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. ]
[ maybe that was charles' plan all along - not that karen knows professor xavier in any way except through news stories and interviews, but he does seem the type to put those sorts of things together. karen wonders how much professor x knows about her to be able to make that assumption, and then decides she doesn't want to think too much about it. if professor xavier wants this story out, she'll see it as an ally and leave it there.
( it will dawn on her later, how wild all this is. where she's found herself, what she's stumbled into. but for now she just needs to get through it and survive. )
logan gets up, looking a little... sluggish isn't the right word, but considering his answer, that quiet yeah, actually, she wonders if its rested. there's no reason for her to feel better at that, no reason for her to feel like it had anything to do with her at all, but she smiles all the same, glad. happy. ]
Good. I'm glad. [ her eyes follow him as he pads over to start on the coffee, and it strikes her - wildly, ridiculously, obviously spurred on by her sleep deprivation - how domestic it feels. how, in any other world, this could be... well. this could be something else entirely.
she mutters a kind of oh god, thank you when she realizes he's brought her one of the cups, and she sits up a bit out of her crouched position she'd ended up in through the night. she relishes the coffee, no matter how shitty or motel-grade it is, her hands wrapped around the small cup.
she nods at sundown, wonders if maybe she shouldn't try and get a little more sleep between now and then, and when logan mentions the lawyer, her brow creases. foggy? wait- no. ]
Matt? No, which isn't surprising, he tends to... [ go silent, but then she stops a beat, before she remembers that her phone has been off for...a day? more? she sighs, setting down her cup and picking it up to turn it back on and set it on the bed. he can probably hear the nearly solid 30 seconds of buzzing even if he wasn't watching the notifications start to build. a little bit of guilt curls in her stomach as her attention goes to the phone itself. ]
Sorry- I forgot I turned it off. One sec... [ it takes her a few minutes to scroll through the texts and missed calls, foggy freaking out and ellison trying to check in. she realizes that the police must have had enough time to find the state of her apartment, as there are quite a few from neighbors, more from the other editors at the paper, her bodega guy.
there's even a text from an unknown that sends her heart-rate spiking, but Karen doesn't even open it.
she scrolls, sends foggy and ellison responses - proof of life - and finally gets down to matt's number. there are only two texts, one confirmation that he received her last one about being out of the city with the backup he asked for, and then a second that says I hope your phone's off because you turned it off. Call me if you need more help. I've got another lead, so this shouldn't take much longer. Stay safe, Karen.. she reads it over a couple of times before letting out a long breath, running her hand back through her hair. ]
He's got another lead. [ she says, finally, looking back to logan. she shakes her head. ] He didn't tell me what, or where, but- he's alive. [ which... it is not lost on karen how low of a bar that is, and how often she's comforted by it. she sets the phone down for now, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of responses she's going to need to work through, and goes back to her coffee. ]
So where are we headed? [ it's a weak attempt to change the subject, but she just...she can't deal with all of that right now. not when she's actually started to make headway on the drive. ]
[ Tends to. Yeah, Logan can read between the lines. He perches on the bed next to Karen, letting her scroll through her endless list of texts while he nurses his watery brew. He thinks about asking what lead?, but he can tell she's not big on the idea of talking to Matt more than she has to at the moment. Maybe Logan isn't, either. It all touches uncomfortably close to something else he's been avoiding since he left the school.
Besides. His job's to keep her out of danger, not bring her to it. (Funny. They both know this has gone far beyond just a job.) ]
Two towns over. [ He frowns. ] Someplace government guys will stick out like a sore thumb.
[ Make it easier to weed them out if they come. When they come.
He packs while she works, though there isn't much to put away. Sticks what's left of their food in the backpacks, along with their clothes. The booze, he finishes off. One less thing to worry about. The more time goes on, the more the itch under his skin grows. The second the sky starts to darken, the wind picking up as night settles over them, he gets them moving. She brushes against him as they exit, and he finds himself pausing, catching her by the wrist. His gaze roams over her face. He's not...thinking about yesterday, specifically, but. Yeah. He kinda is.
Hard not to. Hard not to ask himself whether she regrets it now that she's had a few hours to sit on it.
But that shouldn't be what's on his mind, anyhow. He's got more important things to worry about than that. ]
[ he settles on the bed next to her- and his weight is a comfort. even as she feels guilty, feels behind, as she scrolls through her phone - there is a separation to it. a distance. with logan settled next to her, more interested in his bad coffee than her phone, it’s grounding. comforting, too- and as he very much doesn’t ask about matt, she very much appreciates it. she doesn’t feel like explaining him, doesn’t really want to be put in a place where she feels like she’s going to have to defend him.
and logan doesn’t ask her to.
two towns over she nods, cradles her coffee a little longer and ends up bumping her arm against his. not for any reason reason, or need for acknowledgement. some part of her just wants the touch.
she goes back to work after a while, and he packs whatever it is they had ended up leaving strewn about. he’s done with hours left until sundown, which is right about when she starts noticing him grow more and more uncomfortable. itchy. he’s ready to be out of here, and she can’t really blame him. she gets further into the drive, more files, more stories, more that cross over and build a larger case around what she already had thought was so monumental and-
and she dozes, for about an hour and a half in there. it isn’t until logan wakes her that she realizes it’s happened, and then is the final rush, the files and copies and laptop slipping into her backpack. karen’s walking out the door when it happens, brushing up against him and all together probably too close in general, when his hand goes around her wrist. he’s looking for something in her face, something that she isn’t sure of at first, his own expression a bit complicated, a bit layered. ]
Yeah. [ she answers - softly - not dishonest but not all together genuine, either. for better or for worse, karen is only working on a handful of hours of sleep, kept up by reports and images of mutilated bodies, horrors, the knowledge that there might be so much more of logan every time she opens a new file.
it’s only then that it dawns on her that he might not be asking about that at all, and whatever confusion she’d been feeling drops, her expression softening. she brings up her other hand to the one he has around her wrist and squeezes it, reassuringly. ] Yeah. [ in case he needs that extra answer too.
then, because she can’t help herself- ] You? [ she means the videos they found yesterday, but she also doesn’t. she means it to be if he is having doubts, concerns, and so he’s projecting it on her. ]
[ It's only when she answers that he realizes he's asking more than he thinks. He blinks once. His shoulders relax. ]
Yeah. [ Yeah, he's okay if she is. ] We'll finish this. Promise.
[ He's not going anywhere until they do.
Logan hops on the bike. They leave the shitty motel lot behind for the open highway, passing a couple trucks and cars, but nothing that makes him pause. He goes two towns over, stopping once for a break, before they pull up to a town so small it's barely a dot on the map. There's a gas station, a hardware store, and...a bed and breakfast. No motels. He hesitates. Debates if it's a good idea to invade this quaint little place with what's behind them. But they need a room, and it looks to be the only one in town.
He stops in the lot outside. Scraps of old paint cling to the sign. Logan slings his backpack over a shoulder. It'll do.
He pushes open the front door. Dust sticks to the fake potted plants in the corners of the room. He pokes his head around the counter, then taps the bell. The ringing summons a small plump woman with greying hair. She peers at him over top of her round glasses. We don't get many late travellers.
He glances at Karen, then back at the woman. ] Uh, yeah, we...took a wrong turn, thought we'd stop for a night or two.
