Every Time I See Your Face

It was late when Logan woke; he could tell from the slant of the sunlight through the windows. That was unusual. For a long moment he wasn’t sure where he was; not unusual in itself, but the fact that it didn’t worry him certainly was. Generally he would have been awake in a flash.

He stretched an arm out, reaching across the bed towards the girl.

Marie was gone.

Now he was awake. It wasn’t possible that she’d gotten up without waking him. It just didn’t work that way. Unless he’d been drugged, he didn’t sleep that soundly.

“Mornin’.” She was standing in the doorway, wearing a white kimono embroidered with brilliant colors—butterflies, he realized. She was holding two mismatched mugs and he smelled coffee. She came across the room and he sat up; she handed him one mug and leaned over for a quick kiss. “Didn’t want to wake you.”

He leaned back against the head of the bed and took a deep draught of the coffee. “Thanks.” It was strong and black. She sat down on the bed and tucked her knees up, wrapping her arms around them and sipping her own coffee. In the morning sunlight, she looked even younger than she had last night; her face was freshly scrubbed and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Christ, what happened here?

She looked up and caught his eyes on her. “What?”

“Nothin’.” This was all really strange. Girls like her didn’t just take up with men like him. They didn’t take them home with them, and if they got drunk enough to do that they sure as hell didn’t serve them coffee in the morning, wrapped up in silk and smiling like—

He put the coffee down on the nightstand and thrust back the sheet that covered him. He headed for the small bathroom he saw off the bedroom, just wanting to get away from that gaze and that smile, because this was all way too confusing and he hated feeling confused. He heard a soft giggle and half turned, a hand on the bathroom door.

She was still smiling. “Didn’t get to enjoy the view last night,” she drawled. “Nice ass.”

His eyes narrowed and he all but slammed the door behind him. He was relieved to find the room was plain and unornamented, not crowded with flowery soaps or frilly shower curtains. He used the facilities quickly and splashed some water on his face. Then he looked around, automatically reaching for a towel that hung on a rack to his left. He hesitated. What the fuck was he doing?

He was actually considering covering up, that was what, because a girl who’d picked him up in a bar was sitting out there, with a naughty smile and big brown eyes—

Waiting to ‘enjoy the view’. Jesus christ.

Scowling, he grabbed the towel and wrapped it around his waist before he could think any more about it. Thanking whatever deities might be listening that she at least had the sense to buy white linens, he shoved the door open and stalked back out.

Marie was still sitting on the bed, and she gave him a look of mock outrage. “Hey. That’s not fair. You got to see me last night.”

He went to the nightstand and retrieved his coffee. “I was here last night too, seems to me.”

“It was dark.” She ran her tongue over her lower lip. “And I was kinda…distracted.” She set her own coffee down and slid across the bed towards him. He grabbed her wrist before she could snatch the towel away.

“Marie…” It was a warning growl and it didn’t seem to faze her at all. She made a playful grab with her other hand and he had to dodge back, almost spilling his coffee. He put it back down and caught her other wrist just in time. “Cut it out, will you?” What was it with this girl and pouring him drinks she didn’t intend to let him finish? He transferred both slim wrists to one of his hands and held her at arm’s length while he grabbed the mug and finished the coffee, quickly. Then he let her go with a little push and started around the bed, heading for where he’d left his clothes.

“What’re you doing?”

He shot her an annoyed look. “Gettin’ dressed.”

“Oh.” She watched as he retrieved his jeans and stepped into them, pulling them up before discarding the towel. “You got to be somewhere, I guess.”

He put his hands on his hips and just stared at her for a second. What the hell did she think was going on here? “It’s morning.”

“I know.” She looked—disappointed? Sad? He didn’t quite know how to define it. “I just hoped you wouldn’t have to rush off, that’s all.”

Logan found his t-shirt, half under the bed, and started to turn it right-side out. “Look, Marie—“ Then suddenly she moved, rising to her knees and reaching out to take the shirt from his hands.

“You don’t have to go,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t know what to say to her. This was such an unprecedented situation, and she obviously expected something from him. “Look,” he repeated. “Last night—things got kinda out of control.” She just looked back at him, waiting for him to continue. “I didn’t mean to…take advantage.”

“I’m not a baby,” she said. “You didn’t take advantage of me. I invited you, remember?” Those brown eyes just looked puzzled now, slightly hurt.

“You don’t even know me, kid.” He grabbed his shirt back from her and looked around for his boots.

“You’re friends with Toby.” He didn’t know why that would matter, but she seemed to think it did. “I don’t exactly go around bringing random men home, you know.”

He hadn’t thought that. “Marie—“

“And I think…it would be nice if you didn’t rush outta here like you can’t stand the sight of me.” Her hand closed over his wrist. “Relax, Logan. I’m not askin’ you to marry me.”

He couldn’t help cracking a smile at that, and she tugged on his arm. “You’re really something.”

“Yeah. I’m a pushy little mutant.” She pulled harder until he was leaning over the bed, over her. “What’s the matter, you don’t like the coffee?”

“Coffee’s fine.” He leaned closer, until he could nuzzle at the soft skin of her neck. She still smelled amazing.

“So stay for a while.” She put her arms around his neck. “Please?” She tipped her head back and batted her lashes exaggeratedly.

“Why?” Not that it mattered, with her hands running down his chest that way.

“I don’t know. Just because. Oh—“ She gasped a little as he slipped a hand inside her silk robe and closed it over one breast.

