Author's note #1: Although SPIRIT QUEST is a sequel to SHADOW MAN in which Logan's trip to Alkali Lake pits him against Magneto, Mystique and Toad, it is an independent story in its own right.
Author's note #2: Hey, if Marvel first says Logan has blue eyes, then in Ultimate X they're black, I can have them green here for the purpose of the story to make them more unusual and distinctive.
After the third or fourth time -- Logan was vague on this -- they lay back and watched the twilight seep into the room, soaking into the rough planks, softening them until they were strips of rippled, blue-gray velvet, their edges blurred into shadow. The early moon then peeked through the window, boldly rose to peer inside and transformed the velvet strips into bands of beaten silver, the shadows into bottomless holes, the old-fashioned iron bedstead into a confection of lace, and the two reclining figures into warm ivory.
Logan turned to the woman at his side, his kiss long, deep, gentle -- the way she liked it. He knew her now and she, him, each exploring the other's hills and vales, depths and heights, scents and tastes throughout the drifting course of afternoon, sharing joy in that exploration and in the desultory talk that followed each interval of discovery. "Darlin' . . . "
"I know." Her fingers trailed across his chest, settled over the beating of his heart. "You're not going to stay. It's alright. I never believed that you would, that you could, Logan."
"How -- "
She laughed softly. "It's part of your exasperating charm. Swoop in like an unexpected tornado, turn the world upside-down, fly away. Can you see that tornado being harnessed, tamed? I can't. And I don't want to."
"But how about the kids?" he grumbled.
Kia stroked his cheek. "They'll miss you. I'll miss you. But don't you see, when you come visit it will be like Christmas and New Year's and birthdays all at once. You'll be giving them the best of yourself. They won't see the other side of you that picks fights and swills liquor and haunts dives like the Pit Bull. The other side that's like almost every man here on the rez."
He fell back on the pillow, glared at the ceiling. "Connor needs a father! He's at that crazy age when kids go wild if they don't get guidance. And the girls are smart little things, they'll reach that point soon. Maybe the three of them could come with me -- "
"No," she interrupted. "Not to the school. It's important that the children stay here together."
"Lemme guess." His voice took on a hard edge. "You seen it."
"Yes. But what you said about Connor is true. That's why I'm going to marry Hawk."
"Huh?" He started, propped himself on an elbow, stared at her. "The cop?"
"He's asked me several times. Now, after today, I can accept."
"After today." Logan scowled. "You mean after what we just did here. You don't need me, Kia. Kevin and the twins are proof of that. Why hold off? You coulda been Miz Hawk years ago! Oh, wait a minute, I'm forgetting -- the green eyes. Yeah, it'd be tricky explaining how a couple of Injuns end up with a crop of green-eyed kids, but I'm sure you'd of been up to the challenge. After all, you got a Ph.D. Don't that mean bullshit 'Piled Higher 'n Deeper'?"
He snorted in disgust at her steady, expressionless regard, the only effect of his sarcasm a tightening of her lips. "So now you're gonna dump a bunch of bastards on the poor slob anyway and he's gonna love you for it and love them too. The hell he will!"
"Yes, he will!"
"Yeah, yeah, you seen it. Heard that one before!" Logan swung out of bed, began pulling on his clothes.
"He'll love me and love them, because I'm the only woman who will take him and they are the only children he'll ever have! And he knows it," she added as Logan's lowered brows twisted with suspicion.
She sat up to confront him directly. "It's generally acknowledged that native peoples the world over are considered second class citizens. I'd say we're treated closer to fourth or fifth class. In first world countries babies are inoculated against measles, mumps, so on, during the first few months of life. Somehow, those inoculations never make it to the rez. When Hawk was Connor's age he came down with the mumps. If contracted during puberty the disease more often than not sterilizes the male. That's what happened to Hawk. Ever since he was fourteen he's known, and everyone on the rez has known, that he can never sire children." She sighed, looked away. "Which is the real tragedy, because unlike most men he desperately wants a family. So, I thought that now . . . "
Logan absently buttoned his shirt, unaware that the buttons were going in the wrong holes as he remembered the Indian's strength and power at that first, humiliating midnight encounter, his gruff gentleness as he hauled Logan out of the wasteland, his particular odor of dog and new bread -- the very smell of home. He chewed his lower lip.
"Good man," he finally mumbled to the floor. "Hawk's a good man." He glanced over at her, saw her picking at the sheet with nervous fingers, gave a faint laugh. "Connor won't be able to get away with much if a police chief's on his back! And Hawk'll be good for the girls, too. And Kevin. And . . . And he'll get to be dad to the new baby right from the start . . . "
Logan cleared his throat, wondered why it suddenly ached. "What are you going to call her?"
Her smile was tremulous as she held out a hand. He took it, sat down on the bed, put his arms around her, and for once Kia's articulate language deserted her. "I . . . That night . . . " And he knew which night. "We -- You -- We decided just 'k' sounds, so, but . . . " Her laugh was watery. "I've run out! You pick."
He enveloped her, feeling her shuddery breath and trickle of warm tears on his skin, one hand stroking her hair all the while, and thought, for the first time in his life thought what to name a child, his child. "Carys," he said at last. "It kinda sounds like 'caress'," and he cupped her face in his hands, wiped away the tears with his thumbs, kissed her. "But it's different, special. Like she'll be different and special."
"Carys . . . It's beautiful, Logan. Thank you. For everything." Kia suddenly smiled when she saw the mess he'd made of the buttons and set about redoing them.