[ he blinks once, his shoulders relax, and karen just sort of lets herself watch the movement. clocks that there's something that he's looking into, something he's realized. her head tilts a little, curious what direction his thoughts have gone in, when he says yeah and then we'll finish this.
it's not... she's not disappointed. that's not what this is. the story is what's important, these children's, these people, their lives are what's most important. and yet even so, there is a kind of drop in her chest at that. like it isn't what she wanted to hear, even if she did.
her smile doesn't falter, exactly, but there's a bit of a movement in it. still- karen nods, because she does believe that. believes him, believes in this, wherever it is it will take them. and so she slides onto the back of his motorcycle with him, wraps her arms around his middle with her backpack slung over her shoulders, and settles in.
they drive for a couple of hours - not all night, by any means, by definitely far enough. far enough that even karen doesn't recognize the name of the town, far enough that she wonders if wherever it is they're headed actually exists. she is a little surprised when logan slows down in front of an old bed and breakfast, but decides that she doesn't hate it. decides that actually, maybe, this is preferred.
karen wanders in behind him as they enter the main entrance room, a kind of foyer in this old house. her eyes wander as he goes to the front desk and has to ring the bell before anyone arrives, and Karen leans in a little closer to the antique photos that line the wall.
we don't get many travellers karen looks back just in time to see logan glancing towards her, hears his explanation, and realizes how this probably looks. realizes how this is going to look to any normal woman out in the middle of the boondocks. and Karen... acts, without thinking, and takes the two steps to logan's side. she loops her arm into the crook of his elbow and steps in right against his side, giving the older woman a warm, knowing smile. ]
It's my fault- really. We're taking a little vacation before he leaves for work for a few months, and I slept in. I've been working night shifts at my dad's diner back home and it's really messed with my internal clock. [ karen turns her attention to logan, the smile still there as she sets her chin on his shoulder. she doesn't mean for the tilt to slip in, some kind of accent she never actually had, but she can't quite shake. ] He's just been spoilin' me, letting me sleep in when we really should have left earlier. And then we took the wrong turn, and we've been ridin' for the last ten hours, and... [ she lets out a breath, almost like a sigh, as she straights a little - her arm still curled around his as her attention is back to the older woman. ]
Do you have space? Just for a couple of nights. It's all I need to set my sleep schedule right again, I swear.
[ the older woman visibly softens at the show - either extremely gullible, or just that sort of heart. karen was hoping for either, knowing that either would help, and it does.
I have one, but it's a Queen. That gonna be big enough for you, honey? the woman looks at logan, very obviously sizing him up before she turns back to Karen. karen, as is her role, relaxes immediately. ]
That's perfect- oh thank you, ma'am. I'm sure we are not what you expect this late at night... [ the older woman waves karen off, turning to her books and starting in on the spiel- breakfast from seven to nine, they have to call down if they want their rooms cleaned, dinner is upon request but she's got some fresh veggies in her from grandson's garden this morning and could make a mean vegetable medley... it's all expected, and Karen politely listens in and nods, glancing to logan every now and then before they finally get to paying, signing the book, and grabbing their keys. ]
[ In a way, Logan's not surprised when Karen immediately gravitates to his arm. It's the obvious play; he was thinking it, too, though he's not the kinda guy to act on it with that much sincerity. But he isn't tense, either, even if there's a pause, even if he lets Karen do most of the talking.
She's good, huh? It gets them what they need; Logan shrugs, tells her the bed's plenty, and gathers the keys. When the woman asks what he does for work, he casually says, the rigs. Grandma looks him up and down, then nods like that's pretty much what she was picturing. Karen hangs onto him the entire time, and he lets himself lean into her.
For the ruse. That's all. But when they're out of sight, Logan doesn't exactly shake her off. ]
Where'd you learn that? [ He's amused, a touch impressed, a hint curious. He opens the door and locks it firmly behind them. It's a gamble: whoever's hunting them probably won't expect them to hide out in a quaint little B&B, but if they do catch on, it's gonna be harder to avoid trouble. He figures for a couple nights, it'll be alright. Besides, they need to resupply. Would've ended up in town regardless.
He doesn't let himself think about their ploy while he unpacks. It's fine. He can play pretend at being a couple. They're not but—
Hell, they've been sharing the bed for the past few nights. They've kissed. And as much as he recognizes neither of them regret it, he's not sure where it leaves them. Isn't sure he should be wasting his time stuck on that when they've got more important things to worry about. Something happened after she pulled those files.
He hasn't looked at them again since. Hasn't asked her what else she's found, either. If there's more of him on there she's been digging through. ]
[ he's no stranger to elaborate plays like this, she notices. he's easy-going with her at his elbow, plays the part without hesitation. karen gets a feeling, after the fact, that he was probably thinking something alone the same lines but hadn't wanted to be the one to make the first move, and Karen finds that...oddly charming. old school, in a way.
karen finishes up the conversation, logan makes a comment about working on the rigs, and she grabs their keys, presses an easy kiss to his cheek, and then they're walking off - backpacks slung over shoulders as her arm is back around his elbow and they make it up to their room.
he sounds amused when he finally asks, and Karen grins a little as she sets down her bag, starting to unpack the laptop and more important needs. it's so late that it's early, and whether or not karen is tired, she would like to at least try and start up the routine. ]
Sometimes it takes more than asking the right questions to get the right story. [ it's said with a shrug, but her eyes still sparkle a little, excited to have... what? impressed him? it's not what most people expect from her when they meet her, and it worked.
they settle into an easy silence as they finish unpacking - the room isn't much, but there's a decent enough bed, a small table, a dresser, a television (a few years younger than the one in the motel), and an en suite- one that has a tub, with feet and brass hardware. karen's sigh of relief is audible when she notices, something logan probably hears even from the next room, as she starts up the faucet to fill it- it'll take a bit
she steps back into the main room and notices he's glancing at her files. it has her pausing, her eyes on the laptop, then him, trying to gauge what he's thinking. ]
I haven't come across anything else yet. [ it's an assumption on what he's thinking, but she takes the gamble all the same. ] You can keep looking through it if you want, but that video's all I've found. So far.
[ Right. Logan's eyes meet hers for a second too long. She looks exhausted, yeah, but the more time they spend together, the more he gets the sense she doesn't hate it. She's gotta want to return home, no doubt wants to go back to her life; that's not what he means. Just that—a part of her seems to come alive, too, doing what she's doing.
He recognizes that feeling.
They unpack, she runs the bath, and he goes over the room. There's a real coffee maker here. Cheap mints on the dresser. Nice place, actually—nice by his standards. Better than the stained walls and beer-soaked carpets. He doesn't realize what he's staring at 'til Karen says something.
His brows crinkle. He brushes it off with a wry, ] You reading my mind now?
[ He's a little too fucking aware of how much he keeps avoiding this shit. For the past week, he's been next to stacks of files and glanced at them, what, two? Three times? He tells himself that's her job, not his, but it's not the real reason, is it?
He takes one of the folders on the bed. It stays closed in his hands while he paces to the window. He can't decide if the Professor sent him here to make sure this story gets out or if it's because he knew what Logan would actually want to do. ]
The story's not enough. You know that, right? Even if a few names take the fall, they're just gonna reshuffle departments, resurface again in a few years.
[ of course she wants to go home, she misses the city and her life and whatever routine she's found there, but it's hard to want to go home to bullet-ridden walls and plastic. she would know- it isn't the first time.
she wants to go home, yes, but there isn't much of a home to go back to. won't be, either, until she has this story ready. until it's done. and yes, logan is seeing it in her too - that feeling of catching onto something, of knowing that they're on the right trail to do something good... she's exhausted, so is he, but she's also more alive than she's been in some time.
karen holds logan's eyes for that extra few moments, longer than is really necessary, and it's okay. it feels like he might understand.
they go about their movements, unpacking, the bath starts. she tells him about her files and his brows crinkle, and Karen's lips pull back into a small. she huffs a laugh, shakes her head. ] No, I'll leave that to Professor Xavier.
[ she wonders if it would be easier, if she could read his mind. if, by knowing what logan is really thinking, she could fix all of this. make it easier on him, make it faster. but then- if that was the case, why hasn't professor x been able to do it? someone who has spent his whole life...
logan stills after that, and Karen steps a little further into the room. she can hear the tup still filling up, knows that there's still a bit more time, so instead she takes two steps closer to where he's standing, staring down at her files. he's tense, like he's trying to shift through his own emotions on the matter, and she wants to help.
he takes the file and steps away from her, probably not even noticing, and Karen stops, watches logan pace. the story's not enough. karen lets out a breath, recognizing what it is he's saying, what it sounds like. you know that, right? karen reaches over and holds her arm, feeling something sink in her chest. she knows logan doesn't say what he says because he's arguing about her writing the story, but she's been in this spot so many times, with so many people. matt, frank, foggy- over and over she's told these stories won't work, they won't do what they need to do, and maybe they're right. maybe it never is enough. but Karen feels a familiar kind of defensiveness start to solidify. ]
You don't know that. [ she says, trying to sound calmer but knowing there's a little of that stubborn tension in her tone. ] Enough people read a story, enough people realize what's happening, and it can inspire them to do something. Yeah- they can reshuffle names, but if everyone knows the pattern, they can speak up when they start seeing it.
