She had a need to feel the thunder/ To chase the lightning from the sky/To watch a storm with all its wonder/ Raging in her lover's eyes

Logan heard the song on the radio and it sparked something within him. A memory from a long time ago. He turned up the song but it was over. He growled. ‘Figures.’
He parked the truck and banged into the building. He’d been sent to pick up some of the kids from the mall, gods how he hated the mall. He checked his watch, he still had half an hour and he didn’t really want to spend it hunting up six kids who’d probably spread out all over the mall. He spied a music store and that same nagging memory popped up again just out of his reach. He went in and started poking around at random. Some tiny slip of a kid in a blue polo shirt came up and tried not to look too nervous, too bad her scent gave her away. “Can I help you find something sir?” She squeaked.
He was on the verge of telling her to bug off when that nagging memory taunted him again. “Yeah. I’m lookin’ fer a song. I think it’s called Feel the thunder. Some country song.”
She relaxed a little. “I’ll see if I can find it for you. You don’t know who sung it?”
He shook his head. “Ok then.” She moved past him to a computer and typed something in. “So I have a bunch of songs by country artists that have ‘feel the thunder’ in them. If I play some clips do you think you can pin point it?”
He shrugged and she took that for assent. She played a couple but no hits. She switched gears and played a few she picked at random. He was about to tell her to forget it when he heard it. “That one.” He barked making her jump.
“Uh…,that one is by Garth Brooks. It’s called That Summer. We have the single do you want it?” The kid smelled nervous again.
“Yeah.” He grumbled feeling a little bad about it.
She went and grabbed a CD off a rack and handed it to him. He paid for it and went back to his truck. The kids were waiting for him. They loaded up. He watched the last one carefully. Rouge was acting oddly. She didn’t smell right either, she smelled like tears and was hanging back. He’d have to figure out what was buggin’ her. He got them all back to the Mansion without biting heads off, quite a feat for him. Rouge hung back a little and he seized the moment. “Hey kid. What’s buggin’ you?”
“Nothin‘.” She replied which if he remembered a lesson painfully pounded into him by the last three years of living around teenage girls meant ‘Something’.
“Spill kid.” He growled.
She growled back and he grinned. “I can ask one of the other kids.”
“That’s playin’ dirty.” She snapped.
“No one ever said I play fair.” He replied calmly.
She tugged at her sleeves and he thought he had a clue. He moved closer. “You don’t want to be just like them darlin’.”
“Says who? Maybe Ah do. Maybe Ah’d like to just once wear something Kitty does and feel safe.” She was starting to get upset and that never spelled anything but trouble.
“Darlin’ what about that shirt you bought last month?” He was hoping he could find safe territory. He missed.
“That was last month Logan! And it was one shirt!” She started to tear up a little.
He pulled her in for a hug. “I know darlin’ We’ll find somethin’.” He had the feeling this wasn’t just about clothing but damned if he knew what. ‘And damned if I know how to pry it outta her.’ He reflected privately.
She pulled back after a moment and seemed to feel a little better. “Ah’m sorry Logan.”
“S’okay Darlin’.” He kissed her forehead too fast for her mutation to pull at him. She smiled a little and started into the mansion. “You comin’?” She asked.
“Got something I want to do first darlin’.”
She nodded and disappeared into the Mansion. Logan climbed back into his truck and drove off the grounds again. He slipped the CD into the player and turned it on.
Over the last year or so Logan discovered that certain things triggered memories and if he let the trigger wash over him and didn’t press it he could remember the event. He let his mind drift while his body took over and drove as if on auto pilot. He only just remembered to press the repeat button so it would keep playing.

I went to work for her that summer/ A teenage kid so far from home/She was a lonely widow woman / Hell bent to make it on her own/We were a thousand miles from nowhere/ Wheat fields as far as I could see/Both needing something from each other/ Not knowing yet what that might be


The song brought to mind a field. Some low grassy plant growing as far as he could see. Not wheat but some other grain. He didn’t push it he figured it would come. After a while it did. He saw himself working the field an old plaid shirt clinging damply to his back. He felt the warm heat of an oncoming thunderstorm but he could tell it was a good ways off. It surely wouldn’t hit until late that night. He’d been working for a young woman. Never been married and never would with the rumors flying about her. Daddy dead, never had a mother, she held the land by dint of her sharp tongue and his brawling arm. He’d been watching her for years but never made a move.
Not that he didn’t want to. She was a pretty little thing and kind. Gentle when she wanted to be and harsh as winter when riled. He half loved her. But that’s as far as it’d go. She was a free woman and he was a bought and paid for slave. Lately she’d been watching him and it made him a little uneasy wondering why. He’d just chased three or four knaves off her land. They’d come to poke at the Witch they said. He snorted. Witch nothing.
He’d never met a woman like the mistress. She had mismatched eyes and a bright red mark covering most of her neck and the idiots around the parts called her a Witch. He snorted angrily.

