A young gentleman came riding by on a snow-blue winter day
He asked to drink by our fire, and I was pleased to let him stay
He drank their quietly for a while, then he turned and said to me
"You're eyes are green, like summer grass, your lips are red, like a fresh-cut rose
Your hair is soft, like an Irish stream, and your voice is filled with sweet beauty"
And the last words I heard him say were "I shall return for you, my love, on Christmas day."
And the night will come when I won't sleep as I watch the stars that lead him
I cannot place where he is, but still my heart goes with him
I'm saving all my Sunday clothes for the day that I'll be leaving
My father knows, my sister knows, and my friends are happy for me
And the priest, he says "you should thank God for the blessing of such beauty"
And the last words I heard him say were "I shall return for you, my love, on Christmas day"
And the last words I heard him say, were the last words I ever heard him say were
I shall return for you, my love, on Christmas day.
--Dido, On Christmas Day
He came the day after Thanksgiving.
The whole mansion was decorating, and there was an overwhelming amount of tinsel everywhere.
Under Jubilee's strict orders, I was hammering mistletoe over the front door. I was wrestling with the ladder, trying to keep it from, collapsing, when the doorbell rang.
When I opened the door, he fell onto me, and asked for Xavier. He was incredibly heavy, and I couldn't support him by myself, so I called for someone to help, and St. John came running in. He raised his eyebrow at the sight of the huge, weak man I was holding, but just put his arm around the man's waist, and headed to Xavier's office.
Once inside the huge room, St. John left, but I stayed, waiting for Xavier with him. He looked at me once, and I looked away fast, because I felt drawn to him, I felt like I needed to help him, and he looked so sad, it startled me. Just then Xavier walked in, and asked me to leave. The man looked away from me, and I stepped out, shutting the door behind me.
Three weeks later, and I hadn't talked to him, but I heard scattered rumors from Jubilee and Kitty. His name was Logan, aka the Wolverine, and he had been experimented on by some group of people, who had grafted metal to his entire skeleton. He had no memories of before he had been taken, and he didn't talk to anyone except Xavier. No one knew anything more about him, except that it appeared that he would be staying, because he had agreed to join the X-Men.
After that first day, he and I were never alone together, so I didn't get to talk to him. I wanted to ask him about himself, wanted to tell him about me, ask him if he felt the same way I did. It was silly, but I was beginning to think I was falling in love with him. I chided myself for thinking that, because I didn't even know him, he didn't know me, but it was something I couldn't stop. Every day, wherever I was putting up decorations (Jubes can be so obsessive sometimes) I watched for him, wanting to see him. I watched him read in the library, smoke on the driveway, circle around Scott's beloved motorcycle with interest.
A week before Christmas, I was making some latkes in an attempt to protest all the red and green. It wasn't that I didn't like Christmas, it was the opposite, but I liked Hanukah too, and besides, it gave me an excuse to not hang my fiftieth wreath. After getting satisfactory results with my cooking, I went and sat in front of the fireplace in the main hall, with a mug of hot chocolate. After a minute, I felt someone next to me, and looked up. Logan was standing above me, and after I moved over to give him room in front of the fire, he sat down next to me.
We sat in silence fro probably half an hour, then he turned and faced me, looking straight into my eyes. He took my hand and said, "You're eyes are green. They remind me of summer grass, and you're lips are red like a rose." He reached out a bare hand, and smoothed my hair back from my face. "You're hair is so soft, like beautiful waterfalls, and you're voice is filled with you're beauty."
I didn't know what I should say, but it didn't matter, because he kept talking.
"I'm leaving. There's a mission, only Hank and I are going because it's dangerous. We won't be able to be reached by Cerebro, and we won't be able to contact you. But I promise, I will be back for you. I promise, I'll come back on Christmas."
He stood and pulled me up next to him. "I promise you. I will come back."
I looked at his hand as it reached behind him and pulled a chain from around his neck. He placed the chain in my hand, and closed my fingers around it. Kissing my closed fist, he turned and walked out the door.
The rest of that week, I was in a daze. Jubes and Kitty couldn't stop talking about how romantic it was that he had left his tags with me. St. John told me I deserved it, and Jean told me to be careful. But the focus wasn't on me, it was still on decorating for Christmas (honestly, sometimes I really don't like Jubilee).
Then the day itself arrived, but to everyone's shock, including Xavier's, Logan and Hank didn't come back. Jean and Xavier tried looking for them in Cerebro, but knew it wouldn't work. I went numb. I had lost him. I couldn't even cry.
A month later, Hank came staggering back to us, bleeding and half unconscious, with no memories of what had happened to him. All he knew was that he and Logan had been attacked, and that he had escaped. Although he couldn't remember, he was plagued every night my violent images of what had happened.
I went to a priest once during that year, the year after Logan didn't come back. I told the priest I felt like I was dying inside. The priest sounded sympathetic, and told me to pray, in hopes that Logan would be led home, but I didn't have the energy to try.
The seasons went by in a blur of friends, and smiles and tears, and then it was Christmas again. Late Christmas Eve Jean came down to the fireplace where I was sitting, and handed me a mug of hot chocolate and a blanket. She smiled at me the way my mother used to, and wished me a Merry Christmas. I smiled, and she walked back upstairs.
I curled into the blanket, and decided to sleep in front of the fire.
I'm a light sleeper, so when I heard the front door open, I was immediately awake. I glanced at the clock over the mantle. 2:06 AM. I stood up silently and grabbed the nearest thing to me: a hideous medium sized porcelain Santa Claus, and slowly made my way to the front hall, ready to hurl the thing at whoever was breaking in.
But when I reached the front hall, what I saw surpassed me so much, I dropped Santa.
It was Logan, leaning against the doorway, looking tired, sick, and older, but definitely alive. He looked at me. I looked at him. Then he smiled. I let out a shriek, and rushed to him. He lifted me up, wrapping my arms and legs around him, and I kissed him under the mistletoe I had hung the week before.
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Story Notes:
I was in the Christmas spirit, I don't know why, what with it not even being Halloween, but oh well, there was funness had in writing it, so it doesn't matter. The grammar and stuff is probably terrible, because I wrote this in the dark in a bumpy car on the way home from Boston. Heh. Work with me here.