Logan eased her down onto her back and knelt over her. He knew he ought to go, but her eyes were inviting his touch and the softness of her flesh under his hand was intoxicating. His fingers tugged at the tie of the kimono and it fell open. He bent his head to her breasts, nibbling and licking until he drew that moan from her again. He raised his head and she was still smiling at him.

“Come on. Take these off.” One small hand tugged at the top of his jeans.

“Why?” he repeated, but he was already reaching for the buttons.

“’Cause I want a better look at that gorgeous body,” she breathed. “That’s why.”

Logan had the jeans off in short order, and Marie’s admiring gaze did all kinds of good things for his ego. She sat up a little, the white silk robe falling to either side, and reached out to run her hand over the length of him. He held himself still, letting her explore his body in a way he hadn’t allowed her to do the night before. She stroked his already-hard shaft with a firm touch, bringing her other hand up to run over his chest.

“Like what you see?” He threw her own words back at her.

“God, yeah. You’re—perfect.”

He raised an eyebrow. The studied look of concentration on her face was something to see. “Don’t know about that.”

“Come here.” He let her draw him back down onto the bed, onto sheets that now smelled like both of them. He lay back and she leaned over him, pressing her lips against his neck and shoulders. He reached up towards her breasts and she caught his hand, bringing it up to her lips. “No. Let me, this time.”

He never did that, let a woman take the lead. No matter whether it was in a cheap motel room, up against the bathroom wall in some bar, it was always him giving the commands, taking what he wanted, giving only what he chose. Somehow, though, he wanted to see what she’d do enough to let his hand drop back to his side.

Marie let the kimono slide from her shoulders, baring herself as well, and knelt over him, bringing her lips against his in a long, slow kiss. Then her mouth moved down his chin, down his neck, her tongue teasing him. She shifted down, letting her breasts skim against his body as she moved, and the temptation to reach up for her, to crush her against him, was almost too much.

He stayed still, and her mouth and hands on his chest and stomach continued to send thrills through every nerve. She went slowly, discovering the reactions her ministrations awakened, and he closed his eyes against the intensity of it.

Then she was kneeling between his legs and he was all but trembling with the anticipation of the feel of her mouth on him. When it came, he twisted his head roughly to one side with the effort to remain still. She nuzzled against him first, her lips brushing up and down his rigid length lightly, tantalizing him further before slowly, almost lazily, letting the tip of his erection slide between her lips.

Her mouth was so hot; her tongue darted teasingly along his shaft and her nails trailed along the inside of one thigh, exciting every nerve in his body. She took more of him, her tongue drawing him deeper into her mouth, and again it was all he could do not to move, not to throw her down and drive into her, taking back the control she was rapidly stealing from him.

But it was good, so good, and he didn’t want the way her tongue and hands were moving on him to stop, so he stayed where he was, and it just got better. She varied the rhythm, slowing and almost letting him slip from her mouth, then taking him even more deeply as her tongue worked against him. He was throbbing with need when she closed her hand around his sac, swallowing hard around him as she did, and it threw him over the edge. His hips thrust upwards as he came, hard, and she didn’t pull away. She gentled her touch and the stroke of her tongue against his shaft, but not until the tremors running through him had stopped did she finally raise her head, her hand closing over him as her mouth left him. She stretched out, leaning back against his thigh, her hand still stroking him idly. “That was real nice, sugar.”

Nice. His head was still spinning. “Come here,” he managed, and caught at her arm to haul her up and against him. He took her head in his hands and brought her mouth down to his roughly; the taste of himself on her made him wild. He rolled over, pinning her underneath him and reclaiming the dominant role.

“You never get tired, do you?” Marie’s voice was breathless in a way that excited him even further.

“Healing factor,” he said briefly. His hand slid down her stomach.

“That’s real convenient—ooh—“ She caught her breath as his fingers stroked over her.

“What about you, baby?” Logan made himself slow down. She might be sore already.

“I can take whatever you can dish out,” she said, and moved her hips up against his hand. That was all the invitation he needed; all he could manage to wait for. He thrust into her, sheathing himself to the hilt in one stroke. Her eyes opened wide at the sensation and her hands flew up to his arms. “God—Logan—“

His name, with that breathy intonation, sounded like a prayer. He answered it, plunging into her over and over, slowing only so he could be sure he was taking her with him. Her hands clutched at his arms as he dipped his head to her neck, sucking and biting at the tender flesh. He ground his hips against hers, increasing every point of contact between them, demanding and receiving the response he wanted from her. She fought for her own climax, matching him thrust for thrust, and when she cried out he closed his mouth over hers, capturing whatever words spilled from those lush lips and taking them into himself. He could feel her moan within his own throat as he stroked harder, claiming even more from her as he drove toward his own completion. With another thrust he felt that peculiarly rapturous insanity overtake him again; when he could see and think coherently again he realized he was gripping her shoulders hard enough he’d probably leave bruises.

He slid out of her and fell heavily onto his back beside her. Marie turned onto her side, curling her body against his. He felt her hand steal up to his chest and put his own over it, holding it there, holding it still.

“Glad you stayed?” she teased.

“Hell, yeah.” He laughed. He seemed to be saying that a lot lately.

I Think of Things

Logan still had no idea what was going on here. They’d gotten up eventually, he had pulled on jeans and t-shirt over Marie’s strenuous objections, and then she had made him breakfast, wearing that butterfly-embroidered kimono. Now she was sitting across the tiny kitchen table from him, sipping orange juice and smiling whenever she happened to catch his eye.

“Don’t you have anything else to do today?” he asked finally.

