No matter where you went in the world there was one constant, the person who ran the laundromat would be a nosy asshole.
Logan had just put his last load of dirty clothes onto wash when the owner had seen the detergent he was using. Well what he was using wasn't what everyone would call detergent but it was the one thing that didn't stink him out of the camper. Soap nuts, little shells that expelled a vegetable soap that didn't smell of anything but got his clothes clean. He'd found them in a small store just outside Calgary, run by an elderly couple. The woman had been aware enough to show him things that were unscented and re-useable. She'd pegged him for a survivalist or a logger, he'd spent a nice hour being treated as a human being, someone worth knowing. And it had been her who'd shown him how to use the nuts.
The owner was now looking through the small window of the machine to the small bag of nutshells that were flying around the large drum and was about to open his mouth when a pale shirt came by. It was dotted with red. Large blooms that were now becoming pink in the heated water. Slowly, he got back up and walked away his eyes never leaving the little machine window. There was no mistaking blood when you saw it, if it made sure he was left alone then rescueing the small dog that had bled all over him had been worth it.
Dog had been hit by the car in front of him, the bastard didn't even stop to check if it was still alive. He did and the dog was now resting at a shelter, everything paid for by the place he'd been before here. The house of a retired general, he'd gotten messy there as well but the general's washer had cleaned *those* clothes. He might look stupid but he had more intelligence than to wash human blood out of his stuff in public.
At the moment his camper was parked outside the laundromat, autumn was on it's way again, turning everything into a rage of colour. It was also getting cold too, he'd brought a shirt out with him, an old padded blue flannel. Ripped on one side but then it had been with him for nearly ten years. The manager pushed open the back door to the place and left it open, making the difference in temperature crash. Cold Logan shrugged on the old shirt, the feel of the soft fabric against his skin familiar but the bulk in the breast pocket was something new.
Hope flourished as he dipped his fingers into the large pocket and was rewarded by a slim pink envelope with his name on. Smiling he opened the letter as the wind blew around his feet, a few bright leaves coming inside to dance across the black and white linoleum floor.
****************************************
'Hi Logan,
I hope this one finds you well, I don't know how long it's been since you read the last one you found. So I'll just get to the meat shall I?
Wolverine.
I mean I know you've read my journal, seen the pictures under my bed (which believe me were embarrassing enough to even think about at first never mind *paint*). What I wanted to ask you was why me? Why did he pick me? What's so special about me? I mean inside my head he thinks of me as a special person, someone worth saving, worth holding, worth *having*. And I suppose I need to know how *you* feel about this, I mean it could just be my interpretation of him. The blending of our personalities into something else, into *someone* else.
Having you as a resident up there in my mind isn't a burden Logan, I welcome you there, you're a part of me that I never want to lose. An I suppose that this is why I'm writing this one, this letter.
You see I understand why you treated me like you did when you left, why you called me 'Kid'. Inside my head you've called me lots of things but never 'Kid', inside me you've seen everything there is of me. You've only read my thoughts, my emotions in my journals, seen the images that you've given me on canvas but you've never *asked* me how *I* feel about *you*.
Wolverine is really a simple person Logan, he claims what's his and what I'm trying to tell you is that I'm okay with that. Inside my mind, when I was painting those pictures you showed me everything about them, how you got there, who they were and why you were with them. And not in the twelve that are under there is there one that was for the real reason you needed them. You admitted that you were horny, needy, lustful, angry, filled with an itch that you thought it would scratch. But it wasn't about any of them in the end, you needed someone to care about you for a while. Even if you had to pay for it, for someone to give a damn whether or not you felt 'good'.
I'm seventeen Logan, going on a hundred and fifty if you count the ages that have tried to live in my skull. I can tell the difference between lust and need, an no matter what you tell yourself you *need* as much as the next person. Hell do you think it's easy having normal teenage hormones as well as a horny Wolverine in your head? Then add 'untouchable' to that equation an can you recognise why I went after the only person who touched me apart from you? Even though it was admittedly desperation led.
