Terri's Peep Hut ~~ Fiction Archive

Comments: First of all, this is dedicated to Lateo, who has very diligently reminded me *cough* nagged *cough* about doing the sequels, etc. to the Alter-Eighteens. One of the ones that I was really interested in doing a sequel for was Cellmates, mostly because people had a lot of questions after that one posted - what happened to Jean? Does Scott ever find her? Do Logan and Marie live happily ever after, and if so, how do two so very messed-up people manage that? The problem I was having was making this more than a S/J story, more than the tale of what happened to them and (separately) what happened to Logan and Marie next. I wanted them to all interact, but I kept writing things that just turned out crappy ;) Finally, the vision of Jean with her trademark red mane shorn off popped into my head, and boom, I had an idea ;) This is a different Jean than you've probably ever seen in my fics, and I'm sure that some of you will have a complaint or five about her here. I've left the cause for her being the way she is open to interpretation, but suffice it to say, I tend to see her as the strong oak that snaps in the storm while I see Marie as the teeny tiny willow that bends. I also want to say that the ending of this one has seen several different versions (including an early one that Keli calls Hankus Ex Machina, where Hank rides in to save the say) but that this one felt right to me.

Logan stood staring at the man and woman, people he'd earnestly hoped never to see again. They'd stowed away in Logan's trunk, somewhere along the way, these two black-leather people. Maybe it was at the bar at Bear Lake, maybe the fights at Summit Lake. Hell, he thought, it could've been all the way back at Nukko Lake. They were both way too dirty to smell like anything but the forest to Logan and he wondered what the hell to do with them now that he had caught on to them.

She was seriously messed up, to be sure. Looking at her now, her red hair shaved to a buzz-cut, her vacant eyes staring for miles in front of her, it hardly seemed possible that she was the same strong, confident, even fearsome, person that he'd once seen confronting Marie in the forest. Then again, Logan reflected, it was a virtual certainty that she'd seen nothing but abuse and torture lately - that was, if the man had been telling the truth all those months ago, if this was his wife and she had gone missing, if she'd been abducted by the same people who'd had him and Marie.

"They're - they're gone. The Professor was hit and everyone scattered. I don't know where to find them, how to get in touch with them. And Jean can't - " Logan couldn't make much sense of what he'd said - Professor? "Please help us. My - my wife, she needs help." At that, the woman began to tremble a bit and whimper pathetically again. Logan felt Marie's gloved hand on his arm. He knew what she was probably thinking. She'd been staring at the red-head with a morbid fascination ever since they found them; it wasn't hard to guess that she was seeing some of herself, or a possible version of herself, in the woman. Still, Logan didn't trust them. And he didn't want any government agents that might've been on their tail following them to his doorstep. Sure, the papers said the secret labs were all but demolished, all but extinct. Once they'd been brought into the light of day, people demanded action. Well, some people. Some people just kept right on hunting muties for fun and profit. Logan would just as soon avoid them.

"I don't wantcha in my house," Logan repeated, hoping that Marie wouldn't try to talk him into changing his mind. It was, after all, mostly for her safety that he was concerned. In the ten months that they'd been out of the lab and settled in up here, she'd become his everything, his whole life. He wouldn't risk her, not one bit.

"I said no." The words came out with conclusive determination, and Logan backed them up with a threatening step toward the hapless couple. The woman began a steady hum of nonsensical whispers and whimpers, and took a few steps back. Marie's hand gradually but steadily pulled Logan back to her.

"You can't stay in the cabin," she affirmed, looking up at Logan with hesitant eyes. He nodded at her agreement, but his senses told him that something was still up. He found out what it was with her next words. "But we have a shed out back." Big brown eyes looked up at him pleadingly. Logan scowled, frowned, but then acquiesced.

"I'm - I'm Scott. This is my wife Jean." Marie heard the words trail off as Logan led them outside, and she only heard the barest hint of Logan's reply grunt. She set about gathering some things for them, the promised food and sleeping bag, and some clothing, suppressing a shiver as she thought about the woman's hollow eyes.

Scott laid the sleeping bag out on the dirt floor of the shed. The man he knew as the Wolverine had brought him out some warm water and a few washcloths and towels along with food, drinking water, fresh clothes, and the sleeping bag. Scott guessed that the thoughtfulness behind those items had originated with Rogue. He was grateful to her. This made twice. It was twice now that she'd saved them - the first time she gave him the only small thread he had to go in to try to find Jean. He'd left the X-Men, made it his obsession ever since those two little words - 'Los Alamos' - had issued from her lips. And now she was giving them food, shelter, a chance to survive. At least for tonight. Scott wondered if she was trying to convince the Wolverine to let them extend their stay even now.

It was sheer luck, really, that he'd run into them at all. He'd been running through the Canadian wilderness for five days with Jean, and he'd been attracted to the bar by the smell of freshly discarded food coming from the dumpsters. He hated to feed Jean that kind of thing, but he was desperate - they hadn't eaten in four days and Jean had fainted twice. Hoping to find something still edible, he'd caught sight of the familiar pair coming into the bar. Instead of food, he searched for wood, metal, anything to pry their car door or trunk open with. Scott had hoped to plead his case as soon as they returned to the car, but he and Jean had wound up falling asleep in the trunk. Waking up to a very pissed-off Wolverine was quite the shock, but all things considered, Scott's plan had worked relatively well.

"Jean, honey, can you come here?" As usual, she ignored him, humming to herself and running her fingers over a shovel propped up against the crude wood wall of the shed. Scott sighed. He wasn't sure what they'd done to her - he'd only had time to rescue her, not to find her records - but she'd been skittish, unresponsive, and incoherent ever since he'd found her. When he'd burst in, she was naked, strapped to a table and lying in her own blood, so Scott could guess at some of what had been done. The thought made his blood boil. But what he really needed to know was what they'd done to her mind - he didn't think that Jean would've snapped like this, no matter what they'd done to her. They must've messed with her telepathy or done some kind of mind control experiment, Scott was almost sure of it.

He'd hoped it was drugs at first, that her behavior would lift as whatever drugs they'd used left her system. But she hadn't shown much improvement. He'd looked her over but could find no visible evidence of brain surgery or anything like that. Of course, they could've done something that didn't leave a scar, but Scott had no clue what that could be. "Jean, come over here. We have some clean warm water. I can clean you up a little." No response.

Scott slowly crossed the room and approached her. She was especially jumpy when approached from behind, so he stopped within a few inches of her and lay a gentle hand on her shoulder. She still started, but he gave her a smile. That was one of the few things she responded marginally to - his smile, his touch. She allowed him to guide her toward the big jug of water.

"I don't want to scare you, darling, but I'm going to take off these clothes. Look, we have new ones." Jean stared at him uncomprehendingly, but didn't resist as he began lifting the glorified nightshirt she'd been tromping through the November weather in over her head. She also didn't lift her arms to help him at all, so he had to maneuver her a bit. He met her blank stare and gave her another reassuring smile as he removed her panties. She did help him a bit there, lifting one foot and then the other to free herself of them.