She shook her head. “This’s the last week of summer vacation. I start on Monday.”

He took a gulp of coffee. “You’re in college?”

“Grad school.” She waved a hand at one wall. “Most of these are mine.” He looked around, uncomprehending. “The artwork. I’m a painter.”

Logan turned around to examine the paintings that decorated the room more closely. He knew exactly jack shit about art, but he figured she’d expect him to say something flattering. One painting, in rich swirling colors, caught his eye particularly and he got up to take a closer look.

It was slightly abstract, but there were two figures in it, and he could tell it was supposed to be part of the Quarter—there were lights and colors that conveyed the feeling of the party atmosphere and the arcane, almost otherworldly quality of the streets at night. The figures weren’t together, but there was a connection between them, as though she’d caught a moment of communication in the midst of chaos.

Logan turned back to her and saw her watching him, but not the way she had been before. She looked serious, alert. He gestured to the painting. “I like that one.”

“What do you like about it?”

“I don’t know. I’m no art critic.” He shrugged, but she just kept looking at him expectantly. “The colors. You can tell where it is and that it’s late. And it looks like something’s happening, only you don’t know exactly what.”

One corner of her mouth turned up. “You can see that?” She got up and came over to him. “I don’t know if you realize it, but that was a very great compliment.”

Logan shrugged again uncomfortably. “I don’t really know what I’m talkin’ about.”

“No, you know exactly what you’re talking about. I wanted it to be a moment in motion. So you’d look at it and wonder who they are, where they’re going, what brought them there.”

“So who are they?” He took another look at the painting. The figures were undefined, though one was clearly a woman and the other a man, and the woman seemed to be looking back at the male figure. Calling him, maybe.

“I don’t know.” She was staring at it herself, and though obviously she must know what it looked like, she seemed to be seeing it for the first time, the way she studied it. “That’s part of what I thought made it interesting. Anyone who looks at it can make up their own story.” She smiled and changed to a lighter tone. “Lots of artists won’t say what their work ‘means’, you know. It’s more fun that way.”

“So that’s art? Tryin’ to confuse people?”

She laughed. “Yeah, I’d go along with that. People are more interesting when they’re a little confused. Off balance. That way they think about things more.” She went over to the painting and straightened it a little. “This is going to be part of my thesis show. Now I’ve just got to come up with the rest of it.”

Interesting. Off balance. He’d never thought about people quite like that. She went back to the table and began gathering up their plates. “Are you going back to Toby’s tonight?” she asked over her shoulder.

“Yeah. I don’t think there’ll be any more trouble, but I told him I’d stick around for a few days, make sure the message gets across.” And apparently Toby was still going to expect him, as confusing as that idea itself was.

Marie laughed again. “Oh, I think the message got out.” She leaned over the wall between the two rooms. “So…what time did you want to go?”

“I don’t know. Later. Nothin’ would happen early.” He looked around and saw his knapsack and jacket, still lying on the sofa where he’d dropped them the night before. “I should get going, I guess.”

“Going where?” She was moving past him, collecting the glasses they’d left on the end table the night before, and she gave him an arch look. “Still pretending you’ve got somewhere important to be?”

Logan followed her into the kitchen. “What, you just want me to hang around here all day?”

She put the glasses into the sink and turned; her arms slid around his waist. “Yes. I just want you to hang around here all day. All night too, come to that.” She looked up at him impishly. “Get it now, or do I have to draw you a picture? I can, you know.”

“Look, Marie—“ He started to detach her arms, but she held on.

“Look, Marie, what? I’m just saying, why don’t you stay here while you’re in town? No strings, all right? It’s got to be nicer than that room upstairs at Toby’s.” She moved a little closer. “Come on. It’d be fun. I could show you around a little. Who knows?” She gave him that mischievous smile again. “You might even get lucky.”

Almost unwillingly, he found his arms going around her. “Yeah?” He let one hand slip down past the curve of her hip. “You gonna make it worth my while?”

She giggled and leaned against him. “Maybe. You’ll have to wait and see.”

“All right.” He didn’t get it, didn’t get her at all, but what the hell? It was a nice offer, and if she wanted to have a little fun her last week off he wasn’t averse from participating. He stepped back then and this time she let him go.

“Good. I’m just going to wash up and then we can think of something to do.” She turned back to the sink. “You can take a shower if you want,” she suggested. “I’m going to, when I finish up here.”

“Okay.” Awkwardly, he stood for a moment, watching as she turned on the water and reached for the dish soap. Then, more because it gave him something to do than anything else, he retrieved his knapsack from the living room and went back into the bathroom to follow her suggestion.

The water was hot and steamy and by another stroke of luck, she used Ivory soap, which wouldn’t leave an annoying chemically-enhanced scent to bother him. He took his time; it had been a while since he’d had the relative luxury of an unhurried shower. He was still trying to sort out his opinion of what he was doing here when the door opened.

“Hey. Mind if I get in there before you use up all the hot water?” Logan was starting to wonder if there was anything she was likely to do that wouldn’t surprise him.

“Be out in a second.” He sluiced a handful of water over his head, making sure the soap was rinsed away, but before he could reach for the taps to turn off the water, she was pulling back the shower curtain and stepping into the tub with him.

“That’s all right. I’ll share.” She ducked her head under the water; she’d taken down her ponytail and the long, dark locks were quickly soaked through. She reached for the soap and a washcloth. “So…want me to make sure your back is clean?”