So when the urges get too much I let *him* out of my head, I share a memory of yours. Sex via mental voyeurism is about the best I can hope for Logan, I just hope you don't mind that it's you I'm looking in on. Because I really don't have much of an imagination for a virgin with no experience.
How sad is that? The only sex life I can hope for is through a link that saved my life but keeps me from ever having the one thing that nearly everything else in the entire world is capable of.
Sorry....pity party over.
Just that I wanted you to know why the paintings were there, I know seeing them must have been a shock for you. Then when everything went south we never got the chance to talk did we? Not about things like that or why I kept them hidden.
If I'd put them on display could you see the outrage? I mean Scott would've kicked your ass out as soon as you'd gotten back for 'corrupting' me. Shit doesn't he know the entire school has a porn collection that could put Hefner to shame? I didn't want anyone else to see them Logan, they're yours after all. I may have painted them but they're your memories and when you come home you can do what you like with them. I just wanted you to know that, that I've been inside those memories and used them for my own needs. I'm as human as the next person Logan and that means I'll have desires and urges just that *you* can scratch yours. Me....I just have to find other ways to release the frustration that builds up in the parts of me anyway I can. Sometimes that's painting, sometimes it's something else...
Anyway, I just wanted you to know that. Wolverine is part of *me* too, that was probably why I snarled at Bobby that time and broke his fingers. It was *spring* you know and most of your memories (well the more frequent ones anyway) seem to be in the spring. Makes sense when you think about it though, spring is for making babies. Mind you the words that came out of my mouth that day were enough to shake me a bit. I still go back and read them occassionally just to remember what he said.
Keep safe Logan, remember theres more of us in your stuff. Hope the next one is as welcome as this one was.
Love Marie.'
*************************************************
His hands were shaking when he finally finished the page, dropping his head to the floor as her words entered his mind. He remembered what she'd said to Bobby that spring day, he'd memorised it because it was just what he'd have said to the little shit himself. Told him to keep his hands to himself, to keep away from what was *his*. He'd marked her as his territory in her mind, the only thing was he hadn't admitted it in the real world. An the only person who'd known was under Alkali Lake feeding fishes.
That she used his dreams was enough of a turn on as it was, but to know she did it *purposefully* to get herself off made his blood boil. That she was riding his memories of sinking himself into willing bodies that she felt in her mind. Knowing that Wolverine wanted her, needed her, was enough to make him wonder if she'd taken any of his fantasies about *her*. When he'd seen her at the bar that first time he'd had an image of her on the wooden surface, naked but for that hooded cloak and him over her. It had been a moment, a passing thing which he'd squashed quickly but it had been there and it had recurred to him more than once on this journey.
Putting the small pieces of paper away his hand froze when his mind showed him the memory of a picture. One that looked harmless enough until you looked in the small shot glass on a table. There reflected in it's surface had been two figures, one resting on her back on a wooden surfacem the other bent over her. He'd only noticed it because it was in the art room, where Marie spent a lot of her time and he'd been looking for her. She'd painted his dream of her and she hadn't noticed it, he only hoped everyone was so wrapped up in their grief that it continued to be missed.
But now he knew how she coped with that side of Wolverine, what he did when he felt the itch too much. When he needed someone, anyone to ease the pain of it, to pour himself into someone, to let them take the burden from his shoulders and he was beginning to wonder what it would feel like to let Marie take that from him.
A blast of autumn cold cooled his body, leaves scattering on the chequered floor. The owner dressed in a winter coat chasing after them with a broom. He pondered the wisdom of writing back to her, telling her what he thought but the moment passed. Besides he hadn't found all the letters yet, there might be another telling him something different from this one. Tucking it away he waited for his clothes to finish the cycle, the little brown nuts spinning round in the machine reminding him of the colour of her hair. Nestled to his now white shirt inside the machine, if only he could get as close and inside his mind Wolverine began to plan.
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
Barely Legal Since 2000
Author's Chapter Notes:
Logan finds another letter from Marie, just when he needs to.
Hope your enjoying these little glimpses into Logan's world and what he's doing in between the times he sees Marie.
Hope your enjoying these little glimpses into Logan's world and what he's doing in between the times he sees Marie.