[ He scoffs when he finally sees her—a laugh, really—and tugs on the hem of the scratchy knitted wool. ]
Yeah, you like it? [ He straightens the hat on her head. It wasn't crooked, but he fixes it, anyhow. ] Real first date material.
[ The comment is dry, a joke. He doesn't mean their first date. Definitely not. But he is looking at her, the stupid shirt and glittering hat, her sunglasses with the little yellow tag on it. She doesn't look like a woman who's spent the past couple days getting shot on, going on the run. She doesn't look like she's miles from home in a shitty motel with a guy she's known for less than a week.
His expression softens. He doesn't realize. ] Maybe you oughta get it.
[ Fuck it. Who cares? The thought that's stuck to him is, if it makes her laugh, how's he gonna say no to that? ]
[ real first date material. that one catches her off-guard, not because it's necessarily out of pocket or awkward, but because it's those words that kind of bring her back to this. to the easy rapport, to what - at one point in her life - had been a date she used to go on with her boyfriends. logan reaches out to straighten the hat on her head, and karen's eyes follow his hands for a moment or two before flicking back to his face.
no- in that moment, it doesn't feel like she was just shot at. doesn't feel like she's edging closer and closer to a ledge she's once again not sure she'll survive. instead, it feels like it's just two people, just the two of them, and that is much preferred.
karen watches logan's eyes soften, and her smile goes softer too, though somewhere in her chest tightens. you like this too much, Karen. this is going to backfire. he's only here to keep you alive. ]
I have maybe six dollars in cash. [ it's a weak argument, not her best, but there's a feeling here she's not really trying. ] And I feel like that's better spent on something more practical. Like another pair of pants. [ that's what she says, at least. but then it's karen's turn to reach out, tugging at the vest on each side, just a little, though it also doesn't need it. ] But if you really like it... we could probably get both.
[ Logan's gaze follows her hands before they return to her face. He considers, then shrugs, amused. ]
Can't hurt. [ What they're doing is temporary. Ideally, he can get her home soon—or somewhere safer than a shady motel on the side of a highway. ] I've got you. Find another pair of pants.
[ If they do run out of cash, he can figure that out easily. Nothing he hasn't done before.
He leaves her to think about it, though, disappearing into the fitting room so he can change out of his bloodied sweats. He plucks the tags off the jeans, the t-shirt. When he comes back out, he looks more like how he did when he showed up at her door. And yeah—he's carrying the awful vest with the rest of the stuff he's buying. It's, what, two bucks? He can fork over two dollars for something he's never gonna put on. ]
[ there is something here - she feels it when it's as simple as logan's eyes following her hands, and she feels it when he says i've got you. in response, her brow lifts playfully, a little jokingly. ]
Ohh, big spender over here. [ again, a joke. and then he's tucking back into the only other stall next to her. she laughs a little to herself, pulling the hat off and heading back into her own to get changed, slipping on a new pair of jeans and clean shirt. she makes note about how she still needs a brush, though she spends a few minutes trying to calm whatever it is she can.
it takes her a few more minutes than logan, but when she steps out she looks almost presentable. almost like she had when he first showed up at her front door. in her arms are a few more clothes - pants and shirts, a sweatshirt, even another dress. it's more than she'll probably need, but it makes her feel a little better to have them. she looks a little sheepish at the pile when she sees him, including her own shirt and stupid hat. ]
Almost- I also want to see about socks. Do you need anything else?
[ He frees Karen from her small pile, gathering it up with the ones he's got. He shakes his head—he's good—but when he follows her to where the socks are, he ends up grabbing a couple of pairs for himself. Gets a backpack, too, one for each of them, just 'cause there's not exactly a full-sized trunk on his bike.
He stops for gas next, and Karen disappears into the store for the little things they're without. He tells her to get him whatever. He just needs some sort of soap and a razor. A pack of cigars. Chargers, for their phones. He meets her inside to pay. Rinse and repeat at a Dollar Tree 'til they're mostly stocked. By the time they pull back up to the motel, the sun's low in the sky. He takes a second to scan the area before climbing off and bringing their haul inside. Microwavable meals, plenty of canned shit, peanut butter, and yeah—they stopped for booze. He has a feeling they're gonna need it.
For him, it's easy, almost thoughtless, all of this. He's got Karen to look after, sure, but she doesn't make him feel like he's gotta keep a constant eye on her. She seems to know what she's doing.
The last thing he unpacks is the Subway bag, and a fifty-cent copy of Hemmingway. Look, the only other thing to read in this room is the Bible, and he needs something to do while Karen works. Or when he's not sleeping.
He removes her laptop from its makeshift hiding spot, setting it on the bed. ] I'm gonna see who our new neighbor is. [ There's a different car in the spot when they got back. It looks new. Shiny. He pulls on a sweater and tugs the hood over his head. ] You need anything first?
[ karen ends up slowing them down a bit, realizing how much she didn't grab now that it's becoming more and more obvious this isn't just a day or so away from home. that she doesn't know if she can go home until this story is done. it means socks, it means a pre-packaged thing of underwear, it means a pair of slipons and something to wear as pjays and then it's asking frank to stop at a couple more places.
she gets a collection of things - a lighter, some cigars, a razor, two extra thumb drives, some snacks. the teenager behind the counter gives her a look and she flashes a sheepish smile and motions out to where logan is filling up the bike. that seems to answer some unanswered question, and the teenager nods and rings everything up. then its the dollar tree-subway combination building, for everything else. when they get back on the bike, and Karen is tossing the bags in the backpacks and notices the paperback, hemmingway. she smiles a little to herself as she sits back behind him on the bike, and they head back to the motel.
it feels almost too easy- getting into this rhythm, stepping into this routine. logan carries most of the bags inside, Karen starts to unpack, stuffing as many of the meals as she can in the mini fridge and setting the bottles on the tv counter, the copy of hemmingway set on the night stand on what she is now calling his side of the bed in her head. he pulls out her laptop from the wall as she turns her phone back on, sighing a bit to herself as the notifications start piling in. she sits on the edge of the bed and starts to work herself through everything as logan moves around himself, changing and unpacking and pulling on the new sweater.
when he speaks, she glances up. ] Hmm? Oh- no, I'm good. I'm going to start on the copy, and then just probably dive in. [ a beat, and then karen glances to the window. it dawns on her that she had not at all clocked that the new car might have been someone, and she now feels a bit self-conscious for having turned on her phone.
she quickly sends the half-draft of what she had started for matt, that she was fine, logan was there, they're out of the city now. she texts ellison that she's in a story and probably won't be at the office the rest of the week and then turns her phone off again, just for good measure. ] Do you think someone followed us?
[ Logan shakes his head. ] Doubt they'd be that obvious.
[ He just wants to check it out. Call it a precaution. Experience has taught him that there are threats—the men hunting them down—and then there's the people who make trouble solely by existing nearby, dragging him into whatever bullshit they've created for themselves.
A short trip outside tells him that the bullshit is some guy in a suit with a woman too far out of his league to be anything but paid for. Probably drove out here to hide from the wife and kids.
Figures. Doesn't look like anything more, though.
Logan returns, bolting the door behind him. Karen's set up with her laptop. He tells her it's nothing and spends the evening reading, eating, eventually taking a shower before bed. He doesn't hesitate to sleep alongside her this time. If he disturbs her with his inconsistent sleep—and Logan's sure he's gotta; he always seems to with just about anyone—she doesn't say anything.
In the morning, he starts considering how much longer they can stay here before they should move on. He isn't eager to take her far from home. At the same time, they must know she's learned too much by now. This is only gonna end one of two ways.
As she starts her work again, Logan grows curious enough to put down his book and join her. ] Anything new?