[ Now how's he already know what she's gonna say before she says it?
He's not trying to tell her what she's doing doesn't matter. It does. But they can't just throw this story out there and hope all of humanity pulls together for the mutants. It's never gonna happen. ]
And when they spin it, what then? You think that tape of me slaughtering dozens of armed men is gonna get the humans rallying for mutant rights? How sure are you that missing kid doesn't have some power that'll give the world another reason to fear us?
[ Shit. He turns around, dropping the file on the desk. They need sleep, he needs sleep, but he's been stewing on this for a while. Ever since the recordings. Before then—that constant awareness of how it's different for people like him. How much the world just isn't made for them.
He sighs. Frankly, he wishes he was arguing with her 'cause he's got a better answer. But he doesn't. ] Listen, I wanna help you with your story, I do. I also want the people responsible dead. And I don't know if that'll do jack shit, either. Whatever they've extracted from these kids, whatever they've done to them, it's not getting put back. It probably never will.
[ The base at Alkali might've been buried years ago, but he knows better than to believe the stuff they took from him—his DNA, his blood—isn't locked up in some top secret cabinet out there. Now there's a whole lot of children with the same.
Feels like they should've found out about it sooner. A hell of a lot sooner. The moment there was enough evidence to fill a whole fucking drive, it was always gonna be too late. ]
[ some part of her knows that isn't what he's saying, or what he means, but that defensiveness gets more and more solid. harder and harder behind her ribs. she frowns, her brow furrowing, as she all but glares at him. ]
You don't need powers for people to fear you. The scariest people I ever met, the most dangerous- they didn't have powers, or special abilities, or anything. [ she realizes, in this moment, she doesn't include matt in this list. scary- powerful, maybe, but even then... god, she doesn't know how any of that works. doesn't know how he can see, or not see, hear better, sense more- but for some reason that feels different. doesn't feel a part of this. ] People will find any reason they want to fear someone. Doesn't give them the right to do this- [ she gestures at the folder he's taken with him, and then the laptop. ]
And that's why the story has to get out. People- people won't stand for this, once they can't ignore it. You put enough attention around it, you make sure it's public- and they can't do it the same way.
[ he sighs, and Karen feels a spike of anger in her. not at him, necessary, because it's not logan she's angry with. but at all of this, at the way he says I want the people responsible dead that karen huffs out an annoyed sound, rolls her eyes and paces a little herself.
the bath is still filling, there is a time limit on this conversation. karen takes a few steps towards one wall, then turns back to him. ]
You kill the people responsible without exposing all of it? And they do it again. They paint the assholes like martyrs, or they place all the blame on their dead bodies, they call you a monster, and everything goes back twenty years. I'm not saying they don't deserve it- after seeing this... [ she shakes her head, her jaw tight. she knows what matt would say, knows what frank would say, but her own thoughts in the matter...
karen takes a breath - and it's not anger that makes the breath a bit shaky. instead, it's the images, the kids, the stories, the things she's only started to scratch the surface of. her eyes fall to the laptop, to the weight that she feels but has been putting off, it feels like, every few hours. the interaction downstairs with the woman at the desk, the shopping at the thrift store, her arms around logan's middle as they ride off down the highway... some part of her feels guilty, like they're stalling, when she knows they aren't. knows she isn't.
she pulls herself back together. ] They probably deserve more. But it can't be just one or the other. It has to be both- and the story has to come first.
[ There's a lot he could say to that—about how he's not talking about the scariest people she's met, he's talking about what the world's slapped that label on, that it's decided it goes to the mutants. And the random few like her who don't think it matters, who see past it, they're not the humans in charge. They're not the ones signing the papers and building underground labs.
But he isn't Charles; he doesn't have talking points ready in his pocket, and hell, that's not why he brought it up. He means it. He wants her story out. When he says not enough, that's exactly it. He just wants more, and some part of him knows killing them won't make things better. (It will take a few assholes off the board, though.) He figures she'll tell him that, too, the way everybody fucking does. Assumes it so much that it takes him a minute to realize that's not what she's saying at all.
A pause swells between them. ]
So you'll help me find them?
[ It's in there. More than a story, those files have to know who's still out there and where to find them. And that's the bit he wants. Not the evidence of shit he's already lived through.
He just, you know, thought he'd end up having to fight her on it. He'll do that, if he's gotta, but honestly? He really fucking doesn't want to. ]
[ and that is fair - because the truth is, karen is never truly going to understand the full of it. how the world has treated mutants, how the world will probably continue to treat mutants, no matter what's posted, or what isn't. she can only believe what she believes, in people, in the good that people will reach for when given the chance... it's the only thing that keeps her moving. the only thing that keeps her going.
so really, she should be thankful that he's not professor xavier. because karen wouldn't have anything to say back to him, not anything worth saying, at least.
but then she catches him off-guard with something she says. she doesn't know what part, doesn't know what surprises him, but the look he turns to her is... not confused, exactly, but it is stalled. and it takes the air out of her own defensiveness, leaves them both quiet for a few moments, and then when logan asks- karen blinks back at him.
so you'll help me find them? ]
The men responsible? [ that is the question... she knows the right answer. knows the answer matt will have. I won't help you kill them. but the truth is, the real truth, is she can't imagine the kind of people who would do this to kids, to logan. and she knows what he means, knows what he'll probably do once he does find them, knows that she's not interested in showing up to these people's homes with a gun in her hand and taking them all down. she's not frank, she's not-
a flash of faces comes to her, dead bodies cut apart 'for science'.
karen swallows, her jaw tightening, and then she nods. ] Yeah. Yeah- I'll help you find them.
[ Yeah. The humans responsible. The mutants, too, if there's any. Could be. He knows better than to believe his own kind are immune to selling out. There's money and power on the other side; a twisted sense of safety. Or some of them just hate being what they are that much.
He's not expecting her to come with him. Wouldn't want her to, either. He just wants the information she can put together. It doesn't matter that he could do it himself, that he's tracked too many to count in the past. She's who he's been next to this past week, and she's who he wants to finish this with.
Besides, he's...this is different. Beyond personal. Some part of him's reluctant to dig through those files on his own. Not when he won't know what else he'll stumble across. As much as he doesn't wanna admit it, he could use her help.
He watches her for a moment. Understanding flickers over his face. He glances down at his feet, then back up. Jesus, he feels like he's dragged her into something he shouldn't have—but hell, she was here first. She'd be here even if he hadn't come along. Or she'd already be dead, more like.
He's still gonna hate himself if anything happens to her.
The air's deflated. So has she. He sighs. ] Your bath's gonna overflow.
[ the people responsible, then- if he wants to get technical. she knows that responsibility can spread, knows that it can get complicated and sticky and that a lot of people- a lot of people- get into situations that they don't mean to be in and it gets messy. most of their clients, back at nelson and murdock, were these sorts of people- the ones who ended up in bad spots, in bad places, that they never meant to be.
for some reason, Karen doesn't think these people are the same.
as far as she's concerned, she's not letting this go. she started this, and whether or not it was for herself or for the people she's trying to bring justice, she will finish it too. if logan wants her there with him or not. she holds his eyes for a few moments, watches his gaze flick down to his feet and then up again, and something settles. she's not entirely sure what, she's not entirely sure why, but there's an understanding. an agreement.
part of her wonders if he's going to close the distance between them again, part of her wants him to.
he doesn't, and Karen tries not to be disappointed.
your bath's gonna overflow.
now it's her turn to sigh, to reach up and brush her hair back from her face. she nods, meetings his eyes briefly - once more - before she turns and heads back into the bathroom. to her bath.
she takes her time with it, too - sinks down into the water and stays there until it turns room temperature, and then cold. she lets her mind wander, vaguely listens to the sound of him moving around in the other room, but mostly tries to figure out what she thinks this is going to be. where she thinks this is going. what she thinks this is going to be, or what she even thinks this is.
karen doesn't have an answer by the time she climbs out of the tub, as she dries herself off and changes into new clothes. she's still toweling at her hair when she steps back into the main bedroom, feeling... exhausted. heavy but she knows she should do some more work. ]
[ He exhales a second time when Karen disappears. Fuck. This goddamn story. It was a hell of a lot easier when he was on her couch, in her home, obviously just the guy standing guard at her door and nothing else. Now he keeps thinking about her lips on his. The way she kinda snores at night, how he's had to take the laptop off her a couple times so it wouldn't smash onto the floor.
