"Will you call me to tell me you're alright?
'Cause I worry about you the whole night"
Safe Inside ~ James Arthur
It had taken all of Logan's willpower to refrain from going after Johanna. To keep his feet grounded as she walked away. And he regretted his decision —constantly reminding himself that his mate was out there, wandering the busy streets of New York... without him by her side. But hey, she's smart, Logan reassured himself. She can take care of herself. But the Wolverine knew better, growling, ain't that supposed to be our job, bub?
Shaking his head, Logan let out a bitter laugh.
Confined in his room, Logan laid on his bed for what seemed like hours, torturing himself with the many possibilities of what Johanna could be doing at every hour, every minute, and every second.
When Logan had made his appearance in the dining hall, he sat alone, far away from everyone else. Tonight, the chef had prepared a nice sirloin steak meal, served with mushrooms, gravy, and mashed potatoes. But Logan couldn't bring himself to take a bite, his food growing colder, and his root beer untouched.
"Hey, big brother," Laura awkwardly smiled, sitting in the seat in front of him.
Logan gritted his teeth, glancing up from his plate, before furiously looking off into the distance; stranded in thought. His shoulders were slumped, arms tightly crossed. He was definitely brooding, and Laura knew why.
"So... girl problems?" Laura asked, in mock seriousness.
"Listen kid," Logan began. "I'm not in the mood to talk right now—"
"Tough shit," Laura interrupted. "So spill it. What's going on with you?"
Logan cocked a brow. "Don't you have any other stupid friends you can annoy somewhere else?" Logan asked harshly, internally wincing after he'd uttered the words don't you; but he just couldn't manage to stop after that.
"Ouch," Laura winced, dramatically. "If I didn't have a healing factor, that would've really hurt. But oh well." She shrugged her shoulders and took a big bite of her steak, smirking; knowing just how to further seal the deal on getting Logan talk to her: making him feel even guiltier.
"I guess I could hang out with my friends," Laura suggested. "But... their table seems to be a little bit... crowded at the moment," she said sarcastically, pointing her slender finger towards the far, deserted and pathetic-looking table near the windows.
Logan looked away, mumbling a gruff I'm sorry.
It pained him to know that Laura didn't have any friends —except maybe Milo or Henry; taking after Logan's antisocial tendencies. It really proved just how much she really was his sister. His blood.
Laura shrugged. "Well, to make up for it... now you have to tell me what the hell's going on with you! What exactly did she do to you, man?"
Logan shook his head. "She didn't do anything. It's just... she's... I'm... you know what? It doesn't fuckin' matter." Logan shot up from his chair, making the table shift and the silverware clink. But before he could escape, Laura gripped his arm.
"Just wait," she said softly. "Can you at least let me finish my food? I don't wanna eat alone," she lied. Frankly, Laura knew what was bothering Logan. And it just wasn't fair to let him feel tortured, especially alone, while she did nothing. She owed that to him, as his sister, to be there for him... like Logan was there for her.
Logan rolled his eyes, and eventually caved. "I'm gone the minute you're done eating. Got it? Now, hurry up."
Perfect, Laura thought, taking her sweet time —cutting the steak into tiny pieces and grabbing little spoonfuls of the mushrooms. Her sloth-like speed would definitely reward her, giving Laura just the right amount of time to get her brother to crack.
Laura stared deep into Logan's eyes, for what seemed like hours, and what she found, was unsettling. All she saw was pain, and distress sketched across his face. And his smell was even worse —heartbreak and grief stinging her sinuses. She shook her head, jaw clenched, eyes blazing.
"Want me to slice her for you?" Laura asked, darkly.
"No," Logan sternly, replied.
"Then... why is she so special if she obviously hurt you?!?"
"Because I love her!" Logan finally admitted, profoundly believing in that four letter word, for the very first time, in his entire existence. "Or... at least, I'm starting to. Whatever fucking feelings I have, they're growing stronger."
Laura's eyes widened as she sat back in her chair, realizing that —just moments before— she was almost ready to hop out of her seat, get her motorbike from the garage, and actually hunt this girl down; the girl who had the audacity to break her brother's heart.
Logan was as tough as nails, rarely ever cracking a smile —except on special occasions or when him and Laura were alone; joking around and poking fun at each other. He also never showed any signs —in the six years that Laura's known Logan— that hinted he was ever attracted to anyone... or whatever people called this; whatever he was feeling for Johanna. And, Laura also got the feeling that, if she were to ask someone like Storm, Hank, or Charlie —as she liked to call the Professor— good people that have actually taken the time to get to know Logan, they would say the same thing. That this has never happened before —Logan truly loving someone, other than in a familial or friendly way. Which only confirmed one thing...
"She's the one... isn't she?"
Letting out a labored breath, Logan slowly nodded. "Yeah, kid. She is."
"Okay..." Laura quickly took a deep breath. "So how are we gonna bring her back?"
Logan snorted, smirking now. "We? When did anyone say anything about a we?"
"The minute you saved me, dumbass!" Laura playfully glared. "And ever since then, we've been quite the team! The Wolverine and X-23," she said proudly. "But," Laura added more seriously, "our team is about to get a little bigger. Which means, you need to start thinking properly —without your head so far up your ass, that you can't even see straight!"
Logan leaned in. "What'd I say bout yer damn attitude?" he growled.
Laura leaned in further, her eyes narrowed. "That it'll get me in trouble one day. But also... it'll come in handy."
Roughly running his fingers through his hair, Logan grunted. Laura was a spitfire, a pest, a handful... but also a blessing. She was his sister. They shared the same DNA, the same brutally honest personality, and... she was a feral. If anyone could know what he was going through, or at least sense it, it was Laura. And, in the end, she was just trying to help him out. The least Logan could do, was ease up a bit.