[ she seems to relax at that, nodding and getting up to set up the laptop. there isn't really a table and chair setup in this motel room, but she's able to push the couch over to the tv stand and ends up scrunching herself up as she turns it on.
logan isn't gone for very long - though it feels like even shorter. karen makes a copy, and then makes a second of just her laptop in general, before she starts diving in. he comes back and bolts the door, and Karen doesn't move. he eats, reads, showers, paces around the room. at one point she even thinks he tries to turn on the tv but it doesn't last for very long - though, truthfully, Karen barely even looks up. they're up too late because karen completely loses track of time, slowly working their way into early morning. for hours she works her way through, writing down names and details that catch her attention, but spending the majority of her time just trying to see everything.
eventually it starts to hurt to keep her eyes open and she gives up, closing the laptop and climbing into bed, noticing that logan doesn't question it or even try for the floor, and that is that. she doesn't say anything about his inconsistent sleep because she's not sure how much she sleeps herself, spending some time simply laying there, going over everything she's found. as the sun starts to rise, she's up again, knee tucked up to her chest as she sits on the couch and dives back into the files, the folders, the names and photos and stories and children she sees. it's addictive, in the most sickening, awful way, but she can't stop.
logan comes over to join her, and Karen jumps a bit, having been fully engrossed in a report. this particular folder had a collection of multimedia things, some audio transcripts, some reports, some blueprints. it's starting to feel like a kind of archive of something. maybe a laboratory? she isn't sure. ]
I mean- all of this is... awful. [ she says with a sigh, shaking her head and turning the laptop just a little so he can see the report she'd been reading. she scrolls through it, shaking her head. ] It's one thing when you think you know how deep these things go, but the amount that this drive has... [ she leans back in, comfortable with however close logan wants to lean over her shoulder to watch, as she closes that report and opens up the next file - an mp4 of some kind, though the last few she'd found were just security footage of hallways and cells.
karen clicks it open, turns up the volume a couple of notches so they can both listen, and tries to see what's depicted. it's grainy, not great footage, and seems to be some kind of... medical room? she frowns. ]
[ Awful. That's one way to put it. Logan peers over her shoulder. He's seen the shit with the kids. He can't stand it, thinks a lot about how much he's gonna enjoy bringing everybody involved down. That the only thing he'll regret after is that he didn't kill them sooner. But that isn't all there is on the drive. They've got more than files, more than autopsy reports and morbid photographs with detailed genetic codes and a bunch of science he can only grasp on the surface.
Videos.
His blood runs cold. He can't explain what the hell it is, curling in the pit of his stomach, itching under his skin. He almost tells her to stop, that he doesn't need to see this, but he can't tear his eyes away. Then the footage is playing—grainy, buzzing. Most of the clinical chatter is inaudible, the image angled from the corner of the operating room. Compared to the recent pictures, it isn't nearly as graphic. There's no colour. Barely any detail. The body sunk in the water is partially covered by the cluster of lab coats. Then it flips to another, the exterior of thick concrete door, guarded. They see who goes in, but not what's inside—though it isn't hard to guess. It's only on the third that something happens. Blood splashes dark against the wall. Muzzle fire light up the security footage. Bodies drop like flies.
He stares. He sort of—dreams, sometimes, about it. He's always running, never getting anywhere, slipping on blood and bodies and more blood. Then he wakes up. But his haphazard memories are one thing. It's another to watch it unfold right before his eyes. For a solid five minutes, he forgets Karen's even there. The clips seem like they go on forever. How many has this thing got? At a certain point, he's not sure if he's still watching them or if he's seeing right past them.
A crack jolts him out of it. He jumps. ] Fuck. [ The splintered slats of her chair's backrest bounce onto the carpet, bits of wood embedded in his palm. Oh, hell. ] Goddamn it.
[ it’s like some kind of spell settles over the two of them. the moment the videos start, karen barely moves - these aren’t the first she’s cycled through, but these are definitely different, a collection of clips, a study of one mutant in particular. she doesn’t realize who it is they’re watching until it’s too late, until they’re both too pulled in by the images, the chatted, the screams.
karen gasps without meaning to, her hand going to her mouth. the sounds crackle, much getting lost from whatever analog had been recording this footage when they digitized it, but there’s enough there and can put the pieces together. some pieces. she almost reaches out to pause it, to turn it off, even. but logan has so much as taken a breath in too long and karen… god help her, she can’t tear her own eyes away.
the feeling of dread grows, of hopelessness, of something a bit more complicated. gunshots take over more of the screen, orders shouted through distorted radios. the footage isn’t anything impressed, but karen watches the blood seep across the floor all the same.
the same crack breaks her free from the spell too, jumping - startled - at the sound. she turns and sees the broken back to the chair, logan’s shaking hands. she looks to him, then, it sinking in that he might not remember any of that, either, or maybe he does and she just had him sit through it all over again. ]
Logan- [ she starts, turning back only for long enough to pause the video - now more than halfway complete, but still with more. then she’s back to him, wood splinters littering the floor. she stays seated. ] Are you okay?
[ His ears are ringing. He takes too long to answer, though he's automatically picking up the pieces of the chair before he realizes she's spoken. ]
Yeah. [ Absently, he tugs a thick splinter out of his hand. ] Fine. Sorry about—
[ You know. The furniture. At least it's not hers. It was a shitty chair, anyway, always fucking wobbling.
He doesn't look up again. He can glimpse what she paused on out of the corner of his eye, a quieter picture than the massacre that flashed by earlier. It's the clearest image of him so far, all wild hair and empty eyes, just sitting there—and something about that gets to him more than the rest of it.
He dumps the bits of wood into the trash. He hates that he wants to know but apparently can't handle the actual knowing. He spent years chasing answers. Hassled Charles about it for ages. Now it's here, laid bare. Too bare.
Guess he wasn't expecting company, either, when the answers came. ]
I'm gonna have a smoke. [ Jesus, the excuse sounds so damn obvious. He's never had a problem cracking the window and smoking inside. What's it matter? She's not gonna give him shit for it. He doesn't wait for an answer, escaping with his lighter and not much else.
He keeps close, though, standing outside by the window. Just so she doesn't have to wonder where he's gotten to. ]
[ he says yeah and there isn't a single part of Karen that believes it, watching the distant, distracted way he picks up the wood, pulls the splinter from his hand. there's a slow build of something akin to guilt that settles in her chest- she should have turned it off, should have checked to make sure he wanted to see it, but also... how would she have known? it wasn't until-
god, but she could have done something.
logan says sorry and Karen shakes her head, the feeling worsening. ] No, it's fine, it's nothing, I should've-
[ should've what? she knows she's giving empty promises, placating him when she can guess that he isn't the type to want that. she ends up biting on her lower lip, cutting herself off as she watches the way he won't look back to her, or the laptop. how he seems to just be hovering, moving out of habit than anything else.
he mentions a smoke, and no, Karen doesn't call him out on the fact he's never had to step out to have a smoke. instead, she lets him go, can see him out the window, and she curses under her breath, rubbing at her face a bit before she turns back. there are still minutes left, just a few, and she could watch them to help warn him of what else is there, but...
no. she can't. she stares for a few moments at the image on the screen, the wild hair, the empty eyes. it somehow looks exactly, and nothing, like the logan she knows - though, really, who is she to even say that? this logan she knows for what...a few days? not even a week? what is it she thinks she knows? karen doesn't slam the laptop shut, exactly, but the closes it with more force than she probably needs. karen breathes, her mind spinning over what she saw, the clips of the experiments, the security footage of him after. she thinks back on the reports she'd read before, the logistics of it all, the brief glimpse of metal that she's seen.
it makes her sick to her stomach.
she glances back to the window, to the edge of his shoulder that she can still see, letting her know he's right outside, and she lets out a breath and stands.
two, maybe three minutes later she steps out the door with two rinsed out crappy coffee cups of whiskey. she leans against the door frame, waiting to find out if he's going to end up telling her to fuck off, or ushering them both back inside. ]
Hey. [ she says after a moment, holding out one of the cups. ] Can I join?
[ The air is humid. A little less refreshing than he'd prefer. He takes what he can get. The lot is empty, at least, just the usual scattering of parked cars, no neighbours also sitting outside with a beer and a cigarette. He finds himself wondering if Karen is finishing off the video out of morbid curiosity or if she's closed it—until he hears the laptop snapping shut.
