[ The tightness in Logan's hands dissipates for just a moment.
Recognise.
He hates the way his eyes widen, hates the way his stance nearly fails. But Rogers doesn't look like he's lying, and Logan recognises the language of his body just as much as he recognises the look on his face. ]
You're here for me?
[ And though his fist may lower slightly, it stays raised enough to show Logan's still ready to skewer him if he tries anything funny. His upper lip curls slightly in a snarl, but it's less in intimidation and more in confusion-- and then, in the back of his mind, something closer to notes of desperate optimism. ]
Tell me how it felt. [ Logan steps back once, however, clearly perturbed. ] Tell me why it matters.
I don't know shit about the Winter Soldier, so don't waste your breath.
[ Steve doesn’t look away from him, partly to be ready in case the other man attacks but mainly because he’s trying to find features that’ll spark something in his memory. It doesn’t necessarily work, because nothing immediately comes to mind, but he just knows he doesn’t want to look away. That’s already something, though, considering eye contact isn’t exactly something he’s used to anymore.
When Logan asks if he’s here for him, the slightest nod can be detected. ]
Yes. [ A beat. ] I didn’t expect you to show up, though.
[ The command to tell him why this matters makes Steve pause again, but not because he doesn’t know how to answer. It’s just hard to put it into words, especially since being vocal hadn’t exactly been encouraged the last few decades he has spent under HYDRA’s command.
Finally: ]
The conditioning broke enough for me to leave HYDRA. I’ve been trying to figure things out since. When I saw you on television... You didn’t speak, but it was like I could hear your voice in my head, anyway. It was distant, like an echo, but I could still hear it.
And I know it wasn’t because you’ve been a target, because ... I don’t think you were.
[ His voice lowers, tentative to ask for a moment before he finally lets the words out. ] Did you know me?
[ Yes, he almost wants to gasp, maybe even to sob, because the thought of Steve knowing his voice-- and the thought of him remembering, even a little bit, makes it feel like Logan's lungs have been twisted and wrung tight. Not a lot of things take his breath away like this. And Logan's never thought a set of words could sting more than any bullet could.
The worst thing is how steady Rogers' heart beats, how Logan can't smell the lie in his scent. He's telling the truth. (Steve always told the truth.)
So Logan nods, unable to trust his voice. The claws retract slowly, the shapes of them sliding in the back of his hand and up his arms, and from the bends at his elbow and the outward push of his fists, his arms relax a bit more and fall to his sides. ]
You were my captain.
[ He bites his tongue around saying more, around an and we were friends, and we were almost a bit more, and I loved you, I think I always have. Logan's never been particularly good at words, but now he feels less clumsy about it and more like he doesn't know how to speak at all. ]
We trained together. We fought together.
But you didn't come home from your last mission, and I hated myself for not coming with you.
[ His arms cross over his chest, and the sheer vulnerability he feels is something he isn't used to. But how do you talk to someone who knew you in one of the worst times of your life? Immortality has always allowed Logan some reprieve from the old things that used to hurt him as the years passed by to dull the pain, but wounds of the spirit don't heal like wounds of the body do.
The thought of Steve knowing who he is, even a little bit, feels like a scab being ripped off and a knife's been shoved into the newly open wound. ]
[ Although he doesn't quite show it, he's relieved when the claws retract. His eyes glance towards them at the shift, before he turns back to the other man.
The surprise is impossible to hide, though, when he starts talking. His captain. He had been his captain? His hands had been closed in fists, not because he wanted to fight him but because he was preparing himself in case that came to happen, but his own stance changes altogether as the surprise completely unarms him. ]
Jimmy.
[ He says it quietly, as if testing out the word. As if trying to find the familiarity to it. He doesn't find it, exactly, but at the same time it doesn't feel foreign on his lips. ]
I didn't expect anyone other than Barnes to know me from...before everything happened.
[ But not out of anything that was really Steve's fault-- he had more things to do, more important things to worry about. Captain America was (and still is, even if Logan could never think of Barnes as the man under the winged mask) bigger than a lot of things, and it wasn't very often Steve had time to just be himself.