How much she knows about him, and she still says, I'll help you.
He opens a window and lights up. The sky's dark, twinkling with stars. A barely-there sliver of a moon. It's nice, actually. The air's fresher than the city's. It's the sort of place he'd stop at for a week before moving on. Maybe he'd pick up an odd job in town for some extra cash. Truth is, he's probably been through here before. He's crisscrossed the states plenty.
When he hears the water drain, he drops his cigar and closes the window. The bed's got fluffier pillows than the ones at the motel. He sinks onto his side—by the door, like always—and cracks open the worn cover of Cujo. He'd plucked it off the free-for-all shelf down the hall. Probably the old lady's copy.
He peers over the book. She's got that look that says she's about to work all night again. His teeth drag over the edge of his lip. He's thought of offering before, then didn't—rubbed too raw from the old footage. Now he finally brings himself to say it. ] Anything I can help you with?
[ when she steps back into the bedroom, she can smell the cigar in the air. distantly, she finds herself comforted by the smell, which is... god. it's only been a couple of days, and somehow it's that that sticks out to her. she can tell he killed the cigar before she came back in, can tell he's closed the window and settled back in bed. it's a new book he's got open, not the one he picked up at the thrift store, and her brow lifts a little. curious, but also... charmed. again.
there's a look that crosses his eyes, then, and Karen knows she's been recognized. it drains any real energy left in her - the poor night's sleep the night before, the fact it's now... what? some time in the morning? she doesn't even know the time, just knows that with her staying up and his travel by night, they're turned almost completely nocturnal, and she doesn't hate it.
she moves her laptop to the bedside table on her side of the bed (her side - because logan's is always by the door. by the window, too, if he can help it.) and she crawls in. she should want, she wants to crack it open, but something stops her, brings her to a pause as she stares at it. logan, apparently picking up on whatever it is that's gotten into her asks to help, and she looks over to him with a tired smile. ]
Six cups of coffee? Maybe like- twelve more hours in the day? [ a few moments pass, and her smile drops into a more thoughtful look. karen's quiet for a few more minutes while she considers what she wants to say, what it is that's bubbling up in her. ]
I'm sorry about...all of that. [ she shakes her head- either to stop him from interrupting or just to shake herself loose a little. ] I know this isn't news to you. You've been dealing with it for your whole life, decades and decades, and I'm just now coming into it and I know I won't ever really get it, not really, but- [ her tone is not sympathetic, despite the apology. despite the way she starts this off. instead, Karen swallows a little, centers herself.
it's not that she plans for the speech, but after her time in the bath, after their talk beforehand, after everything she's been reading and thinking about and learning over the last couple of days, it's hard to just hold all of this in. so she doesn't.]
I want to help, Logan. I want to help you, and these kids, however I can. And that won't fix anything- hell, I don't even know what justice is supposed to look like after this shit, but... [ she bites at her lower lip. a little sheepish, sure, but mostly stubborn. mostly refusing to stop, now that she's started.] I do think the story will help. Maybe it won't be enough, maybe it'll only be a little bit, but I do. And after that... [ she reaches over to him, gently, and grabs whatever she can - his hand, his forearm, his shoulder, whatever is in reach - and squeezes, gently. ] Whatever you want to do, I want to help. If it's finding these guys, or tracking down the others, whatever it is, I'll be there. But you have to trust me on this part, first.
[ a beat, and then she lets go of him, her smile now a little hopeful. smaller than before. ]
[ He huffs, uncrossing his ankles. Yeah, he wishes. ] Only six?
[ A good night's sleep is rare in his book, anyway, but even he's starting to feel it. He went from a few quiet months in the middle of nowhere to watching both their backs. Hers, more than his own.
He expects she'll leave it there. That fine by him. He's already moved past their conversation—sure as hell isn't searching for an apology—so when she starts, it takes him a second to realize what she's doing. He closes the book. Lets her say her piece. The truth is, he doesn't need her to get it. All this, the mutants and the humans, it's—bullshit. Been going on since the dawn of time. And him, he's not a bigger picture person. He sees a handful of assholes fucking up some kids. That's where he's at. He's not thinking about the pieces on the board. He doesn't know what justice is supposed to look like for them, either.
But he knows what it looks like to him.
Her hand's warm on his arm, and not for the first time, he wonders what any of this means. It's not her fight. That's what he wants to say. It's not her fight. Damn it, he wishes he could be the kinda guy who'd tell her, Yeah, I trust you. Let's do it together. And it's not as though he doesn't trust her. He does. It's just—
He's always been so shit with people sticking around. People promising after. Who want to be here, for some godforsaken reason, when they shouldn't. The more she assures him she's not going anywhere, the less certain he becomes this—this, between them, him feeling like he needs her help (needs her) as much as she needs his—is a good idea. Noting he wants is ever a good fucking idea. The world's taught him that much.
He swallows. ] We'll get your story. [ Maybe that's not the answer she really wants from him, but it's the best he manages to dig out. ] I'm gonna make sure of that.
[ The after...guess he'll see if there ends up being one. Still, there's a pause, a second where he looks at her a little too long. He moves without thinking, his hand covering hers. ]
[ a good night's sleep is rare across the board, but she can still hope for it. she knows it won't help, knows that she won't sleep through the night until this story is done, and then probably won't after, but still. the middle ground. the in between.
( she's slept better with logan here than she has in weeks, after all. )
still - she feels better for saying it. even if it's not what logan was looking for, or if it solves anything at all, it's off her chest now. he knows what she's thinking, what's bothering her, at least to some small degree. she gets the feeling that logan's not looking for some larger answers, that his version of justice is smaller, more specific. she knows that isn't where it stops, knows that none of this just ends with a couple of people, or a story, or whatever it is they're actually able to accomplish here.
but she feels better, right now. even if it's only for right now.
we'll get your story. I'm gonna make sure of that. karen gives him a small smile, tired and honest. when his hand moves to cover her own, her eyes go down to the size of it, the lack of scars, the weight. she lets out a breath, seems to relax at that, and shifts a little closer to him - keeps her hand on his arm, presses her shoulder against his and leans her cheek on his shoulder. he says thank you and she breathes again, closes her eyes. ]
I'm glad you're here. [ her voice is small, quiet, as she curls a little against his arm. ]
[ In the end, he thinks—maybe what's changing is his reason for being here. Maybe he came to make sure she'll help the people she says she will, and instead he wound up just wanting to help her. Because she's right. He doesn't know if putting a stop to this will do a fucking thing in the grand scheme of it. But it will do something for her—it'll mean something to her—and that's real. Tangible.
It's something he won't feel like complete shit for being a part of.
Her head rests against his shoulder. He decides to keep his hand there, atop hers. There's after the story, but there's also the real after. The one that comes when he hasn't got a reason to stick around anymore and neither does she. No danger, no threat to keep him at her side. How's that one gonna look? ]
I kinda like it here.
[ What's left of the night passes the same. She dozes or works or dozes again. He reads 'til he finally accepts he should try and get some sleep. Then he's rolling over, a little half-off the bed so they both fit. Crickets chirp just outside the window. It's different from the cicadas everywhere down south, buzzing all throughout the day.
In the morning, he grabs something from the continental breakfast downstairs and returns to their room with a plate of fruit and eggs and orange juice. Not fresh squeezed, not around here, but nicer than the vending machine crap they were living off of before. At some point, he gets to talking to the owner—or she gets to talking to him—and that's how he ends up under the sink, fixing the water pressure in exchange for another night on the house and a sandwich.
Not a bad deal. He's not exactly carrying stacks of cash; every bit helps.