He's seated on the curb by his motorcycle by the time she pokes out. Logan glances up. A beat. Then he takes a cup.
He exhales smoke through his nostrils. There's room for her to join him on the curb. ] Thanks.
[ Nah. He doesn't mind. In a way, it's not about what she saw. She's not the first—Charles went digging in his head years ago—but Logan didn't see anything himself then. Just knew the Professor was rooting around. It's different, watching all the shit that should be his to know but isn't. And that was, what, a few minutes of footage clipped into the drive? Out of hundreds? Thousands?
It's a shitty, uncomfortable thought he's constantly carried with him: the fact that he's got no fucking idea of anything he did. He's settled with lives he's taken. The ones he remembers clearly, he's fine with them. He's got his reasons, even if nobody else would agree. But there's a whole chunk he's not sure if he made that choice or some dickhead in a lab coat did it for him. ]
[ it reminds her a bit of home - the humid air of almost summer, the heat rising off the pavement, the empty parking lot. it's still midday, and will probably get hotter, and... maybe it's too early for this drink. but something about how early they were both up and everything they just saw tells karen it doesn't really matter what time of day it is, only that maybe they need something for the in between.
he takes the cup and she doesn't sense any silent go away, so she goes ahead and sits on the curb next to him. she doesn't want to push, doesn't want to pry, but-
thanks.
she gives him a small smile, nods and takes a sip from her own cup. for a little bit she doesn't say anything at all, and ends up comfortable enough in the silence as she sits next to him. she tries to feel out the energy in the air around him, what he's processing, how he's feeling. it's not the first time she's found him hard to read, this wall stillness, but with something deep and unsettled under. it was only a few minutes of footage, but under the light of all the rest, of the fact logan had seemed just as shocked to see it all...
karen continues to let the silence sit, leaves logan to his thoughts, until she reaches a point that she thinks it's okay. ]
You didn't remember that, did you? The base. [ it's not accusatory - she's not saying it like he should have, or he would have lied to her about it. it's much more that she's trying to figure out if logan's stillness is processing the shock or if it's something else. she crosses her arms over her knees where she sits, watching him. ]
[ The longer she sits with him, the more he starts to relax. When she finally speaks, he's stretched out a leg, one palm planted on the chipped concrete beneath him. He rubs his temple with edge of his thumb. He can't blame her for asking. Anyone else, he'd have avoided answering. With her, it feels different. ]
Kinda. [ It's not so straightforward. ] I dream a lot. Suppose I'm not watching myself when I do remember, you know?
[ His memories are blurry, frenetic. Scattered. The tapes are steady and clinical. He can just see himself. It's fucking unnerving, is what. He's flipped through his files, he's been inside the facility buried beneath Alkali Lake. He's smelled the familiar scent of liquid adamantium, touched the stuff they must've put inside him. None of it has ever made him feel like this. Seeing the footage brings it that much closer to home, how much happened to him while he wasn't even all there. He sort of hates it. Actually, he hates it a lot. He's not—
Anyway. He eyes the glowing tip of his cigar; idly thinks about putting it out on his hand before he remembers Karen is there. He crushes it on the asphalt over a patch of ancient chewing gum. ]
You can keep working on your story. You don't gotta worry about me. [ The last thing he wants is to distract her with his personal bullshit. ]
[ he does start to relax, and karen feels a little better for it. these moments are always fragile - wanting to be present, but not pushing into a place not meant for others, not meant for her. she's patient, and careful, and when logan does speak she makes sure not to seem too relieved.
it doesn't matter that it's not straightforward, what matters to her is that it happens at all. she nods, taking another sip. it's always different seeing yourself on camera. even more so when you barely remember it happening. karen feels her chest tighten a bit at the idea of it, of what must be going through logan's mind. she is only just now catching up to the things he's spent his life trying to piece together, and he has decades upon decades of that to fall back on.
still, this feels different... though karen has no room to know what different would be for him. what she can see is that distant look in his eyes, can see the way he keeps falling back into thought, into worries, into something and it doesn't appear that what he finds is particularly comforting.
you can keep working on your story he says, putting out his cigar. karen's eyes go from the cigar back to his face, waiting to see what will follow. you don't gotta worry about me. it breaks her heart, in a way. clenches up her chest beyond what she's really prepared to deal with in that moment. and maybe that's why she moves before thinking about it, why it isn't really a decision so much as she gets swept up in. she doesn't even remember putting down the cup, but her hands are free when she turns and shifts, when she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him into a somewhat sudden, tight hug.
it's another couple of moments before she realizes how completely out of pocket the hug is, how embarrassed, or self-conscious, she suddenly feels. she untangles from him after a moment, her hands on his shoulders. ]
Sorry. [ she says with a small, sheepish smile. though there's a sense she's apologizing for how out of nowhere it was, instead of the fact she hugged him at all. ]
[ The second the words leave his mouth, he feels the urge to take them back. It's what he wants—for her to get up and return to her business without wasting any more effort on him—but at the same time, it isn't what he wants at all. He hates the way he hopes she'll push a little harder and stay. He hates that he's got just enough self-awareness of his impulses to feel entirely too goddamn pathetic.
But she doesn't give him a chance to give in or push her further away. She moves, her arms going around him, squeezing. For a second, he's tense, startled. Then he relaxes into the hug. She's warm. She smells of cheap bar soap and the cigar smoke that's started to latch onto her because of him. He's glad she's here, he realizes abruptly. If he's gonna do this with anyone, he's glad it's her, and how ridiculous is that when he hasn't known her a week?
She lets go. She's not pulling away like he expects. Sorry, she says, and a part of him is already searching for the regret he's sure will be there. A specific, I shouldn't be doing this with you kinda regret. Except it isn't. There, that is. ]
You don't have to be. [ He takes her hand. What he intends to do is remove it from his shoulder, end the hug entirely, maybe stand and dust himself off, but that's not what happens. Instead, he curls their fingers together He holds on too long, longer than he realizes as his eyes are caught in hers. He blinks. ] We should—
[ Should what? Go inside? The space between them diminishes. He swears he can hear her heart beating faster. This is a bad fucking idea, he thinks, and his brain squeezes in a final desperate, you dumbass before he stops having any thoughts, period, and kisses her. ]
[ karen wishes she was better at this - wishes she could know when someone actually wants her to stay, that she could sense when someone said one thing but meant the other. she likes to think she's gotten better at it, likes to think her gut feeling that convinces her to stay, to hesitate, to do shit like this isn't wholly off course.
except maybe her gut isn't far off, considering his reaction. considering this.
she doesn't pull away, doesn't even consider it. if anything, as her arms are around him, she wonders if she shouldn't linger. because something in her chest tells her to stay, to hold on, that this is needed - and not just because of the way he startles, he tenses, like he doesn't know what to do with the hug. it breaks her just a little, before he finally relaxes into it, into her, and it suddenly all feels worth it. he relaxes into his arms, and she squeezes, just once, before finally letting go.
and no- no she doesn't pull away, holding her hands to his arms. to him. her hands are light where they're set on his biceps, but they aren't removed, either. her eyes search his face, also looking for something- she doesn't realize that it's also regret, or remorse, or something in his face that will tell her that the hug was it, a line in the sand- but she doesn't find it.
instead, he says you don't have to be and he takes her hand, and Karen is...confused isn't the right word, but it feels a little like she's holding her breath. her eyes glance to their hands, and then back to his face, because she did expect the touch to follow with movement, like he was unclasping her from him, removing her hands and forcing the separation she didn't cause. instead, though, he curls his own fingers around her own. holds them. she watches him, head tilted a little, and she's about to ask for what, ask him what he's thinking, if everything's okay- but he speaks first, or at least starts to.
we should-
but nothing follows. instead, Karen feels herself drawn a little closer - not obviously, she hopes, but in that way she can't help but follow. subtle, slow, but she is closer after the moments pass, and logan isn't pulling away. her heart does start to beat faster, everything else around them slowing growing quiet. it isn't like there was much else going on around them in the first place, but Karen does feel it - the world falling away, the quiet that surrounds them, and then there's logan, leaning forward and kissing her and karen... karen kisses him back.
part of her thinks that maybe she should be surprised. that maybe there should be some tension, some shock, when their lips finally touch - but there isn't. if anything, the only thing she feels is a kind of release, a sudden rush of finally, and then the hand that logan doesn't have wrapped up in his own is running up his arm, across his shoulder, finding his neck and holding it. she doesn't deepen the kiss, exactly, but she does hold it - hold him, hold this moment, hold onto the feeling that everything she's felt up until this point hasn't been her own imagination. it's not chaste, by any means, but it also isn't anything else.
it's a few moments later that the kiss breaks - it's hard to tell if it's her, or him, who does it - but still karen doesn't go far, setting her forehead against his own as she breathes. one breath, and then another, until she opens her eyes to him, watches him for a another moment.
and then she smiles. ]
We should?