"Thanks, honey." Scott dunked the washcloth in the water and began with her head. Seeing her for the first time with her lovely red mane shorn off - that was something he wouldn't ever forget. "We're going to be all right, Jean. We've got a safe place to stay tonight. We've got some food, and a sleeping bag. Tonight is going to be a lot better than the last few nights."

Scott scrubbed at her dirty face, unsure if the pep talk was more for her benefit or his. He continued, regardless. "I think Rogue might be trying to convince that guy to let us stay a little longer. Maybe they'll even help us out more. I'm sorry, Jean, that I can't find the others. They might be trying to find us, you never know." Scott doubted that - the Professor had been murdered by an FOH assassin, reputedly for a very large paycheck. The assassin still hadn't been caught, as far as Scott knew, and the other X-Men had gone underground, not willing to effectively paint a big bulls-eye on their backs by staying at Xavier's. Scott felt a lot of guilt about it all - he was off looking for Jean when it had happened. He was sure it wouldn't have gone down that way if he'd been there.

He rinsed out the washcloth and continued cleaning her. After he was finished, he worked her body into clean clothes, and zipped her into the sleeping bag. She lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling as he took his turn at bathing with the rapidly cooling and now quite a bit dirtier water.

He'd been injured in the fight to rescue Jean. Cuts that should've had stitches, broken ribs, and a few second and third degree burns were the price he'd paid for freeing her. Looking over at her mumbling, slack form, he thought it was a small price, compared to what she must've been through. He was grateful that she at least seemed to dimly recognize him, that she allowed him to lead her along, that she didn't seem afraid of him. It was a start. He'd just have to find a way to reach her, to help her. No matter how long it took, Scott resolved, he would persist until he had his Jean back. He loved her, and nothing anyone could do to her would change that. He wouldn't let it.

He finished washing, dressed, and slid himself into the sleeping bag beside her. "Good night, Jean." As usual, she didn't answer, but she did turn her head to look at him. Scott liked to think she had something more than the usual emptiness in her eyes when she did. "Sleep well, my love."

"I understand." And she did. They'd had it hard, both of them, and what things they had now - a little money, the cabin, the land, a peaceful life - those things had been bought and paid for in Logan's flesh and blood, in the ring. Marie understood that he wouldn't want to jeopardize those things, not for any reason. They were bitterly hard-earned, and both knew only too well what a life without a place to stay, without clothes or food was like. Marie preferred not to think about the possibility of them falling back into government hands. That was too scary, too chilling. And there, she agreed with Logan - risking that, it wasn't worth helping other people out. Even if she might want to. "Thanks - thanks for letting them stay tonight."

The first clue that something was wrong was a scent - a sterile, medical scent that Logan would find suspicious anywhere, anytime, but especially so under these circumstances. Before he could rise from the bed, though, the second, and much more obvious clue, came crashing through the window - it was a grenade of some sort, and entirely unsubtle in it's message.

Logan quickly rolled over top of Marie and rolled her off of the bed and onto the floor, stifling her squeak of surprise against his chest. He covered her with his body until the blast subsided, then, hearing the approach of heavy, booted footsteps, he rose and prepared to fight. Marie, belatedly but accurately reading the threat, rose, stood behind him, and stripped off the gloves she wore to bed.

Their bedroom door came crashing in with a heavy thud, courtesy of one of those booted feet. Logan didn't recognize the uniforms as anything he'd seen on the government people before, but it hardly mattered. They clearly hadn't come for tea and chit-chat. Logan unleashed his claws an growled at the first intruder, preparing to spring. The fact that the man held a rifle at his hip was no deterrence.

Logan effectively clawed the first man that had burst through the door, but there were two more right behind him. Logan felt a bullet from the gun, then another, but the sounds and smells of the fight seemed to quickly recede; his focus was solely on the mechanics of it, solely on survival. He took our number two and three, with the claws. Four, five, and six died in the living room, seven and eight on the porch, and nine and ten, the ones now dragging a bleeding and squirming Scott, one hand trying to reach up to the visor he wore, and a seemingly unconscious Jean out of the shed, were ignored in favor of a backwards glance, a quick check on Marie.

Dashing into the bedroom, he thought at first that the fact he couldn't see her was a good thing - she'd had the good sense to hide when the action started. But as he got closer, he saw her prone form on the floor, legs sprawled halfway beneath the bed. Worse yet, a vivid pool of red was slowly spreading out from beneath her head. Logan rushed to her side.

"No! No! Marie!" She was unmoving and up close, Logan could now see that she'd been hit. He wasn't sure when or by whom, but she'd been shot, right through her left temple. He saw the exit wound too, at the top of her head, the terminus of the bullet's diagonal path through her body. She was shot as one of them fell, shot from a level below her waist, judging from the trajectory.

Logan forced his panic back to listen for heart and breathing sounds. When he heard both, but heard them slowing and softening at an alarming rate, he had no question about what he needed to do. Hoping that somehow, some way, the man he'd brought this down upon Marie by helping would be able to beat off numbers nine and ten, he stretched out his bare hand to meet Marie's bare cheek.

The familiar, wrenchingly painful pull began after a few terrifyingly uneventful seconds. Logan shifted, positioning himself to fall atop her with his face near hers, in case he should lose consciousness before she took enough. The transfer had worked flawlessly in the forest, when they had been on the run, and Logan held on to the hope that it would work just as flawlessly now. Come on, Marie, he chanted silently, take my power, heal, live. Those were the last thoughts he had before blacking out.

Marie's eyes blinked open reluctantly. Her whole body ached. When her eyes finally focused, she realized that she was staring at the ceiling. The next thing she realized, as she tried to sit up, was that something heavy was on top of her, something very heavy. Her bleary curiosity shifted to stark terror when she moved herself around to find that it was Logan. What had happened came back to her in a rush, and her panicked adrenaline surge along with Logan's transferred strength helped her move him off of her. "Oh God!"

She bent over him, panic taking firm control now. She felt frantically for a heartbeat over his thermal shirt, but could feel none. Placing her head to his chest, she fared no better. The fact that his chest was still - not rising and falling with breath - was evident when she pulled back. That fact wasn't helping her beat back the fear. "Oh my God, Logan!"

Scott was halfway across the room, tripping a bit over the bodies in his hurry to get to Marie before he realized that it was a downed Wolverine that she was hovering over. Kneeling beside them, he repeated Marie's earlier efforts to find a heartbeat. His actions bore an equal lack of success. "Rogue," he said softly, "we have to go. We have to go now. He's gone."