Absolutely fucking unbelievable. Logan put his hands on the wall on either side of her, trapping her in the circle of his arms. He shook his head as water ran into his eyes, sending a shower of droplets over her. “It’s clean.”

“Okay…you want to make sure my back is clean?” Her hands, holding the soap and cloth, were caught between them as he pressed closer.

“Later.”

For an old house, there must have been a good heating system, because the water never did run cold.

Everything You Say

It had been a week.

A week was longer than Logan usually spent in any one place, let alone with any one person. He still had no idea why he wasn’t bored out of his mind, unless it was the spectacular sex.

Except it couldn’t just be that, because sex he could get anywhere. This was different. Marie had taken him to places in the city he’d never known existed and wouldn’t have cared about seeing if he had, gardens and cafés by the river and even, one afternoon, a museum. The idea of his walking through galleries looking at paintings was comical, except that she kept asking him what he thought about the things, and she actually seemed to take whatever he said seriously.

And she didn’t ask him questions about himself, which was probably why the urge to move on hadn’t kicked in. That was strange too, because she talked a lot, never seemed to lack for conversation, but she just managed never to make it about him. The fact that he liked that she talked was as inexplicable as anything else.

He’d told her very little, all in all, although once when she’d mentioned a story Toby had told her he couldn’t resist correcting the big Cajun’s version of the facts. They’d been in a seafood restaurant at the time, and he remembered the way she’d listened, playing with the wax dripping down from a candle on the table. He’d finally trailed off, feeling a little awkward about how much he’d said, and when it was clear that he’d finished she’d just put the candle back down.

“I always wondered how much of that was true.” Then she gave him a quick smile and began talking about something else, some paints she wanted to pick up the next day. And he’d sat there, wondering why he felt a little aggrieved that she’d changed the subject so quickly.

The one place they hadn’t gone was back to Toby’s, though Logan had spent several hours there each night. At first he’d simply insisted that he didn’t want her there because it might not be safe, which had a grain of truth to it. It was unlikely that anything else was going to happen, but if it did, the last thing he needed was another moment of distraction at a crucial time. Marie argued with him teasingly at first, but after the third night she didn’t bring it up at all; she just kissed him goodbye and told him she’d see him later. Toby didn’t ask after her either, which was a little curious, since he must have known where Logan was staying. He was always busy, though, and Logan didn’t stay by the bar any more; since the fight, the locals were continually trying to buy him drinks, so it was easier to stick around the back of the place where he could be more inconspicuous.

But tonight was it. It was Sunday, and the bar was quiet, and there hadn’t been even a whisper of a problem all week. Marie was starting classes in the morning, and it was time for him to move on. He went to the bar, setting down his half-empty beer, and gestured for Toby to come over. The bartender put a drink down in front of a patron and then came down the bar. “You takin’ off?”

“Yeah. Do me a favor. Take my advice, hire a bouncer for Fridays and Saturdays. I don’t think you’re gonna have any more trouble,” Logan told him.

“No. No, I think you pretty much took care of that.” The large man grinned, then sobered his expression. “Sorry to see you go, though.” He gave Logan a canny look. “You mean you’re just not coming back in here, or you’re really taking off?”

“I’m heading back down to Mexico. The circuit’s started up again, gotta go make some money.” Logan wasn’t about to answer any implied questions. “I’ll get the truck out of your way tonight.” He’d parked in a tiny lot behind Toby’s place and his truck had just been sitting there, though he’d retrieved some more of his things at the beginning of the week.

“Hey—I wanted to pay you something. Going rate, anyway.” Toby started to move toward the cash register, but Logan stopped his motion with a gesture.

“Forget it.” His tone brooked no argument. Toby returned, wiping his hands off with a bar towel. He stuck out his hand and Logan took it.

“I’ll miss you, my friend. Thanks for all your help.” Toby hesitated. “You know, I’ll watch out for her.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

“If she wants to come back in. You don’t have to worry about it. She won’t get hurt.” Logan pulled his hand away and Toby looked slightly wounded. “Hey, we miss her ‘round here.”

Logan took a step back from the bar. He came very close to simply denying that he knew what Toby was talking about, but that would have been even more of a giveaway. Instead he shrugged. “She can do what she wants. Just didn’t want her pestering me while I was working again.” Instantly he wished he hadn’t said it; Toby would probably repeat it to her and he didn’t want that to be her last impression of him. But Toby just gave him another all-too-shrewd look.

“Sure, sure.” Toby crossed his arms. “So I’ll be seeing you after the circuit closes down in December?”

“Circuit moves to Canada in the winter, so why the hell would I be back here?” Logan knew his irritation was due at least partly to the fact that, goddamnit, he’d already considered that. Though it was also partly the expression on Toby’s face.

“Just wondering.” A couple came in then, brushing past Logan on their way to the bar, and he took advantage of the moment of activity to leave.

It was a little after eleven when he drove up and found a spot to park down the street from Marie’s apartment. He walked up the steps, awkwardly feeling for the key in the mailbox. He got the door open and came in to find her sitting in the living room, sorting out some paints and brushes. She looked up when she heard him. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he echoed. She put a stack of sketchbooks into a messenger bag and stood up.

“What’s goin’ on? You’re back early.” For the first time since he’d known her she looked uncertain.

“Nothing going on down there. No point in me hanging around.”

“You drove?” She nodded towards the front window. “I heard the truck.”

“Yeah.”

Marie looked down for a second, then back up to meet his eyes. “So you’re leaving.”