[ it's a bad joke, but her heart is still beating so loud in her ears, she needs to say something. ]
[ God knows he isn't any better at this, either. She kisses him back, and the clamp squeezing his ribs loosens. His other hand lifts, cupping her cheek. He wants to say it feels right. To him, it does. To her—
He isn't sure. What he knows is when they finally break apart, it isn't her pushing him off. It's not her telling him they can't do this, that there's somebody else. It doesn't feel like he's stealing a scrap of something that isn't for him and never will be. Instead, she smiles. Her forehead rests against his. For a moment, he forgets about the tapes, the laptop, the whole goddamn thing. There's just this—outside in an empty lot, the night quiet.
It's the calmest moment he's had in a long time.
He huffs when she speaks. That's funny. He tries to come up with something to say back, something not completely stupid, and, yeah. He's got nothing. It's another minute before he finally replies. ]
What do you say we go for a ride?
[ They've run plenty, gone to town for supplies, but that was three days ago and none of it was just for the hell of it. They could use a fucking break. From the endless files, from the dingy box of a room they're in. Frankly, he doesn't want this tiny thing between them to vanish the instant they step back through that door. And he isn't certain it won't. It's okay if it does, he tells himself, but he figures—maybe they can hang onto it for longer than five minutes. ]
[ it does feel right- whatever right means, here. it's felt right to her before, with matt, with brushes of hands with frank, and in a way even with foggy, and look at where those have left her. but this also feels different, somehow, in a way she doesn't have words for. his hand on her cheek is warm, comforting, and when they do break the kiss she feels herself lean into his palm.
everything is still hanging over them, the laptop waiting right inside the door. bloodied clothes still piled away in the corner. her story that she does have to get back to, has to finish, because the longer it takes her the longer...
the longer what? the longer this will go on? she takes a slow breath, and then lets it out just as slow, and he huffs a quiet laugh at her joke, something that has her smile growing.
a ride. it's not what Karen expects him to say, which is the only reason for the slight pause when he does. a ride? where? he's been so careful with how long either of them have spent outside the motel room, with the potential of eyes on them, of anywhere to go. now it feels like he's offering this up as an escape, as a chance to let this breathe a little longer, before they have to return for what waits for them inside the room. ]
Yeah. [ she says after a moment, her hand slowly trailing down to his shoulder, flat against his chest. looks back up to him, meets his eyes. ] I'd like that.
[ is there anything she needs to say, here? any specifics? clarifications? she doesn't know what, if there is anything to say at all, so instead she just finally leans back from him. nods. ]
[ His eyes are fixed on her, cautious, as she thinks it over. He does want to just get the hell out. And when she agrees, that's exactly what they do. He waits for her to get her jacket and climb on, feels her arms around him again. Something about the evening turns ephemeral. A pocket of time, just for them.
He's still careful enough not to go far, but it's further than the two steps they've been taking outside for some air. Out on the highway, he only has to ride ten, twenty minutes to find a patch of nothingness with a—well, it's not a great view, but it's an improvement over brick walls and a flat plain of concrete. They don't talk about anything important, except when he tells her she should get ready to move tomorrow or so. Three nights is enough to make sure no one's followed them. Any longer, they might as well be sitting ducks.
He takes them back before dark. The sun glows orange behind him, and the damp air finally gives way to a light drizzle. No trouble waits for them—always a risk—and he lets himself relax as he unlocks the door. Inside, the lights are still on, laptop shut on her bed, papers piled on the nightstand. His book, turned over to save his place.
He feels better. Mostly. Some of it lingers, especially when his gaze lands on the broken chair he'd almost forgotten about. He's quiet as he moves it to a corner of the room, but most of the tension fades when he digs out their choices for the night, one eyebrow raised. ] Pick your poison.
[ They've got those microwavable mac and cheese cups and instant noodles. And a suspicious-smelling ham sandwich that he's told her he'll deal with. Not like he can get food poisoning. ]
[ when they finally decide, excitement stirs in her chest. it's a bit of an old feeling, of escaping, of getting in someone's car, or in this case on the back of his bike, and taking off. she grabs her jacket, slips in a couple cans of beer in the pockets, and slips easily onto the back of his bike with him. she doesn't know where they're going, frankly she doesn't really care, but there is this indescribable sense of freedom as the bike comes to life and they take off down the highway.
karen doesn't notice how far they go or don't go, isn't clocking any destination or direction. all she notices is the her arms around his middle and her cheek on his back, watching the other half the highway - trees, buildings, parking lots, strip malls, and then more trees, more grass, billboards - all go flying by. she even loses track of time, more curious than anything as he takes the exit and slows down.
they get off at some kind of rest stop nowhere view, and they chatter on about nothing in particular. she pulls out the can of shitty beer and he gives her a look before he huffs a laugh, and they finish them off. he mentions how they need to be ready to head out, probably the next day, and she nods- some part of her knowing they wouldn't stay long, had been curious when he would deem it time. something in her chest feels a bit anxious about it, not because she really cares all that much about this almost town, but because she almost worries if by leaving, whatever fragile little thing this is almost turning into might stay behind with it.
but they do have to keep going, they can't run from this forever. the story still sits half-finished as a draft on her computer, and somewhere in that drive is more of logan's life, more things he doesn't remember, maybe even answers.
she watches the sun set from the back of logan's bike, and wonders when was the last time something - even if only for a moment - felt simple. the rain just barely starts by the time they pull up, and Karen notices the slightest amount of tension in logan, clueing her off that he's still watching out, still keeping his eyes out. the tension leaves when he unlocks the door, and Karen almost smiles to herself at it, filing that away for later. more pieces of logan, more clues into him. she follows him in, pulling off her coat and tossing it over the ruined chair as he heads over to their food options, and Karen snorts. ]
You get the sandwich. Don't think I'm letting you off the hook for that. [ she walks over and considers the other options, before picking the mac and cheese.
they make their dinner, and Karen ends up on her side of the bed, propped up against the back wall with her laptop on her lap and the tv on some static-y channel where they're just barely getting an old western, and she's back in the files. the next one, a different one this time, but she's back at it - will be for the next few hours, until she either passes out or the sun rises. ]
Really? [ He takes out the sandwich. ] Not gonna let that go, huh?
[ He obviously doesn't mind, already unwrapping it and taking a sniff. Not great. He'll still eat it. He takes a cup noodle, too, and ends up eating next to her while the movie plays. He watches idly, doesn't seem to have any trouble listening to it, though the volume's turned way down. She keeps working. He peers at her screen sometimes, but mostly he reads or flips through the fuzzy channels. Past midnight, it's all infomercials and reruns older than he is.
He falls asleep before she does. It's the first time he's done that. Either she's just up that late, or he's that much more at ease around her. Might be both. He sleeps to morning, wakes up to find his arm hanging off the side of the bed while he's faceplanted into the pillow.
Which goddamn stinks, by the way.
Sunlight streams through the yellowing curtains. He sits, rubbing sleep and the remnants of a faded dream out of one eye. ] Hey. [ He peers at her. ] You sleep at all?
[ Might be only a few days, but he's seen how she gets when she's onto something. He's already considering whether he should give her one more day in place to work or if they shouldn't push their luck.