It's so strange hearing him speak and recognising his voice, so strange being able to predict his body language and yet not know, precisely, who he is. This still isn't his Steve, but he looks and acts as much like him as he can given the circumstances, and it hurts like fucking hell to be so close yet so far. ]
Go to any nursing home and find any vet there. [ He snorts. ] Hell, even the civvies'll know you.
[ But they didn't love you like I loved you. ] I'm not special, Rogers. Just a guy.
[ He tenses at the idea of revealing himself to anyone else. It's really a mystery as to why he's even still here, considering his aversion at anyone knowing that he is still around in any way, but he just...doesn't want to leave.
The idea of speaking about this outside of him - Jimmy, he reminds himself - is not one he wants to even contemplate, and there's a shadow to his expression as he shakes his head. ]
I can't do that. HYDRA or the Avengers could find me. I can't afford for either of them to know where I am.
[ He watches him when he says he's just a guy, and Steve stays silent for a moment before he shakes his head very slightly again. ]
...I'm not running yet, am I? That tells me you're not 'just a guy.' Even if I don't remember, I can recognize the significance behind that.
Maybe you're not running because you're a god damn idiot.
[ Logan's fists clench tighter, knuckles turning white. He knows there's no reason to be confrontational, but it's easier to be angry than it is to be tired and sad-- easier to hate Rogers for coming back from the dead and choosing to seek him out instead of continuing the rest of his brainwashed life without him. ]
What do you want from me, anyway, huh? [ He steps forward, head tilted down and eyes glaring up through his lashes. ] Is it big enough to lure the Avengers and HYDRA here?
[ His upper lip curls, teeth grit together. Logan's nostrils flare as he inhales sharply, but he squeezes his eyes shut and forces himself to relax, to let the anger turn from a boil to a simmer, to loosen his fists and rest one hand on his hip as the other pinches at the bridge of his nose. ] ...listen.
Losing you was a blow, Rogers. But I was at your funeral 70 fucking years ago, it took me 40 years to get over you, and now you're back and you don't remember shit.
[ Another breath, and Logan becomes wearier, his hand rubbing down the length of his face and his head turned away in something like defeat. ]
...if we're going to talk, [ that hand drops, arm hanging at his side ] I don't want it here. Not near my kids.
[ The anger makes whatever openness had started to peer through with his last statement to shut down, and his lips tighten in a small line. Not because he’s angry at Jimmy or holds it against him, but because he’s right. He shouldn’t be here. This was a mistake. Saying that he had only done this because he didn’t think he’d actually see him isn’t a lie, because that really had been his reasoning, but he shouldn’t have come at all. Emotion had won out over reasoning, and it could have been catastrophic. How could he have taken that chance? ]
No, you’re right. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have come.
[ His voice is as neutral as he can make it, although the tinges of regret could be heard in his voice. ]
I’m sorry I bothered you. Thank you for your time.
[ He almost says his name, but he keeps himself from it because even he knows it isn’t fair. He’s not the same man he had once known, after all. He’s nowhere near it. Calling him by a name that Steve had used is wrong.
With a slight nod of goodbye, he turns to leave. ]
[ The most startling thing about the way Rogers' body moves (the slight tightening of muscles in his stance, the way his feet move definitively even if his head hadn't) is that it's the most Steve-like thing Logan's seen. This guilt, this sense of burden, this obvious upset in putting someone else at risk...
It has Logan reaching out, voice in an irritated growl. ] Are you fucking kidding me?
[ His hand lands somewhere along Rogers' flesh forearm to pull it back. It's not enough to ruin his footing, but it's certainly enough to catch his attention. Without thinking he pulls a pen from the pocket of his shirt and clicks it open, and then bends to scribble coordinates into it. ]
Two weeks from now I'm going to be here. [ It leads to the Howlett Estate in Canada's Northwestern Territories. The place is unpopulated, the building surviving solely because it'd been kept up by the government in honour of John Howlett and his former power and influence before turning into a historical site. Logan had reclaimed it two years prior after getting his memories back, desperate for any connection to what he once was (though God knows he needed Charles to botch the paperwork). ]
I wasn't joking about talking to you. It just can't be here.