He shifted his feet uncomfortably. “I’ve got to catch up with some people in Mexico.” She nodded again and managed a smile. “I can get going tonight, if you want.”

“No.” She stayed where she was, but he could feel her gaze like a physical thing . “I was thinking about it, and—I knew you’d be leaving soon, so here’s what I’d like. I have to meet with my thesis advisor tomorrow morning, early, so I’ll be leaving around seven. I’m really bad at goodbyes, so I don’t think we should say any. I’ll just go, and when I get back you can be gone. Okay?”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. Whatever you want.” She lifted her chin with an obvious effort.

“Good.” She came around the sofa to him then and put her hands on his waist. “It’s all right, Logan. I told you, no strings.” She put her head down on his chest and he closed his arms around her. “I had a really great time this week,” she said softly.

“Yeah. Me too.” He never stopped being amazed at her ability to surprise him. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head and she looked up at him with a slightly wistful expression.

“I’m gonna get ready for bed. Got a long day tomorrow.”

“Okay.” He let go of her and she simply turned and walked away, back into the bedroom. He gave her a few minutes, looking around to make sure none of his stuff was still lying around.

When he finally went into the room, she was already in bed and the lights were out. He undressed quickly and slipped under the covers behind her. He slid one arm around her waist and she sighed, moving back against him and fitting the curves of her body against his. He leaned close, breathing in the scent of her. It had changed, ever so subtly, and it took him a minute to recognize the new note.

Salt.

She didn’t let her breathing alter at all, and he didn’t do anything except hold her. It took a while, but eventually she fell asleep. He didn’t. He lay still, memorizing her scent and the feel of her body under his hands, until the early morning light was glimmering outside the window.

Her alarm clock went off at six-thirty. Marie sat up, pushing her hair back out of her eyes, and reached to turn it off. She turned to him and just for an instant her face was completely unguarded. Then she pushed the covers down and got up, going quickly into the bathroom.

Logan stayed where he was, unsure of what she expected. In fifteen minutes or so, she emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed; she must have put her things there in readiness. She went to the dresser and put on a pair of earrings and a watch, then opened a drawer and retrieved a scarf. She glanced in the mirror and smoothed back her hair, then slipped the scarf around her neck and tied it. Thus armored, she came back over to the bed. Logan sat up; she leaned over and took his face between her hands. Her fingers stroked gently for a moment, up and down his jaw line, and then she brought her mouth to his. He tasted mint.

When she finally drew back, she had just the hint of a smile on her lips. She didn’t say anything. She just stayed there for another long moment, then let her hands fall away from his face. She straightened up, smoothing her shirt down, and then she turned and left the room.

Logan heard her gathering her things, moving through the apartment. After a minute a door opened and closed.

She was gone.

Not Part of My Objective

Logan gave a final glance around the silent apartment. His knapsack and duffel bag were already sitting on the floor next to the door, he’d washed up the coffee mug he’d used and left it beside the sink, and he really didn’t know why it was already ten o’clock and he was still there.

He picked up his bags and let himself out of the apartment. It was cooler this morning, beginning to feel like fall, and as he fished the key out of the mailbox for the last time he had to reach past envelopes and magazines. He took the mail out so he could reach the key; on top was a long white envelope with the logo of the University of New Orleans in one corner. He couldn’t help his gaze falling on her address. Marie D’Ancanto.

He’d never even asked for her last name, and he was kind of sorry he knew it now. He locked the front door, stuffed the mail back into the box and dropped the key in after it. The truck was just across the street; he threw his gear into the passenger side, got in and headed toward Route 10, towards Texas and Mexico and away from Louisiana.

He drove all day and most of the night. Someone had once told him jokingly that you could drive forever in Texas and still be in Texas; it was a damn big state. But he kept going, all along the coast of the Gulf, until he finally reached Brownsville, just short of the border. He found a cheap motel room for what was left of the night, and slept for a few hours on rough sheets that smelled only of stale cigarettes and bad Mexican food.

Logan felt better the next morning as he crossed into Mexico. The first stop was Matamoros, right across the border, and driving into the town felt satisfyingly normal. He found the fight club and saw several familiar combatants, none of whom seemed particularly pleased to see him. That made him feel even more at ease, and later that night, when he was back to pummeling them into bloody pulps, it was a relief to find it so easy to slip back into his usual routine.

He collected his money at the end of the night, the dour ringmaster doling it out reluctantly as Logan’s gaze swept the bar. There were several local talents hanging around, and he knew from experience they’d prefer to go with the winner. There was a blonde with a slightly rabbity look, another blonde in a tight pink dress that hurt his eyes just to look at, and a dark-eyed beauty who’d had the sense not to bleach her hair. She smiled when she saw him looking and raised her glass in a brief salute. He stared at her for a long moment.

Then he grabbed his money, knocked back his beer and walked out of the bar. He strode directly to his truck, threw his stuff in the back and slammed the front door behind him. He fished for a cigar in his jacket pocket as he swung the truck around and headed back towards the highway, savagely battering the lighter against the dashboard when it refused to work on the first try, because damn it, he needed a smoke. He’d never been sentimental or maudlin in the least, so the reason his hand shook just a little as he finally got the cigar lit had to be sheer incredulity at the improbability of it all, the utter coincidence.

Lots of women probably wore gloves.