It's also how he ends up at the door the next-next day while Karen's on her laptop or just stepped out of the shower. He could go by himself. Trip to the hardware store is twenty minutes there and back, maybe less. But that's not why he's asking. ]
[ it's something karen doesn't think much about, when she's at this point of a story. when she's this far into the investigation. she doesn't have time, or energy, to really think about how lonely it feels. how, more often than not, she's got these late nights and these anxiety-ridden weeks and the drive, the determination, to have to convince everyone else it's worth their attention. she doesn't like thinking about how deep that feeling has settled in her, and how - because of that habit, of that routine, it sticks out to her that she isn't, here. that logan simply being around is making such a difference. that it's him, here, that makes her feel like she can actually do this, instead of feeling like she's stepping closer and closer to an edge of something she can't see the bottom of.
his hand remains over hers, and she lets herself breathe, to feel the heat coming off his shoulder, his side. she wonders what he's thinking about, if he picks up on what she means when she says after, but she decides that maybe that's for later. I kind of like it here, he says, and her chest tightens - in a good way, she realizes. in a way that has her smiling, though small, and tucking her face a little into his shoulder.
the rest of the night feels like the first few steps of a routine. she naps a little while he reads, then she's up to work a few more hours. she lays down again, right around the time he finally decides to sleep himself, and she falls asleep facing him on the bed, hearing the creak of an old home, the whispers of the wind through the trees, the crickets. she sleeps hard, too, and isn't stirred awake until he comes back with breakfast.
they eat under the window, the light peeking through the curtains, and it feels good. she keeps working, actually has a place to start with the story and pulls together a few more strands of places, of events, of names, and logan heads back out to the lobby, or to check on his bike, she's not entirely sure. they make it through the day, that next evening, and into the next morning when he knocks a bit on the door frame to grab her attention, pulling her from another long, detailed, difficult report, and she has to blink a couple of times before she realizes what he's asking. a break. ]
What time is it? [ she asks, a little groggy from the hours spent bent over the laptop. she stretches, winces a little at how her body cracks. the food he brought her sits to her side, picked at but not really eaten. her coffee mug is empty, at least, but that's about it. ]
[ Logan moves to her side and picks up her mug to sniff at it. ] Definitely time for you to rinse that thing.
[ Also, about three in the afternoon. He stuffs the uneaten plate into the mini-fridge. Starting to feel like he's the only one who eats around here, which is saying something, considering he was mostly living off of bottles of whiskey before he showed up at her door. But since he's figured getting drunk isn't gonna help either of them when more bad guys show up, he's sort of. Stopped.
Anyway, the point is, Charles and the lawyer are probably gonna be pissed at him if he lets her waste away on this story, and somehow, that means he's been trying to actually get her off that damn laptop now and again. It's not a place he finds himself much; he's usually the guy everybody else is trying to get to do things, not the other way around, but. Here he is. ]
C'mon. I promised I'd get her dishwasher running again for a beer and another free night.
[ Does he need Karen to come with him to buy a drain hose? Nah, but—he kinda wants her to. They've both hovered in this half-foot-in, half-foot-out state, and he can't tell if that's on him or her, or the two of them together, but still. Even with all that, even with all the questions circling, he can admit asking for her company is about more than keeping an eye on her or making sure she's safe. ]
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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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( it will dawn on her later, how wild all this is. where she's found herself, what she's stumbled into. but for now she just needs to get through it and survive. )
logan gets up, looking a little... sluggish isn't the right word, but considering his answer, that quiet yeah, actually, she wonders if its rested. there's no reason for her to feel better at that, no reason for her to feel like it had anything to do with her at all, but she smiles all the same, glad. happy. ]
Good. I'm glad. [ her eyes follow him as he pads over to start on the coffee, and it strikes her - wildly, ridiculously, obviously spurred on by her sleep deprivation - how domestic it feels. how, in any other world, this could be... well. this could be something else entirely.
she mutters a kind of oh god, thank you when she realizes he's brought her one of the cups, and she sits up a bit out of her crouched position she'd ended up in through the night. she relishes the coffee, no matter how shitty or motel-grade it is, her hands wrapped around the small cup.
she nods at sundown, wonders if maybe she shouldn't try and get a little more sleep between now and then, and when logan mentions the lawyer, her brow creases. foggy? wait- no. ]
Matt? No, which isn't surprising, he tends to... [ go silent, but then she stops a beat, before she remembers that her phone has been off for...a day? more? she sighs, setting down her cup and picking it up to turn it back on and set it on the bed. he can probably hear the nearly solid 30 seconds of buzzing even if he wasn't watching the notifications start to build. a little bit of guilt curls in her stomach as her attention goes to the phone itself. ]
Sorry- I forgot I turned it off. One sec... [ it takes her a few minutes to scroll through the texts and missed calls, foggy freaking out and ellison trying to check in. she realizes that the police must have had enough time to find the state of her apartment, as there are quite a few from neighbors, more from the other editors at the paper, her bodega guy.
there's even a text from an unknown that sends her heart-rate spiking, but Karen doesn't even open it.
she scrolls, sends foggy and ellison responses - proof of life - and finally gets down to matt's number. there are only two texts, one confirmation that he received her last one about being out of the city with the backup he asked for, and then a second that says I hope your phone's off because you turned it off. Call me if you need more help. I've got another lead, so this shouldn't take much longer. Stay safe, Karen.. she reads it over a couple of times before letting out a long breath, running her hand back through her hair. ]
He's got another lead. [ she says, finally, looking back to logan. she shakes her head. ] He didn't tell me what, or where, but- he's alive. [ which... it is not lost on karen how low of a bar that is, and how often she's comforted by it. she sets the phone down for now, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of responses she's going to need to work through, and goes back to her coffee. ]
So where are we headed? [ it's a weak attempt to change the subject, but she just...she can't deal with all of that right now. not when she's actually started to make headway on the drive. ]
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Besides. His job's to keep her out of danger, not bring her to it. (Funny. They both know this has gone far beyond just a job.) ]
Two towns over. [ He frowns. ] Someplace government guys will stick out like a sore thumb.
[ Make it easier to weed them out if they come. When they come.
He packs while she works, though there isn't much to put away. Sticks what's left of their food in the backpacks, along with their clothes. The booze, he finishes off. One less thing to worry about. The more time goes on, the more the itch under his skin grows. The second the sky starts to darken, the wind picking up as night settles over them, he gets them moving. She brushes against him as they exit, and he finds himself pausing, catching her by the wrist. His gaze roams over her face. He's not...thinking about yesterday, specifically, but. Yeah. He kinda is.
Hard not to. Hard not to ask himself whether she regrets it now that she's had a few hours to sit on it.
But that shouldn't be what's on his mind, anyhow. He's got more important things to worry about than that. ]
You still doing okay?
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and logan doesn’t ask her to.
two towns over she nods, cradles her coffee a little longer and ends up bumping her arm against his. not for any reason reason, or need for acknowledgement. some part of her just wants the touch.
she goes back to work after a while, and he packs whatever it is they had ended up leaving strewn about. he’s done with hours left until sundown, which is right about when she starts noticing him grow more and more uncomfortable. itchy. he’s ready to be out of here, and she can’t really blame him. she gets further into the drive, more files, more stories, more that cross over and build a larger case around what she already had thought was so monumental and-
and she dozes, for about an hour and a half in there. it isn’t until logan wakes her that she realizes it’s happened, and then is the final rush, the files and copies and laptop slipping into her backpack. karen’s walking out the door when it happens, brushing up against him and all together probably too close in general, when his hand goes around her wrist. he’s looking for something in her face, something that she isn’t sure of at first, his own expression a bit complicated, a bit layered. ]
Yeah. [ she answers - softly - not dishonest but not all together genuine, either. for better or for worse, karen is only working on a handful of hours of sleep, kept up by reports and images of mutilated bodies, horrors, the knowledge that there might be so much more of logan every time she opens a new file.
it’s only then that it dawns on her that he might not be asking about that at all, and whatever confusion she’d been feeling drops, her expression softening. she brings up her other hand to the one he has around her wrist and squeezes it, reassuringly. ] Yeah. [ in case he needs that extra answer too.
then, because she can’t help herself- ] You? [ she means the videos they found yesterday, but she also doesn’t. she means it to be if he is having doubts, concerns, and so he’s projecting it on her. ]
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Yeah. [ Yeah, he's okay if she is. ] We'll finish this. Promise.
[ He's not going anywhere until they do.
Logan hops on the bike. They leave the shitty motel lot behind for the open highway, passing a couple trucks and cars, but nothing that makes him pause. He goes two towns over, stopping once for a break, before they pull up to a town so small it's barely a dot on the map. There's a gas station, a hardware store, and...a bed and breakfast. No motels. He hesitates. Debates if it's a good idea to invade this quaint little place with what's behind them. But they need a room, and it looks to be the only one in town.