Two weeks is enough to see if you really can stay away from the fucks who're chasing you. And to see if they track you here.
Everything goes smoothly, [ Logan taps the numbers with his index and middle fingers ] that's where I'm going to be.
[ And then he lets go. ]
You don't have to go if you don't want to. [ He steps back then, turning himself with his hands slipping into the pockets of his trousers. ] But if you do, bring orchids.
[ There’s a moment where pure instinct makes him want to pull his arm back defensively, because as much as he has been trying to separate himself from the Winter Soldier persona it’s all still simmering just beneath the surface, as if waiting for the right trigger to set him off. Despite Jimmy’s gruff exterior, though, he manages to keep his temper leveled.
Or maybe it’s because of it, but he’s not able to piece that together without all the memories of how he used to be with other soldiers back when they worked together.
There’s a sense of curiosity as he watches him scribble the coordinates, and Steve turns his eyes back at him to see where this is going.
Two weeks. He wants him to meet up with him? His brow furrows slightly for a moment, and he’s ready to say that no, he can’t do that because Steve has been trying to disappear altogether, but ultimately curiosity wins out.
...especially when he mentions orchids. ]
Orchids?
[ He glances down at the coordinates again before turning back to Jimmy. ]
...I’m not sure where I will be in two weeks. But thanks. I’ll do what I can to make it.
[ The slight disbelief has Logan's teeth gritting together slightly, but he lets out a small scoff. ] Don't forget the flowers. [ And with that relatively cryptic, serious declaration, he finally makes the walk back to the mansion.
True enough, in the next few days that followed, Logan ended up detecting more unfamiliar scents on the grounds.
The first set had been a group of HYDRA grunts following the lost weapon's trail, but they'd been stupid fanatics willing to do anything for their organisation, and as such had died beneath Logan's claws (Cyclops had chewed him out for that one; X-Men don't kill, Wolverine, and we're not involved in the Avengers' wars). The second set had been the Avengers themselves, and Logan had thrown a broken headlight up at the sky towards the Falcon before James Buchanan Barnes rang up the front gate to indicate they meant no harm (Logan called bullshit; who scouts a fucking school before ringing the bell?). After a quick conversation and Logan being snippy about Steve not passing by the mansion-- and God, it'd hurt hearing Barnes refer to him as Steve, because Barnes was the only other person still active to this day who'd been there in the wars with them-- Falcon and Captain America had left, and Logan had explained to Cyclops that it was just Avengers business, no mutants involved, the X-Men weren't needed.
Though Charles noticed the uncharacteristic behaviour (and while killing intruders of HYDRA persuasion wasn't strange, per se, it was common knowledge Logan cared little for the Avengers or cooperating with them), he also trusted him enough when Logan said he had it under control. Granted, he'd trusted him more when Logan indicated it was related to his past life, but Logan was going to take what he could get.
By the time he was set to leave for Canada, the mansion was as normal as it could get, and Logan was sure the X-Men would handle whatever they could while he was gone.
So gone he is, and here he walks, stepping through the forest he'd once ran through more than a century ago to get away from the very place he intends on visiting.
It's not Logan's first time here since he ran away from home with Victor all those years ago, but that doesn't make it any easier to see the tall mansion in the middle of empty fields and emptier houses. He remembers when the Howletts used to grow crops and had farmers of all kinds to help them-- remembers, more than anything, how his father thought of them all as family and even helped them work the land-- though word of mouth told him that with the loss of her husband, Elizabeth Howlett had spiralled and removed all the families who lived by them. Logan passes by smaller houses on his way to the big one in the centre, passes by absurdly tall grass and creeping plants up walls, and in the back of his mind wonders about turning this place into a safe space for mutants trying to run away.
All of that disappears, however, when he reaches the front door of his home.
And smells the Winter Soldier standing somewhere close by.
Turning his head in the direction of that scent, he frowns. ] Come out, Rogers.
How long've you been here?