Logan brushed her hands aside, gently pushed her back on the pillows. "I'll take care of it." Ignoring the buttons he pulled the shirt over his head, dropped it on the floor, cocked a questioning eyebrow. She giggled, reached up, and he fell into her embrace.
*****
"One thing I can't figure, white man. How the hell did you get in?"
Hawk and Logan stood before the breached fence that warded off Ralston's wasteland and regarded the cut wires.
Off-hand, I'd say I used my claws, thought Logan, expertly eyeing the bright, sheared tips of metal and the precise rectangular hole. Only, how could he have cut his way through the fence if he came to the spirit world through the fire pit? "Wire clippers?" he now suggested.
"I'd say the same, only you didn't leave 'em layin' around here and for damn sure they weren't on you. You was barely decent, pal, in those ripped up shorts."
"Well, unless I used my teeth, I don't know. It's all a blur, chief. Must've drunk something mighty powerful that night. Sorry."
"I'll nose it out someday. Don't think I won't," Hawk warned. "But let's do what we came to do." And they set about stringing new wire across the gap, nailing it on.
They worked well together, Logan noticed, and experienced an unsettling mix of resentment and approval at the realization. "Hear you're gonna marry Kia Dubois," he remarked casually.
Hawk halted, hammer upraised. "Yeah," he mumbled around a mouthful of nails. "Hear you're the dad of that passel of kids."
" . . . Yeah."
"Great kids."
"Yeah."
"How come you don't live with them? You runnin' from the law?"
Logan stopped unrolling the spool of wire, breath caught in his throat an instant. "Not exactly. You heard of the witness protection program? They've given me a new name, taken away my past." And the irony was how close to the truth this bullshit lay.
"Seen somethin' you shouldn't of, eh?"
"Can't really talk about it. I ain't up this way often, but I'll be here damn quick -- better believe it, bub! -- if I hear any bad reports about you and my kids!
Hawk laughed. "Yeah, okay. Fair enough. An' I'll be keepin' my ears stretched for news about you, paleface."
They finished repairing the fence, went and had a beer.
*****
Logan beat his fist against the door jamb. The faded blanket drew aside and a pair of black, piercing eyes met his scowl.
"I gotta talk to you!"
"I have been waiting, Wolverine Trickster. Come."
They sat on blankets in the circular room as before, but this time, although there was a small fire, the smoke was that of rich, red cedar. Logan inhaled it, reliving all the times he'd camped in the forest surrounded by that same scent, and unconsciously he relaxed.
Grandfather pottered with something in a kettle hung over the fire, pulled out two dented tin cups from an apple crate that served as both cupboard and table, set them on top, and, retrieving the kettle, poured a stream of fragrant, golden-brown liquid into each one.
"Drink."
Logan gave the brew a dubious sniff. Smelled okay, but -- "After you, old man."
Grandfather smiled, sipped. And a moment later, Logan did too. Sweet, earthy, the tea settled the jumpiness in his stomach, spread a sense of warmth and well-being throughout his body. Danger in that too, he suddenly realized, and slammed down the cup with a snarl.
"I gotta know what really happened out there! And where 'there' really was, and how -- Who -- When . . ." He stumbled to a stop, already getting tangled up as his memory trotted forth a series of scenes that his mind labeled impossible.
"Do you dream, Wolverine? Dream of being chased, hurt? Dream of fighting, killing?"
Hell, all his dreams were like that! Was there any other kind? What was the bastard getting at? "Sometimes . . . "
Grandfather nodded. "And in these dreams is the fear real? The pain, the fighting?"
"Course it's not real! It just . . . feels real . . . " And his protest petered off as he frowned at the cup, picked it up, drank, set it down empty. "Please. I gotta know. What happened?"
"You saved Kia's life," Grandfather said simply. "And those of the children. And your own life as well!" He suddenly smiled, showing a full set of white teeth which Logan suspected to be false.
"Kia said she collapsed because of her heart."
Again, Grandfather nodded. "Yes, a hole in her heart. But who put it there?" And when Logan would interrupt -- "The waiting death chose only now to strike in order to prevent the birth of the child."
Logan found his mouth was open, closed it. What the old guy said made sense in a screwy way, just like dreams also had a twisted logic that was perfectly reasonable when one was caught in it. He sighed and gave up. The important thing was that Kia and the kids, present and future, were alright. And Hawk would make sure they stayed that way.
As if Grandfather had read his mind -- and maybe the geezer had at that! was Logan's cynical thought -- he now said, "Well done, Wolverine Trickster!"
"Yeah, about that . . . Why do you keep calling me tricky?"
The white teeth flashed. "Wolverine is a fierce creature, but small, and because of its size it must often resort to cunning to vanquish larger foes. Did you not do the same by making Serpent help you? Conquer Rock with noise when claws were of no use? And though you defeated Cougar as Wolverine, you destroyed him with cunning, using his own blood to condemn him. Never have I laughed so heartily as when I saw that!" And he laughed now, a deep, resonate, infectious laugh that even smoothed down some of Logan's irritation.
"Yeah. Well. Glad it made your day." He stood, from the jacket's inner pocket fished out a cigar. "The cop told me tobacco is a good gift for a -- " He was going to say 'medicine man,' but it sounded too hokey, too Hollywood. " -- someone like you," he finished. And when he left, he found his way out of the house with no trouble at all.
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