[ 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. ]
[ he sniffs at the mug and karen's face scrunches at the very idea of what logan might find in that mug. it turns into a bit of a laugh, looking up at him as he sets the mug aside and then nodding when he mentions it being time. he has a point, really, and Karen knows that she's been sitting at this desk for too many hours today, so the idea of moving around is not entirely bad. she stands, and as logan moves to put the plate of food away, she goes to the bathroom to freshen up - whether or not she's said it, she's already decided that she's going to go with him.
getting some fresh air might be nice, and she's been staring at the same couple of pages for a little too long, now. ]
Another free night? [ she asks from the bathroom sink, washing her face quickly and brushing her hair back from her face. she glances at him from the mirror, something a bit...not mischevious, exactly, in her grin. but she thinks she might know what he's getting at. ] Hope you're being careful- she might trick you into fixing her roof and then we'll be hanging around for weeks.
[ when the words leave her, she means them to be a bit of a joke - they know what this routine is going to be, a couple of days in one place, a couple of days in another, but there's something about the last night or so that has karen almost hopeful. she likes this place, and she thinks logan might be starting to like it a bit too, and she wonders...
she breaks whatever eye contact may or may not have been there, grabbing the first clean thing she can and moving into the bathroom to change. it's less than a minute or so when she steps back out in the same sundress she'd grabbed from the thrift store a couple of days before, and while it's not exactly what she'd planned on changing into, part of her also realizes they're coming up on some laundry time. ]
So...hardware store? [ she says with a smile, closing down her computer and handing the drive over to logan to place into whichever safe location they've worked out for themselves in this place. karen was able to convince logan not to cut another hole through a wall this time, but they did manage to tape a baggie to the wall behind the dresser.
once it's put away and she's got her jacket and purse, she lets out a breath, about to say something about being ready to go when her stomach rumbles audibly. it stops her, mid-word, before she huffs out a little laugh and a sheepish smile as she follows them out the door to their room and down towards the bike. ]
And maybe food, if we think we can swing it.
[ there is probably something to be said about how quickly she's able to pull herself from her work when he asks, how she feels a kind of sudden spike of energy to be moving. what doesn't escape her is how it feels to have him there to do it at all- pull her away from the computer, drop off breakfast at her desk, bring her drinks. it's been... a long time since karen has felt this taken care of by any means, and while each time there's a spike of I can do it somewhere in the back of her head, she still... it's nice. it's really nice. ]
[ A huff escapes him. Yeah, well. Karen's not wrong. The free nights are a good deal, but he's also found it kinda hard to say no to Meredith, who he's learned is a widow since last summer and has a son halfway across the world in the army and a couple of grandkids living with their mom overseas.
She's lonely. He gets that.
And maybe he doesn't hate the idea of sticking around. Quiet towns with a few friendly folks who don't get too deep in his business—that's the exact kinda place he prefers. He just knows better than to get too comfortable.
Karen disappears before Logan can really answer. He watches the bathroom door close, then slides her laptop into its hiding spot behind the dresser. Now that she's backed a copy up, he's not as paranoid about keeping it hidden. He's still crouched on the ground when Karen comes out. His gaze drifts up to her. Oh. Right. Okay. Somehow, he'd forgotten she got that dress, didn't expect her to put it on. They've been living out of jeans and old shirts this entire time.
Looks nice. The whole...look. He blinks once. ] Uh—yeah. We've got time.
[ They walk, since it's that kinda town where everything's next to everything else. Besides, the day's too quiet for a bike to go roaring down the street without drawing the type of attention they don't need. He grabs the hose, picks up a couple other things, and then ten minutes later, he's holding open the door to a bar at the end out the road. Kenny Rogers floats from the speakers the moment they step inside. A couple of guys gather around the scuffed pool table. ]
Feeling too close to home?