Edited (A SINGLE HTML FAIL GOD.) 2018-08-23 15:26 (UTC)
[ After leaving New York, Steve Rogers the Winter Soldier became a ghost all over again. He contemplated returning to Europe, get lost in the countryside or somewhere in the mountains, but whenever he’d look into leaving he’d remember the coordinates that Jimmy had given him. They tethered him to North America for the time being, and instead he got lost in the Canadian wilderness. Which hadn’t been terrible, and considering the weather at times, it gave him a valid reason for wearing gloves and long sleeves to hide the prosthetic arm. His mind wasn’t stable enough to pursue a job just yet, but he made due just fine for two weeks.
After all, he has survived much worse. Living in places without heat, and at times even without walls, hadn’t been much of a challenge.
The day he’s supposed to meet up with Jimmy, he arrives much earlier than expected. He doesn’t expect a trap, but he still checks the perimeter nonetheless to ensure no one beat him there that could be a risk. Once he’s comfortable with what he finds, he sets the white orchids he had brought with him by the stairs before retreating to the shadows of the house. Despite the obvious abandonment, he doesn’t explore it because it feels too personal, like he’s intruding, so he waits patiently. The small notebook that has become like a bible to him, because it contains things that he has jotted down with memories or things that could be important, keeps him busy as he reads though it and ends up drawing the view from the window that’s closest to him, until he sees Jimmy walking up. It makes Steve stop, watching him for a moment as he feels his heart speed up in his chest, before he stands up and buries the notebook in the hidden pocket of the old coat he’s wearing. Maybe he should say hi, but for a moment he doesn’t know what to say, until Jimmy beats him to the punch.
Stepping out from the shadows, Steve buries his hands in the pockets of his coat. Partly because he isn’t sure what to say - should he admit he got here very early? - but mainly because he had taken off his gloves and the metallic hand is very visible without them. Although he looks sleep deprived, he still looks better rested than the first time they had seen each other that other night. ]
...a few hours.
[ He pauses for a brief moment, but it doesn’t last long. ]
[ And he'd apologise for how vague he was, but it doesn't matter nearly as much.
Logan catches the scent of flowers in the air, so he walks towards it. It has him passing Rogers where he stands, but it isn't acknowledged beyond a reach of his hand and a small pat to the man's shoulder in silent acknowledgement. That this is the shoulder attached to the metal hand isn't coincidence, either.
Time apart at least means Logan's been given time to clear his head, and what anger and irritation he felt at their first meeting has been replaced with a more calm fatigue. There's no aggression in his movements, no more defensive postures or threatening claws, and as he bends to pick up the orchids at the foot of the stairs, he smiles just slightly as he looks at them.
Maybe Rogers can see it. The sun's not hanging low enough to prevent the light from spilling in through the windows, and Logan's features are clear enough.
In any case, he puts the flowers back down, then slips his hand into the pocket of his jacket. ]
C'mon. [ Jerking his head in the direction of the stairs, Logan starts up the steps. ] We're going to my room.
[ Steve can definitely see the change in his demeanor, and it helps to make the slight tension in his shoulders relax. Because, while Steve has been curious about this meeting, he'd be lying if he said he hadn't stressed over it. Not only from the perspective of whether or not he should show up, but the unknown made him feel anxious.
Now, seeing him, it helps to feel a little more at ease.
When Jimmy pats his shoulder, Steve blinks once in surprise because he hadn't really been expecting it. Jimmy would be able to feel the way the socket of the prosthetic wraps around his shoulder and what's left of his upper arm, but Steve doesn't really think much about it. The arm has been such a part of him that, in a lot of ways, it feels as if he has always had it. The thought that maybe Jimmy had known him before HYDRA had given him the prosthetic doesn't quite hit him yet.
When he notices the smile, Steve finds himself staring for a moment although he does his best to not make it too obvious. It's hard, especially when his lips twitch very slightly into a small smile of his own.
With a slight nod, he begins to follow Jimmy up the stairs. ]
You lived here?