He made Cuidad Madero that night, and he slept in the truck, waking to the cries of gulls and the smell of the salt sea air. He was a day ahead of the circuit here, so he had a full day to pull his head together and stop acting like an idiot. He didn’t bother with a motel at all, just skulked between dive bars until the early hours, then crashed in the truck again for a few hours. The fights passed in a blur this time; between near-exhaustion, too many drinks and a couple of lucky shots early in the night, he was actually facing the last pairing as the underdog. He paced in his corner, trying to shake off his fatigue as his opponent was introduced to a roar of applause. The other man was huge, muscular, not an ounce of fat on him.

He didn’t have an adamantium-laced skeleton, but there were moments when Logan wasn’t sure that was going to matter, especially when he was trapped against the grid of the cage with those meaty fists battering his midsection. He managed to twist away, but the man stuck out an oversized foot and tripped him as he tried to find a little breathing room. Logan hit the concrete, hard, and then his opponent was on him, lifting him and throwing him into the bars.

He stayed down for a few seconds, rising just in time to beat the count. He cracked his neck, willing the healing to kick in and dull the pain. His opponent circled, watching warily, looking for an opening that would let him put Logan down for good. He lunged and Logan tried to avoid the punch, but it connected and Logan tasted blood. He wiped a hand over his chin as the man continued to circle, continued to scout his weaknesses. Logan forced his mind to the task at hand. Just gotta get one good punch in.

He spun away from another blow and caught the man’s arm as he followed through. He threw his opponent forward, letting his momentum carry him, and the man crashed into the bars. He didn’t go down, but when he turned Logan was ready. He caught the next punch on his forearm and the other fighter’s face twisted in surprise and pain at the impact. Logan used the shock against him, driving him back to the bars again and landing a kick to his knee. The larger man didn’t buckle, but the pain made him swing wildly in his fury and Logan got the opening he needed. He swung from the heels, straight up and into his chin, and his opponent went down as though he’d been shot.

In the tiny curtained area that served as a dressing room, Logan threw water over his face and neck, dashing away some of the blood and sweat and trying to clear his head. That’s enough of that. He needed a day or two off, because getting back in the cage with his mind somewhere else was going to get him in serious trouble. A couple of days, that was all he needed, and he’d get it together.

A few days later, in Mexico City, it was Día de la Independencia, and he was wandering through happy, half-drunken crowds of revelers. There were stands set up everywhere selling food and noisemakers and all kinds of cheap handicrafts, and late that night there were fireworks displays. Logan found himself standing in the shadows of a boarded-up storefront, drinking Dos Equis and ostensibly waiting for the fireworks to end, but instead he was watching people passing by. Wondering what brought them there. Where they were going. Who they were.

Coalcomán and Ocotlán were next, deeper country where Spanish was far from the only language spoken and his typical laconism went unremarked at the best of times, because there was little to communicate that couldn’t be managed with the point of a finger, a nod or a shrug. Ocotlán sat on the borders of a lake, and Logan watched three suns set over its waters. The colors looked different each time.

Aguascalientes, and he caught himself thinking that the name would make Marie laugh, even if it was just the equivalent of ‘Hot Springs’. Jerez, then El Salto, where he was stuck for almost a week by floods that washed out the roads and made driving impossible. Guadalupe Calvo, in the Sierra Madres, and then Hermosillo, on the Rio Sonora, where jasmine bloomed everywhere. By the time he reached Heroica Nogales, he’d quit pretending he wasn’t heading back towards the border, because he could track his proximity simply by the amount of English he heard spoken.

He crossed the border on the Day of All Souls, and on the periphery it was hard to tell which country he was in. He kept moving, and because you really can drive forever in Texas and still be in Texas, he slept in the truck again on his way to Houston, where he arrived early enough that he had to wait an hour, drinking bad street-vendor coffee, before the bank opened and he was able to empty the safe deposit box he’d had there for the last ten years. Before he left town he bought a phone card at a corner deli. He found a pay phone in the back of a quiet luncheonette and dialed a number scrawled on a piece of paper he had stuffed into a pocket of his jacket.

“Hey. It’s Logan. Callin’ to see if that offer still stands.”

“Yeah, you’re a fuckin’ genius.”

“No, I’m in Houston. Headin’ out in a few minutes.”

“Okay. See you in a couple days.”

He hung up, his mouth twisting in a half-reluctant smile, and ordered a sandwich to go before climbing back into his mud-spattered truck and continuing his trek.

It was a little after eight o’clock in the evening when he turned the last few blocks off Jackson Square and found a place to park. New Orleans was different in the fall, the lush vegetation in retreat, and the night air had a slight chill. Logan shouldered his knapsack and went up the steps of the porch. He checked the mailbox and the key wasn’t there; that was good, it probably meant she was at home. He knocked on the door, preparing himself as he heard someone moving inside.

The door opened and when he looked up, he was face-to-face with a young blond man.

Take You Home

Logan just froze for a second. Inasmuch as he’d thought this out at all, he hadn’t ever thought of this. One possibility presented itself as a faint hope. “I’m lookin’ for Marie D’Ancanto.”

The blond kid stared at him for a second with open suspicion. “She’s not home. Can I help you?”

That took care of that. He shook his head. “Thanks.” He turned to go.

“Who is it?” It wasn’t Marie’s voice, but it was a woman. He glanced back and was a little startled to see she had green hair. “Bobby? What’s going on?”

“It’s all right. Go on back inside.” The young man put his arm around the woman. Logan’s eyes narrowed at the gesture.

“Wait.” The woman stepped forward, pushing open the screen door. “Are you Logan?”

“Lorna, what are you doing—” The blond kid tried to catch her arm, but she came a step further, out onto the porch.

Slowly, he nodded. “Yeah.”