[ He's joking, but he isn't. Bet this is all real familiar. Kinda how it is for him, too. He pulls out a wobbly chair, pauses, and switches it out for a sturdier one. He's not trying to end the night on the ground. ]
[ she absolutely sees the way he stares, just a little bit, when she steps out in the little dress she'd grabbed when they went shopping. notices the way he pauses, and blinks a little, and she smiles back to him as she pulls on her jacket. it's... nice. to be noticed. to know that he's noticing. which is... god. she's feeling that kind of silly fluttering back in her chest again, but part of her thinks it's okay. thinks its even more okay as they step out and he suggests they walk.
the town is small - only a few streets with homes and businesses interspersed. karen finds herself window shopping a bit as they walk, pointing out some of the things in the shop windows, tucking her arm through logan's elbow as they make it down the couple of blocks to the shop.
it's not even really dinner time by the time he holds open the door and she steps inside, but when she sees the small group of locals around the pool table, she supposes it doesn't matter too much. ]
More than you know. [ is her answer as they find their way to the bar, a little off to the side, closer to the till than the door, and she watches logan pull out a chair and then immediately decide against it. it has karen laughing a little, as she slides into her own chair, and then biting at her lower lip to stop herself from laughing too much, as she waits for him to settle.
the woman manning the bar arrives a few moments later, and Karen ends up ordering a beer to start and asking if they have any fried food. mostly fries and onion rings, and maybe some wings too, hun, but I'd have to check. karen asks if they have a burger and some fries, she'd be so happy, but a basket of onion rings works too, and the woman takes logan's order too - if he has one, drops off their drinks, and disappears back into the kitchen after that.
karen glances over to the guys at the pool table and how one of them definitely watched her and logan walk in, but she shrugs it off after another moment. they're not locals, so of course they'll draw eyes. ]
Alright. [ she takes a sip of her beer, turning to face logan with another smile. ] Favorite bar- any state, any place. No limitations. Go.
[ He sees Karen looking, takes a look himself, but around here, they're always drawing a little attention. Besides, they're obviously locals from the waitress hanging around to chat. Nobody after Karen's gonna be a local.
His beer bottle slides across the counter. Ah, yeah, it's that time again, when Karen pokes at him for conversation—and he doesn't mind it, actually. He tilts his head. It's more than thinking about it; he's trying to remember if there's anything in the first place. ]
Milwaukee, probably, back when everybody was coming for the steel mills. Must've shut down years ago.
[ More recently? More recently, he's been—well, not drinking at bars so he can rate them out of ten, that's for damn sure. Sometimes, it's still a little weird, digging through memories he's only got a half-assed grasp on, but it's not bad, either. He's spent so long searching for the stuff that hurts. Never did bother with the things that he'd told himself didn't matter, the haphazard day-to-day shit like what bar he drank at in 1937. Not 'til Karen started asking.
He pushes the basket of onion rings between them, taking one for himself. They're greasy, the breading sliding off, but it's about what you'd get at four in the afternoon in a town of what feels like fifty. ] You? Someplace we oughta check out when we're back in Hell's Kitchen?
[ We. He can't decide if he said it deliberately or not. He doesn't regret it, though. ]
[ karen catches just a glimpse out of logan taking a look at the others in the bar, and notices the way he barely notices them. doesn't seem to care that they're here. she notices the way she physically relaxes at that moment, recognizing that if he doesn't see any issue with it, then maybe it is okay. maybe it can just be an easy afternoon at the bar. ]
Milwaukee, huh? [ she smiles around the neck of her beer bottle, poking at him for more information, especially since he seems open to it now. she turns in her chair, one elbow on the bar, her body turned fully to him. ] What'd you like about it? I can't imagine they had amazing cocktails back in the day.
[ she doesn't push on more recently - she assumes a whole collection of things, from the fact he just hasn't let himself enjoy anything for a while, to the fact he just hasn't. gone to any good places in the last couple of years. karen can't remember the last time she was in a dive like this, let alone being someone who keeps moving as much as logan seems to be.
part of her does want to know, she can't help but be curious about him, about the lives he's lived, the places he's been. but she also wants to be careful with his memory loss, doesn't want to make him feel like she's pushing on something that's already a sore spot.
the bartender tosses them the plate of onion rings and Karen gives the woman a smile, a thank you, ma'am as she takes two and stuffs them directly into her mouth. they're barely decent, but they're warm and greasy and they fit the image karen's been feeling settle around her - small town bar, filled with nineties country music and a bunch of locals in the...well, later afternoon. maybe early evening. you? logan asks, and Karen lifts a brow at him, then shrugs as she bites off some of the extra breading from her fingertips. ]
Josie's. It's something of a local legend- makes this place look like a five star hotel. [ her smile turns a bit...conspiratorial? knowing? and also a little sad. ] The lawyer- Matt? And uh- Foggy. [ logan's heard foggy's name enough of the last couple of days. karen's kept a decent enough schedule turning on her phone only once or twice a day, just to answer his increasingly upset texts. logans also probably gotten at least one exhausted rant about how foggy doesn't get it, any of this, even though he tries, and...
