Title: Lost Souls, Part I: One Way Ride
Author: Jamie
Email: madjm@mac.com
Category: AU Logan/Marie. Some angstin' going on.
Rating: Oh, let's go with PG-13 for language.
Disclaimer: X-Men and its characters are owned by a bunch of people. Sadly, I'm not one of them, or I'd have money. But I don't, so please don't sue me. Title and lyrics come from Hooverphonic, off their "Blue Wonder Powder Milk" CD.
Summary: If Marie were human, would her life be better? Possibly, but not in this story, baby!
~~~~
see them point in your direction
see the indifference in their eyes
just living in oblivion
struggling with too many wires
you've got to solve this riddle
otherwise you won't get back
so if i were you
i would concentrate on this morbid one way track
~~ "One Way Ride," Hooverphonic
It was gray. The sky, the snow, the road. Even the piece of shit car, which Marie was pretty sure started out an icy blue, had shifted into a dirty, slushy gray. She blew out a breath as she slammed the hood down, and damn if her breath wasn't gray, too.
She walked slowly around the car and stood for a moment, pondering her situation. On some nameless road in the middle of this godforsaken state, which for some reason she'd always longed to see, though for the life of her she couldn't recall why at the moment. Not another car in sight. Presumably there was a town somewhere along this road, but she had no clue how far it was. And the car ...
Marie reached for calm, but it seemed to have deserted her She took her anger out on an innocent tire, punctuating every kick with a hissed curse. "Shit-shit-shit-son-of-a-motherless-goat-piece-of-shit-car!" Growling, she gave the tire one more kick.
Real mature, Marie.
Her conscience, in the voice of her Momma, piped in as always. Ladies do not curse, Marie. Don't lose your temper, Marie.
Shit.
"Well," she said aloud, startled at the echo of her own voice. "Looks like we're gonna be walkin', Fred."
Fred, a mutt of indeterminate parentage she'd picked up a few states back, grinned at her from the front passenger seat of the car, slobbering all over the window. Obviously, he didn't understand the gravity of the situation. But then, he trusted her to take care of him, so that in itself showed how little sense he had.
Marie sighed and opened the back door, climbing in and shutting it behind her. It was fortunate, she supposed, that she'd started her journey on a bus and had packed lightly. Of course, it was a wonder she'd packed what she needed, considering her state at the time. The memories threatened, and she ruthlessly pushed them back. No time to think. No time. Maybe later, 'K? Like in fifty years or so.
She opened her duffel bag and surveyed its contents. A few changes of clothes. Toiletries. Her journal. Wallet. She leaned over into the front seat, pushing Fred and his doggy breath gently out of her way, and yanked her portable CD player out of the tape deck. Stretching a little farther, she managed to snag the case off the dashboard that held all 10 CDs she'd brought with her.
Music was key to Marie's life. Sometimes in high school, she'd gone without lunch for weeks to save money to buy CDs she'd wanted. When it came to survival, Marie thought honestly that while starving to death would be bad, starving for music would be worse. Maybe if she'd been able to carry a tune herself it wouldn't have been as bad. She could have just sung her way through life instead of relying on the songs of others.
By ditching a sweatshirt, she managed to cram the player and CDs into the bag. Just barely, and she wasn't sure how on earth she'd manage to carry the bag to the next town. Wherever that was. She wondered briefly if she'd die of cold or exhaustion first and if she'd be gray, too, when they found her dead body by the side of the road. And then, wouldn't her father be able to give a big, fat "I told you so"?
"I'm gettin' morbid," she told Fred, who just gave her his dopey dog smile, as if to remind her that she'd been morbid for a year and a half, and what was so unusual about that, anyway?
Marie tightened her coat and wrapped her scarf more firmly around her face. She clambered out of the car, dragging her bag out and dropping it on the pavement with an echoing thud. She opened the front door and let Fred out. He ran up the road and back again, wagging his tail. He knew better by now than to jump on her, instead jumping up and down excitedly in front of her.
"Yeah, yeah," she told him flatly. "We're goin' for a little walk. Whoo-hoo."
Fred froze, staring back the way they'd come. Marie stopped, hearing the car a moment after the dog did.
"OK," she said. "Fred, you gotta sit there and look as harmless as possible, boy." She pushed her hood off her head and loosened the scarf. She knew she looked about 16, though she was 20. Might as well use that innocent look.
Hitchhiking is dangerous, Marie, her Momma's voice said.
"So's freezin' to death," she argued aloud. Fred didn't even look at her. He was used to her talking to herself.
A truck with a camper attached barreled down the road, and Marie took a deep breath and stuck out her thumb.
The truck flew by. It didn't even slow.
"Son of a bitch!" Marie looked at Fred. "Can you freakin' believe that?"
Fred obviously couldn't believe it, either. He was staring down the road at the disappearing vehicle.
Just her luck. The one person besides her to drive down this godforsaken road all damn day was a heartless bastard.
"I guess we walk, then, huh boy?"