Weather's nice. Good day to ride out if they're gonna. But going by night might not be a bad call, either. It's hard to say what's coming. He's still not completely sure who they're dealing with. ]
I'm not really the type. [ to let things go. it's meant to be lighthearted, they're talking about a sandwich, but there's a sort of hesitation around the comment that makes it feel a little more serious than that.
it is true, though. she doesn't let things go, for better or for worse.
they eat side by side on the bed, not really watching the movie but letting it play and fill the silence of the room. karen has some comments - half about the film, half about the stories she comes across. at some point logan decides to start flipping through whatever cable channels the motel receives, and Karen gives up trying to pay attention, falling into her work.
when logan falls asleep, Karen finds herself watching him - not for long, just a few minutes break from the glow of her computer. something tells her this isn't normal, logan falling asleep with someone else in the room. when that other person is still awake. she feels the urge to reach out, to run her hand along his shoulders, but even she recognizes how unnecessary it is, how it would probably wake him up, so she forgoes it for now and dives back into the files.
the sun is making its way through stained curtains when he finally stirs, when he sits and rubs at his eyes (its... actually pretty adorable, though karen will blame her sleeplessness for that thought) and asks if she slept. karen, curled around the screen, biting at the nail of her thumb. ]
Hmm? Oh. Yeah. A little. [ at some point in the night she'd gotten up, made crappy coffee, got her physical files and started working through them. there's a notepad on the nightstand with two or three pages worth of notes, and the bags under her eyes are noticeable, where before they'd almost started to fade.
a little may or may not mean about an hour and a half where she'd passed out, her computer open on her chest, but he doesn't need to know that.
so instead, Karen shifts to sit up, stretching her arms over her head with a couple of quiet cracks of her joints shifting. ] How'd you sleep? Okay?
[ No. No, she isn't. Neither is he. Suppose that's how they both wound up here. Karen was never gonna stop chasing this damn story, and Logan was never gonna try to get her to stop. Maybe somebody else would've, insisted it was getting too dangerous—but he wants the answers as much as she does. He wants names. He wants faces.
And he wants to make sure nobody will be left to come after her once this is over.
Karen says, A little. Logan takes that to mean pretty much none. He swings his legs off the bed, feet bare, and wanders over to the rickety coffee maker with its cheap grinds. ]
Yeah. [ He pauses. For once, it's true. He did sleep okay. Not great, but okay. ] Yeah, actually.
[ He brews Karen a fresh cup, too—noticed the empty one next to her—and brings both back to the bed. They're one chair down with no spare, so. The bed's what they've got. Everything still seems quiet. He decides there's no rush. They can be deliberate about when and how they leave. ]
Sundown, we can move out. You still haven't heard from the lawyer?
[ If the guy ran off to find information, it doesn't sound as though he uncovered a whole lot. And as much as Logan knows there's probably more to the situation, some part of him can't help feeling like Matt up and abandoned Karen without a word. Assuming Matt's alive. ]
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Yeah, you like it? [ He straightens the hat on her head. It wasn't crooked, but he fixes it, anyhow. ] Real first date material.
[ The comment is dry, a joke. He doesn't mean their first date. Definitely not. But he is looking at her, the stupid shirt and glittering hat, her sunglasses with the little yellow tag on it. She doesn't look like a woman who's spent the past couple days getting shot on, going on the run. She doesn't look like she's miles from home in a shitty motel with a guy she's known for less than a week.
His expression softens. He doesn't realize. ] Maybe you oughta get it.
[ Fuck it. Who cares? The thought that's stuck to him is, if it makes her laugh, how's he gonna say no to that? ]
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no- in that moment, it doesn't feel like she was just shot at. doesn't feel like she's edging closer and closer to a ledge she's once again not sure she'll survive. instead, it feels like it's just two people, just the two of them, and that is much preferred.
karen watches logan's eyes soften, and her smile goes softer too, though somewhere in her chest tightens. you like this too much, Karen. this is going to backfire. he's only here to keep you alive. ]
I have maybe six dollars in cash. [ it's a weak argument, not her best, but there's a feeling here she's not really trying. ] And I feel like that's better spent on something more practical. Like another pair of pants. [ that's what she says, at least. but then it's karen's turn to reach out, tugging at the vest on each side, just a little, though it also doesn't need it. ] But if you really like it... we could probably get both.
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Can't hurt. [ What they're doing is temporary. Ideally, he can get her home soon—or somewhere safer than a shady motel on the side of a highway. ] I've got you. Find another pair of pants.
[ If they do run out of cash, he can figure that out easily. Nothing he hasn't done before.
He leaves her to think about it, though, disappearing into the fitting room so he can change out of his bloodied sweats. He plucks the tags off the jeans, the t-shirt. When he comes back out, he looks more like how he did when he showed up at her door. And yeah—he's carrying the awful vest with the rest of the stuff he's buying. It's, what, two bucks? He can fork over two dollars for something he's never gonna put on. ]
You ready?
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Ohh, big spender over here. [ again, a joke. and then he's tucking back into the only other stall next to her. she laughs a little to herself, pulling the hat off and heading back into her own to get changed, slipping on a new pair of jeans and clean shirt. she makes note about how she still needs a brush, though she spends a few minutes trying to calm whatever it is she can.
it takes her a few more minutes than logan, but when she steps out she looks almost presentable. almost like she had when he first showed up at her front door. in her arms are a few more clothes - pants and shirts, a sweatshirt, even another dress. it's more than she'll probably need, but it makes her feel a little better to have them. she looks a little sheepish at the pile when she sees him, including her own shirt and stupid hat. ]
Almost- I also want to see about socks. Do you need anything else?
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He stops for gas next, and Karen disappears into the store for the little things they're without. He tells her to get him whatever. He just needs some sort of soap and a razor. A pack of cigars. Chargers, for their phones. He meets her inside to pay. Rinse and repeat at a Dollar Tree 'til they're mostly stocked. By the time they pull back up to the motel, the sun's low in the sky. He takes a second to scan the area before climbing off and bringing their haul inside. Microwavable meals, plenty of canned shit, peanut butter, and yeah—they stopped for booze. He has a feeling they're gonna need it.
For him, it's easy, almost thoughtless, all of this. He's got Karen to look after, sure, but she doesn't make him feel like he's gotta keep a constant eye on her. She seems to know what she's doing.
The last thing he unpacks is the Subway bag, and a fifty-cent copy of Hemmingway. Look, the only other thing to read in this room is the Bible, and he needs something to do while Karen works. Or when he's not sleeping.
He removes her laptop from its makeshift hiding spot, setting it on the bed. ] I'm gonna see who our new neighbor is. [ There's a different car in the spot when they got back. It looks new. Shiny. He pulls on a sweater and tugs the hood over his head. ] You need anything first?
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she gets a collection of things - a lighter, some cigars, a razor, two extra thumb drives, some snacks. the teenager behind the counter gives her a look and she flashes a sheepish smile and motions out to where logan is filling up the bike. that seems to answer some unanswered question, and the teenager nods and rings everything up. then its the dollar tree-subway combination building, for everything else. when they get back on the bike, and Karen is tossing the bags in the backpacks and notices the paperback, hemmingway. she smiles a little to herself as she sits back behind him on the bike, and they head back to the motel.
it feels almost too easy- getting into this rhythm, stepping into this routine. logan carries most of the bags inside, Karen starts to unpack, stuffing as many of the meals as she can in the mini fridge and setting the bottles on the tv counter, the copy of hemmingway set on the night stand on what she is now calling his side of the bed in her head. he pulls out her laptop from the wall as she turns her phone back on, sighing a bit to herself as the notifications start piling in. she sits on the edge of the bed and starts to work herself through everything as logan moves around himself, changing and unpacking and pulling on the new sweater.
when he speaks, she glances up. ] Hmm? Oh- no, I'm good. I'm going to start on the copy, and then just probably dive in. [ a beat, and then karen glances to the window. it dawns on her that she had not at all clocked that the new car might have been someone, and she now feels a bit self-conscious for having turned on her phone.
she quickly sends the half-draft of what she had started for matt, that she was fine, logan was there, they're out of the city now. she texts ellison that she's in a story and probably won't be at the office the rest of the week and then turns her phone off again, just for good measure. ] Do you think someone followed us?
