Snow swirled around the vehicle like a swarm of small, white creatures intent on stopping something ten times their size. The sky was a nice, slate gray promising even more snow before dusk could fully fall. For a second, staring through the windshield into a formless, white world made Logan wonder if he ever really changed locations. The snow here in Russia looked just like the snow back in Canada, but then snow was snow. Shrugging his shoulders against the cold he could feel but not really worry about, Logan twisted the knob on the radio looking for some sort of weather forecast that wasn’t completely in a foreign language. No one taught you how to say “cold weather front” in beginner Russian class.
It looked hopeful when he found a station playing American rock music. Leaving the radio alone he settled into to wait to see if the weather was everything the sky was threatening to be. He could stop if he needed to, he had plenty of time before he was supposed to be at the location Xavier had sent him too, but he wasn’t too inclined to sit in frozen Russia any longer than he had to. With his hearing tuned in to catch any vague mention of the weather, he found himself listening to the lyrics of an especially disturbingly familiar song.
She's just sixteen years old
leave her alone, they say.
Separated by fools
who don't know what love is yet,
but I want you to know
Jesus H. Christ. Even this frozen middle of nowhere wasn’t far enough away from any type of allusion to the girl he had left back in New York. Or maybe it was his own twisted mind finding references where most sane people wouldn’t. Most sane people wouldn’t be thinking about a pretty, young girl with a white streak in her hair. Emphasis on young. God, he was such a pervert.
If I could fly
I'd pick you up
I'd take you into the night
and show you a love
like you've never seen - ever seen...
He was so tempted to just turn the radio off. Then he could finish his drive in blissful silence and get back to determinedly not thinking about her. He wouldn’t have to keep replaying in his mind the look on her face as she heard him leaving. Of course, she had probably known he was packing even before he had put the first item of clothing in his beat up bag. Those eyes of hers saw everything in him, about him, and yet they stayed wide-eyed and innocent. How did she not judge him? And if he could just believe that everyone chalking it up to hero worship was in fact right, then he could move on—easily. And here he was again, spiraling in the same line of thinking that had chased him back through Canada, across the Southwest United States, through most of Europe, and now in the fucking tundra of Russia. Shit.
It's like having a dream
where nobody has a heart.
It's like having it all
and watching it fall apart
and I would wait till the end
of time for you
and do it again, it's true...
I can't measure my love
there's nothing to compare it to
but I want you to know....
Seeing the snow becoming thicker, falling in clumps now instead of tiny flakes, Logan gave up his asinine push to reach his destination early. Pulling off the road into a clump of scraggly evergreens, he yanked the sleeping bag out of the back of the truck and climbed in. He let the radio finish playing still hoping for that damned weather report.
If I could fly
I'd pick you up
I'd take you into the night
and show you a love
like you've never seen - ever seen...
Slowly the song faded and a heavily accented voice came on announcing a large storm moving through the area, citing estimated snow falls, and such. Logan then switched off the radio and settled in for morning. Come dawn he would reassess the situation and decide how much this storm would set him back. Then he tried to keep his mind wonderfully blank and preoccupied on planning ways through the snow, except it just wouldn’t stick. Every time he lulled, he saw her face again. Not as everyone at the mansion now remembered her, but before they had even known her. When she was just a small, lost child standing along a snowy Canadian road with him driving away like an ass.
Fuck. He was going to end up dreaming about her tonight. Again.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
"Into the Night" by Benny Mardones. I always wanted to write a fic to this song since I heard it. Finally, the bunny stepped into the trap.