"I won't leave him," she said in a softer but altogether more committed tone as she slowly lay herself back across his chest and began tenderly stroking it. Scott thought for a moment. Clearly, he couldn't force Rogue to come, and if he and Jean had any chance for escape, they had to go right now. But if Rogue stayed here, the men in the black SUV coming up the road would surely get her. He flashed back to their encounter in the forest, seemingly a lifetime ago now, when Rogue had put the Wolverine's claws to her throat and begged for death at his hands rather than to be returned to her tormentors. She'd helped them, knowing she was risking that very thing, Scott thought, and now she would literally suffer a fate worse than death if he left her here. Suddenly decided, Scott scrambled over to the prone pair of lovers and tugged Logan out from beneath Rogue's grasp. "What are you doing with him?!" a very alarmed Marie demanded.

Scott hefted the dead man over his bleeding, burned shoulder and ignored the strain on his broken ribs. "He's coming with us," Scott answered simply. "Come on." If Rogue wouldn't leave him, well, he was coming along too. Scott plodded out of the cabin, depositing the Wolverine in the back seat of one of the two black SUVs identical to the one now only a few hundred yards away. Jean was already seat- belted into the front seat, limp and mindlessly staring out the windshield before her. Marie climbed in the back with Logan, gently laying his head in her lap. Scott hopped into the driver's seat, and floored it.

They didn't have much of a head start, but they were doing very well. Scott's evasive tactics were superb and the SUV trailing them took more than a few chunks out of the trees and hillside along their route, widening the gap between them incrementally with each collision. Marie and Logan bounced around in the back seat with every maneuver, but Marie seemed heedless of it; she only stroked Logan's cheek and periodically re-arranged him in her lap when he bounced out. Things were going well, very well, until Scott rounded a hill to see only blue sky greeting him. He slammed on the brakes, bringing the vehicle to a halt just inches away from the edge of a hundred foot drop into a ravine. "Shit!" Scott began to turn the SUV around, to flee along the side of the gorge, but he quickly saw that the trailing SUV was too close behind - it would effectively block his exit, or bump him and send him into the gorge before he could maneuver out of it's path. "Shit!"

Scott unbuckled, and sprung Jean's seat belt as well. The trailing vehicle was slamming on it's brakes, kicking up dirt and rocks. Scott glanced to the back seat, seeing Marie now fully horizontal across the back seat, still cradling Logan atop her. "Let's go!" Marie didn't respond, except to begin murmuring something inaudible to Logan and stroking his hair, and this time, Scott decided that he couldn't jeopardize Jean to save Rogue. He ran around the car, grabbed his wife, and ran into the woods.

Two black-clad men rushed from the SUV to give chase on foot, and a third warily approached the car still holding Logan and Marie, his rifle raised. Peering inside through the open passenger door, he sighted two figures drenched in blood, lying unmoving in the back seat. They gave no outward indication of life, and the soldier guessed they'd been abandoned by their mutie friends because they were dead or nearly so. Just for good measure, he peppered the torso of the man on top and the legs of the woman beneath him with bullets. Neither moved. Satisfied, the man got back in his car and nudged the stolen SUV into the waiting abyss with his own vehicle before taking off on foot after the two live ones.

Scott successfully felled both pursuers within just a few minutes. He chanced across a good hiding place with a commanding view of the approach through the woods, pulled Jean down behind him, and blasted away. It was almost anti-climactic, he reflected upon emerging from his hiding place and heading back toward the cars, almost too easy. He was soon proven correct when the crack of a high powered rifle split the silence of the forest and his shoulder sprouted a wet, sticky red blossom of blood and gore. Before Scott could respond, his leg sprouted a similar blossom, although his ears didn't register any break in the crack of sound signaling the shot. As he fell, he finally kicked into action, felling his sniper with a single optic blast. Easy, he thought as his body sunk to the moist, mossy earth of the British Columbia forest, easy as punch, except that I'm going to die here, going to bleed to death.

"Jean," he croaked out, causing her to loom into his field of view after a few long moments. "Help - help me." Vacant eyes only stared down at him uncomprehendingly. Scott inwardly raged at the irony of it - one of the best, most battle-tested doctors in the world stood only inches from him, and yet she would be of absolutely no help. "Jean," he moaned futilely, watching as she slipped out of view, wandering off into the woods. He let his head fall back to the earth in defeat, and he waited for the end to come.

Logan awoke in a surreal landscape of twisted metal and jagged shards of tinted black glass. He couldn't make sense of the visuals of his surroundings, but the scents helped to ground him back in reality. He smelled Marie, and her blood, very close. Sitting up as much as the collapsed metal would permit, he began looking around for her. Finally, he found her in the last place he searched - just behind him, pinned between what looked like leather and metal. "Marie?" She moaned in response, and he breathed a sigh of incredible relief. Whatever the hell was going on, his desperate gamble had worked. The government men were nowhere in sight or smell, and Marie was alive. Taking only the briefest moment to bask in his accomplishment and joy at her relative safety, he almost immediately began pushing the metal up and off of her.

Gradually, he worked the situation out - they'd been in a car, in one of the black cars that had come for them, in the back seat. He smelled traces of the man, Scott, and his wife, Jean, as he worked to free Marie's body from the wreckage and ease her out of the car through the missing driver's side door. She moved and moaned a bit as he guided her out, raising his spirits even further. Finally free, he lay her on the ground beside the vehicle and carefully listened to her heart and breathing sounds. In a greatly welcome contrast to how he'd heard them slipping away the last time he'd done this, they were now gathering speed and strength. He blew out a sigh, grateful that she'd apparently hung on to some of his healing powers, and took a look around to survey the situation.

The first thing he noticed was the likely cause of the SUV's demise - they'd cut a path of destruction down the side of the ravine Logan was now staring up into. Logan had no idea how or why that fall had happened, and it really didn't matter now, so he moved on to the next consideration. There was no easy path out of the ravine, and no end in sight in either direction. That meant that were pretty well stuck with two options - staying there, or trying to scale the earthy wall. Logan preferred the latter - claws were just about as good as any mountaineer's pick, and he could carry Marie over his shoulder with ease once he regained his strength a bit more. However, the thought occurred to him that he had no idea what might await them at the top of that climb, and that the sole source of any potential information along those lines - Marie - might be out for some time to come.

Logan's eye wandered back to the battered SUV. The front passenger side was relatively intact, even though the door was irretrievably twisted on its hinges. That would provide a measure of shelter against the winds and cold. He could do a little reconstruction with the claws if he needed to, to get rid of the gas tank and any possible threat of explosion, though he guessed that if it was going to rupture and catch fire, it would've done so by now. Thanking whatever Gods were listening for that little bit of luck, he set about making a shelter for Marie.