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[ He just wants to check it out. Call it a precaution. Experience has taught him that there are threats—the men hunting them down—and then there's the people who make trouble solely by existing nearby, dragging him into whatever bullshit they've created for themselves.
A short trip outside tells him that the bullshit is some guy in a suit with a woman too far out of his league to be anything but paid for. Probably drove out here to hide from the wife and kids.
Figures. Doesn't look like anything more, though.
Logan returns, bolting the door behind him. Karen's set up with her laptop. He tells her it's nothing and spends the evening reading, eating, eventually taking a shower before bed. He doesn't hesitate to sleep alongside her this time. If he disturbs her with his inconsistent sleep—and Logan's sure he's gotta; he always seems to with just about anyone—she doesn't say anything.
In the morning, he starts considering how much longer they can stay here before they should move on. He isn't eager to take her far from home. At the same time, they must know she's learned too much by now. This is only gonna end one of two ways.
As she starts her work again, Logan grows curious enough to put down his book and join her. ] Anything new?
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logan isn't gone for very long - though it feels like even shorter. karen makes a copy, and then makes a second of just her laptop in general, before she starts diving in. he comes back and bolts the door, and Karen doesn't move. he eats, reads, showers, paces around the room. at one point she even thinks he tries to turn on the tv but it doesn't last for very long - though, truthfully, Karen barely even looks up. they're up too late because karen completely loses track of time, slowly working their way into early morning. for hours she works her way through, writing down names and details that catch her attention, but spending the majority of her time just trying to see everything.
eventually it starts to hurt to keep her eyes open and she gives up, closing the laptop and climbing into bed, noticing that logan doesn't question it or even try for the floor, and that is that. she doesn't say anything about his inconsistent sleep because she's not sure how much she sleeps herself, spending some time simply laying there, going over everything she's found. as the sun starts to rise, she's up again, knee tucked up to her chest as she sits on the couch and dives back into the files, the folders, the names and photos and stories and children she sees. it's addictive, in the most sickening, awful way, but she can't stop.
logan comes over to join her, and Karen jumps a bit, having been fully engrossed in a report. this particular folder had a collection of multimedia things, some audio transcripts, some reports, some blueprints. it's starting to feel like a kind of archive of something. maybe a laboratory? she isn't sure. ]
I mean- all of this is... awful. [ she says with a sigh, shaking her head and turning the laptop just a little so he can see the report she'd been reading. she scrolls through it, shaking her head. ] It's one thing when you think you know how deep these things go, but the amount that this drive has... [ she leans back in, comfortable with however close logan wants to lean over her shoulder to watch, as she closes that report and opens up the next file - an mp4 of some kind, though the last few she'd found were just security footage of hallways and cells.
karen clicks it open, turns up the volume a couple of notches so they can both listen, and tries to see what's depicted. it's grainy, not great footage, and seems to be some kind of... medical room? she frowns. ]
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Videos.
His blood runs cold. He can't explain what the hell it is, curling in the pit of his stomach, itching under his skin. He almost tells her to stop, that he doesn't need to see this, but he can't tear his eyes away. Then the footage is playing—grainy, buzzing. Most of the clinical chatter is inaudible, the image angled from the corner of the operating room. Compared to the recent pictures, it isn't nearly as graphic. There's no colour. Barely any detail. The body sunk in the water is partially covered by the cluster of lab coats. Then it flips to another, the exterior of thick concrete door, guarded. They see who goes in, but not what's inside—though it isn't hard to guess. It's only on the third that something happens. Blood splashes dark against the wall. Muzzle fire light up the security footage. Bodies drop like flies.
He stares. He sort of—dreams, sometimes, about it. He's always running, never getting anywhere, slipping on blood and bodies and more blood. Then he wakes up. But his haphazard memories are one thing. It's another to watch it unfold right before his eyes. For a solid five minutes, he forgets Karen's even there. The clips seem like they go on forever. How many has this thing got? At a certain point, he's not sure if he's still watching them or if he's seeing right past them.
A crack jolts him out of it. He jumps. ] Fuck. [ The splintered slats of her chair's backrest bounce onto the carpet, bits of wood embedded in his palm. Oh, hell. ] Goddamn it.
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karen gasps without meaning to, her hand going to her mouth. the sounds crackle, much getting lost from whatever analog had been recording this footage when they digitized it, but there’s enough there and can put the pieces together. some pieces. she almost reaches out to pause it, to turn it off, even. but logan has so much as taken a breath in too long and karen… god help her, she can’t tear her own eyes away.
the feeling of dread grows, of hopelessness, of something a bit more complicated. gunshots take over more of the screen, orders shouted through distorted radios. the footage isn’t anything impressed, but karen watches the blood seep across the floor all the same.
the same crack breaks her free from the spell too, jumping - startled - at the sound. she turns and sees the broken back to the chair, logan’s shaking hands. she looks to him, then, it sinking in that he might not remember any of that, either, or maybe he does and she just had him sit through it all over again. ]
Logan- [ she starts, turning back only for long enough to pause the video - now more than halfway complete, but still with more. then she’s back to him, wood splinters littering the floor. she stays seated. ] Are you okay?
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Yeah. [ Absently, he tugs a thick splinter out of his hand. ] Fine. Sorry about—
[ You know. The furniture. At least it's not hers. It was a shitty chair, anyway, always fucking wobbling.
He doesn't look up again. He can glimpse what she paused on out of the corner of his eye, a quieter picture than the massacre that flashed by earlier. It's the clearest image of him so far, all wild hair and empty eyes, just sitting there—and something about that gets to him more than the rest of it.
He dumps the bits of wood into the trash. He hates that he wants to know but apparently can't handle the actual knowing. He spent years chasing answers. Hassled Charles about it for ages. Now it's here, laid bare. Too bare.
Guess he wasn't expecting company, either, when the answers came. ]
I'm gonna have a smoke. [ Jesus, the excuse sounds so damn obvious. He's never had a problem cracking the window and smoking inside. What's it matter? She's not gonna give him shit for it. He doesn't wait for an answer, escaping with his lighter and not much else.
He keeps close, though, standing outside by the window. Just so she doesn't have to wonder where he's gotten to. ]
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god, but she could have done something.
logan says sorry and Karen shakes her head, the feeling worsening. ] No, it's fine, it's nothing, I should've-
[ should've what? she knows she's giving empty promises, placating him when she can guess that he isn't the type to want that. she ends up biting on her lower lip, cutting herself off as she watches the way he won't look back to her, or the laptop. how he seems to just be hovering, moving out of habit than anything else.
he mentions a smoke, and no, Karen doesn't call him out on the fact he's never had to step out to have a smoke. instead, she lets him go, can see him out the window, and she curses under her breath, rubbing at her face a bit before she turns back. there are still minutes left, just a few, and she could watch them to help warn him of what else is there, but...
no. she can't. she stares for a few moments at the image on the screen, the wild hair, the empty eyes. it somehow looks exactly, and nothing, like the logan she knows - though, really, who is she to even say that? this logan she knows for what...a few days? not even a week? what is it she thinks she knows? karen doesn't slam the laptop shut, exactly, but the closes it with more force than she probably needs. karen breathes, her mind spinning over what she saw, the clips of the experiments, the security footage of him after. she thinks back on the reports she'd read before, the logistics of it all, the brief glimpse of metal that she's seen.
it makes her sick to her stomach.
she glances back to the window, to the edge of his shoulder that she can still see, letting her know he's right outside, and she lets out a breath and stands.
two, maybe three minutes later she steps out the door with two rinsed out crappy coffee cups of whiskey. she leans against the door frame, waiting to find out if he's going to end up telling her to fuck off, or ushering them both back inside. ]
Hey. [ she says after a moment, holding out one of the cups. ] Can I join?
