Scott and Jean had walked with them for a half-mile or so, making sure there was a trail to follow. Then, when it became apparent there wasn't one, Logan sent them back. Scott protested. Jean protested. Marie remained quiet and watched the exchange. When Scott refused to go, adamantly refused, Logan reminded him that it was best if they went back - in case the train began to move again. They could get help. His reasoning surprised Marie; she was surprised he was willing to reason with them at all. She didn't know what he was thinking of doing, how they would find her father now. They stood together in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by snow and trees and watched as Jean and Scott slowly headed back.
"What are we going to do now?" she asked, pulling her jacket more tightly around herself. They hadn't moved for five minutes.
Logan sighed and ran a hand across his face. His eyes were busy searching for something he probably knew he wouldn't find.
"Did we make a mistake?" she asked, when he didn't answer her first question. "Should we head back?"
He looked at her and his face softened. "No," he replied. "I'm just trying to think of which way to go. That's all."
Turning to stare at the white, bright snow - she'd never seen snow so clean until this trip - she asked what she feared asking the most. "What if there isn't a way to go?"
"There is." The tone was adamant and, right then, she thought she had him pegged. He was stubborn - too stubborn - and was used to getting things done. She wondered if that was an advantage now. Maybe he couldn't see what was right in front of him - or wasn't. Maybe he couldn't let go of something that he would never be able to grasp.
"We should head back," she said, not meeting his eyes. She said it because it was the sensible thing, because as much as she wanted to find her father - needed to find him - she couldn't believe in what they were doing. Couldn't believe it would work.
His heavy hands on her shoulders made her look up at him. There was a glimmer of anger in his golden eyes.and something else, something she couldn 't place. She could feel his frustration. "I'm sorry," she continued. The words brought tears to her eyes but she successfully held them back. She wasn't just apologizing to Logan. She was apologizing to her father - for being a coward. "I don't know what to do."
"You're scared," he said. She nodded. "You're scared of trying and failing. You're scared you'll lose him. Right?"
"He's all I have left," she whispered, all too aware that she had already disclosed too much to this stranger, to this man she hardly knew. She thought about her brother, about the pain she had felt when she realized she 'd lost him forever. Her father was the only family she had, the only person she could trust in implicitly. Without him, she would be completely alone - defenseless.
Logan was still holding her - perhaps trying to reassure. "That's why you have to do this. If you don't, you'll regret it."
"How do you know so much?" His fingers were weighing on her, keeping her prisoner. "I don't want to do anything stupid. What would I do - what wouldn 't I regret - if something happened to my father because I - we - marched up to Lensherr without any idea of what we're doing?" She was breaking, she could feel it, was trying to stop it. She wanted to stop thinking about everything for a minute. She wanted the weight of those fingers to stop feeling like the weight of the world. She wanted to forget that her father' s life might be in her hands.
"Hey," Logan whispered, and she could feel his warm breath - so warm against her cold skin - as he leaned in. "Look at me." She did. "I'm not going to let anything happen."
Marie stared at the man before her, trying to determine where he got his confidence. She wanted to shout at him in her frustration, ask him how he could be so sure of anything when he couldn't even remember who he was. But she didn't. There was too much in those eyes of his. Too much surety, too much determination and stubbornness. so much she wanted to consume them, wanted to swallow those qualities so they would be a part of her. Maybe then, she wouldn't be so scared. If only she could stop thinking, just for a minute.
He was close, close enough for her to reach out and grasp the front of his jacket. "Why are you helping me?"
His eyes narrowed, but he didn't pull away from her. "I don't want anything from you, if that's what you mean. I just want to."
"I wish I could help you."
"Help me?"
"Remember. Get back what you lost." When he didn't say anything, she continued. "Would you want to?
He shrugged, so the material of his jacket almost slipped from her fingers. She held on. "It's a missing piece, but you don't know which one. Or if you want it back - if it's worth recovering."
"But you would probably want to know, just for the sake of knowing. Wouldn't you? You would regret it if you didn't."
"How do you know so much?" He was throwing her words back at her. She realized she didn't. She really didn't know much at all. About anything.
"I just want to feel like I can do something," she responded. "And at the same time, I want to forget. I want to move and stand still all at once. I want to run into the forest and search until I find him. And I want to go back to that train and wait and hope that someone will do it for me." She twisted her fingers against his jacket. "It's terrifying, Logan." It was as honest as she could be.
