Logan’s Past 18
---------------------------
We walked for quite some time, around the mansion, then outside. The silence companionable, I knew he’d talk when he was ready. My hand was still held firmly in his, only relinquished for the moment it took for him to light a cigar. I could tell by the way he savored the flavor of it, before blowing the smoke out in perfect rings, that he was thinking.
Strange thing was the look on his face. Normally if Logan is in some kind of deep thought, he still wears his trademark scowl. Now, it was nowhere to be seen. I don’t think I’d ever seen his face so smooth and calm before unless he was sleeping. The calmness combined with his open, hazel eyes was slightly unnerving.
“Aren’tcha gonna offer me a penny for m’thoughts?”
“I know you’ll talk when you’re ready, sugar. I don’t want to rush you.”
We had come to the edge of the woods on the North East side of the Professor’s property. I knew this was where Logan came when he couldn’t keep Wolverine on his usual tight reign. It was also where he came to just get away from all the noise, smells and general oppressiveness of the mansion. Logan likes wide open spaces, I can’t blame him there. Manys the time I’ve seen him walking out of these woods at the crack of dawn. I don’t have to ask if a nightmare took him out there. That tight, glass, water-filled box that haunts his sleeping hours makes me want some space just as much when it sneaks its way into my dream world.
He leads me over to a fallen spruce, and takes a seat on its moss covered trunk. He pulls me down beside him and rests his arm around my shoulders.
“Sorry if I scared ya back there.”
“I’d be lying if I said it was alright; ya did spook me. Takes a lot to put you down, never thought you’d go down without a fight.”
He sniggers at that. “Yeah, darlin, well I ‘spose I was fightin’ in some way.”
I look at him; he’s not looking at me so all I have to judge his mood by is his profile, “What do ya mean by that?” It’s like he’s not really hearing me, “Logan?”
He turns to look at me, his face still that unnerving calm. He fingers one of my platinum locks and tucks it away behind my ear. “Ya always looked so pretty with your hair piled up on top of ya head in that bun. Even when the wisps of gray would fall loose like they always did.”
It took me a moment to really hear what Logan had said. ‘the wisps of gray’ Totally of its own accord, my brain began to scroll through pictures, and stopped dead at one in particular. Edward Logan and Jean Marie stood with their arms around each others’ waists behind a table laden with simply wrapped gifts and a smallish but nicely decorated cake. Obviously a party of some sort. Edward was handsome as ever and Jean Marie looked as lovely as she did on her wedding day. It was a more recent picture of the couple, both had obviously aged, but in a very refined and distinguished way. Even the gray tresses in Jean Marie’s hair did nothing to detract from her loveliness. Logan had only seen the wedding photo up on my computer screen. He shouldn’t know what Jean Marie looked like in her later years.
~Her gray tresses.~ I thought to myself, ~Her gray tresses piled on top of her head in a messy top knot. A knot of hair on top of her head – her hair up in a bun!!~
“Oh my god, Logan! Y-you remember?!?”
Logan glanced down to his chest; I followed his gaze to discover I had him by the front of his shirt. My tiny fists wrapped up in flannel and t-shirt, holding on for dear life it seemed. He turned his eyes on me, and with my heart pounding in my ears, to the exclusion of almost all other sound, I lifted my eyes to meet his.
What I saw almost made me cry, a large, pure, disgustingly happy, completely sincere smile split his face in half. I felt his hands encompass mine and work them loose from his shirts. “Yeah, yeah darlin’, I do. Not everything, not much past a few years with our grandkids. But I remember many, many happy years we spent in that little four room house down the lane from our folks.” He stared off into the distance, not seeming to focus on anything in particular. He still had my hands wrapped in his and held tight to his chest.
“Do ya remember Barney and Sam? The twin colts me an’ m’dad delivered a few months before our graduation?”
