The two day drive to Mississippi did little to calm Logan’s nerves. He was heading into the unknown without a plan. What was he going to do, knock on the door and say, “Hi, I’m Logan. I’m here for your daughter.” Then what? Sling Marie over his shoulder and carry her off all caveman-like? Her parents would have a fit. Not that he could blame them; he doubted he would ever be any parent’s dream. He drank, he smoked, and he liked to fight. And none of those things were going to change anytime soon.
He slowed the SUV to a stop in front of the large yellow house at the address he had long ago memorized from Marie’s school records. Being a teacher had its privileges. He also knew her height, weight, and social security number. He could recite the whole file if he felt like it. And that fact made him more than a little uncomfortable. He was obsessed with her. And he was only now willing to admit it to himself.
She wasn’t there. Logan knew as soon as he looked over the neat yard and well kept house. Marie had either lied to him, or changed her plans. Probably both. Too late now. A woman, probably Marie’s mother, was kneeling in the garden, making one last attempt to weed before winter. She looked over at the SUV and smiled. Logan sighed and stepped out of the truck.
“Evening.” She stood and pulled off her gardening gloves. The movement was so familiar to him; he stopped walking, lost in a feeling of de’ja vu. Her hands looked like Marie’s, and her motions as she’d pulled the gloves off were damn near identical to Marie’s. “Can I help you with something?” she asked politely.
“Yeah, I’m one of your daughter’s teachers. She left school recently. I thought she might be headed this way.” He hoped he sounded reasonable, and not at all like some man obsessed with a girl half his age.
“You’re from that school she ran off to,” she stated, narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously. “Well, I haven’t heard from her since last Christmas. She called. We didn’t talk for long.” She looked sad at the memory, but she smiled as she wiped her brow and removed her straw hat. “Would you like some lemonade? I have some on the sun porch.”
“Thank you.” He followed her to the porch and sat on the bench opposite her.
“Here you go, Mr.… I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?” She handed him a glass of iced lemonade.
“I didn’t. My name’s Logan. Thank you.” He took a sip for politeness and sat it on the bench beside him.
“Is Marie in trouble, Mr. Logan? My husband and I, we were under the impression she had found a place at that school.” Her forehead creased with worry.
“No. But she did leave the school grounds without telling anyone where she was going,” he said.
“Is this about that Cure I keep hearing about on the news? Did she take it?” she asked, her voice a hoarse whisper.
“I don’t know,” Logan lied. “If you hear from her, can you call me at this number?” He reached for his wallet and pulled out one of the ridiculous business cards the Professor had made them all carry around. Just in case he came across a mutant child in need of saving on his travels. The card listed his cell number as well as the school's.
“Ok, Mr. Logan. And when you find her, can you tell her to call us. If… If she took the Cure, she could come home.” She sipped from her lemonade, and Logan had the urge to throw his own glass against the side of the house. He suddenly understood why Marie had run from this place. He stood and walked to the truck. Not stopping when she called out a goodbye. He held the steering wheel in a punishing grip as he watched the perfect house with the perfect yard disappear in the rearview mirror.
He wanted a fight, he wanted a drink, he wanted a smoke, and he wanted a fuck. Not necessarily in that order.
Logan cracked one eye open and took in the unfamiliar surroundings. The night before flashed before his eyes. He winced when he smelled her perfume. She turned towards him in her sleep and draped an arm across him. He remembered the bar, the drinking, the smoking, a bar fight… And the fucking. The leggy blond next to him stirred again and woke up.
“Morning. That was some night.” She smiled shyly from behind a curtain of hair.
She was pretty. Probably nice too. He wanted her out of his bed. Now. He tried to remember who'd paid for the room and decided it didn’t matter. He needed to get on the road. This little distraction beside him had cost him time.
He hated himself a little just then. It was the animal side of his personality that drove him to seek company in bars. As much as he had enjoyed the night before, it wasn’t what he wanted. It would satisfy the immediate hunger, but not sate the need. The want for the girl with the haunted eyes would drive him on. It would probably drive him to madness as well.
Logan rolled to his side and sat up. His clothes were on the floor and he quickly got dressed. He needed a shower, but not here.
“What’s your name? I don’t think you told me last night,” the woman all but purred at him, reaching out to touch his back as he pulled his jeans on.
“Does it matter?” He sounded gruff to his own ears. “I have to go.”
“Can I get your number?” He could hear the hurt in the question.
He looked over at her then. “I’m just passing through.” He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m looking for someone.” He decided not to say anymore.
He turned towards the door and had his hand on the knob when he heard her say, “She’s lucky, whoever she is.”
Fortified with caffeine his body didn’t need, he was on the road again. He had a thought when he hit the freeway. Marie had been right under his nose. She had limited resources and little money. She may not have even left New York. He headed north. She had learned many lessons being a runaway, the most important being how to hide in plain sight. As soon as he thought of it, he knew it was so. Marie was in New England. His search would end there.
He lit a cigar and smiled for the first time in days
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I still don't own X-Men. Please don't sue me.