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He's seated on the curb by his motorcycle by the time she pokes out. Logan glances up. A beat. Then he takes a cup.
He exhales smoke through his nostrils. There's room for her to join him on the curb. ] Thanks.
[ Nah. He doesn't mind. In a way, it's not about what she saw. She's not the first—Charles went digging in his head years ago—but Logan didn't see anything himself then. Just knew the Professor was rooting around. It's different, watching all the shit that should be his to know but isn't. And that was, what, a few minutes of footage clipped into the drive? Out of hundreds? Thousands?
It's a shitty, uncomfortable thought he's constantly carried with him: the fact that he's got no fucking idea of anything he did. He's settled with lives he's taken. The ones he remembers clearly, he's fine with them. He's got his reasons, even if nobody else would agree. But there's a whole chunk he's not sure if he made that choice or some dickhead in a lab coat did it for him. ]
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he takes the cup and she doesn't sense any silent go away, so she goes ahead and sits on the curb next to him. she doesn't want to push, doesn't want to pry, but-
thanks.
she gives him a small smile, nods and takes a sip from her own cup. for a little bit she doesn't say anything at all, and ends up comfortable enough in the silence as she sits next to him. she tries to feel out the energy in the air around him, what he's processing, how he's feeling. it's not the first time she's found him hard to read, this wall stillness, but with something deep and unsettled under. it was only a few minutes of footage, but under the light of all the rest, of the fact logan had seemed just as shocked to see it all...
karen continues to let the silence sit, leaves logan to his thoughts, until she reaches a point that she thinks it's okay. ]
You didn't remember that, did you? The base. [ it's not accusatory - she's not saying it like he should have, or he would have lied to her about it. it's much more that she's trying to figure out if logan's stillness is processing the shock or if it's something else. she crosses her arms over her knees where she sits, watching him. ]
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Kinda. [ It's not so straightforward. ] I dream a lot. Suppose I'm not watching myself when I do remember, you know?
[ His memories are blurry, frenetic. Scattered. The tapes are steady and clinical. He can just see himself. It's fucking unnerving, is what. He's flipped through his files, he's been inside the facility buried beneath Alkali Lake. He's smelled the familiar scent of liquid adamantium, touched the stuff they must've put inside him. None of it has ever made him feel like this. Seeing the footage brings it that much closer to home, how much happened to him while he wasn't even all there. He sort of hates it. Actually, he hates it a lot. He's not—
Anyway. He eyes the glowing tip of his cigar; idly thinks about putting it out on his hand before he remembers Karen is there. He crushes it on the asphalt over a patch of ancient chewing gum. ]
You can keep working on your story. You don't gotta worry about me. [ The last thing he wants is to distract her with his personal bullshit. ]
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it doesn't matter that it's not straightforward, what matters to her is that it happens at all. she nods, taking another sip. it's always different seeing yourself on camera. even more so when you barely remember it happening. karen feels her chest tighten a bit at the idea of it, of what must be going through logan's mind. she is only just now catching up to the things he's spent his life trying to piece together, and he has decades upon decades of that to fall back on.
still, this feels different... though karen has no room to know what different would be for him. what she can see is that distant look in his eyes, can see the way he keeps falling back into thought, into worries, into something and it doesn't appear that what he finds is particularly comforting.
you can keep working on your story he says, putting out his cigar. karen's eyes go from the cigar back to his face, waiting to see what will follow. you don't gotta worry about me. it breaks her heart, in a way. clenches up her chest beyond what she's really prepared to deal with in that moment. and maybe that's why she moves before thinking about it, why it isn't really a decision so much as she gets swept up in. she doesn't even remember putting down the cup, but her hands are free when she turns and shifts, when she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him into a somewhat sudden, tight hug.
it's another couple of moments before she realizes how completely out of pocket the hug is, how embarrassed, or self-conscious, she suddenly feels. she untangles from him after a moment, her hands on his shoulders. ]
Sorry. [ she says with a small, sheepish smile. though there's a sense she's apologizing for how out of nowhere it was, instead of the fact she hugged him at all. ]
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But she doesn't give him a chance to give in or push her further away. She moves, her arms going around him, squeezing. For a second, he's tense, startled. Then he relaxes into the hug. She's warm. She smells of cheap bar soap and the cigar smoke that's started to latch onto her because of him. He's glad she's here, he realizes abruptly. If he's gonna do this with anyone, he's glad it's her, and how ridiculous is that when he hasn't known her a week?
She lets go. She's not pulling away like he expects. Sorry, she says, and a part of him is already searching for the regret he's sure will be there. A specific, I shouldn't be doing this with you kinda regret. Except it isn't. There, that is. ]
You don't have to be. [ He takes her hand. What he intends to do is remove it from his shoulder, end the hug entirely, maybe stand and dust himself off, but that's not what happens. Instead, he curls their fingers together He holds on too long, longer than he realizes as his eyes are caught in hers. He blinks. ] We should—
[ Should what? Go inside? The space between them diminishes. He swears he can hear her heart beating faster. This is a bad fucking idea, he thinks, and his brain squeezes in a final desperate, you dumbass before he stops having any thoughts, period, and kisses her. ]
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except maybe her gut isn't far off, considering his reaction. considering this.
she doesn't pull away, doesn't even consider it. if anything, as her arms are around him, she wonders if she shouldn't linger. because something in her chest tells her to stay, to hold on, that this is needed - and not just because of the way he startles, he tenses, like he doesn't know what to do with the hug. it breaks her just a little, before he finally relaxes into it, into her, and it suddenly all feels worth it. he relaxes into his arms, and she squeezes, just once, before finally letting go.
and no- no she doesn't pull away, holding her hands to his arms. to him. her hands are light where they're set on his biceps, but they aren't removed, either. her eyes search his face, also looking for something- she doesn't realize that it's also regret, or remorse, or something in his face that will tell her that the hug was it, a line in the sand- but she doesn't find it.
instead, he says you don't have to be and he takes her hand, and Karen is...confused isn't the right word, but it feels a little like she's holding her breath. her eyes glance to their hands, and then back to his face, because she did expect the touch to follow with movement, like he was unclasping her from him, removing her hands and forcing the separation she didn't cause. instead, though, he curls his own fingers around her own. holds them. she watches him, head tilted a little, and she's about to ask for what, ask him what he's thinking, if everything's okay- but he speaks first, or at least starts to.
we should-
but nothing follows. instead, Karen feels herself drawn a little closer - not obviously, she hopes, but in that way she can't help but follow. subtle, slow, but she is closer after the moments pass, and logan isn't pulling away. her heart does start to beat faster, everything else around them slowing growing quiet. it isn't like there was much else going on around them in the first place, but Karen does feel it - the world falling away, the quiet that surrounds them, and then there's logan, leaning forward and kissing her and karen... karen kisses him back.
part of her thinks that maybe she should be surprised. that maybe there should be some tension, some shock, when their lips finally touch - but there isn't. if anything, the only thing she feels is a kind of release, a sudden rush of finally, and then the hand that logan doesn't have wrapped up in his own is running up his arm, across his shoulder, finding his neck and holding it. she doesn't deepen the kiss, exactly, but she does hold it - hold him, hold this moment, hold onto the feeling that everything she's felt up until this point hasn't been her own imagination. it's not chaste, by any means, but it also isn't anything else.
it's a few moments later that the kiss breaks - it's hard to tell if it's her, or him, who does it - but still karen doesn't go far, setting her forehead against his own as she breathes. one breath, and then another, until she opens her eyes to him, watches him for a another moment.
and then she smiles. ]
We should?
[ it's a bad joke, but her heart is still beating so loud in her ears, she needs to say something. ]
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He isn't sure. What he knows is when they finally break apart, it isn't her pushing him off. It's not her telling him they can't do this, that there's somebody else. It doesn't feel like he's stealing a scrap of something that isn't for him and never will be. Instead, she smiles. Her forehead rests against his. For a moment, he forgets about the tapes, the laptop, the whole goddamn thing. There's just this—outside in an empty lot, the night quiet.