He stops in the lot outside. Scraps of old paint cling to the sign. Logan slings his backpack over a shoulder. It'll do.
He pushes open the front door. Dust sticks to the fake potted plants in the corners of the room. He pokes his head around the counter, then taps the bell. The ringing summons a small plump woman with greying hair. She peers at him over top of her round glasses. We don't get many late travellers.
He glances at Karen, then back at the woman. ] Uh, yeah, we...took a wrong turn, thought we'd stop for a night or two.
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it's not... she's not disappointed. that's not what this is. the story is what's important, these children's, these people, their lives are what's most important. and yet even so, there is a kind of drop in her chest at that. like it isn't what she wanted to hear, even if she did.
her smile doesn't falter, exactly, but there's a bit of a movement in it. still- karen nods, because she does believe that. believes him, believes in this, wherever it is it will take them. and so she slides onto the back of his motorcycle with him, wraps her arms around his middle with her backpack slung over her shoulders, and settles in.
they drive for a couple of hours - not all night, by any means, by definitely far enough. far enough that even karen doesn't recognize the name of the town, far enough that she wonders if wherever it is they're headed actually exists. she is a little surprised when logan slows down in front of an old bed and breakfast, but decides that she doesn't hate it. decides that actually, maybe, this is preferred.
karen wanders in behind him as they enter the main entrance room, a kind of foyer in this old house. her eyes wander as he goes to the front desk and has to ring the bell before anyone arrives, and Karen leans in a little closer to the antique photos that line the wall.
we don't get many travellers karen looks back just in time to see logan glancing towards her, hears his explanation, and realizes how this probably looks. realizes how this is going to look to any normal woman out in the middle of the boondocks. and Karen... acts, without thinking, and takes the two steps to logan's side. she loops her arm into the crook of his elbow and steps in right against his side, giving the older woman a warm, knowing smile. ]
It's my fault- really. We're taking a little vacation before he leaves for work for a few months, and I slept in. I've been working night shifts at my dad's diner back home and it's really messed with my internal clock. [ karen turns her attention to logan, the smile still there as she sets her chin on his shoulder. she doesn't mean for the tilt to slip in, some kind of accent she never actually had, but she can't quite shake. ] He's just been spoilin' me, letting me sleep in when we really should have left earlier. And then we took the wrong turn, and we've been ridin' for the last ten hours, and... [ she lets out a breath, almost like a sigh, as she straights a little - her arm still curled around his as her attention is back to the older woman. ]
Do you have space? Just for a couple of nights. It's all I need to set my sleep schedule right again, I swear.
[ the older woman visibly softens at the show - either extremely gullible, or just that sort of heart. karen was hoping for either, knowing that either would help, and it does.
I have one, but it's a Queen. That gonna be big enough for you, honey? the woman looks at logan, very obviously sizing him up before she turns back to Karen. karen, as is her role, relaxes immediately. ]
That's perfect- oh thank you, ma'am. I'm sure we are not what you expect this late at night... [ the older woman waves karen off, turning to her books and starting in on the spiel- breakfast from seven to nine, they have to call down if they want their rooms cleaned, dinner is upon request but she's got some fresh veggies in her from grandson's garden this morning and could make a mean vegetable medley... it's all expected, and Karen politely listens in and nods, glancing to logan every now and then before they finally get to paying, signing the book, and grabbing their keys. ]
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She's good, huh? It gets them what they need; Logan shrugs, tells her the bed's plenty, and gathers the keys. When the woman asks what he does for work, he casually says, the rigs. Grandma looks him up and down, then nods like that's pretty much what she was picturing. Karen hangs onto him the entire time, and he lets himself lean into her.
For the ruse. That's all. But when they're out of sight, Logan doesn't exactly shake her off. ]
Where'd you learn that? [ He's amused, a touch impressed, a hint curious. He opens the door and locks it firmly behind them. It's a gamble: whoever's hunting them probably won't expect them to hide out in a quaint little B&B, but if they do catch on, it's gonna be harder to avoid trouble. He figures for a couple nights, it'll be alright. Besides, they need to resupply. Would've ended up in town regardless.
He doesn't let himself think about their ploy while he unpacks. It's fine. He can play pretend at being a couple. They're not but—
Hell, they've been sharing the bed for the past few nights. They've kissed. And as much as he recognizes neither of them regret it, he's not sure where it leaves them. Isn't sure he should be wasting his time stuck on that when they've got more important things to worry about. Something happened after she pulled those files.
He hasn't looked at them again since. Hasn't asked her what else she's found, either. If there's more of him on there she's been digging through. ]
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karen finishes up the conversation, logan makes a comment about working on the rigs, and she grabs their keys, presses an easy kiss to his cheek, and then they're walking off - backpacks slung over shoulders as her arm is back around his elbow and they make it up to their room.
he sounds amused when he finally asks, and Karen grins a little as she sets down her bag, starting to unpack the laptop and more important needs. it's so late that it's early, and whether or not karen is tired, she would like to at least try and start up the routine. ]
Sometimes it takes more than asking the right questions to get the right story. [ it's said with a shrug, but her eyes still sparkle a little, excited to have... what? impressed him? it's not what most people expect from her when they meet her, and it worked.
they settle into an easy silence as they finish unpacking - the room isn't much, but there's a decent enough bed, a small table, a dresser, a television (a few years younger than the one in the motel), and an en suite- one that has a tub, with feet and brass hardware. karen's sigh of relief is audible when she notices, something logan probably hears even from the next room, as she starts up the faucet to fill it- it'll take a bit
she steps back into the main room and notices he's glancing at her files. it has her pausing, her eyes on the laptop, then him, trying to gauge what he's thinking. ]
I haven't come across anything else yet. [ it's an assumption on what he's thinking, but she takes the gamble all the same. ] You can keep looking through it if you want, but that video's all I've found. So far.
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He recognizes that feeling.
They unpack, she runs the bath, and he goes over the room. There's a real coffee maker here. Cheap mints on the dresser. Nice place, actually—nice by his standards. Better than the stained walls and beer-soaked carpets. He doesn't realize what he's staring at 'til Karen says something.
His brows crinkle. He brushes it off with a wry, ] You reading my mind now?
[ He's a little too fucking aware of how much he keeps avoiding this shit. For the past week, he's been next to stacks of files and glanced at them, what, two? Three times? He tells himself that's her job, not his, but it's not the real reason, is it?
He takes one of the folders on the bed. It stays closed in his hands while he paces to the window. He can't decide if the Professor sent him here to make sure this story gets out or if it's because he knew what Logan would actually want to do. ]
The story's not enough. You know that, right? Even if a few names take the fall, they're just gonna reshuffle departments, resurface again in a few years.
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she wants to go home, yes, but there isn't much of a home to go back to. won't be, either, until she has this story ready. until it's done. and yes, logan is seeing it in her too - that feeling of catching onto something, of knowing that they're on the right trail to do something good... she's exhausted, so is he, but she's also more alive than she's been in some time.
karen holds logan's eyes for that extra few moments, longer than is really necessary, and it's okay. it feels like he might understand.
they go about their movements, unpacking, the bath starts. she tells him about her files and his brows crinkle, and Karen's lips pull back into a small. she huffs a laugh, shakes her head. ] No, I'll leave that to Professor Xavier.
[ she wonders if it would be easier, if she could read his mind. if, by knowing what logan is really thinking, she could fix all of this. make it easier on him, make it faster. but then- if that was the case, why hasn't professor x been able to do it? someone who has spent his whole life...
logan stills after that, and Karen steps a little further into the room. she can hear the tup still filling up, knows that there's still a bit more time, so instead she takes two steps closer to where he's standing, staring down at her files. he's tense, like he's trying to shift through his own emotions on the matter, and she wants to help.
he takes the file and steps away from her, probably not even noticing, and Karen stops, watches logan pace. the story's not enough. karen lets out a breath, recognizing what it is he's saying, what it sounds like. you know that, right? karen reaches over and holds her arm, feeling something sink in her chest. she knows logan doesn't say what he says because he's arguing about her writing the story, but she's been in this spot so many times, with so many people. matt, frank, foggy- over and over she's told these stories won't work, they won't do what they need to do, and maybe they're right. maybe it never is enough. but Karen feels a familiar kind of defensiveness start to solidify. ]
You don't know that. [ she says, trying to sound calmer but knowing there's a little of that stubborn tension in her tone. ] Enough people read a story, enough people realize what's happening, and it can inspire them to do something. Yeah- they can reshuffle names, but if everyone knows the pattern, they can speak up when they start seeing it.