BECAUSE YOU DUMPED THIS ASSHOLE ON ME AND YOU HAVE TO SUFFER FOR IT
Yeah. [ The wood under them is old enough to creak under any weight if it's not placed in the right areas, but Logan's been here enough that he knows exactly where to step to keep the house quiet. They make it from the landing to the top, and he walks towards his old room. ] This house-- hell, all this land belonged to the Howletts.
I'm sure you looked me up. [ He doesn't even pretend like Rogers wouldn't. ] Before I was Wolverine, I was Logan. Before that, I was James Howlett.
[ He opens the door to his bedroom. There's a huge bed in there, and even a fireplace for when little Jimmy had multiple bouts with fever and a million other sicknesses. Logan crinkles his nose a bit at the dust, but goes to that fireplace without much hesitation. ]
You can sit if you want. [ Pause. ] Sorry about the dust.
[ And from atop the mantle, he picks up a biscuit tin. Screwing it open, his back to Rogers, he pulls out an incredibly old photograph and hands it the other man's way with a single command: ] Be careful.
[ Because the picture's old, and the material it was printed on a little flimsy in its age, and on it is Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers-- in military uniform, not Captain America uniform-- and Logan himself, looking exactly the same as he does now (save for the longer, wavy hair). They're standing by a booth at one of those speakeasies, and Steve is smiling while Logan looks away from the camera. Bucky looks surprised, like he can't believe the picture was taken, and one hand is positioned to show he'd been poking at Logan's arm up until that snap. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
does love usually involve such pain
Recognise.
He hates the way his eyes widen, hates the way his stance nearly fails. But Rogers doesn't look like he's lying, and Logan recognises the language of his body just as much as he recognises the look on his face. ]
You're here for me?
[ And though his fist may lower slightly, it stays raised enough to show Logan's still ready to skewer him if he tries anything funny. His upper lip curls slightly in a snarl, but it's less in intimidation and more in confusion-- and then, in the back of his mind, something closer to notes of desperate optimism. ]
Tell me how it felt. [ Logan steps back once, however, clearly perturbed. ] Tell me why it matters.
I don't know shit about the Winter Soldier, so don't waste your breath.
in this verse yes
When Logan asks if he’s here for him, the slightest nod can be detected. ]
Yes. [ A beat. ] I didn’t expect you to show up, though.
[ The command to tell him why this matters makes Steve pause again, but not because he doesn’t know how to answer. It’s just hard to put it into words, especially since being vocal hadn’t exactly been encouraged the last few decades he has spent under HYDRA’s command.
Finally: ]
The conditioning broke enough for me to leave HYDRA. I’ve been trying to figure things out since. When I saw you on television... You didn’t speak, but it was like I could hear your voice in my head, anyway. It was distant, like an echo, but I could still hear it.
And I know it wasn’t because you’ve been a target, because ... I don’t think you were.
[ His voice lowers, tentative to ask for a moment before he finally lets the words out. ] Did you know me?
no subject
The worst thing is how steady Rogers' heart beats, how Logan can't smell the lie in his scent. He's telling the truth. (Steve always told the truth.)
So Logan nods, unable to trust his voice. The claws retract slowly, the shapes of them sliding in the back of his hand and up his arms, and from the bends at his elbow and the outward push of his fists, his arms relax a bit more and fall to his sides. ]
You were my captain.
[ He bites his tongue around saying more, around an and we were friends, and we were almost a bit more, and I loved you, I think I always have. Logan's never been particularly good at words, but now he feels less clumsy about it and more like he doesn't know how to speak at all. ]
We trained together. We fought together.
But you didn't come home from your last mission, and I hated myself for not coming with you.
[ His arms cross over his chest, and the sheer vulnerability he feels is something he isn't used to. But how do you talk to someone who knew you in one of the worst times of your life? Immortality has always allowed Logan some reprieve from the old things that used to hurt him as the years passed by to dull the pain, but wounds of the spirit don't heal like wounds of the body do.
The thought of Steve knowing who he is, even a little bit, feels like a scab being ripped off and a knife's been shoved into the newly open wound. ]
My name's James. James Howlett.
You called me "Jimmy".