I could only nod. Logan was still staring off into nothingness but I could tell he felt the change in my demeanor. His use of words like ‘our’ and ‘we’ began to grate on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. Icy fingers of dread began to wind their way through my body. The twin colts, I knew of them only because of the dream. Logan was finally remembering things that were at least real, real bits and pieces of his past. They were a part of him again and hopefully their revelation would lead to more.
But what about me?
I only knew what I knew because of a dream. That damn dream! What was that dream? Was it a dream? Or was it just some crazy coincidence? Where did all those details come from? Oh, gods! Was I some long distant descendent of Edward Logan and Jean Marie Dunn? I couldn’t handle that! I’ve loved this man from the second I laid eyes on him. Like a woman loves a man. Not like a daughter to a father, not like a niece and uncle.
All of this flashed through my mind in milliseconds, just like the realization about Jean Marie’s hair. My world felt like it was falling down around me. It didn’t take enhanced senses to notice that my happiness for what Logan had regained was being overshadowed.
“What’s the matter, darlin’?” He knew damn well what was going through my head, but I appreciated him not calling me right out on it.
“Logan, sugar, I know you know how happy I am for ya, that at least some of this is startin’ ta break it’s way through that metal lined skull of yours,” my attempt at humor fell sort of flat, but I was still rewarded with a small grin, “but I can’t help but wonder; what does it all mean?” He knew exactly what I was talking about.
“Darlin’, I can’t answer that. I don’t have the slightest clue and even if I had one, I wouldn’t want ta go spoutin’ off about it just in case I was wrong. What I do know is this;...
*SNIKT*
...as long as these little buggers are still poppin’ outta my hands, and...
*SNIKT*
...I heal up like I do, and as long as Cyke has gotta wear those damn ugly shades of his, there ain’t much in this world that’s gonna surprise me anymore.”
He tipped my head with my chin and we locked eyes once again. “I know ya called Chuck down ta take look around in this metal encased coconut o’mine when Hank couldn’t figure out what was goin’ on. I’m pretty sure he knows what’s floated up from the depths here, ‘cause he sorta left me a mental post-it note. He says when we’re ready, and when we’re done with all we got to talk about, he’d like to see us in his office. It don’t have ta be right this second, it don’t even haveta be today. But I think the ol’codger’s got something up his sleeve. Ya ever notice how he can wink atcha even in your head?”
That got a smirk out of me. I knew exactly what Logan was talking about. It was the same impression I had when the Professor asked if I wasn’t just a little more concerned for Logan’s well-being than anyone else in the mansion. It didn’t hurt either, having the slight glimmer of hope that the Professor knew something maybe we didn’t.
---------------------------
That little glimmer is what got me through the night and half into the next day. Logan and I spent the better part of the day just talking some more, rehashing old news is more of what it felt like. He came over to where I was sitting for lunch.
“So, ya think ya might be ready to see the Professor, Marie?”
I was honest, “Logan, I got a part of me screaming for us to get on with it and another part that’s hiding in a dark corner, refusing to come out!”
He grunted out what could be construed as a laugh and said, “Well you just tell the lilly-livered part it’s just gonna haveta suck it up, ‘cause I already told Chuck we’d see him after lunch.”
“Y-y-you what?!?!?”
I don’t know if it was the gaping hole that opened up under my nose or the clattering of utensils that caught his attention first.
At least he had the common decency not to belly-laugh at me; I’m sure I must have looked like a prize Bass on the end of a hook. Logan very calmly took the chair across from me and took my hands in his, resting our arms on the table.
“Darlin’, you know as well as I do that the best way ta handle this is ta just meet it head on! You’re only driving ya’self crazy with the ‘what ifs’. We’ll see Chuck, find out what he’s got to say and then take it from there.”
As he spoke, he was rubbing small circles on the backs of my hands. I figured it must be an acupressure thing because against my better self, I began to feel not as jittery as a few seconds ago. It didn’t mean I didn’t still have my hackles up, “It’s easy for you ta face this head on, Logan! Your head is metal lined!! No matter what, you’ll come through without a scratch!” I lowered my voice along with my head, “What about me? I’d rather stay ignorant of anything that could hurt then go through the pain of knowing.”