Scott was more than a little surprised to find himself waking up. At first, the thought he was dreaming or dead or maybe some weird combination of both. Except that he was in pain, and he didn't think that made sense. It shouldn't hurt to be dreaming, and he didn't think it hurt to be dead. Cautiously opening an eye, he could see a star-filled night sky above him. He struggled to sit up a bit, but that brought more pain, sharp pain this time. With a grunt, his head fell back to the ground. Just when he was about to resign himself to staring up at the stars, a familiar face interrupted his constellation gazing. It was Jean. The same emptiness was evident in her gaze, but he saw her arms moving to his body, and some part of him finally put it together - she'd done something to help him. She'd done something to stop the bleeding at least. Some rote or instinctual drive, some long-ingrained memory had led her to apply pressure to the wounds and to stop the bleeding. "Jean?" he whispered.

"Hmph." Her arms moved again, followed by her body, and he felt a painful pressure on his wounded leg. That took the last of his energy and most of his resolve. He lifted his head a little one last time to try to see her, but only caught sight of the flame-colored stubble that lined the back of her head before blacking out.

Logan hunkered down for the night, but not for sleep. He'd crafted an enclave of shelter in the ruined SUV and had pulled himself and Marie inside. She was stirring, almost ready to wake Logan could tell, and he was eager for her to do so. Given everything that had happened, that was certainly understandable, but there had been one more important development.

Logan had never been overly careful of Marie's skin. It hurt when he brushed it accidentally, but not much more than a fairly good jolt from a static electricity shock would. He gladly withstood a jolt or two in the cause of making Marie more comfortable with him. After they'd gotten physically closer, and especially after they'd begun making love a couple months ago, the occasional shock was well nigh unavoidable. He knew Marie worried when it happened, but lately, he thought she'd begun to really accept his assurances that it was no big deal, to take them to heart.

So when he'd lifted her to move her into the shelter of the truck, he hadn't been overly careful, and he'd brushed up against her skin, thanks to a long tear in the back of her shirt. He'd moved away quickly, as usual, and it didn't really dawn on him that he hadn't needed to, that there had been no shock, no pull, until they were almost in the SUV. Awe-struck with that realization, he experimentally and very gently ran a finger across Marie's bare cheek. Nothing. Not a blessed thing. Logan, ever- careful to make sure Marie was fully awake, on board, and consensual before attempting even the smallest of sexual advances, broke with that tradition by laying a reverent but passionate kiss on her cheek where he'd touched it. Allowing himself one small chuckle, he continued on to the SUV and ensconced them both inside.

Now, he was unable to keep himself from touching her. His fingers roamed her cheeks, nose, chin, and forehead, marveling at just how well the transfer had worked as he ran a thumb over her formerly- shattered temple. He slid his other hand beneath her ripped-up shirt, and began stroking the small of her back, trailing a stray finger up her spine on occasion. After nearly an hour, she woke to the wholly alien sensation of being touched without being hurt, and without any danger of hurting someone else. Brown eyes wide with confusion met hazel ones drenched in pleasure.

Suddenly, her eyes welled up with tears. "Oh, Logan, I thought you were dead. I couldn't f-feel your heart beating or hear it or - or - oh, Logan!" She clutched herself to him, burying her head in his shoulder. "I don't care if I'm dreaming or - or something like that, I never want to let you go. Never."

Marie's whole body heaved and shook with a sob. "I held you in my arms. I wouldn't leave you. You - you weren't breathing and I couldn't hear your heart but I wouldn't leave you, I couldn't. Not to them. I couldn't leave you. I held you in my arms the whole time, just like after the last time you healed me. I wanted you close to me no matter what. When they came for us, I whispered in your ear and told you that I wasn't leaving, and not to be afraid that you'd be all alone again because I'd stay with you no matter what. No matter what. I know - I know we never talk about it but I can feel from you, from the first time you touched me, how much you liked being with me, with someone, instead of always being all alone. I wasn't ever going to leave you all alone, Logan, I swear. They - they shot us, they shot us when we were in the back seat, but all I could feel was your body pressing down on top of mine, all I could feel was you close to me. I couldn't let you go."

"Shh. None of that now, baby. You remember what we decided, we're in the same boat, we're together in whatever comes. It's not your fault, you didn't make me do nothin'. It's OK, baby, I got you back. I got you back and I'm never gonna letcha go either. Not ever." He began rubbing her back beneath the shirt, trying to calm her ravaging sobs. After several long moments, it began to work. Her tears slowed, and her body relaxed against his. "Darlin', can ya tell me how we got down here? You said they came for us and then they shot us?"

"Yes," she sniffled, trying to gather herself and pulling back from him a bit. "Scott put you in the car, back at the cabin. I wouldn't leave you, so he - he took you with us. He drove us away, but - but I think he ended up at the top of this ravine, and they caught up to us there. I don't really remember it all - just - I just remember bouncing all over the back seat and trying to hold on to you. I remember us stopping, and Scott and Jean getting out. I think they tried to make a run for it. One of them, one of the men chasing us, came over and I remember hearing the shots, but - but I can't really remember how - somehow the car moved and went over the edge and then I don't remember any more."

"No. No. I don't think so but I don't know for sure. I think - I think they shot us and then we went over the edge and fell down here, so they probably think we're dead. If Scott got them, then they'd have run as far away as they could and if he didn't - " Marie's voice broke there and she lay her head back down on Logan's shoulder. "If he didn't then they'd be taking them back, I guess. They'd be taking Scott and Jean back. I don't think they're up there."

"OK," she sighed, every muscle in her body giving up any last vestiges of tension. Logan was immensely moved by her faith and trust in him and that, combined with the feel of her warm, soft skin beneath his hands, made him begin to become aroused. Knowing that this was probably not the best time for Marie, suddenly touchable skin notwithstanding, he slid his hand down her back and put it back on the outside of her shirt. Paradoxically, she tensed at that.

"Please, don't take your hands off me." The desperate tone in her voice and the plainly wanting timbre of it took him from the beginnings of arousal to sudden, full blown desire. He hurriedly slid his hand back up her shirt and gave her long, sensual strokes. Nudging her head up so that he could check her expression, he was surprised to find her flushed and breathing heavily. Slowly, he lowered his head for a kiss, giving her several seconds to back away. She didn't. She met him in the middle and pressed her lips ferverently to his.

"Unnnhhhhh....." Logan wasn't sure which one of them moaned at the clashing of their tongues - probably him, he thought. Marie's hands were eagerly exploring his chest, wiggling beneath the hem of his thermal shirt. Tiny, warm fingers traced his belly button, his stomach, his nipples, and then his clavicle. Logan let out another low moan.

Before either one really knew what was going on, they found themselves freed of their clothes and writhing against each other in what was left of the SUV. Marie was nominally on top, but Logan was guiding their motions, and he soon was urging her to part her legs, to allow him intimate access to her. She eagerly complied, shifting to straddle his hips.

"Logan," Marie panted as his fingers met her moist, heated flesh. To his surprise, she took his hand away after only a few moments, but when he tore his mouth away from where it had been quite happily occupied with her breast, he saw only overwhelming passion in her eyes. He was on the verge of saying something, he wasn't quite sure what, when he felt her grasp his erection and guide him to her entrance.