it's easier to talk about foggy than matt. the lawyer. karen takes another sip. ] They've been going for years, used to have this insane tab they kept, and the place was just kind of gross. The most dive bar of dive bars, and the people there were terrifying. [ a pause, and then a shake of her head. ] Until you got to know them, and then you kind of realized that all people are just... people. [ there a pause there where Karen looks like she's going to say something and then decides against it, instead tipping the neck of her bottle of beer in his direction. ]
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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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getting some fresh air might be nice, and she's been staring at the same couple of pages for a little too long, now. ]
Another free night? [ she asks from the bathroom sink, washing her face quickly and brushing her hair back from her face. she glances at him from the mirror, something a bit...not mischevious, exactly, in her grin. but she thinks she might know what he's getting at. ] Hope you're being careful- she might trick you into fixing her roof and then we'll be hanging around for weeks.
[ when the words leave her, she means them to be a bit of a joke - they know what this routine is going to be, a couple of days in one place, a couple of days in another, but there's something about the last night or so that has karen almost hopeful. she likes this place, and she thinks logan might be starting to like it a bit too, and she wonders...
she breaks whatever eye contact may or may not have been there, grabbing the first clean thing she can and moving into the bathroom to change. it's less than a minute or so when she steps back out in the same sundress she'd grabbed from the thrift store a couple of days before, and while it's not exactly what she'd planned on changing into, part of her also realizes they're coming up on some laundry time. ]
So...hardware store? [ she says with a smile, closing down her computer and handing the drive over to logan to place into whichever safe location they've worked out for themselves in this place. karen was able to convince logan not to cut another hole through a wall this time, but they did manage to tape a baggie to the wall behind the dresser.
once it's put away and she's got her jacket and purse, she lets out a breath, about to say something about being ready to go when her stomach rumbles audibly. it stops her, mid-word, before she huffs out a little laugh and a sheepish smile as she follows them out the door to their room and down towards the bike. ]
And maybe food, if we think we can swing it.
[ there is probably something to be said about how quickly she's able to pull herself from her work when he asks, how she feels a kind of sudden spike of energy to be moving. what doesn't escape her is how it feels to have him there to do it at all- pull her away from the computer, drop off breakfast at her desk, bring her drinks. it's been... a long time since karen has felt this taken care of by any means, and while each time there's a spike of I can do it somewhere in the back of her head, she still... it's nice. it's really nice. ]
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She's lonely. He gets that.
And maybe he doesn't hate the idea of sticking around. Quiet towns with a few friendly folks who don't get too deep in his business—that's the exact kinda place he prefers. He just knows better than to get too comfortable.
Karen disappears before Logan can really answer. He watches the bathroom door close, then slides her laptop into its hiding spot behind the dresser. Now that she's backed a copy up, he's not as paranoid about keeping it hidden. He's still crouched on the ground when Karen comes out. His gaze drifts up to her. Oh. Right. Okay. Somehow, he'd forgotten she got that dress, didn't expect her to put it on. They've been living out of jeans and old shirts this entire time.
Looks nice. The whole...look. He blinks once. ] Uh—yeah. We've got time.
[ They walk, since it's that kinda town where everything's next to everything else. Besides, the day's too quiet for a bike to go roaring down the street without drawing the type of attention they don't need. He grabs the hose, picks up a couple other things, and then ten minutes later, he's holding open the door to a bar at the end out the road. Kenny Rogers floats from the speakers the moment they step inside. A couple of guys gather around the scuffed pool table. ]
Feeling too close to home?