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The surprise is impossible to hide, though, when he starts talking. His captain. He had been his captain? His hands had been closed in fists, not because he wanted to fight him but because he was preparing himself in case that came to happen, but his own stance changes altogether as the surprise completely unarms him. ]
Jimmy.
[ He says it quietly, as if testing out the word. As if trying to find the familiarity to it. He doesn't find it, exactly, but at the same time it doesn't feel foreign on his lips. ]
I didn't expect anyone other than Barnes to know me from...before everything happened.
no subject
[ But not out of anything that was really Steve's fault-- he had more things to do, more important things to worry about. Captain America was (and still is, even if Logan could never think of Barnes as the man under the winged mask) bigger than a lot of things, and it wasn't very often Steve had time to just be himself.
It's so strange hearing him speak and recognising his voice, so strange being able to predict his body language and yet not know, precisely, who he is. This still isn't his Steve, but he looks and acts as much like him as he can given the circumstances, and it hurts like fucking hell to be so close yet so far. ]
Go to any nursing home and find any vet there. [ He snorts. ] Hell, even the civvies'll know you.
[ But they didn't love you like I loved you. ] I'm not special, Rogers. Just a guy.
no subject
The idea of speaking about this outside of him - Jimmy, he reminds himself - is not one he wants to even contemplate, and there's a shadow to his expression as he shakes his head. ]
I can't do that. HYDRA or the Avengers could find me. I can't afford for either of them to know where I am.
[ He watches him when he says he's just a guy, and Steve stays silent for a moment before he shakes his head very slightly again. ]
...I'm not running yet, am I? That tells me you're not 'just a guy.' Even if I don't remember, I can recognize the significance behind that.
no subject
[ Logan's fists clench tighter, knuckles turning white. He knows there's no reason to be confrontational, but it's easier to be angry than it is to be tired and sad-- easier to hate Rogers for coming back from the dead and choosing to seek him out instead of continuing the rest of his brainwashed life without him. ]
What do you want from me, anyway, huh? [ He steps forward, head tilted down and eyes glaring up through his lashes. ] Is it big enough to lure the Avengers and HYDRA here?
[ His upper lip curls, teeth grit together. Logan's nostrils flare as he inhales sharply, but he squeezes his eyes shut and forces himself to relax, to let the anger turn from a boil to a simmer, to loosen his fists and rest one hand on his hip as the other pinches at the bridge of his nose. ] ...listen.
Losing you was a blow, Rogers. But I was at your funeral 70 fucking years ago, it took me 40 years to get over you, and now you're back and you don't remember shit.
[ Another breath, and Logan becomes wearier, his hand rubbing down the length of his face and his head turned away in something like defeat. ]
...if we're going to talk, [ that hand drops, arm hanging at his side ] I don't want it here. Not near my kids.
no subject
No, you’re right. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have come.
[ His voice is as neutral as he can make it, although the tinges of regret could be heard in his voice. ]
I’m sorry I bothered you. Thank you for your time.
[ He almost says his name, but he keeps himself from it because even he knows it isn’t fair. He’s not the same man he had once known, after all. He’s nowhere near it. Calling him by a name that Steve had used is wrong.
With a slight nod of goodbye, he turns to leave. ]
no subject
It has Logan reaching out, voice in an irritated growl. ] Are you fucking kidding me?
[ His hand lands somewhere along Rogers' flesh forearm to pull it back. It's not enough to ruin his footing, but it's certainly enough to catch his attention. Without thinking he pulls a pen from the pocket of his shirt and clicks it open, and then bends to scribble coordinates into it. ]
Two weeks from now I'm going to be here. [ It leads to the Howlett Estate in Canada's Northwestern Territories. The place is unpopulated, the building surviving solely because it'd been kept up by the government in honour of John Howlett and his former power and influence before turning into a historical site. Logan had reclaimed it two years prior after getting his memories back, desperate for any connection to what he once was (though God knows he needed Charles to botch the paperwork). ]
I wasn't joking about talking to you. It just can't be here.
Two weeks is enough to see if you really can stay away from the fucks who're chasing you. And to see if they track you here.
Everything goes smoothly, [ Logan taps the numbers with his index and middle fingers ] that's where I'm going to be.