He squeezed my hands and I looked up at him; into the clearest green eyes I’d ever seen on him. “Marie, we will do this together. We will talk to Chuck together, we will find out what he knows together and will decide what to do about anything that comes out of this knowledge, together. Am I making myself clear enough?”
If it were possible to move mountains with just the determination in a thought or word, Logan could set himself a range where ever he damn well pleased. How could I doubt that he’d be right there beside me after a speech like that? “You’re crystal, sugar, crystal clear.”
---------------------------
Now, let me be the first to admit that crystal clear is all well and good while plopped on your butt in the cafeteria. It is another whole matter when standing at the threshold to the Professor’s office, with your hand clenched around the hand of the man you hope you’ll get to keep for all time.
“He knows we’re here, doesn’t he?”
“Yeah, darlin’, he knows.”
It was apparent that the Professor was not going to push us into something we weren’t really and truly ready to do. How do I know this? Because we’ve been standing here for five solid minutes and neither one of us has gotten a brain phone message to ‘come in’.
“I-I guess one of us should knock? Huh?”
“Yeah, I guess it’s Chuck’s way of making us make sure we’re ready for this.”
“D-do ya think that’s a bad omen?”
“Darlin’, I don’t believe in omens, curses, hexes or the evil ey-,.... well, maybe the evil eye, I’ve gotten it enough from Scooter. C’mon, let’s get this party started.”
That earned him a smug grin from me, “You been listenin’ ta Jubes’ tunes again?”
As Logan raised our clasped hands to knock on the door, he whispered, “You try spreadin’ that ‘round and I’ll deny each and every word of it!”
---------------------------
“Good afternoon! Logan, Rogue, how are the two of you doing this afternoon?” the Professor was waayyyy too chipper for either Logan’s or my taste. Logan beat me to the come back.
“Ya know damn well how we’re doin’, Chuck! It don’t take senses like mine or yours to notice the level of tension in this room! Can we just get this over with?”
“Well certainly, Logan, if you do not wish to sit and visit a while that’s completely understandable. I still feel it my place to introduce you to a former student of mine,” the Professor motioned with his arm to one of the chairs that sits facing his desk, “Logan, Rogue, I’d like you to meet Alma.”
A woman came around the chair and offered her hand to us. She was no more than four feet tall! For all I knew she’d been standing there the whole time we had our exchange with the Professor. She was neither old nor young really, her waif-ish figure precluded any further assessment. She had lovely dark auburn hair with streaks of silver running through it. Not like my streaks, more like highlights; and it hung in a thick braid nearly all the way to the floor! She had the most adorable splash of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Any other description eluded me, as I instantly realized she looked exactly as I would envision a female leprechaun.
Logan gave her a once over glance and took her hand as delicately as he could muster and grunted a greeting. A quick, sidelong glance showed the Professor to be thoroughly enjoying the scene before him; as he sat, elbows on desk, fingers steepled, forefingers to his lips trying to assist in suppressing what I’m sure were giggles of amusement.
Alma inclined her head in greeting to Logan and turned her attention to me. I also took her hand in greeting, but just as I was about to say something, she spoke.
“Aye, Charles,” her speech was accented with the slightest of Scottish brogues, “this’s bein’ the one we’ve been talkin’ about now, isn’t it?”
Logan and I looked at each other, looked at Alma, then we all were looking at the Professor, who spoke with the calm and serenity of an inquiry to Cook about what she planned for dinner.
“Yes, Alma, this is the young woman who is so anxious to meet you.” He came wheeling out from around his desk, and shoo-ed us all back, away from him, and motioned for each of us to take a seat. I knew Logan would do no such thing, but kept hold of his hand as I took my place in the chair opposite Alma.