Those passionate brown eyes locked on his, seeking permission. Logan saw everything in her at that moment - lust, need, desire, uncertainty, and overriding love. Small hands cupped his head, tangling in his hair, still awaiting his reply. He gave it in the form of one full, sure thrust that lodged him inside her deeply. Her cupid's bow lips, gloriously red from his kisses, parted in a round 'o' of intense pleasure, and her head tilted back. Logan gave her another strong thrust, eliciting a shiver and a two-handed clutch at his hair. On the third thrust, Marie began rocking with him, amplifying the pleasure for both of them.

Fascinated, Logan watched as her skin heated and flushed with desire. She moved perfectly with him, using her hips, shoulders, and waist to set the perfect rhythm. His hands strayed to her back and buttocks, not so much to guide her movements as to luxuriate in them. As they moved faster and faster, each straining toward release, his eyes still ravenously devoured her; he couldn't get enough of watching her like this. It was such a far cry from how she'd been up until this point - shy, hesitant, demure. Logan loved the change, relished in it.

Her breathing began to take on sound, sounds that resembled his name moaned in the throes of the most delicious kind of pleasure. Just when he thought he could hold out against her flesh no longer, he felt her muscles tighten, somehow simultaneously squeezing him and drawing him more deeply into her. In the next instant, he felt the tip of his penis meet her cervix. That was far beyond any restraint he had left, and he released himself inside her, grunting with nearly delirious satiation.

For both of them it felt like time stopped for a few precious moments. There was only the feel of each other's body, only the sound of each other's heartbeat, only the smell and taste of their sex. Marie's full-body shiver broke the spell, and she collapsed against Logan's body right after it. More shivers and then tears emerged as he held her. It went like this sometimes - sometimes it was too much, too intense for her and the emotion just came spilling out of her in tears. Judging by his own shakiness, his own sense of overwhelming emotion, he wasn't surprised. Her words, however, did surprise him.

"It is?" She lifted her head to check the truth of his words in his expression. Seeing what she needed to there, she risked a little more. "I don't mean to be - to be slutty or anything. I don't know if what I've been through made me - made me bad, but I don't mean to be. I just - I can't help but want to do that with you sometimes."

Logan smiled gently, taking her face in his hands and bringing her forehead down to touch his. "Marie, you're not bad," he whispered. "You're not slutty, not one little bit. I love it that you want to be with me like that. I love it that you like it when we're together. God, baby, that's the best thing. I want you like that too, and it's a good thing, a clean thing, a pure thing, nothin' dirty. Oh, Marie, you dunno how amazin' it makes me feel, how fulla love for you I get when I catch you wantin' me even a little bit. I know it means you love me, you trust me. It don't mean nothin' bad."

"Really?" He nodded, moving both of their heads in tandem. She giggled a little at that and his gentle smile broadened. "I don't know. I just - I don't know these things, how I'm supposed to be. I don't want to mess everything all up by being too - too - hmph." She searched for the right word, but Logan's soft words of reassurance came before she could find it.

That snapped her to attention. Her eyes became intense, burning all of a sudden. "I love every little bit of you too. Even the parts you don't love. I have you inside my head, Logan, and I can see all of you, feel all of you. Even the parts you don't like to show, I'm so in love with. Every last bit."

Just before first light, they began scaling the wall. Marie wrapped her legs around Logan's waist and her arms around his neck as he hauled them up the side of the ravine, claws giving him easy purchase. When they reached the top, two sets of eyes peered over the edge. Both widened when they saw a black SUV identical to the one they'd been pitched over the side of the ravine in parked just a few yards away. But Logan took a tentative sniff, and Marie soon mimicked his actions, giving them both some reassurance that the men, if not the car, was gone.

"Go on up, darlin'." Marie scrambled over his body, her hands gripping the earth above and her feet finding purchase on his hips and back. Before she could stand up and offer him assistance, he'd finished the climb and stood beside her. "Don't smell nobody too close. Whatever scent trail they left is gone." He glanced to the SUV. "Stay here. I'm gonna check the truck."

She rushed to his side and made her own survey of the SUV, taking tentative sniffs here and there. Logan watched her, finding it incredibly attractive that she was seemingly embracing his transferred characteristics so wholeheartedly. "I smell something. Something weird. And bad. Smells like......."

Logan frowned and seemed ready to argue the point, but Marie's determined look and the thought that maybe something could happen to her if he left her here, all alone, changed his mind. "OK. But stay behind me, Marie, I mean it." She nodded, and they set off in the direction of the putrid smell.

It wasn't long before they saw the body of one of them. Marie thought he might've been the one that shot them, she couldn't be sure. He was dead, though, definitely dead. Now that she knew what the smell was, she could identify it much more easily. She smelled more death ahead of her and reached down to grasp Logan's hand in hers. He took it, gripping it firmly, but never looking back at her, remaining on alert.

"Shit!" Jean ran off, and Logan exchanged a look with Marie before heading after her. She hadn't gone far - she was concealed behind a rocky outcropping, crouching beside the prone body of her husband. "Dammit," Logan breathed. He wasn't dead. He didn't smell death on him, although he could smell sickness and the man was clearly out. Scott being alive sure as hell made things a damn sight more complicated, Logan thought. Now he'd have to decide - he'd have to decide whether to leave him here to surely die or whether to disregard the lessons that fate had so brutally dealt out to him and Marie in the last 48 hours and try to help him again. He was pretty sure what side he'd come down on, but he inwardly pissed and moaned at having to make the decision at all.

Jean clutched her stomach wounds and rocked back and forth, visibly shaking. Blood seeped over her clenched fingers, and Logan realized at that sight that he had more than one decision to make here. He felt Marie's gentle hand at his back. "It's OK, don't be scared," she whispered to Jean. "That was an accident. You kind of surprised us. We won't hurt you." She got no response, and she looked up to Logan to gage his reaction. The expression her eyes and mouth illustrated told him she already knew what he was thinking. "It's your decision."

"Shit." His decision was made, but he needed to find the right way to tell Marie. He had few illusions about his own character - he wasn't the hero, the knight in shining armor, the fireman rushing into a burning building. Well, unless Marie was inside. He was, deep down, a man who cared little for himself and far, far less for other people, again with the exception of the woman standing beside him.

"Logan, I know they've been serious trouble to us, but if we leave them here, they die. They both die. If that's your decision, I'll support you, 100%. I don't want to take any chances with you. Not one, not a big one or a little one. But - but I want you to know before you decide that I'm willing to take a little bit of a chance. It looks like no one's around and no one's come so far. That doesn't mean they aren't coming, but it might mean we have a little time, a window. We could put them in the SUV, get them someplace safer, maybe like a motel or something. We could hide them, help them a little, and then get out before they catch up to us. You're - you're a heck of a lot better at evading them than this guy had to be. I'm willing to go that far, to sign on to that risk if you are."

