never cold, or if he simply didn’t own a jacket. She set out the food, pretending not to notice his apparent struggle with himself as he ranged closer, and then a little bit away, and then back. Finally he sat down on the corner of the blanket.
She took a bite of her sandwich.
“Thank you for choppin’ the wood,” she said.
He grunted. “You’re no good at it.”
She couldn’t help the huff of surprised laughter that escaped her. He tensed up, a muscle twitching in his jaw.
“Sorry,” he muttered, looking down at his clenched fists, and her amusement abruptly died.
“No,” she said seriously. “I mean...don’t be sorry. I like that you’re honest. I don’t like when people say stuff they don’t really mean.” His eyes met hers again, searchingly, as if trying to gauge her sincerity. Finally he nodded, and his tension seemed to ease a bit.
She smiled. “And you’re right...I’m absolutely no good at wood-choppin’.”
His mouth quirked in return, and they ate in companionable silence for awhile.
“I’m not that good at...talkin’,” he finally offered up.
“You seem to be doin’ okay to me,” she said pragmatically. “And you’re a real good listener,” she added.
His eyes narrowed briefly on her face, as if he thought she might be mocking him. She kept her gaze steady on his, wondering when he would stop being so skittish.
He finally looked down at his sandwich, taking a bite. “You make a good sandwich,” he said.
She chuckled. “There’s not much to makin’ a sandwich, but I do think I’m a good cook. My momma thought that was real important, and started teachin’ me when I was just a toddler. I’ve been out of practice lately -- you know, at the school people do most of the cookin’ for ya, but since I’ve been here I’ve been tryin’ to do more. It’s been fun. I was thinkin’ I might try to keep it up when I go back...ya know, take some classes or somethin’.”
He nodded.
She had finished her sandwich, and wrapped her hands around her knees. She leaned her face back to soak up the sun.
“What kind of stuff are you good at?” she asked him.
He didn’t answer for awhile. She waited, thinking it might be easier for him to talk if she wasn’t looking at him. When he still didn’t answer she had the wild notion that he had silently left, and was relieved when she opened her eyes to see him still sitting there, apparently thinking over his answer.
“I can fight,” he finally said. “And hunt. The metal, and the healin’. They help with both of that. And just survivin’, I guess. I don’t know what’d kill me. Maybe nothin’.”
She let his words sink in. It made something clench in her chest, thinking about how he knew how hard he was to kill. He must have been hurt a lot to know something like that, but she also knew that he would not want her pity. “That’s...that’s strange to think about,” she settled on saying. “Not dyin’, I mean. I don’t know how I’d feel about that.”
He nodded again, but looked a little uncomfortable anyway, so she cast about for a change in subject.
“You must know a lot about these woods,” she finally said. “I never spent a lot of time in country like this before, but I really like it.”
He looked out at the trees for awhile, and then back at her. She waited patiently, having adjusted remarkably quickly to his halting style of conversation. “I belong out here,” he said eventually. “Don’t like the cities, or lots of people. Makes me edgy.”
“I know what you mean.” She lay back, resting her head on her arms. “I was real excited to visit cities at first -- bein’ from Nowhere Mississippi, I couldn’t wait to see the big cities like they had in movies. But I guess bein’ a sixteen-year-old runaway ain’t the same view as those characters in the movie had. The cities were just...hard, and cold. Too many people, and nobody cared about anybody. I like it much better when I’m around people I know. And I like how quiet it is out here, and all the animals.” She smiled. “Well, except for that mountain lion.”
He grunted. “They don’t usually mess with people.”
She rolled her head to look at him. “Just my luck, I guess.” She took a deep breath. “Thanks again. I mean, for saving me. And I’m sorry I hurt you.”
He had leaned back now too, looking up at the cloudy sky. He made an indistinct grunt that she interpreted as ‘Don’t worry about it.’
She watched the clouds drifting by. “What other kinds of animals are around here?” she asked awhile later.
“Lots of stuff. Moose. Coyotes. Fishers...”
“What’s that?”
He thought about it for awhile. “Like a big weasel. Mean suckers.”
“Oh. I’ll have to look out for those. Death by weasel doesn’t sound too fun either.”
He snorted. “With your luck...keep an eye out for rattlers too. And black bear. A few of those still around.”
“Anything that won’t kill me? I thought I was doin’ well seein’ a couple a deer and a beaver...”
He thought some more. “Lots of those. And rabbits. Porcupines. Otters. Skunks. Badgers...”
She turned her head to look at him. “Badgers?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“I’ve always wanted to see a badger. My favorite book when I was a kid was about a badger named Frances. You ever read that one?” He shook his head.
She looked at the sky again, remembering some of the good parts of her childhood. The little white rocking chair in her bedroom, where she would sit and read her tattered copy of “Bedtime for Frances.”
“After my parents kicked me out...when I was hitchin’, I ended up in Washington D.C. for awhile. Heard the National Zoo was free, and they had every kinda animal there. So I went, but they didn’t have any badgers. I was real disappointed.”
They were silent for awhile, and her mind had started to drift to other subjects.
“I can show ‘em to you,” he suddenly said.
“Huh?”
“Badgers. If you still want to see ‘em.”
She sat up. “Really?”
“Yeah. Better go soon, though. They don’t get out as much when it’s cold.”
“Tonight?!”
He smiled at her excitement. “Tomorrow night. That’ll give me time to find the sett again. And the moon’ll be near full.”
She looked at his face. He looked so much younger when he smiled -- the lines of wariness and strain gone, the amber of his eyes glowing soft and warm.
You like him, she thought again. “Tomorrow night,” she agreed.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Sorry guys -- I've been slacking, updating on fanfiction.net faster than on here because I was too lazy to add the html if the chapters weren't going to post right. Now we're all caught up. On the bright side, you get a bunch of updates all in a row. :-D Thanks for your patience!
Chapter End Notes:
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