She skewered Logan with a look and I was surprised at not hearing the telltale growl I suspected. “An’ I suppose this’s bein’ the young man that’s causin’ all the frettin’ and fussin’?”
Again, that enigmatic smile from the Professor, “Yes, this is he, Alma.”
The small woman raised her eyebrow at Logan; he raised his back at her. If I weren’t so stressed out, it would be comical, but all I could do was sit there and watch the conversation go back and forth between this funny little woman and the Professor; talking about Logan and me as if we weren’t even there. I think Logan was having the same idea, because he spoke up.
“Ok, Chuck, ok! It’s after lunch and Rogue and I are here; we’ve met your little—“ *ahem* “we’ve met your friend, but I believe we have some business to attend to of a pretty private sort, don’t we???”
The look on the Professor’s face never faltered. “But Logan, Alma is here to help us with just that subject.”
Now, I heard the growl begin to form in Logan’s lower abdomen. I’m sure the Professor noticed that he was getting a little agitated also, as he continued on into further explanation.
“Alma is a former student of mine, she was taught and did teach under me here for several years before returning to her native soil ‘across the pond’, if you will. She is currently the Head Mistress at our sister school in Glasgow, Scotland. I envy her the European environment as the Europeans seem much more tolerant of their mutant brethren than their American counterparts.”
“Aye, that they are Charles,” her voice full of a melancholy I couldn’t find the bottommost depth to. “Your American humans seem to enjoy takin’ advantage of people, any people, no matter what it is that makes them the tiniest bit different. I was so very glad ta see Hank pull up outside the baggage area at the airport! I was neigh on’ (not) lookin’ forward to tryin’ ta get me a cab, I tell ya that for free.”
I finally found my voice and got out what I know Logan was about to say, “What can you do to help me?”
Alma’s warm brown eyes fell on me, she stood and came to stand in front of me taking both of my hands in hers. “Ah, child, sure’n your in deep, deep love with th’young man here, aye? Aye, that ya are. An’ any body with two eyes can see the aura o’love that surrounds ya both. Now, Charles tells me there’s a bit o’fear thats gone and set itself on your doorstep these last weeks, aye?”
“Y-yes,” it was all I could do to get that one word out.
“Aye. An’ it wouldna be a good thing to be keepin’ it ‘round here if it didn’t belong, aye?”
“AYE! Er-ah-, I mean yeah!” Leave it to Logan to pry a smile out of me, his strong hands on my shoulders also reminded me of what he’d said earlier; we’re doing this together.
At Logan’s exclamation, Alma also let a bright grin spread across her face. “Aye then! Let’s get ta kickin’ the booty o’that fear right outta the mansion! There’s no reason for it ta be makin’ itself t’home here.”
The bright smile on Alma’s face was mirrored on the Professor’s. I think, probably, Logan’s face held the same look of blank confusion as mine did. We exchanged looks, the four of us; and finally Logan found the courage to ask the question that was stuck in my throat.
“Do ya mean Ma--, Rogue and me, we got nothin’ ta worry about?”
Alma reached out and patted Logan on the arm. “Aye, that’s what I’m sayin’, love. There’s no more blood relation between the two a’you than there is between Hank an’m’self!”
No sooner had Alma gotten the ‘aye’ out, than I found myself airborne. Logan had scooped me out of the chair and was twirling me around the office like a bad Fred and Ginger re-make.
“WAIT! Wait! Logan! Logan, put me down a sec, sugar!” It was all I could do not to get caught up in his reverie, but I had to know how she knew this.
When my feet finally hit firm ground once again, I turned to Alma and asked simply, “How?”
This was where the Professor stepped in. “Alma has a very unique mutation, as a matter of fact, even all these years later I still hesitate to label it as such, but there is no other way to describe it.”
I looked between the two older occupants of the room expectantly, “Describe what?”
“In the simplest of terms, Alma is a Soul Searcher.”