“You want to come in and wait?” She held the screen door open wider. “Marie’s still at school, but she’ll be back soon. We’re going to go out to eat. She won’t be long.”

Logan hesitated. The blond guy was clearly not on board with the idea of his coming in, but that was almost more of an inducement than otherwise. He nodded abruptly and brushed past the little twerp.

There were suitcases and other impedimenta of travel spread around the living room, and apparently the sofa pulled out into a bed, because it was open, neatly made up. The green-haired woman came up to him.

“My name’s Lorna Dane, and this is Bobby Drake. We went to school with Marie up north.” She seemed to expect him to know what that meant. “At Xavier’s?”

“I don’t think talking about Xavier’s is such a great idea.” Blondie, or apparently Bobby, was glowering. Trying to, anyway.

“Bobby.” Lorna shot him an exasperated look. “It’s all right. He’s one of us.”

Now Logan and Bobby both were surprised. Logan recovered first. “What are you talking about?”

“Xavier’s is a school for mutants,” she said. Logan blinked. There were schools for this kind of thing?

Bobby crossed his arms, still trying to look vaguely threatening. “So how do you know Marie?”

Logan showed him what a glower actually looked like. “Why?” Lorna looked between the two of them and hastily stepped forward.

“Marie said you saved her life,” she said pointedly. Logan saw Bobby’s shocked look and gave Lorna a mental note of approval.

“I’m gonna go wash up. I’ve been driving since about ten o’clock this morning,” he said, and deliberately walked back through the apartment and into the bedroom. He had no idea how much Marie had told this girl, but apparently she hadn’t mentioned enhanced senses—hell, Marie probably didn’t really know about the extent of his mutation—because the conversation that followed was clearly audible to him.

“Who the hell is that guy?” That was Blondie, his sense of masculinity clearly having been challenged.

“She met him last summer. Don’t worry about it, Bobby. She would’ve been furious if you’d sent him away.”

“So how do you know about him and I don’t?”

“She didn’t want to talk about it with you. She told me about him the night you went out with Remy, all right? She just didn’t seem happy, and we kind of had a girl’s night. Just relax, will you? You’ll see, it’ll be all right.”

Logan quit listening in. He went into the bathroom, cleaned up, and put on a fresh shirt from his knapsack. When he came out he walked across to drop his knapsack on the bed. In contrast to the pullout in the living room, her bed still wasn’t made; he was ridiculously pleased at seeing that. Something dark was peeking out from under a pillow and he looked a little more closely. Aw, christ.

It was one of his t-shirts. One he’d apparently missed packing.

He really hoped she got home soon.

He went back out to the other room. Lorna was opening a bottle of wine in the kitchen; Bobby was standing in the living room, still looking disgruntled. The green-haired girl gave him a bright smile. “I thought we could all have a drink while we’re waiting?”

“Is there any beer?”

She put down the corkscrew. “Yeah. I think so.”

Logan walked past her and opened the refrigerator. He tried not to smile and didn’t quite succeed. He reached in and took out a bottle of Molson. “You two go ahead with the wine. I’ll have this.”

Just then there was the sound of a key in the front door, and all three of them more or less froze.

Marie came in, carrying a large portfolio under one arm and her messenger bag, heavily packed, over her shoulder. She didn’t look up at first, in her rush to get everything unloaded. “Sorry I’m so late, you guys, just give me a minute and I’ll be ready to go—”

Logan set the beer down on the counter and stepped into the archway between the living room and the kitchen. “Marie.”

She looked up, and there was another moment where nobody seemed to move. Logan saw her eyes go wide and shocked and he had time to think She looks different. Tired. Then she was running towards him and he caught her up in his arms, drinking in her scent as she clung to him.

“Oh, my god.” She was half laughing, half breathless. “What’re you doing here?”

“Missed you.” He probably wouldn’t have been able to make the admission if she’d been looking at him. He set her down and she still looked stunned, staring up at him with incredulity. Then she seemed to remember her other guests.

“Oh—you met Bobby and Lorna—” She turned. Lorna was picking up a jacket and her purse from the end table.

“Yeah, we met.” The green-haired girl put a hand on Bobby’s arm. “Listen—you guys probably have a lot to talk about, so maybe we can catch up with you later?” She was edging back towards the door.

“Okay. I’ll call you,” Marie said. Lorna nodded and hustled Bobby out; the blond sent one last vaguely suspicious look over his shoulder as he was led away. Marie watched them go and then looked back up at him.

She’d done something to her hair, he realized, dyed a couple of white streaks into it at her temples. He reached up and brushed his fingers over one of the silvery locks. “What’s this? You get tired of painting other stuff?" he asked jokingly.

Her face relaxed into a smile. “I got a little bored, I guess. Wanted a change.” She reached up to her hair self-consciously. “I kinda like it.”

“Looks good on you.” She smiled again and then stepped back.

“So…” She looked really unsure of herself, which made him nervous as well. “My friends are here till Friday.”

He nodded. “Okay. I can stay over at Toby’s.” A flash of something like pain went over her face.

“Well—are you gonna be around after that? I mean—” She hesitated, and he hated that he didn’t know exactly what to do here. She’d missed him too, that much was clear, but in his typical fashion, he really hadn’t thought beyond getting back and seeing her, somehow thinking it would all be as simple as it had seemed during that week in the summer. And it wasn’t simple at all, really; she didn’t really know anything about him and this was a lot different than a few days of vacation time.

He had an idea. “Listen—let’s go get a drink, okay?” Marie looked a little surprised, but she nodded.