Fred panted in agreement, thumping his tail on the ground. Marie grunted and pulled her bag up to her shoulder. She started walking, finding that she could position the bag near the middle of her back and take the weight pretty well. She stopped as she noticed Fred wasn't with her.
She turned back to find him sniffing around the car. After a moment, he hiked a leg and peed on a tire before before trotting to stand next to her. Marie snorted out a laugh, the first in several days, if she remembered correctly. "I couldn't have said it better myself."
***
Jed's Landing -- and what kind of name was that for a town, anyway? -- was basically a bump in the road. But it had some buildings, which would mean heat, Marie thought. And heat sounded like heaven at that moment. Even Fred was looking a little frozen around the edges.
She wasn't sure how far they'd walked, but it had been hours since they left the car, and she'd long since lost all the feeling in her extremities. Unfortunately, she still had all the feeling in her back, which was killing her. There were a few houses and some kind of general store, which was closed for the night.
The only place that showed any life was a big, square building at the end of the "town." Judging by the pickup trucks and semis crowding the parking lot and the neon signs in the window, it was a bar. It looked like paradise to her.
She was worried they wouldn't let Fred in the door, but nobody even looked at them when they entered. In fact, all attention was focused on a giant cage in the center of the room, where it looked like two men were fighting.
Marie laughed shortly, and that was twice in one day, probably a record. Some people found the strangest things entertaining. She nudged Fred with her foot and moved to a booth in the bar area off to the side. Only a handful of people were over there, as most were watching the fight.
She settled the dog under the table and positioned her bag in front of him, just in case. She sat down with a sigh, stretching her feet onto the seat across from her.
A few minutes later, she felt someone shake her. "Miss?" Marie jerked awake, staring up into a woman's face. She looked to be in her 50s, with platinum blond hair and the biggest purple hoop earrings Marie had ever seen.
"Y-yes," she stuttered, disoriented. "Shi -- um, sorry. I think I fell asleep."
"It's OK, honey," the woman said kindly. "But you looked like you were gonna fall out of the booth, so I thought I'd wake you up. Don't know how you can sleep with this racket goin' on."
Marie smiled, and the expression felt foreign to her. Had it been so long since she'd smiled at someone? "I can sleep anywhere," she said.
"Can I get you anything?"
"Somethin' hot? Coffee, tea, anything," Marie said. She shrugged off her coat. It was almost steamy in the building, but her insides still felt frozen.
"And some water for your dog?"
"Uh ..." Marie started. "Yeah, that'd be great."
As the blonde moved away, she looked under the table. Poor Fred looked exhausted. "I'm sorry, buddy. I forgot you were there."
Fred's tail thumped, and he stared at her with his trusting brown eyes. Dumb dog.
The woman -- Marjorie, she said her name was -- returned with some blessedly hot coffee and a bowl of water for Fred. She also brought over a bowl of pretzels "just in case you two want a snack." She refused to take any money, and Marie was reminded that there was the occasional nice person in the world.
The coffee warmed her up considerably, and she and Fred shared the entire bowl of pretzels. She finally decided she didn't have frostbite, and she considered her next move. Obviously buying that car was a mistake, no matter how cheap it was, and that was a mistake she would take care of right now.
She grabbed her bag and coat and motioned to Fred. Marjorie swapped several dollars for quarters and pointed her toward the pay phone. Unfortunately, it was all the way on the other side of the building. Halfway there, she paused, drawn almost against her will toward the cage.
Inside, two shirtless men were grappling. One of them, the taller one with reddish hair, was pounding the second man, who was on his knees. She watched in sick fascination, feeling almost sorry for the second man, though God knew it was his own fault for getting into that situation.
He turned her way, and her eyes met his. They were filled with pain and disgust and something she couldn't quite identify, and they held hers for a second. She felt ... something. A tug. A connection.
Then it was gone. He looked away, sending an elbow into the taller man's gut. Standing, he punched the man, and Marie frowned at the almost metallic sound that came just before the horrible crunch of the man's jaw breaking.
He was down for the count, and among the jeers of the crowd she heard the announcer say the winner was the Wolverine. Looking at the victor, she could see where the name came from, and she wondered that anyone would dare fight this man. He had an almost animal look to him, and his wild head of dark hair and bushy sideburns only added to that impression. And that bare chest made a woman want to lick the sweat right off of him and find out if he was just as hairy all over his body.
Yowza! Marie yanked her mind out of the gutter and flushed as she realized the Wolverine was watching her watch him. He sent her a slow smile, as if he could read her mind and would be happy to show her anything she liked. Heat rushed through her body, and for a moment she believed that spontaneous combustion was actually possible. Then his smile morphed into a smirk, and anger overtook the brief spark of lust. Arrogant jerk.
Her mood didn't improve when she finally made it to the phone and found three other people waiting to use it. Sighing, she went to the end of the line and leaned against the wall. Fred sat down next to her, his chin leaning on her thigh, and looked up at her adoringly. How the hell did he get the idea that she knew what she was doing, anyway?
