Thousands of miles and hundreds of days now lay between them but that night continued to haunt him. Whenever he closed his eyes he saw her, felt her heat, her willingness, her desire. Heard her scream out his name only seconds before he had joined her, coming harder than he had ever come before.
She had literally made him see stars.
No woman had ever - *ever* - effected him so powerfully, so intensely, alien emotions rushing straight to his very core, scorching what little remained of his ravaged soul with something…something that might have been love if only he would accept it.
But he couldn’t accept it. Because she had *barely* been a woman. Merely eighteen. He had taken advantage of her when he had always promised to protect her and in doing so he had let her down, let himself down, let everyone down. The X-geeks had trusted him, had given him his first taste of family - of belonging - in twenty torturous years, and he had fucked it all up.
And that’s why he had ran the moment the first rays of light had touched the bed they lay spooned so perfectly in. Ran like the bastard he was and always would be. He just couldn’t face them - face her. One night could remain a bittersweet memory but if he stayed he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist her. That he’d keep on taking advantage. Keep leeching her of that addictive pureness like the parasite he was. She may have reluctantly absorbed half his mind but he feared he might willingly drain her of her purity in his desperation to grasp some of it for himself.
And what if he exhausted her of every last drop until she became as fucked up as he was? Would her eyes lose that youthful sparkle, her lips that megawatt smile, her body that playful zest for life?
She deserved more than that. Someone her own age. Who would whisper sweet nothings in her ear. Buy her candy and flowers. Who could give her the kind of youthful affection that wasn’t tainted with blood and sweat and rage.
But that didn’t mean to say he didn’t miss her. Christ, he missed her like hell. Burned for her. Ached for her. Him - the Wolverine - who had never needed anyone or anything before. Channelling his pent up frustrations into the cage fights just wasn’t enough any more. As soon as they were over and he was alone again at some seedy bar or in some dingy motel room, thoughts of her swirled around his mind, tormenting him. Wondering what she was doing, what she was thinking. Wondering if she was angry, sad…hurting.
Many times he had started to call her. Dialled her mobile number. But his finger had always froze at that last digit and refused to go any further. Because if they actually spoke, his second greatest fear might also become a reality - she’d tell him that she hated him.
It was a no win situation really. Either way he was destined to lose her.
“You look as if you’ve got it bad, sonny,” an unwelcome voice suddenly interrupted his brooding.
The bartender.
Logan flashed him a dangerous look as he cradled his beer in his hands but the man seem undeterred. “What’s her name?”
“Marie.” Had he just answered the nosy son of a bitch? Christ, he had. But it had been worth it just to say her name out loud again.
“Pretty name.”
“Yeah.” Beautiful name. Like a breath of fresh mountain air.
“She break your heart?”
Logan frowned. The man was pushing it.
“No,” he whispered. Then he shocked himself by confessing: “I broke hers.”
There was a strained silence. Logan was glad the bar was empty.
“You look like shit,” the bartender dared.
Logan raised an eyebrow. “And your point is?”
“If you’re in this state and it was you who broke *her* heart…” the bartender hesitated before adding: “You catch my drift, sonny?”
The bartender offered him a sympathetic smile. “I’ve been there. Sitting right where you are. Did nothing. Thought it would all go away.”
Logan swallowed, suddenly desperate to hear what this total stranger had to say. “An’ did it?”
“I lost the best thing that had ever came into my life and have lived to regret it every god-damn day since.” His smile turned sad and his eyes glazed over for a fraction of a second.
“I’m sorry,” Logan offered hoarsely, and he genuinely was.
The man shrugged, quickly composing himself. “No one to blame but myself. Life doesn’t fuck us over, we do it to ourselves.”
Logan watched him.
The bartender pulled a cloth from his shoulder and started to clean glasses. “You still love her?” he asked casually.
Logan peered uncomfortably down at his beer. “Yeah.” His eyes flicked back to the man’s lined face, waiting. For what he didn’t know, he could only hope.
“Hearts can be mended, y’know,” the bartender added. “But that’s as much as I’m gonna say. I’ll leave you to work out the rest.” He started to go but Logan stopped him, snatched at his arm.
Their gazes met again. Eyes mirroring too many years, too much pain and bitterness. “Thanks,” Logan breathed.
“It’s too late for me but not for you.” The bartender’s smile was weary now and Logan had a feeling he did this a lot. Perhaps even made it his mission in life to steer lost lovers back together. “Go get your girl. Do it for an old man with too many regrets and too little time now to right all the wrongs.”
As the bartender walked away to tend to a group of customers that had just entered the bar, Logan watched him with a new respect and appreciation. He felt guilty that time had almost caught up with the man whilst he had all the time in the world.
That was when the realisation hit him like a ton of bricks. That Marie didn’t have all the time in the world either. That every day would be important to her - precious.
The bartenders word’s echoed around his head: *Life doesn’t fuck us over, we do it to ourselves.* But what he forgot to add was that time would finish the job if we let it. Finish what we had started. Until it was all too late and we were left with nothing but bitter distortions of what could have been.
As he hurried for the exit he found himself hesitating, walking back to the bar to catch the bartender’s attention again.
“It’s not too late for you either, bub,” he found himself saying, a part of him kinda bemused that all this guru talk had rubbed off on him. “Gotta grab time by the balls and play it at its own game.”
Amusement sparked in the bartender’s eyes but so did a glimmer of his own hope. “So you‘re going back…to this Marie?”
“Yeah. But I also think it’s about time ya start practising what ya preach.”
The bartender’s brow quirked much like Logan’s but he remained silent.
Logan raised his cigar to his lips and started to turn. “I’ll be back to check up on ya.”
“That right, sonny?” the bartender ribbed. “On one condition.”
Logan cocked his head questioningly.
“That you bring Marie with you.”
Logan bit down on his cigar. “It’s a deal, bub.”
As he exited the bar and stepped out into the cold dark night he felt lighter than he had in a long time, accepting that all this deliberating between right and wrong was bullshit. He could see that now. Could see that it was costing the woman he loved time that could never be reclaimed.
So yeah, he was going home. To his Marie. And all that he had fucked up he was gonna make right again.
Because nothing got the better of the Wolverine.
Not even time.
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