Logan nodded. "Yeah, I know." He looked out at the dense forest that surrounded them. "If you want, I can take you back. Summers can come back with me. Maybe that would be best."
"Is that what you think I should do?"
Sighing, Logan pulled her into a light hug; she was surprised she let him. "I think that you should follow your instincts. I already told you what I think but you're a smart girl and I'm no one to tell you what to do." He pulled back to look her in the eye. "All I can tell you is I'd be glad to have you there with me, helping bring back your father."
Marie realized he was giving her a choice. The decision was entirely her own. "All right," she responded. "My father needs me, and I won't let my fear stop me from trying to help." She heard the tone in her voice and she knew she was trying to convince herself of something she wasn't sure of.
Logan almost smiled. "Good," he said, pointing at the satchel she had been carrying. She passed it to him. "This," he unzipped the bag and pulled out a revolver, "is for you."
She almost took a step back as the metal of the gun gleamed in the sunlight. "I don't know how to use that," she said.
"Simple," Logan replied, placing the weapon in her hand. "You pull this back," he demonstrated, "point, and squeeze. That's only if you really need it, and only if someone gets close enough. I don't want you shooting yourself in the foot." She thought he was somehow enjoying himself - oh, not the situation certainly, but his role in it.
"Where should I keep it?"
He took the revolver and un-cocked it for her. "Put it in your pocket, so you'll be able to get to it quickly."
She held the heavy gun in her hand and sighed. "I hope I won't have to."
Logan nodded. "Just for protection."
"You have another?"
"Yes." Stupid question, Marie.
They stood for a moment in silence, Marie still cradling the gun. "What now?" she finally asked.
Marie watched as Logan reached into the satchel again, this time pulling out a map. "Well, seeing as I have no real trail to follow, I'm going to have to make a guess."
"A guess?"
"A guess. I'm guessing that they didn't just hole up in a cave in the middle of the woods. There has to be some kind of town nearby. So, I'm guessing as to which one." His eyes widened a fraction as he examined the parchment. "Here," he said, pointing at a tiny dot on the landscape. "We're about twenty miles from the next stop, so this should be the nearest town -village probably. Unless Lensherr thought it'd be a good idea to hike all the way back to Vienna, this would be a good place to start."
"This might work then?" Marie's heart leapt at the thought.
"It might," he replied, grinning. "But only if we get moving. Come on, rogue, we want to cover as much ground as possible before sundown."
Logan started trudging through the snow and for a second she just watched as he walked. Then, she followed.
"Mr. LeBeau?"
Remy was startled when the soft voice broke through the silence in the cabin. He'd been nearly asleep. He looked up warily from his position near the fireplace. The expectant eyes of Robert Darkholme stared back at him. "Oui?"
"Now that we're alone."
Remy smiled. "You wanted to talk 'bout something?"
There was a slight pause as Darkholme considered his response. "You...I wanted to know what it would take to get you to care about my situation."
"Right. That."
"I have a lot of money, LeBeau," said Darkholme. "More than you could possibly see through this scheme with Eric."
"Possibly." Remy watched as Darkholme fidgeted with his coat. He was nervous, as he should be. The moment was Remy's for the taking. He didn't like Lensherr's plan; Remy was a thief, truly, but he was not a murderer. He had some honor, at least. Now, Robert Darkholme was prepared to give up everything in order to save his own life, and Remy was prepared to take it. "Tell me, monsieur, what have you done to make Lensherr so angry, eh?"
"It's a complicated story."
"So?"
"I really don't have time for this."
"Right now, you got nothing but time."
Darkholme glared at Remy, but there was really nothing he could do. He stood and moved to sit next to the Frenchman. As he warmed his hands by the fire, he said, "I have to be honest now. I'm ready to do anything to get out of here. Eric is going to kill me. I know it. You're my last hope." Remy held out his hand - a sign he wanted another cigarette. Darkholme produced his case and handed it over. "You can keep it," he said.
"I thought I told you one of these isn't going to buy me?" Remy replied.
"What about 50,000 dollars?"
Remy whistled low. "That's a beautiful start, mon ami. It certainly is." He lit his cigarette and inhaled. "What I'm dying to find out, though, is what I'm getting myself into. You're going to tell me what this is all about, or I'm not in for nothing. Got it?"
Darkholme nodded. "I'll need a cigarette..."
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks to any and all who are actually still reading this. This is short, I know, but I've found my rhythm.