'Til she came to me one evening/ Hot cup of coffee and a smile/In a dress that I was certain/She hadn't worn in quite a while

“Thank you.” The soft voice said behind him.
He turned and dropped his gaze. Experience had taught him that even though he healed fast the slaver was just as quick with the whip. “Please look at me?” The words were pleading and that brought a pang. He hated hearing that pleading tone. She shouldn’t have to beg for anything.
He looked at her though it was hardly any move for his head she was so small. “Mistress?”
She sighed. “Daddy shoulda let you go before he died.”
“He kept me to keep you safe mistress.” He almost flinched, he’d spoken out of turn.
She chuckled. “Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you.”

There was a difference in her laughter/There was a softness in her eyes/And on the air there was a hunger/ Even a boy could recognize/She had a need to feel the thunder/To chase the lightning from the sky/To watch a storm with all its wonder/ Raging in her lover's eyes/She had to ride the heat of passion/Like a comet burning bright/Rushing headlong in the wind

Sometimes he could smell things. He smelt her clearly just now. Sweet, a little yeasty, she’d been baking bread again. He also scented something stronger, something more primal. He felt himself stir and tried to quash it. He couldn’t touch her and he knew it. The sun was setting and he could feel the storm getting closer.
“You should go back inside mistress. It’s going to storm.” His voice was a little husky.

Out where only dreams have been/Burning both ends of the night/That summer wind was all around me/Nothing between us but the night

“Let it.” She replied her green and blue eyes watching him.
He tried not to scowl. She moved closer and he held very still. “I’ve seen you ever since I was a child. You never age, you never sicken and any marks on your skin fade in hours. You’re special.”
‘That’s one way to think of it.’ He thought but kept quiet.
“I used to lay awake at night and I’d hear the mob. I heard them being sent away by you and I worshiped you. You were my hero.”
“Mistress?” He was shocked, him a hero. Nothing like it he thought thinking back on what got him sold to slavery in the first place.
“Oh yes. My hero. You saved my life so many times and all I can do is keep you as a slave for my safety.” She spat the last.
He glared at her then caught himself and gazed firmly on the ground. She moved a little closer. “You’re so much bigger than I and yet you act as if I tower over you. I don’t want it.”
He decided to take a chance. “What do you want?”
“I want to know you. As a woman knows a man.”
Her answer floored him. “Mistress. You can’t…I’m not…” He sputtered.
She put her fingertips on his lips and he felt the electric current course through him a wave of desire for this little paragon he’d served since she was a baby. “You can and you are.” She leaned up on tip toes and kissed him gently.

When I told her that I'd never/She softly whispered "That's alright"/And then I watched her hands of leather/Turn to velvet in a touch/There's never been another summer/When I have ever loved as much

He managed to get her inside before the rain hit with a swiftness and force he’d never felt. She let him lead, surrendering to him completely. It was something he’d dreamed of more often than he could count. It finally occurred to him why he’d stayed when he knew she’d never hunt him down. He said for her sake, because in his own way he loved her.

I often think about that summer/The sweat, the moonlight and the lace/And I have rarely held another/When I haven't seen her face/And every time I pass a wheat field/And watch it dancing with the wind/Although I know it isn't real/I swear inside I feel/Her hungry arms again

Logan came back to himself and found himself parked at one of the scenic lookouts in the area. His mind still ringing with images of a former life, a former lover. He felt a deep pain and sadness, like he’d lost something precious to him. Tears blurred his eyes and he heard the last chorus of the CD.

She had a need to feel the thunder/To chase the lightning from the sky/To watch a storm with all its wonder/ Raging in her lover's eyes/She had to ride the heat of passion/Like a comet burning bright/Rushing headlong in the wind.

He fumbled for the player and turned it off. He held the player in his rough hand and tried to remember where he’d gotten it.
‘It was a gift from Marie ya dumbass.’ Wolverine snapped in his mind.
Logan turned the player over in his hands remembering when she’d given it to him. Her smile, always a little sad. He tried to reconcile the two images in him mind, the tiny plantation owner who’d set him free. He tried to recall what’d happened to her or to remember her name.
‘Hannah.’
The name floated through his mind along with her fate. She’d freed him and he’d left. It’d been clear to both of them they couldn’t be together. Not as lovers. She’d been gracious, he’d fought and raged but in the end accepted that she was right. He’d heard a month later that she’d been burnt alive in her house as a witch. He’d wanted to kill them but somehow he’d never done it. It hadn’t seemed right.
He looked at the player again and something occurred to him. The look in her mismatched eyes. He’d seen it before in…Maries eyes.
‘Bout time dumbass.’
He turned the truck around. Wolverine was right. It was about time he did what he should have done as soon as she was legal. He went to find Marie.


He left the truck in the drive and ran up the mansion steps two at a time. He was in such a hurry he barely noticed the tiny woman leaving. It wasn’t until much later that he noticed the mismatched eyes and the faint red mark on her neck.