Half an hour later, she got her turn at the phone.
She dug the card out of her bag and fed some quarters into the phone. The receptionist at Diamond's Auto Sale-O-Rama apparently was used to irate customers. She had a strategy all worked out.
"Wait!" Marie yelled. "Don't put me on hold. I"m at a --"
Too late. Marie fed more quarters into the phone and wondered if they were hoping to keep her on hold until she forgot that the car she bought was broken down on the side of the road. Oh, great. Lionel Ritchie. She was going to have "All Night Long" in her head for days. It must be part of their evil plot. Drive the customer insane, and you won't have to take responsibility for your criminally crappy cars. If she had a business, she'd never put people on hold. And if she did, she'd have them listen to Dido or Letters to Cleo, or something that didn't completely blow.
"I need to use the phone." A low voice came from behind her.
"Wait your turn," she snapped without turning around. Oh, God, she thought as the music in her ear changed. Not The Carpenters! Bring back Lionel Ritchie!
"I. Need. To. Use. The. Phone." It was a growl this time, and she turned to find the Wolverine behind her. Showered and changed -- shirt on, unfortunately -- but still rather animal looking.
If she had the sense God gave a goat -- and Lord knows her Momma'd told her often enough that she didn't -- she would have been afraid. Apparently goats the world over had more sense than Marie Gordon.
"Wait. Your. Turn," she said, matching his growl rather admirably, she thought.
"Hey, you're that hitchhiker," he said suddenly.
Her eyes widened. "You're that bastard who left us out there to freeze."
He winced and almost managed to look guilty.
"You know," she said angrily. "It's not like I planned for that piece of --hello?" She turned back to the phone. "Is this Jimmy? How ya doin' Jimmy? It's Marie Gordon. Remember me? Yeah, I'd be the damn fool who bought that rolling disaster from you, oh, a week ago?"
Jimmy did, in fact, remember her, though he apparently forgot that she was supposed to have two weeks to return the car if she wasn't satisfied with her purchase. She reminded him.
"News flash, Jimmy. Cars are much better if they actually run. Now, be a good boy and call the credit card company, 'cause if that thing shows up on my bill, I will sue your ass from here to Mississippi and back, and don't think I'm playin' with you, buster."
She gave him vague instructions on where he could pick up the car and hung up the phone, feeling better than she had in weeks. Nothing like a verbal ass kicking to clear out the cobwebs. Her mood soured considerably when she turned around to find Fred making friends with the Wolverine.
"Fred," she told him. "You have the worst taste in people of any dog I've met."
"He likes you," the man said, and damn if he didn't sound amused. That just pissed her off more.
"Like I said, bad taste," she said. "C'mon Fred."
The building had emptied out since she'd been on the phone, but Marjorie was still there. She told Marie she thought there were a few truckers still outside, and just about any one of them would be willing to give her a ride.
There were, in fact, several truckers standing over to the side talking and laughing. She and Fred were headed that way when she heard the sound of an engine that didn't want to start. She glanced over, and sure enough, it was that Wolverine guy in his truck.
She tried to ignore it, but she was pretty sure she knew what the problem was, and of course, Momma took this opportunity to remind her that the Bible said to pay back evil with good. Marie always thought there was something off about that, but now she hoped it was true because wouldn't that mean someone as evil as she was should be getting a big bucket of good pretty soon?
She was afraid her conscience wouldn't shut up, and one more dab of guilt was likely to send her right over the edge, laughing like a freaking loony. And the fact that that didn't sound as bad as it used to scared her enough to propel her over to the truck.
She went to the window, amused to see him beating on the steering wheel. Yeah, that'll fix it, wolf boy. She motioned for him to roll his window down, and, frowning, he complied. "What?"
"Pop the hood," she said.
He just stared at her.
"Pop the hood, damn it. I'm freezing my ass off out here, and I don't have all day."
He looked startled, but she heard the hood click open. "When I wave at you, start the truck."
She fiddled under the hood for a moment, then waved at him. He turned the key, and the engine caught. He was out of the truck a second later. "How'd you do that?"
"My Dad has a truck just like this," she said, pointing. "You gotta jiggle that thingy, and then press on that doohickey. Then it'll start. But you need to have this jobber replaced."
"Doohickey? Jobber?"
"I don't remember what they're called," she said, scowling. "But it got your stupid truck running, so back off."
She picked up her bag and started to walk away.
"Wait." When she turned around, he said quietly. "Um, thanks. And I'm .. uh. I'm sorry about before. When I didn't ..."
"Whatever. Come on, Fred."
The dog sat at the man's feet and tilted his head at her. The traitor. Fine. That was fine. She didn't need a damn dog anyway.
"Wait," he said again. Sighing, she turned around. "Um. You want a ride?"
She almost laughed at the look on his face, like he couldn't believe he'd just offered her a ride. He looked like he desperately wanted to take it back, so she decided to accept.
"Better late than never, sugar."