Dividing Loyalty
by
Mercutio
ARCHIVE: Please. Wherever you like, as often as possible.
NOTES: This was written for the sheer fun of showering angst upon someone, and the characterizations probably suck. The plot certainly lacks something. Forgive me.
The woman Logan had brought home with him to the mansion sat with Jean in the kitchen. "We're really glad to see that Logan has found someone," Jean confided to the dark-haired stranger. "He's very much alone at times, and it's good that he has you."
Theresa had nothing to say. What was she supposed to say to something like that? She went with the nod-and-smile answer. "Uh-huh."
"He can be a hard man to get to know, but when he gives his loyalty to his friends, he means it. He and I -- I know that Logan would always be there for me if I needed him in any way. His friends matter a great deal to him, which is why I think he's so hesitant to make any. It hurts so much, you see, when he loses them."
That was a warning if she ever heard one. Don't hurt Logan because he's been hurt badly enough already. "I'm happy that he has friends like you."
"We like to think of ourselves as family. We've all grown quite close over the years."
Logan entered the kitchen, and Theresa felt her body move into a higher gear. Wordless communication passed between them, a slant of eyes, a bit of posture saying that she'd missed him and that he wanted her. "Hiya, Jeannie. Didn't see you when I came in."
Jean stood up, and hugged Logan enthusiastically. "It's been three months. You should have called or written or..."
"I'm not much on keepin' in touch. You know that, darlin'."
"You'll stay around for a while this time, won't you? We all miss you quite a lot."
"If it's you that's asking, sure, Red."
She beamed. "Thank you."
Theresa paled. She'd met Logan overseas, while conducting some business for her mother. He had been serving as some sort of function -- bodyguard, she guessed -- for her contact. The deal had been conducted without any hitches, and afterward, when the 'bodyguard' had suggested a drink, she'd taken him up on it. A few drinks and a few hours of sex later, she'd come to the conclusion that she wouldn't mind seeing the man again. So she'd returned with him to the United States. She had to be in Denver by Sunday evening, and Logan had been agreeable to coming with her.
Or so she'd thought. Given how easily he'd changed his mind right now, obviously she'd been wrong. And equally obvious, Logan didn't count her as part of the group of friends that he felt so loyal to.
Theresa bit her tongue, letting the stab of physical pain stabilize her. All right. What was the situation? She had to return to work for her mother in Denver. There could be no negotiating of that; two important contracts depended on her presence the next week. Losing one would reduce the company's profit margin, losing both would cripple the business. So she would return. And Logan... would stay here. With his friends. Who, as the red-haired woman had said, were the most important thing to him in the world.
*No problem*, Theresa thought. *I can deal with this. We had a pleasant time together, and it's over, and that's that. Clearly he doesn't feel the same way about you that you were starting to feel about him, but you're a woman, you can handle this.*
She put on her company face, the one that she used most often when making deals with powerful men who thought she might be negotiable as part of the deal, and participated in the small talk between Jean and Logan.
In the morning, Logan drove her to the airport. He didn't say a word about wanting to see her again, and she didn't plead. The affair was over, and if her heart was breaking when she kissed him goodbye, well, she could pick up a romance novel during her layover in Chicago and moon over that for a while.
That left her without much to do on the flight to Chicago, though, except think. There was something to be said about a man who valued his friends so much. Theresa admired the quality. She felt much the same way about the family business. Built from the ruin of the company that her uncle had run, the business was more a living entity than their family had been. She'd sacrificed her dreams of becoming a doctor to it, had laid many relationships at its altar when those relationships could not accommodate the demands of the company, and thus abandoned her own chances to have a family.
Yes, she understood what loyalty meant and what it cost. It'd been a foolish daydream to imagine, even for a moment, that someone -- that *Logan* -- might feel that way about her. Especially since she didn't have the luxury of returning that loyalty. Not as long as she was bound to the company. Not that she would ever consider leaving it over what had been merely a casual affair.
She definitely needed to pick up a romance novel in Chicago. Or some sedatives. One or the other.
***
Two weeks, and both deals successfully behind her, she quit the company. Or quit it as much as was allowed. Her mother called it a sabbatical. Theresa called it a sanity check.
She'd spent the time since Logan in a daze, almost useless for anything. The two important contracts had challenged her for a brief while, and then she fell back into the pain of being abandoned. Not that she'd said anything to stop him from leaving. Not that he had any reason to feel obligated to stay with her.
She just felt better sitting at home, blanket wrapped around her feet, mug of cocoa in her hand. Much better than she did sitting in her office with her head down on the desk and her secretary making disapproving noises when she dropped off the latest batch of phone messages that Theresa would not return.
Better to wallow in self-pity at home where people couldn't see her doing it.
The doorbell rang. Theresa dropped the tissue she'd just blown her nose in and went to get the door. Through the window next to the door, she could see her visitor. A short, stocky man with a Stetson. *Logan*.
She opened the door, still clutching the blanket around her shoulder. "Yes?"
He examined her thoroughly, eyes narrowing. "What's wrong, darlin'?"
*You*, she thought, and wondered if throwing herself at him bodily would be tacky. Probably. Yet he was here. But why? He'd abandoned her without a thought, without a word. Why would he show up now?
"What are you doing here?" she asked. "I assumed you were going to stay with your friends--" her voice cracked on that word, and she changed to a different term, "with the people you care about. That's where you belong." *And not with me, who you don't care about at all.*
She started crying anyway, feeling rather upset at herself for doing it. *Good one. Break down in front of the man. Make him feel bad. How juvenile.* But she'd spent too much time thinking over him, and her situation, and crying about it, and the tears were unstoppable.
Strong hands guided her into the living room and sat her down on the couch. Then a shoulder was offered, and she accepted it gladly. Much better than crying into her cocoa. Salt and chocolate didn't mix well.
He stroked her hair, tangles and all. "I'm here to see you."
*Ask a silly question, get a silly answer.* "Why? Your friends are out in New York. You wanted to be with them. If you wanted to see me, you would have said something."
He tipped her head, looking at her curiously. "I love you, darlin'. I thought you knew that."
"Of course," she said solemnly, then started beating his chest with her hands. "Of course!"
Logan allowed her to hit him for a few moments, and then gathered her up closely against him. "Well," he allowed. "I guess I coulda called."
She laughed through her tears, and kissed him. "Next time, you do that."
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