It's the calmest moment he's had in a long time.
He huffs when she speaks. That's funny. He tries to come up with something to say back, something not completely stupid, and, yeah. He's got nothing. It's another minute before he finally replies. ]
What do you say we go for a ride?
[ They've run plenty, gone to town for supplies, but that was three days ago and none of it was just for the hell of it. They could use a fucking break. From the endless files, from the dingy box of a room they're in. Frankly, he doesn't want this tiny thing between them to vanish the instant they step back through that door. And he isn't certain it won't. It's okay if it does, he tells himself, but he figures—maybe they can hang onto it for longer than five minutes. ]
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everything is still hanging over them, the laptop waiting right inside the door. bloodied clothes still piled away in the corner. her story that she does have to get back to, has to finish, because the longer it takes her the longer...
the longer what? the longer this will go on? she takes a slow breath, and then lets it out just as slow, and he huffs a quiet laugh at her joke, something that has her smile growing.
a ride. it's not what Karen expects him to say, which is the only reason for the slight pause when he does. a ride? where? he's been so careful with how long either of them have spent outside the motel room, with the potential of eyes on them, of anywhere to go. now it feels like he's offering this up as an escape, as a chance to let this breathe a little longer, before they have to return for what waits for them inside the room. ]
Yeah. [ she says after a moment, her hand slowly trailing down to his shoulder, flat against his chest. looks back up to him, meets his eyes. ] I'd like that.
[ is there anything she needs to say, here? any specifics? clarifications? she doesn't know what, if there is anything to say at all, so instead she just finally leans back from him. nods. ]
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He's still careful enough not to go far, but it's further than the two steps they've been taking outside for some air. Out on the highway, he only has to ride ten, twenty minutes to find a patch of nothingness with a—well, it's not a great view, but it's an improvement over brick walls and a flat plain of concrete. They don't talk about anything important, except when he tells her she should get ready to move tomorrow or so. Three nights is enough to make sure no one's followed them. Any longer, they might as well be sitting ducks.
He takes them back before dark. The sun glows orange behind him, and the damp air finally gives way to a light drizzle. No trouble waits for them—always a risk—and he lets himself relax as he unlocks the door. Inside, the lights are still on, laptop shut on her bed, papers piled on the nightstand. His book, turned over to save his place.
He feels better. Mostly. Some of it lingers, especially when his gaze lands on the broken chair he'd almost forgotten about. He's quiet as he moves it to a corner of the room, but most of the tension fades when he digs out their choices for the night, one eyebrow raised. ] Pick your poison.
[ They've got those microwavable mac and cheese cups and instant noodles. And a suspicious-smelling ham sandwich that he's told her he'll deal with. Not like he can get food poisoning. ]
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karen doesn't notice how far they go or don't go, isn't clocking any destination or direction. all she notices is the her arms around his middle and her cheek on his back, watching the other half the highway - trees, buildings, parking lots, strip malls, and then more trees, more grass, billboards - all go flying by. she even loses track of time, more curious than anything as he takes the exit and slows down.
they get off at some kind of rest stop nowhere view, and they chatter on about nothing in particular. she pulls out the can of shitty beer and he gives her a look before he huffs a laugh, and they finish them off. he mentions how they need to be ready to head out, probably the next day, and she nods- some part of her knowing they wouldn't stay long, had been curious when he would deem it time. something in her chest feels a bit anxious about it, not because she really cares all that much about this almost town, but because she almost worries if by leaving, whatever fragile little thing this is almost turning into might stay behind with it.
but they do have to keep going, they can't run from this forever. the story still sits half-finished as a draft on her computer, and somewhere in that drive is more of logan's life, more things he doesn't remember, maybe even answers.
she watches the sun set from the back of logan's bike, and wonders when was the last time something - even if only for a moment - felt simple. the rain just barely starts by the time they pull up, and Karen notices the slightest amount of tension in logan, clueing her off that he's still watching out, still keeping his eyes out. the tension leaves when he unlocks the door, and Karen almost smiles to herself at it, filing that away for later. more pieces of logan, more clues into him. she follows him in, pulling off her coat and tossing it over the ruined chair as he heads over to their food options, and Karen snorts. ]
You get the sandwich. Don't think I'm letting you off the hook for that. [ she walks over and considers the other options, before picking the mac and cheese.
they make their dinner, and Karen ends up on her side of the bed, propped up against the back wall with her laptop on her lap and the tv on some static-y channel where they're just barely getting an old western, and she's back in the files. the next one, a different one this time, but she's back at it - will be for the next few hours, until she either passes out or the sun rises. ]
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[ He obviously doesn't mind, already unwrapping it and taking a sniff. Not great. He'll still eat it. He takes a cup noodle, too, and ends up eating next to her while the movie plays. He watches idly, doesn't seem to have any trouble listening to it, though the volume's turned way down. She keeps working. He peers at her screen sometimes, but mostly he reads or flips through the fuzzy channels. Past midnight, it's all infomercials and reruns older than he is.
He falls asleep before she does. It's the first time he's done that. Either she's just up that late, or he's that much more at ease around her. Might be both. He sleeps to morning, wakes up to find his arm hanging off the side of the bed while he's faceplanted into the pillow.
Which goddamn stinks, by the way.
Sunlight streams through the yellowing curtains. He sits, rubbing sleep and the remnants of a faded dream out of one eye. ] Hey. [ He peers at her. ] You sleep at all?
[ Might be only a few days, but he's seen how she gets when she's onto something. He's already considering whether he should give her one more day in place to work or if they shouldn't push their luck.
Weather's nice. Good day to ride out if they're gonna. But going by night might not be a bad call, either. It's hard to say what's coming. He's still not completely sure who they're dealing with. ]
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it is true, though. she doesn't let things go, for better or for worse.
they eat side by side on the bed, not really watching the movie but letting it play and fill the silence of the room. karen has some comments - half about the film, half about the stories she comes across. at some point logan decides to start flipping through whatever cable channels the motel receives, and Karen gives up trying to pay attention, falling into her work.
when logan falls asleep, Karen finds herself watching him - not for long, just a few minutes break from the glow of her computer. something tells her this isn't normal, logan falling asleep with someone else in the room. when that other person is still awake. she feels the urge to reach out, to run her hand along his shoulders, but even she recognizes how unnecessary it is, how it would probably wake him up, so she forgoes it for now and dives back into the files.
the sun is making its way through stained curtains when he finally stirs, when he sits and rubs at his eyes (its... actually pretty adorable, though karen will blame her sleeplessness for that thought) and asks if she slept. karen, curled around the screen, biting at the nail of her thumb. ]
Hmm? Oh. Yeah. A little. [ at some point in the night she'd gotten up, made crappy coffee, got her physical files and started working through them. there's a notepad on the nightstand with two or three pages worth of notes, and the bags under her eyes are noticeable, where before they'd almost started to fade.
a little may or may not mean about an hour and a half where she'd passed out, her computer open on her chest, but he doesn't need to know that.
so instead, Karen shifts to sit up, stretching her arms over her head with a couple of quiet cracks of her joints shifting. ] How'd you sleep? Okay?
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And he wants to make sure nobody will be left to come after her once this is over.
Karen says, A little. Logan takes that to mean pretty much none. He swings his legs off the bed, feet bare, and wanders over to the rickety coffee maker with its cheap grinds. ]
Yeah. [ He pauses. For once, it's true. He did sleep okay. Not great, but okay. ] Yeah, actually.
[ He brews Karen a fresh cup, too—noticed the empty one next to her—and brings both back to the bed. They're one chair down with no spare, so. The bed's what they've got. Everything still seems quiet. He decides there's no rush. They can be deliberate about when and how they leave. ]
Sundown, we can move out. You still haven't heard from the lawyer?
[ If the guy ran off to find information, it doesn't sound as though he uncovered a whole lot. And as much as Logan knows there's probably more to the situation, some part of him can't help feeling like Matt up and abandoned Karen without a word. Assuming Matt's alive. ]
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