“Okay. Let me get a jacket.”

Everything You Ever Wanted

Marie’s astonishment just seemed to increase when he led the way back to Toby’s. He found himself bracing himself against the reaction as they walked in, and he acknowledged for the first time the real reason he’d refused to let her accompany him earlier—it was a statement, pure and simple.

Sure enough, there was a hiss of activity as the two of them were spotted. Logan kept an arm around her waist as they made their way to the end of the bar, acknowledging salutations from some of the regulars with a brief nod. A blonde woman he didn’t know was behind the bar, but Marie greeted her at once as she came over.

“Lynn, this is Logan.” He saw the woman’s start of recognition.

“Logan! I’ve heard so much about you.” She held out a hand and he shook it. “Toby’s downstairs changing a keg—we ran out of Abita. He’ll be up in a minute.”

“Lynn started here last month,” Marie explained. She leaned closer and spoke more quietly. “She and Toby are together.”

He had so much to tell her, but he didn’t know how to start, and Toby would probably do that for him, if he would just get back from wherever he was. Fortunately, the big man did appear then, breaking into a huge grin as soon as he saw them and coming up to crush Logan in a hearty embrace.

“Wasn’t expecting you quite so soon, mon ami. You met Lynn? How you doin’, sweetheart?” He draped an arm over Marie and kissed her on the cheek. “Haven’t seen much of her lately. Too busy to hang out with the Bayou trash, cherie?” He waved at Lynn. “Babe, get that bottle out. We gotta have a drink.”

Marie looked a little overwhelmed at the flood of words, and even more so when Lynn started setting out champagne glasses. “Toby—what’s this all about?”

“What, he didn’t tell you?” Toby was opening a bottle of Dom Perignon. He gave Logan a look of jovial astonishment. “What’s the matter with you, buddy? Tell her.” He didn’t give Logan a chance. “We’re gonna be partners, darlin’. Gonna expand the place, add a kitchen, music on the weekends—it’s gonna be great.” Logan saw Marie’s eyes change as she shifted her gaze to him. Toby rambled on about his plans, and she picked up a glass Lynn had filled for her and moved closer to him.

“That right?” she asked softly.

“Yeah.” He watched her intently. “What do you think? Sound like a good idea?”

“I think…it sounds like a great idea.” She still looked a little tentative, unsure, but then she smiled. “As long as you work on the sociability factor. If you’re gonna run a bar, you can’t be scaring off the patrons.”

Logan put his hands around her waist and boosted her up onto one of the barstools. “Yeah, well, you can give me some pointers.” He wanted to erase that lingering uncertainty he still saw in her eyes, but damn, he was no good at this. He leaned in to kiss her quickly, and jerked back as something like an electric shock hit him as his lips touched hers. Her hand flew to her mouth.

“I’m sorry! Oh, god, Logan, are you okay?” She looked really upset. “That hasn’t happened in years—say something, please?”

“I’m fine. Was that—“ He shook his head to clear it.

“My skin, yeah.” She set her glass down. “Damn it, I don’t even have gloves with me—I’m sorry, Logan. Every once in a while, if I’m really distracted, it just slips. Give me a second, that’s all.”

“What’s it do exactly?” he asked curiously.

“Well—I think I told you, I absorb people. Their thoughts, what they’re feeling.” She gave him a quick, tight smile. “Even their mutations, if they have them. It’s temporary, but it kind of knocks people for a loop, I know. I’m sorry, I’m just unfocused right now.” She looked down, obviously trying to gather herself.

If that was the way it worked—Logan didn’t give her the chance to turn it back off. He just braced himself and leaned in to bring his mouth down on hers firmly. Her hands flew to his shoulders as he felt that shock again and then a strange pull. His thoughts seemed to flow without conscious effort.

Butterflies. Fireworks at night. Jasmine in Hermosillo. The touch of hands covered in silk.

“Hey. This stool taken?”

Logan jerked himself back before his vision greyed out completely, and when he could focus on her again she was looking around the room with a slightly dazed expression.

“Wow.” She reached one hand up as though something were passing in front of her face. “The colors—I didn’t know you saw things that way.”

“Marie—“ He put a hand on her arm, careful this time to avoid her skin. “Never mind that.” If that hadn’t worked—but she closed her eyes briefly, and he saw her inhale. “What do you see, baby?”

“Mexico,” she whispered, and when she opened her eyes a tear trickled down one cheek. “Really?”

“Yeah. Really.” He started to reach toward her face, then hesitated. “You got it under control?” She nodded, her lips trembling on the edge of a smile, and he wiped away the moisture, letting his hand rest against the soft skin. “You okay?”

“Definitely.” Her eyes were shining, and she reached up to tighten her arms around his neck. “I love you too,” she said quietly, her lips against his ear, and he caught her up in his arms with relief. She laughed and he kissed her, thoroughly this time, and when he finally set her back down all her old ease of manner was back. “I want you to tell me straight out one of these days,” she teased. “No fair using my mutation to get out of it.”

“I’ll work on that.”

“And…I want you to stay at my place, not here. Don’t worry about those two, I’ll deal with them. And I want to see Mexico for myself, okay? I’ve never been there.”

He had to laugh at that. “You want a lot, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” She laced her fingers through his. “What do you want?”

“I want you, darlin’.” He watched as she absorbed the words, her eyes sparkling.

She tugged him closer. “That all?” He ran a hand through her hair, mingling the auburn and silver strands between his fingers.

“That’s everything.”

Finis