[ And then he lets go. ]
You don't have to go if you don't want to. [ He steps back then, turning himself with his hands slipping into the pockets of his trousers. ] But if you do, bring orchids.
no subject
Or maybe it’s because of it, but he’s not able to piece that together without all the memories of how he used to be with other soldiers back when they worked together.
There’s a sense of curiosity as he watches him scribble the coordinates, and Steve turns his eyes back at him to see where this is going.
Two weeks. He wants him to meet up with him? His brow furrows slightly for a moment, and he’s ready to say that no, he can’t do that because Steve has been trying to disappear altogether, but ultimately curiosity wins out.
...especially when he mentions orchids. ]
Orchids?
[ He glances down at the coordinates again before turning back to Jimmy. ]
...I’m not sure where I will be in two weeks. But thanks. I’ll do what I can to make it.
no subject
True enough, in the next few days that followed, Logan ended up detecting more unfamiliar scents on the grounds.
The first set had been a group of HYDRA grunts following the lost weapon's trail, but they'd been stupid fanatics willing to do anything for their organisation, and as such had died beneath Logan's claws (Cyclops had chewed him out for that one; X-Men don't kill, Wolverine, and we're not involved in the Avengers' wars). The second set had been the Avengers themselves, and Logan had thrown a broken headlight up at the sky towards the Falcon before James Buchanan Barnes rang up the front gate to indicate they meant no harm (Logan called bullshit; who scouts a fucking school before ringing the bell?). After a quick conversation and Logan being snippy about Steve not passing by the mansion-- and God, it'd hurt hearing Barnes refer to him as Steve, because Barnes was the only other person still active to this day who'd been there in the wars with them-- Falcon and Captain America had left, and Logan had explained to Cyclops that it was just Avengers business, no mutants involved, the X-Men weren't needed.
Though Charles noticed the uncharacteristic behaviour (and while killing intruders of HYDRA persuasion wasn't strange, per se, it was common knowledge Logan cared little for the Avengers or cooperating with them), he also trusted him enough when Logan said he had it under control. Granted, he'd trusted him more when Logan indicated it was related to his past life, but Logan was going to take what he could get.
By the time he was set to leave for Canada, the mansion was as normal as it could get, and Logan was sure the X-Men would handle whatever they could while he was gone.
So gone he is, and here he walks, stepping through the forest he'd once ran through more than a century ago to get away from the very place he intends on visiting.
It's not Logan's first time here since he ran away from home with Victor all those years ago, but that doesn't make it any easier to see the tall mansion in the middle of empty fields and emptier houses. He remembers when the Howletts used to grow crops and had farmers of all kinds to help them-- remembers, more than anything, how his father thought of them all as family and even helped them work the land-- though word of mouth told him that with the loss of her husband, Elizabeth Howlett had spiralled and removed all the families who lived by them. Logan passes by smaller houses on his way to the big one in the centre, passes by absurdly tall grass and creeping plants up walls, and in the back of his mind wonders about turning this place into a safe space for mutants trying to run away.
All of that disappears, however, when he reaches the front door of his home.
And smells the Winter Soldier standing somewhere close by.
Turning his head in the direction of that scent, he frowns. ] Come out, Rogers.
How long've you been here?
no subject
Steve Rogersthe Winter Soldier became a ghost all over again. He contemplated returning to Europe, get lost in the countryside or somewhere in the mountains, but whenever he’d look into leaving he’d remember the coordinates that Jimmy had given him. They tethered him to North America for the time being, and instead he got lost in the Canadian wilderness. Which hadn’t been terrible, and considering the weather at times, it gave him a valid reason for wearing gloves and long sleeves to hide the prosthetic arm. His mind wasn’t stable enough to pursue a job just yet, but he made due just fine for two weeks.After all, he has survived much worse. Living in places without heat, and at times even without walls, hadn’t been much of a challenge.