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He's not trying to tell her what she's doing doesn't matter. It does. But they can't just throw this story out there and hope all of humanity pulls together for the mutants. It's never gonna happen. ]
And when they spin it, what then? You think that tape of me slaughtering dozens of armed men is gonna get the humans rallying for mutant rights? How sure are you that missing kid doesn't have some power that'll give the world another reason to fear us?
[ Shit. He turns around, dropping the file on the desk. They need sleep, he needs sleep, but he's been stewing on this for a while. Ever since the recordings. Before then—that constant awareness of how it's different for people like him. How much the world just isn't made for them.
He sighs. Frankly, he wishes he was arguing with her 'cause he's got a better answer. But he doesn't. ] Listen, I wanna help you with your story, I do. I also want the people responsible dead. And I don't know if that'll do jack shit, either. Whatever they've extracted from these kids, whatever they've done to them, it's not getting put back. It probably never will.
[ The base at Alkali might've been buried years ago, but he knows better than to believe the stuff they took from him—his DNA, his blood—isn't locked up in some top secret cabinet out there. Now there's a whole lot of children with the same.
Feels like they should've found out about it sooner. A hell of a lot sooner. The moment there was enough evidence to fill a whole fucking drive, it was always gonna be too late. ]
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You don't need powers for people to fear you. The scariest people I ever met, the most dangerous- they didn't have powers, or special abilities, or anything. [ she realizes, in this moment, she doesn't include matt in this list. scary- powerful, maybe, but even then... god, she doesn't know how any of that works. doesn't know how he can see, or not see, hear better, sense more- but for some reason that feels different. doesn't feel a part of this. ] People will find any reason they want to fear someone. Doesn't give them the right to do this- [ she gestures at the folder he's taken with him, and then the laptop. ]
And that's why the story has to get out. People- people won't stand for this, once they can't ignore it. You put enough attention around it, you make sure it's public- and they can't do it the same way.
[ he sighs, and Karen feels a spike of anger in her. not at him, necessary, because it's not logan she's angry with. but at all of this, at the way he says I want the people responsible dead that karen huffs out an annoyed sound, rolls her eyes and paces a little herself.
the bath is still filling, there is a time limit on this conversation. karen takes a few steps towards one wall, then turns back to him. ]
You kill the people responsible without exposing all of it? And they do it again. They paint the assholes like martyrs, or they place all the blame on their dead bodies, they call you a monster, and everything goes back twenty years. I'm not saying they don't deserve it- after seeing this... [ she shakes her head, her jaw tight. she knows what matt would say, knows what frank would say, but her own thoughts in the matter...
karen takes a breath - and it's not anger that makes the breath a bit shaky. instead, it's the images, the kids, the stories, the things she's only started to scratch the surface of. her eyes fall to the laptop, to the weight that she feels but has been putting off, it feels like, every few hours. the interaction downstairs with the woman at the desk, the shopping at the thrift store, her arms around logan's middle as they ride off down the highway... some part of her feels guilty, like they're stalling, when she knows they aren't. knows she isn't.
she pulls herself back together. ] They probably deserve more. But it can't be just one or the other. It has to be both- and the story has to come first.
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But he isn't Charles; he doesn't have talking points ready in his pocket, and hell, that's not why he brought it up. He means it. He wants her story out. When he says not enough, that's exactly it. He just wants more, and some part of him knows killing them won't make things better. (It will take a few assholes off the board, though.) He figures she'll tell him that, too, the way everybody fucking does. Assumes it so much that it takes him a minute to realize that's not what she's saying at all.
A pause swells between them. ]
So you'll help me find them?
[ It's in there. More than a story, those files have to know who's still out there and where to find them. And that's the bit he wants. Not the evidence of shit he's already lived through.
He just, you know, thought he'd end up having to fight her on it. He'll do that, if he's gotta, but honestly? He really fucking doesn't want to. ]
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so really, she should be thankful that he's not professor xavier. because karen wouldn't have anything to say back to him, not anything worth saying, at least.
but then she catches him off-guard with something she says. she doesn't know what part, doesn't know what surprises him, but the look he turns to her is... not confused, exactly, but it is stalled. and it takes the air out of her own defensiveness, leaves them both quiet for a few moments, and then when logan asks- karen blinks back at him.
so you'll help me find them? ]
The men responsible? [ that is the question... she knows the right answer. knows the answer matt will have. I won't help you kill them. but the truth is, the real truth, is she can't imagine the kind of people who would do this to kids, to logan. and she knows what he means, knows what he'll probably do once he does find them, knows that she's not interested in showing up to these people's homes with a gun in her hand and taking them all down. she's not frank, she's not-
a flash of faces comes to her, dead bodies cut apart 'for science'.
karen swallows, her jaw tightening, and then she nods. ] Yeah. Yeah- I'll help you find them.
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He's not expecting her to come with him. Wouldn't want her to, either. He just wants the information she can put together. It doesn't matter that he could do it himself, that he's tracked too many to count in the past. She's who he's been next to this past week, and she's who he wants to finish this with.
Besides, he's...this is different. Beyond personal. Some part of him's reluctant to dig through those files on his own. Not when he won't know what else he'll stumble across. As much as he doesn't wanna admit it, he could use her help.
He watches her for a moment. Understanding flickers over his face. He glances down at his feet, then back up. Jesus, he feels like he's dragged her into something he shouldn't have—but hell, she was here first. She'd be here even if he hadn't come along. Or she'd already be dead, more like.
He's still gonna hate himself if anything happens to her.
The air's deflated. So has she. He sighs. ] Your bath's gonna overflow.
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for some reason, Karen doesn't think these people are the same.
as far as she's concerned, she's not letting this go. she started this, and whether or not it was for herself or for the people she's trying to bring justice, she will finish it too. if logan wants her there with him or not. she holds his eyes for a few moments, watches his gaze flick down to his feet and then up again, and something settles. she's not entirely sure what, she's not entirely sure why, but there's an understanding. an agreement.
part of her wonders if he's going to close the distance between them again, part of her wants him to.
he doesn't, and Karen tries not to be disappointed.
your bath's gonna overflow.
now it's her turn to sigh, to reach up and brush her hair back from her face. she nods, meetings his eyes briefly - once more - before she turns and heads back into the bathroom. to her bath.
she takes her time with it, too - sinks down into the water and stays there until it turns room temperature, and then cold. she lets her mind wander, vaguely listens to the sound of him moving around in the other room, but mostly tries to figure out what she thinks this is going to be. where she thinks this is going. what she thinks this is going to be, or what she even thinks this is.
karen doesn't have an answer by the time she climbs out of the tub, as she dries herself off and changes into new clothes. she's still toweling at her hair when she steps back into the main bedroom, feeling... exhausted. heavy but she knows she should do some more work. ]
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How much she knows about him, and she still says, I'll help you.
He opens a window and lights up. The sky's dark, twinkling with stars. A barely-there sliver of a moon. It's nice, actually. The air's fresher than the city's. It's the sort of place he'd stop at for a week before moving on. Maybe he'd pick up an odd job in town for some extra cash. Truth is, he's probably been through here before. He's crisscrossed the states plenty.
When he hears the water drain, he drops his cigar and closes the window. The bed's got fluffier pillows than the ones at the motel. He sinks onto his side—by the door, like always—and cracks open the worn cover of Cujo. He'd plucked it off the free-for-all shelf down the hall. Probably the old lady's copy.
He peers over the book. She's got that look that says she's about to work all night again. His teeth drag over the edge of his lip. He's thought of offering before, then didn't—rubbed too raw from the old footage. Now he finally brings himself to say it. ] Anything I can help you with?