Logan mulled it over, but he was still ready to say no until he looked into her eyes. She meant what she'd said, he could tell. She'd support him, and probably never say another word about it, but her eyes said that she was hoping he'd say yes. Those eyes usually won out over most everything, and this time was no exception. Hoping that he wouldn't be punished for veritably spitting in the face of fate and ignoring the consequences he'd already suffered for his altruism, he nodded. "OK. We'll get 'em some medicine, get 'em to a motel, and I'll get a fight, see if we can make some money to cover all that. One night. I'll give 'em one more night outta our lives, but, Marie, whatever happens, that's it."

"OK, let's get movin' then, no time to waste. We're gonna hafta get him back to the truck on foot. I'll carry him. You see if you can get her to follow." Logan bent down beside Scott and addressed his words to Jean this time. "Sorry I gotcha. But listen - you go with Marie. Go with Marie, you understand? I'm gonna get your husband to the car and we're gonna get him inside. You go with Marie." Jean only stared at him, frozen with fear. Logan shrugged, sighed, and picked up Scott as carefully as he could. The man let out a groan at that and Jean let out a screech.

"It's OK! It's OK! Shhh!!!" Marie frantically tried to quiet her, but when she tore off after Logan, ignoring Marie and screeching louder, Marie decided that desperate measures were in order. She grabbed Jean's arm with a strength she didn't know she had, whirled her around, and punched her square in the nose. At that, Jean gave a final, surprised screech, then shut up. "Sorry, but you have to be quiet. We don't know who might have heard that. Let's go." Marie dragged the now-much-less- animated Jean to the car by her arm.

By the time the women reached the SUV, Logan had already lain a moaning Scott inside. The sick smell was strong, and he didn't doubt that the gunshot wounds he'd suffered were seriously infected. It looked like he'd tried to bind the wounds with leaves and vines, and Logan shook his head at the man's desperation. Marie arrived, with Jean trailing, and Logan helped the red-head get in the back seat, arranging the prone Scott with his head in her lap. She seemed to show some spark of emotion at that, and she rested one hand on his forehead before resuming her idle stare. Logan and Marie hopped in front, completing the oddly eerie reversal of the tableau the other vehicle had held when it stopped at the edge. Marie belted herself in, and Logan started up the engine. For reasons she'd never really understand, she took a peek in the glove compartment as they pulled away.

"Oh!" Logan stopped the car immediately and looked over at her. A clearly shocked expression played across her features. "Oh my God......." Marie's tiny hands reached into the cavernous glove compartment and came away with a large stack of multi-colored Canadian bills. "Logan, it's - it's full of money!"

Leaning over to look for himself, Logan let out a long, low whistle. "If those're all big bills, there could be thousands of dollars in there. Hey - what's that?" The corner of a manilla envelope peeking out from behind the money caught his eye and he grabbed for it. Marie began counting the money while Logan opened the envelope. Not for the first time today, "Shit," seemed the only appropriate response to what he saw.

The documents inside seemed to indicate that the eleven men who were chasing him were part of a secret FOH contingent, dedicated to rebuilding the underground laboratory network so recently exposed and demolished by the government. He wasn't sure if that was more shocking, or if the fact that the newspapers had apparently printed the truth for a change was, but he read on. Apparently, they'd missed a lab or two somewhere in the process, and, these men were dedicated to getting 'samples' with which the labs could be rejuvenated and expanded. Sick bastards, Logan thought, but his next thought was - 'don't matter, we got 'em all.' The documents named eleven men, and there were eleven dead between here and his cabin. The documents also told him that these eleven probably operated as a cell, an independent unit, and that meant more good news: no one was likely to be following them. None of the other cells would be aware of the objectives and operations of these eleven, and though there was certainly one or two in charge of whatever this FOH crap-fest was that knew the deal, they may not be able to quickly deploy a backup force, even if they did already know something had gone wrong.

They pulled into Mackenzie in mid-afternoon, and quickly decided on the sleepy-looking Timberman Inn. Logan registered two guests, then proceeded to park around back and haul Scott in, trailing a concerned Jean. Scott was deposited on one of the room's two double beds, and Logan left Marie with the injured pair to retrieve the money, documents, and whatever else he could scavenge from the SUV that might be useful. He left all the car's contents in the motel room with Marie and then he drove the vehicle crosstown, finally parking it near the slightly more high-class Alexander Mackenzie Hotel. He'd get another car, they had plenty of money for that, and ditching the SUV at the wrong hotel might but Scott and Jean a little more time if someone did come looking.

He trekked back to the motel, mentally flagging the location of the town's general store and a car at the front of someone's yard bearing a 'for sale' sign in its window. He didn't like leaving Marie alone for long, and he'd have to leave someone with the injured couple, if only to ensure that Jean didn't do anything crazy that gave away their location. Yes, he'd stop back at the motel, then head back out to get supplies and see about the car. There was a pistol and plenty of ammo in the SUV. Marie had it and she should be OK in his absence. He'd just have to convince her of that. He didn't think he'd left her alone for more than a five minutes or so since he met her.

He arrived to see her gingerly unwrapping the leaf and vine bandages around Scott's wounds. He could tell by the way the man's body tensed at the sound of the door opening that he was at least semi- conscious now. The red-head was crouching beside the bed, still pressing a hand to her stomach. "How's he doin'?"

"I gotta, Marie. We can't take a chance that the crazy lady there would do somethin' stupid. You gotta stay and watch her. I'll be as fast as I can and be right back." Marie nervously nodded. "I know this is hard, but it's gonna be OK. You got the gun. It's all loaded and ready to shoot. Baby, you know I wouldn't leave ya, not even for a second, if I thought it was dangerous. It'll be OK."

"Right beside you." She didn't move to get herself in his line of vision, though, so Marie added, "She's hurt a little, but she's OK. You - you, uh, got shot, and the wounds are infected. Logan, he's getting you some medicine to help, and we're going to stay with you for the night." Marie decided not to tell him that they'd be leaving in the morning just yet.

"Mph." Scott sunk back into the bed, seemingly satisfied with that information. Marie could tell that he was back out after a few moments. Once he was well unconscious, she headed for the bathroom to gather a washcloth and some soap, so that she could busy herself with cleaning Scott's wounds. She needed something to try to take her mind off of her nervousness at being apart from Logan.

She'd said before that she knew how much he hated being alone, being without her, but the opposite was also true. She hated being without him, even for a few minutes. He was her security blanket of sorts, her guarantee that whatever unpredictable or horrible things might befall her, there would be someone watching her back. Now, she had to look out for herself, and Marie thought she'd done a pretty awful job of that her whole life long. She prayed for Logan to hurry as she began washing out Scott's wounds.