As if she already knew his walls were crumbling down, Laura smirked. "Since you want to do this alone, then... let's at least plan out what you're going to do."
"Look, kid. It's not that I don't wanna include ya," Logan amended. "It's just that... she's my mate. Which means she's my responsibility."
"Okay," Laura paused. "So if she's your responsibility... then go. Get. Her."
Feeling torn, Logan extracted and retracted his claws, a habit he had grown to find soothing; debating on what exactly he should do.
"She's not my prisoner, Laura. She chose to leave, and she has every right to. I can't force her to stay. To... love me. That's just... not how things work."
"But she's your mate," Laura repeated. "Which means she already loves you... she just... doesn't know it yet."
Rolling up to their table —already caught up in the conversation— the Professor kindly interrupted. "If I may," he added. "It wouldn't be a bad idea just to check up on her. If Johanna is alright, you can then decide whether to go after her or let her go. However," he paused, "if she —heaven forbid— is not alright... then... the decision is already made up for you, Logan."
Feeling less alone than he had initially felt when he sat down for dinner earlier, Logan took a brief moment, before he finally got up —softly kissing Laura on the head— and followed the Professor down to the sub basement of the mansion. Cerebro would be able to track Johanna down. And if she truly needed him, he would drop everything and go to her. But... if she didn't? Well... Logan briefly remembered uttering the words —sometime in his life— I'm the best there is at what I do, and apparently, whatever he set out to accomplish, was thanks to him also being a stubborn and selfish man.
And because of that... he'd still search for her.
• • •
Sifting through the millions of mutants —although it seemed like it lasted an eternity— was the least of Logan's worries. It was surprisingly finding Johanna that was Logan's main concern. Not because he didn't want to see her... but because he needed to see her. It'd been almost a month since Johanna —his fate, his everlasting future— rammed into him at that crowded bar and grill. Almost a month since he'd sat in the infirmary, waiting every day, pleading for hours for her to wake up —to come back to him; often falling asleep with his head near her hip and an arm protectively draped over her thighs. Almost a month since he fell hard for her, crash landing into the chaos that he now called love. If only she knew just how much he cared about her... then maybe, just maybe, she'd see him; rather than see through him.
If only she knew...
Johanna lay motionless, her chest gently rising and falling; the monitor beeping steadily.
Sitting beside her, Logan did his best to maintain his rough, stoic composure that he showed so well to everyone else. But now, now that he was holding, gripping, his mate's hand, he couldn't any longer. A single, burning tear raced down his cheek, and he didn't care to wipe it away.
"Darlin'. Baby. Please," he rasped. "Please come back to me."
Every time her eyes fluttered, Logan would call Hank or Jean, hoping she'd open her eyes. And the first thing she'd see, making Logan swell up with warm pride, would be him. But... for a about a month, calling both doctors, would only be a false alarm; leaving Logan defeated. Every. Single. Time.
Some days, he'd eat all three meals in the infirmary —talking to Johanna, rambling mostly to himself, hoping she'd hear him; a motivation to bring herself out of the coma.
"We have stables here," Logan said, one evening. "The horses are real nice," he smiled. "And, if ya wake up... I can take ya riding." But, she didn't wake up.
By the third week, one early morning, Logan had had enough —venting, pouring out his heart and soul, with all his might; his voice booming throughout the hallway of the lower levels.
"You need to wake up, Anna! You're my mate! Which means you're so much stronger than this! I need you. Hell, I didn't understand it, accept it, before... but... I love you. I really fucking do. You make me see things differently. You've changed me, Anna. And I can't live another day without you, now that I finally fucking have you."
"I've found her," the Professor announced, interrupting Logan's reverie.
Looking up, Logan cleared his throat, ridding him of the lump that burned going down; his chest tightening.
There she was, in a low lit bar, perched up on a stool, taking a few sips of her drink; her cheeks flushed. She looked beautiful, breathtaking. But wait.... who was she talking to? The young bartender seemed to be flirting with her, promising Johanna a good time —the two laughing and exchanging shy looks as they chatted; Johanna purposefully ignoring the guy's shady, but subtle, insinuations.
Logan couldn't ignore the obvious signs that she looked happy... but only on the surface, though. Deep down, within those entrancing hazel eyes —splashes of green and brown pulling him in further, reminding him of the forest, his home— Logan knew she was hurting inside. And whenever Johanna would look away —the bartender oblivious to her pain as he served others drinks— she would frown, eyes filling with tears; Johanna almost on the verge of breaking down. Logan needed to go to her. To comfort her. To convince her that he'll protect her, shielding her from harm; physical and emotional.
"She's in a little pub in Queens," the Professor took off his helmet. "It's quite a drive, Logan. Three hours."
"Then I'll drive faster," Logan nodded, deciding to take his Ford Bronco. Three hours, Logan thought. Three hours and then he'd see her again.
"Well," the Professor began. "You'd better go now. We don't know anything about that young man. And right now... anyone could be a danger to Johanna."
With that, Logan sprinted out of the gray, globe-shaped control room, eventually bolting through the mansion's doors; arms and legs pumping. Taking off in his truck, with the radio blasting, the current station —ironically— played a song by The Killers; the singer shouting about sitting in heartache and something about reminiscing and being young.
Johanna's favorite song only fueled his urgency to get to her, like throwing more wood to a burning flame. His eyes golden, Logan pressed on the gas, monitoring the road and any possible cop cars lurking around.
I'm coming, Anna. Logan promised. I'm coming.
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