The day he’s supposed to meet up with Jimmy, he arrives much earlier than expected. He doesn’t expect a trap, but he still checks the perimeter nonetheless to ensure no one beat him there that could be a risk. Once he’s comfortable with what he finds, he sets the white orchids he had brought with him by the stairs before retreating to the shadows of the house. Despite the obvious abandonment, he doesn’t explore it because it feels too personal, like he’s intruding, so he waits patiently. The small notebook that has become like a bible to him, because it contains things that he has jotted down with memories or things that could be important, keeps him busy as he reads though it and ends up drawing the view from the window that’s closest to him, until he sees Jimmy walking up. It makes Steve stop, watching him for a moment as he feels his heart speed up in his chest, before he stands up and buries the notebook in the hidden pocket of the old coat he’s wearing. Maybe he should say hi, but for a moment he doesn’t know what to say, until Jimmy beats him to the punch.
Stepping out from the shadows, Steve buries his hands in the pockets of his coat. Partly because he isn’t sure what to say - should he admit he got here very early? - but mainly because he had taken off his gloves and the metallic hand is very visible without them. Although he looks sleep deprived, he still looks better rested than the first time they had seen each other that other night. ]
...a few hours.
[ He pauses for a brief moment, but it doesn’t last long. ]
Thank you for coming.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LI1lRp2HTYA
[ And he'd apologise for how vague he was, but it doesn't matter nearly as much.
Logan catches the scent of flowers in the air, so he walks towards it. It has him passing Rogers where he stands, but it isn't acknowledged beyond a reach of his hand and a small pat to the man's shoulder in silent acknowledgement. That this is the shoulder attached to the metal hand isn't coincidence, either.
Time apart at least means Logan's been given time to clear his head, and what anger and irritation he felt at their first meeting has been replaced with a more calm fatigue. There's no aggression in his movements, no more defensive postures or threatening claws, and as he bends to pick up the orchids at the foot of the stairs, he smiles just slightly as he looks at them.
Maybe Rogers can see it. The sun's not hanging low enough to prevent the light from spilling in through the windows, and Logan's features are clear enough.
In any case, he puts the flowers back down, then slips his hand into the pocket of his jacket. ]
C'mon. [ Jerking his head in the direction of the stairs, Logan starts up the steps. ] We're going to my room.
why do you do this to me /cries
Now, seeing him, it helps to feel a little more at ease.
When Jimmy pats his shoulder, Steve blinks once in surprise because he hadn't really been expecting it. Jimmy would be able to feel the way the socket of the prosthetic wraps around his shoulder and what's left of his upper arm, but Steve doesn't really think much about it. The arm has been such a part of him that, in a lot of ways, it feels as if he has always had it. The thought that maybe Jimmy had known him before HYDRA had given him the prosthetic doesn't quite hit him yet.
When he notices the smile, Steve finds himself staring for a moment although he does his best to not make it too obvious. It's hard, especially when his lips twitch very slightly into a small smile of his own.
With a slight nod, he begins to follow Jimmy up the stairs. ]
You lived here?
BECAUSE YOU DUMPED THIS ASSHOLE ON ME AND YOU HAVE TO SUFFER FOR IT
I'm sure you looked me up. [ He doesn't even pretend like Rogers wouldn't. ] Before I was Wolverine, I was Logan. Before that, I was James Howlett.
[ He opens the door to his bedroom. There's a huge bed in there, and even a fireplace for when little Jimmy had multiple bouts with fever and a million other sicknesses. Logan crinkles his nose a bit at the dust, but goes to that fireplace without much hesitation. ]
You can sit if you want. [ Pause. ] Sorry about the dust.
[ And from atop the mantle, he picks up a biscuit tin. Screwing it open, his back to Rogers, he pulls out an incredibly old photograph and hands it the other man's way with a single command: ] Be careful.
[ Because the picture's old, and the material it was printed on a little flimsy in its age, and on it is Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers-- in military uniform, not Captain America uniform-- and Logan himself, looking exactly the same as he does now (save for the longer, wavy hair). They're standing by a booth at one of those speakeasies, and Steve is smiling while Logan looks away from the camera. Bucky looks surprised, like he can't believe the picture was taken, and one hand is positioned to show he'd been poking at Logan's arm up until that snap. ]