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there's a look that crosses his eyes, then, and Karen knows she's been recognized. it drains any real energy left in her - the poor night's sleep the night before, the fact it's now... what? some time in the morning? she doesn't even know the time, just knows that with her staying up and his travel by night, they're turned almost completely nocturnal, and she doesn't hate it.
she moves her laptop to the bedside table on her side of the bed (her side - because logan's is always by the door. by the window, too, if he can help it.) and she crawls in. she should want, she wants to crack it open, but something stops her, brings her to a pause as she stares at it. logan, apparently picking up on whatever it is that's gotten into her asks to help, and she looks over to him with a tired smile. ]
Six cups of coffee? Maybe like- twelve more hours in the day? [ a few moments pass, and her smile drops into a more thoughtful look. karen's quiet for a few more minutes while she considers what she wants to say, what it is that's bubbling up in her. ]
I'm sorry about...all of that. [ she shakes her head- either to stop him from interrupting or just to shake herself loose a little. ] I know this isn't news to you. You've been dealing with it for your whole life, decades and decades, and I'm just now coming into it and I know I won't ever really get it, not really, but- [ her tone is not sympathetic, despite the apology. despite the way she starts this off. instead, Karen swallows a little, centers herself.
it's not that she plans for the speech, but after her time in the bath, after their talk beforehand, after everything she's been reading and thinking about and learning over the last couple of days, it's hard to just hold all of this in. so she doesn't.]
I want to help, Logan. I want to help you, and these kids, however I can. And that won't fix anything- hell, I don't even know what justice is supposed to look like after this shit, but... [ she bites at her lower lip. a little sheepish, sure, but mostly stubborn. mostly refusing to stop, now that she's started.] I do think the story will help. Maybe it won't be enough, maybe it'll only be a little bit, but I do. And after that... [ she reaches over to him, gently, and grabs whatever she can - his hand, his forearm, his shoulder, whatever is in reach - and squeezes, gently. ] Whatever you want to do, I want to help. If it's finding these guys, or tracking down the others, whatever it is, I'll be there. But you have to trust me on this part, first.
[ a beat, and then she lets go of him, her smile now a little hopeful. smaller than before. ]
Okay?
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[ A good night's sleep is rare in his book, anyway, but even he's starting to feel it. He went from a few quiet months in the middle of nowhere to watching both their backs. Hers, more than his own.
He expects she'll leave it there. That fine by him. He's already moved past their conversation—sure as hell isn't searching for an apology—so when she starts, it takes him a second to realize what she's doing. He closes the book. Lets her say her piece. The truth is, he doesn't need her to get it. All this, the mutants and the humans, it's—bullshit. Been going on since the dawn of time. And him, he's not a bigger picture person. He sees a handful of assholes fucking up some kids. That's where he's at. He's not thinking about the pieces on the board. He doesn't know what justice is supposed to look like for them, either.
But he knows what it looks like to him.
Her hand's warm on his arm, and not for the first time, he wonders what any of this means. It's not her fight. That's what he wants to say. It's not her fight. Damn it, he wishes he could be the kinda guy who'd tell her, Yeah, I trust you. Let's do it together. And it's not as though he doesn't trust her. He does. It's just—
He's always been so shit with people sticking around. People promising after. Who want to be here, for some godforsaken reason, when they shouldn't. The more she assures him she's not going anywhere, the less certain he becomes this—this, between them, him feeling like he needs her help (needs her) as much as she needs his—is a good idea. Noting he wants is ever a good fucking idea. The world's taught him that much.
He swallows. ] We'll get your story. [ Maybe that's not the answer she really wants from him, but it's the best he manages to dig out. ] I'm gonna make sure of that.
[ The after...guess he'll see if there ends up being one. Still, there's a pause, a second where he looks at her a little too long. He moves without thinking, his hand covering hers. ]
Hey—thank you.
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[ a good night's sleep is rare across the board, but she can still hope for it. she knows it won't help, knows that she won't sleep through the night until this story is done, and then probably won't after, but still. the middle ground. the in between.
( she's slept better with logan here than she has in weeks, after all. )
still - she feels better for saying it. even if it's not what logan was looking for, or if it solves anything at all, it's off her chest now. he knows what she's thinking, what's bothering her, at least to some small degree. she gets the feeling that logan's not looking for some larger answers, that his version of justice is smaller, more specific. she knows that isn't where it stops, knows that none of this just ends with a couple of people, or a story, or whatever it is they're actually able to accomplish here.
but she feels better, right now. even if it's only for right now.
we'll get your story. I'm gonna make sure of that. karen gives him a small smile, tired and honest. when his hand moves to cover her own, her eyes go down to the size of it, the lack of scars, the weight. she lets out a breath, seems to relax at that, and shifts a little closer to him - keeps her hand on his arm, presses her shoulder against his and leans her cheek on his shoulder. he says thank you and she breathes again, closes her eyes. ]
I'm glad you're here. [ her voice is small, quiet, as she curls a little against his arm. ]
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It's something he won't feel like complete shit for being a part of.
Her head rests against his shoulder. He decides to keep his hand there, atop hers. There's after the story, but there's also the real after. The one that comes when he hasn't got a reason to stick around anymore and neither does she. No danger, no threat to keep him at her side. How's that one gonna look? ]
I kinda like it here.
[ What's left of the night passes the same. She dozes or works or dozes again. He reads 'til he finally accepts he should try and get some sleep. Then he's rolling over, a little half-off the bed so they both fit. Crickets chirp just outside the window. It's different from the cicadas everywhere down south, buzzing all throughout the day.
In the morning, he grabs something from the continental breakfast downstairs and returns to their room with a plate of fruit and eggs and orange juice. Not fresh squeezed, not around here, but nicer than the vending machine crap they were living off of before. At some point, he gets to talking to the owner—or she gets to talking to him—and that's how he ends up under the sink, fixing the water pressure in exchange for another night on the house and a sandwich.
Not a bad deal. He's not exactly carrying stacks of cash; every bit helps.
It's also how he ends up at the door the next-next day while Karen's on her laptop or just stepped out of the shower. He could go by himself. Trip to the hardware store is twenty minutes there and back, maybe less. But that's not why he's asking. ]
How's taking a break sound?
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his hand remains over hers, and she lets herself breathe, to feel the heat coming off his shoulder, his side. she wonders what he's thinking about, if he picks up on what she means when she says after, but she decides that maybe that's for later. I kind of like it here, he says, and her chest tightens - in a good way, she realizes. in a way that has her smiling, though small, and tucking her face a little into his shoulder.
the rest of the night feels like the first few steps of a routine. she naps a little while he reads, then she's up to work a few more hours. she lays down again, right around the time he finally decides to sleep himself, and she falls asleep facing him on the bed, hearing the creak of an old home, the whispers of the wind through the trees, the crickets. she sleeps hard, too, and isn't stirred awake until he comes back with breakfast.
they eat under the window, the light peeking through the curtains, and it feels good. she keeps working, actually has a place to start with the story and pulls together a few more strands of places, of events, of names, and logan heads back out to the lobby, or to check on his bike, she's not entirely sure. they make it through the day, that next evening, and into the next morning when he knocks a bit on the door frame to grab her attention, pulling her from another long, detailed, difficult report, and she has to blink a couple of times before she realizes what he's asking. a break. ]
What time is it? [ she asks, a little groggy from the hours spent bent over the laptop. she stretches, winces a little at how her body cracks. the food he brought her sits to her side, picked at but not really eaten. her coffee mug is empty, at least, but that's about it. ]
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[ Also, about three in the afternoon. He stuffs the uneaten plate into the mini-fridge. Starting to feel like he's the only one who eats around here, which is saying something, considering he was mostly living off of bottles of whiskey before he showed up at her door. But since he's figured getting drunk isn't gonna help either of them when more bad guys show up, he's sort of. Stopped.
Anyway, the point is, Charles and the lawyer are probably gonna be pissed at him if he lets her waste away on this story, and somehow, that means he's been trying to actually get her off that damn laptop now and again. It's not a place he finds himself much; he's usually the guy everybody else is trying to get to do things, not the other way around, but. Here he is. ]
C'mon. I promised I'd get her dishwasher running again for a beer and another free night.
[ Does he need Karen to come with him to buy a drain hose? Nah, but—he kinda wants her to. They've both hovered in this half-foot-in, half-foot-out state, and he can't tell if that's on him or her, or the two of them together, but still. Even with all that, even with all the questions circling, he can admit asking for her company is about more than keeping an eye on her or making sure she's safe. ]
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