As she progressed, wiping out more pus and blood with each swipe, Jean began taking an interest in her actions. Marie noticed, but wary of frightening the woman off, she played it very casual and pretended she hadn't caught on. When Jean's hand intercepted her gloved one, she met the haunted woman's eyes. "I'm trying to help him. I think these are infected and I'm cleaning them out." Marie tried for an upbeat, friendly tone. To her surprise, Jean nodded, once, and took her hand away.

"You know," Marie continued in a conversational tone, "when I'm done with Scott, I should clean up your cuts too, so they don't get infected. We've got soap and water in the bathroom, and lots of clean towels. We got a bunch extra when we checked in. I think you might want to scrub up a little, you know, generally. You got kind of dirty in the woods, it looks like."

"I don't really like fish, but a lot of people like salmon. That's good." Jean rose after Marie finished speaking, and wordlessly headed for the bathroom. She didn't shut the door behind her, so Marie saw Jean pull her pants down and use the toilet. Not that Marie especially wanted to look - she just wanted to make sure Jean wasn't in there doing anything weird or to hurt herself. Much to Marie's surprise, Jean remembered that she needed to flush, but then Jean just stood motionless in the middle of the bathroom, almost like she was stuck. "Um, is everything OK in there?" When Jean gave no reply, Marie left Scott's side to check on her. "Hi. Want to come back out? You could help me take care of Scott."

Jean ignored her, but took a step toward the bathtub, and the look on her face was one Marie hadn't seen before. It was one of deep concentration, like she was trying to remember what the thing in front of her eyes was or what it did. At length, she reached a hand out for the cold water faucet, and turned it. Marie thought she saw a spark of recognition in the woman's eyes when the water began to flow. She reached for the hot water faucet, and helped to find the right temperature. Jean began taking off her clothes.

"It's a bath," Marie said, still fiddling with the water a bit. "Would you like to take a bath now?" She turned to face Jean, seeing the three angry red marks across her body. They'd stopped bleeding, and that was a good sign, but Marie worried that the woman would unknowingly reopen those wounds during the bath. "Do you need any help?" Jean shook her head no, causing Marie to weigh whether it was better to let Jean gain confidence by completing the bath herself or to insist upon helping to avoid any further injury to her.

Jean seated herself in the filling tub, closing her eyes at the feel of the water. Marie handed her a clean washcloth and soap, and waited to see if she remembered what to do with them. After a few moments, Jean dunked the washcloth in the water, then wrapped it around the soap and began lathering it up. Seeing the first smile ever upon the woman's lips, Marie decided to leave her to her bath.

An hour later, Marie had seriously revised her optimistic predictions. She cradled a bleeding Jean in her arms, rocking her back and forth as they both sat on the bathroom floor. About a half hour after Jean had begun her bath, Marie caught sight of her standing before the bathroom mirror. For a moment, she thought the woman was upset with here severe appearance, from the way she was frowning and gazing at herself in the mirror. But without warning, Jean suddenly punched the mirror, causing it to break into several large shards. Before Marie could recover from her shock, Jean grabbed one of them and made a slash from her wrist to elbow. It began pumping out bright red blood with alarming force. That moved Marie to act - she dashed to the bathroom and grabbed the glass from Jean's hand. This time it was Jean who punched her in the face, and luckily, that brief contact with Marie's bare skin was enough to startle Jean into giving up resistance. Marie hurriedly wrapped Jean's arm in a towel, tying it tightly to slow the bleeding, and began cleaning up the glass. Now, after disposing of all of the potential weapons, Marie carefully tried to comfort a naked and seemingly once again vacant Jean as best she could. She really wished Logan was here.

"Oh my," Marie sighed in shock. She'd never faced that particular twisted danger herself - no one could penetrate her without a condom. It had never occurred to her that Jean hadn't had that same natural defense. Taking advantage of Marie's surprise, Jean made another rush for the door, but Marie quickly recovered and flung her back before she reached it. Jean frowned, and seemed on the verge of a crying fit. Marie actually quite hoped she would have one; it might do the woman some good to give those emotions an outlet. But instead, Jean composed herself, and went back to crouching between the wall and Scott's bed.

Marie had no idea what to do now to help her. She was barely able to deal with her own emotions most of the time, let alone help someone else through severe trauma. But she knew she had to do something. At least now Jean was angry, at least now she was responding to external stimuli, at least she was doing something instead of just walking around like one of the living dead. Marie sat beside Scott on the bed, facing Jean, and taking note of the fact that she was furtively working at the knots that tied the towel to her wounded arm. Yes, Marie definitely had to do something. She just wished she knew what was the right thing.

"Jean," she said, not diverting the red-head's attention from her task one bit. Marie put both gloved hands on Jean's. "Jean," she called, more insistently. "Just stop that. I know things are bad, but you don't want to die. You have a chance. You and your husband have a chance to make it. Don't give up on that."

"Yes," Marie contradicted. "I met up with him when he was looking for you. He was frantic, desperate. He'd have done anything to find you. I don't want to have to tell him you're dead when he wakes up. It'll crush him, Jean." Marie paused, waiting for another 'no,' but it didn't come. She thought that was a good sign. "Don't let them beat you," Marie continued in a softer voice. "They tried to kill you, and now you're just finishing the job for them. I'd understand if there was no way out, I really would, but you're not in the lab now, you're not a prisoner. You and your husband are free, and relatively safe. You have a chance to live your life free from now on. Don't throw that away."

"He'll understand. And you - you don't have to keep the child if you don't want it. How far along are you, do you know?" Jean shook her head pitifully and the tears began to fall. "It can't be that far along. You're not showing. If you don't want to keep the child, you can - you can abort it or have it and give it up for adoption. Killing yourself isn't the only way to deal with this."

"You'll get fixed," Marie said, with more confidence than she felt at the moment. "Scott will help you, he will." Jean began sobbing all-out at that, leaning forward to bury her head in the bed. Marie gave up the words and settled for stroking the woman's back with her gloved hand, copying how Logan had so often comforted her. She only hoped that her words would prove true, that Scott would recover and would help her. He was in bad shape, and Marie was sure that she knew no words that would keep Jean from the abyss if her husband died.

Logan arrived back at the motel to find the bathroom and all of the occupants covered in substantially more blood than when he'd left, which caused him no small amount of alarm. Marie met him at the door, touching his arms and smiling up at him to allay his concerns. "Am I ever glad to see you." She hugged him tightly in welcome.

"We had a little problem. Jean - she was doing better and she even took a bath but then she, uh, broke the mirror and tried slashing her wrists." Marie glanced over her shoulder at the red-head, finding her still in the crouching position at her husband's bedside, still crying a little. She gave her a small smile before leaning up to whisper in Logan's ear. "We've got another problem. Jean's pregnant. Not by Scott. It's - she's taking it very hard." Marie drew back from a startled Logan. "I understand, I really do, but - but she's so upset and I'm afraid she'll hurt herself again if we just leave her alone."