In stereo, Logan and I responded, “A WHAT?”
The Professor continued, unflapped, “A Soul Searcher. Much in the way that Sage can sense the potential mutantcy in an individual; Alma is able to sense the history of an individual.”
“C’mon, Chuck, speak English will ya? What the heck do ya do there, Al?”
I looked at Logan and said, “I think the Professor is trying to say she’s some kind of psychic. Is that it?”
The Professor paused to think for a moment. “In the most banal definition of the word, I suppose it could be used here. But Alma is so much more. She is not a psychic in the sense that I am a psychic. Neither is she the sort of psychic seen on those police shows you seem to favor, Logan.”
Logan dropped his eyes from looking directly at the Professor. He was busted. *I* knew of his fondness for America’s Most Wanted, Cops and other such shows; it appears now that I’m not the only one.
The Professor continued, “But that is neither here nor there. What Alma is capable of doing is seeing beyond the current life of an individual.”
I was startled at this, “Professor, are you telling us that Alma can see past lives? I’m sorry but that’s just a little wild; even for a mansion full of mutants. I apologize, Alma, but how does someone know you’re not just telling them stuff they want to hear?”
I hated to throw down my gauntlet of disbelief so bluntly, but a few moments of Alma’s discomfort didn’t stand up to the life I hoped was spread out in front of me. I wanted something a little more concrete than the word of this little Scottish woman. Maybe even more concrete than the word of the Professor himself. Alma just smiled, and glanced at the Professor as she spoke.
“Sure’n she’s a smart one, Charles! She’s not the kind ta get the wool pulled over her eyes, no!” She shifted her gaze to Logan and me. “Other than m’word, child, and the word of others that’ve been on the receivin’ end of m’gift; I’m afraid there’s no way for me ta prove that what I’m tellin’ ya is the truth. Oh, sure’n there’s those that’ve gone huntin’ and diggin’ around; in the libraries and graveyards of their long dead ancestors. Those folks have found parallels to things I’ve told ‘em. But ta really and truly find bona fide proof of a past life; well, I ‘spose that’s somthin’ that just has ta be taken on faith.”
With a sad sort of smile, Alma resumed her place in the chair opposite me. I wanted so badly to believe what she was saying; but the fear that she may be wrong was riding so close to the surface.
~/~ Rogue, my dear, is it so much more fantastic to believe what Alma is saying than it was to half believe the dream you had? What else but hope and faith drove you to the computer lab in an attempt to prove the existence of Jean Marie? ~/~
~/~ But Professor, I didn’t expect to find anything! ~/~
~/~ How much of that expectation was real, and how much was it you preparing yourself to be disappointed? What is it they say? ‘Don’t expect too much and you’ll never be disappointed’? ~/~
Taking what the Professor said to heart, I looked around the room, at him, at Alma, and finally at Logan. “Sugar, pop ‘em for me, will ya?”
Logan’s brow furrowed in uncertainty, but the sound of claws extending quickly followed.
*SNIKT*
I gave him a slight nod, and he slid them back in. Taking his hand in my own, I watched as the cuts from where the deadly implements emerged slowly and neatly healed over, soon leaving no trace of any injury what-so-ever. I had my answer.
“I guess when something like this,” I squeezed Logan’s hand, “is part of your normal everyday life, you shouldn’t go around questioning things that may seem just as impossible!” I smiled up at Logan, and turned to Alma.
“Alma, please, tell us all you can about *our* life together back in Brantchville!”
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000
Author's Chapter Notes:
Finally!! The great American novel is finished! Okay, maybe not the great American novel, but this story is done!
Mucho thanks to all that have read, left feedback, given advice and kept up the cheerleading that finally got me to this last chappie. Now that it's over, I can say it was fun; but I think I'm going to stay with one shots and song fics from now on! They're much easier on the grey matter!
Hope you all enjoy the final chapter of All Will Be Revealed in It's Own Time