[ He's joking, but he isn't. Bet this is all real familiar. Kinda how it is for him, too. He pulls out a wobbly chair, pauses, and switches it out for a sturdier one. He's not trying to end the night on the ground. ]
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the town is small - only a few streets with homes and businesses interspersed. karen finds herself window shopping a bit as they walk, pointing out some of the things in the shop windows, tucking her arm through logan's elbow as they make it down the couple of blocks to the shop.
it's not even really dinner time by the time he holds open the door and she steps inside, but when she sees the small group of locals around the pool table, she supposes it doesn't matter too much. ]
More than you know. [ is her answer as they find their way to the bar, a little off to the side, closer to the till than the door, and she watches logan pull out a chair and then immediately decide against it. it has karen laughing a little, as she slides into her own chair, and then biting at her lower lip to stop herself from laughing too much, as she waits for him to settle.
the woman manning the bar arrives a few moments later, and Karen ends up ordering a beer to start and asking if they have any fried food. mostly fries and onion rings, and maybe some wings too, hun, but I'd have to check. karen asks if they have a burger and some fries, she'd be so happy, but a basket of onion rings works too, and the woman takes logan's order too - if he has one, drops off their drinks, and disappears back into the kitchen after that.
karen glances over to the guys at the pool table and how one of them definitely watched her and logan walk in, but she shrugs it off after another moment. they're not locals, so of course they'll draw eyes. ]
Alright. [ she takes a sip of her beer, turning to face logan with another smile. ] Favorite bar- any state, any place. No limitations. Go.
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His beer bottle slides across the counter. Ah, yeah, it's that time again, when Karen pokes at him for conversation—and he doesn't mind it, actually. He tilts his head. It's more than thinking about it; he's trying to remember if there's anything in the first place. ]
Milwaukee, probably, back when everybody was coming for the steel mills. Must've shut down years ago.
[ More recently? More recently, he's been—well, not drinking at bars so he can rate them out of ten, that's for damn sure. Sometimes, it's still a little weird, digging through memories he's only got a half-assed grasp on, but it's not bad, either. He's spent so long searching for the stuff that hurts. Never did bother with the things that he'd told himself didn't matter, the haphazard day-to-day shit like what bar he drank at in 1937. Not 'til Karen started asking.
He pushes the basket of onion rings between them, taking one for himself. They're greasy, the breading sliding off, but it's about what you'd get at four in the afternoon in a town of what feels like fifty. ] You? Someplace we oughta check out when we're back in Hell's Kitchen?
[ We. He can't decide if he said it deliberately or not. He doesn't regret it, though. ]
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Milwaukee, huh? [ she smiles around the neck of her beer bottle, poking at him for more information, especially since he seems open to it now. she turns in her chair, one elbow on the bar, her body turned fully to him. ] What'd you like about it? I can't imagine they had amazing cocktails back in the day.
[ she doesn't push on more recently - she assumes a whole collection of things, from the fact he just hasn't let himself enjoy anything for a while, to the fact he just hasn't. gone to any good places in the last couple of years. karen can't remember the last time she was in a dive like this, let alone being someone who keeps moving as much as logan seems to be.
part of her does want to know, she can't help but be curious about him, about the lives he's lived, the places he's been. but she also wants to be careful with his memory loss, doesn't want to make him feel like she's pushing on something that's already a sore spot.
the bartender tosses them the plate of onion rings and Karen gives the woman a smile, a thank you, ma'am as she takes two and stuffs them directly into her mouth. they're barely decent, but they're warm and greasy and they fit the image karen's been feeling settle around her - small town bar, filled with nineties country music and a bunch of locals in the...well, later afternoon. maybe early evening. you? logan asks, and Karen lifts a brow at him, then shrugs as she bites off some of the extra breading from her fingertips. ]
Josie's. It's something of a local legend- makes this place look like a five star hotel. [ her smile turns a bit...conspiratorial? knowing? and also a little sad. ] The lawyer- Matt? And uh- Foggy. [ logan's heard foggy's name enough of the last couple of days. karen's kept a decent enough schedule turning on her phone only once or twice a day, just to answer his increasingly upset texts. logans also probably gotten at least one exhausted rant about how foggy doesn't get it, any of this, even though he tries, and...
it's easier to talk about foggy than matt. the lawyer. karen takes another sip. ] They've been going for years, used to have this insane tab they kept, and the place was just kind of gross. The most dive bar of dive bars, and the people there were terrifying. [ a pause, and then a shake of her head. ] Until you got to know them, and then you kind of realized that all people are just... people. [ there a pause there where Karen looks like she's going to say something and then decides against it, instead tipping the neck of her bottle of beer in his direction. ]
Josie's going to love you.