Somewhere in the neighborhood of 3 a.m, Marie finally made it to the shower. There were only two towels left from the many they'd commandeered at check-in. One for me and one for Logan, she thought, stepping beneath the warm water. Logan hadn't gotten shampoo and she hadn't thought to ask for it, so it would be soap for her hair tonight.

"It's our decision, and I'm askin' ya whatcha want," Logan contested gently. He cupped a hand against her cheek, stroking it with his thumb. "You can tell me if you wanna keep 'em, if you think it's the right thing. I'd understand that, 'specially after what happened with Jean here tonight."

"I kind of do think we should keep them. But, to be honest, I'm still - I'm still very scared about it. I couldn't stand to lose you, Logan. That's a price I'm not willing to pay to do the right thing. I know that's not how you're supposed to think about things. If it's the right thing, you're supposed to do it no matter what, but - but the truth is that I don't think that way. You come first."

"Same here. You come first with me, and I don't wanna risk that for anythin'. There's no rule, no law, no commandment, nothin' I wouldn't break if it meant puttin' you first. That's just how I am. And Marie, I know - I know you see me as this good guy, but the truth about that is - I ain't. I don't just do the right thing, even if it's easy. I do what I want. And what I want is to make you safe, I want that the most. Next important is to make you happy, though, and I know tryin' to help 'em a little bit more'll make you happy. I'm just not too sure how to figure both of those things out, how to balance 'em."

"Problem with that, darlin', is that we won't know where that line is. Just like we didn't know they were comin' for us when we said OK, stay in the shed, we might not see the danger comin'. Could go and fuck everythin' up that way." He leaned into her a bit more, unable to resist the pull of her warmth and scent.

"Me either. Guess we'll just hafta trust our gut, play it by ear. We'll stick with 'em through 'til mornin' and we'll see what's what. Maybe - maybe if nothin' seems amiss, if they're OK enough to travel, we can take 'em with us tomorrow. I wouldn't feel OK stayin' here with 'em, I wouldn't feel good doin' that." Marie nodded her assent and nuzzled his neck a bit. The time for rational conversation was rapidly ebbing away. "We'll see in the mornin' and we'll take it day by day. We won't put ourselves at risk for 'em, no way no how. That's what we'll do." The last words came out in a whisper as he lunged for her lips, and they were the last coherent words heard in the shower that night.

Logan had been right - his 'just one night' had stretched out considerably. It was now five weeks later and Scott and Jean were still with them. Scott was mostly healed, Jean was talking more and more and trying to kill herself less and less, and the baby inside her was beginning to make her stomach bulge noticeably. They'd been living out of a car Logan bought in Mackenzie, and they still had nearly twenty-one thousand dollars to their collective names. All things considered, they were doing OK.

Today, however, marked a certain change in their world. Logan had very quickly become accustomed to having his own space - his own home and land. He couldn't safely return to the cabin he'd had before Scott and Jean darkened his door, but he could buy land and build a new cabin on it. When he saw an ad in the window of a small-town diner offering land for $1,000 an acre on top of some unpopulated, uninhabited mountainside, Logan nearly jumped with glee. Today, he was paying for twelve acres of it in cash, and getting the deed.

No one really discussed what would happen next much. Marie, too, was completely occupied with the excitement and joy of having their own place again, and Scott and Jean didn't quite know how to broach the topic at all. They were dependent on Logan and Marie for their survival, and felt awkward asking questions about whether they'd be allowed to stay on the land or where they'd be going if they weren't. Scott offered to wait in the car while Marie and Logan finalized the sale and got the deed.

Marie, as he now called her, had informed him about Jean's pregnancy, and suicide attempt, when he was well enough to withstand the shock. It had been hard news, to be sure. But Marie had told him, rather pragmatically, that it all came down to one simple thing - what was most important? If the answer to that question was Jean and not his own feelings, his own hurt, then he knew what to do. Scott tried to remember to thank her for that, often.

"I don't know. I guess we'll find out when they come back. I've been thinking about it, though. I'm stronger now and feeling much better and so are you. If we have to go on our own again, we'll be OK." Jean vehemently shook her head no at that and ran a hand over her stomach. "I know, the baby. It'll be hard if we're on the road. But we'll figure it out, we'll be OK." He'd told Jean that he'd abide by whatever her wishes were for the child, but, deep down, he knew she couldn't make that decision. She wasn't quite capable of that kind of informed thought yet. So, he held her in his arms, in their motel bed one night, and told her that he thought it might be a good idea for her to have the baby, and that they could talk more about it later. Abortion presented a risk to all of them- they'd have to find a doctor to do it, and Jean's behavior was still too unpredictable for public view of any kind. Besides, Scott had never really believed in it - and although his anger raged at the man who'd impregnated his wife, it hadn't blinded him to the fact that it wasn't the fault of the unborn child that this had happened. Still, he wasn't sure he wanted to take responsibility for it, care for it, have it around as a constant reminder of what had befallen Jean, what had befallen both of them. If Jean wasn't sufficiently better by the time she delivered, well, Scott would definitely opt for giving the child up for adoption.

"We'll be OK without them if we have to be," Scott replied, willing himself to believe the words. He could almost walk normally now, at least for a few feet. He could move his wounded shoulder a few degrees in each direction. He was almost clear of the infection that had plagued him for weeks. They'd make it if they had to. "Here they come now."

They looked like the very picture of happiness - Marie with her arm linked in Logan's, both smiling with unmistakable joy, Logan clutching a piece of paper in one hand, presumably the deed. By the time they reached the car, Scott was almost smiling along with them - their mood was that contagious.

"Yeah," Logan answered. "Everythin' went off without a hitch. We're gonna head up now, get started right away. Might needta stop for some tools along the way, but I think we're pretty good to go." He started the car, and pulled out of the lot. Scott gathered his courage, and spoke as Logan wove them into traffic on the main street of town.

"Me and Marie talked it over. Here's what we think - it's January, the middle of winter. It ain't a good time to be on the street when you're, uh, expectin' and when you still can't really do much to support yourselves. As close as we can figure, that baby's comin' in May. As long as everythin' keeps goin' OK, you know, no more attacks or shit, well, then you can stay on the land until the kid comes. That's what we were thinkin'."

Marie turned to say a quick 'you're welcome' before turning back to face forward and to lean into Logan's side. He obligingly put an arm around her shoulders and laid a gentle kiss on her head. Now, their good mood truly had become contagious. Scott hugged Jean tightly to him, kissing her cheek for good measure. He even let out a small, astonished laugh.

"I figure we'll make it up by tonight. Can sleep in the car tonight, or get a tent when we stop for supplies. Ground's pretty frozen, but I'd like to see if we can get started buildin' tomorrow." Logan caught Scott's eye in the rearview mirror. "Figured you could use your blast thing to help me fell some trees. You ain't stayin' without pitchin' in, ya know."