The Right Track
by
WildThing
Disclaimer: Yeah, it's been done to death, but I guess it's gotta be said anyway. All recognizable characters are the property of Marvel Comics. I'm not making any money off these characters. Maybe some day I will get money for my writing, but I bet you dollars to donuts it won't be scripting X-Men. I'm not that lucky.
This is for Tygerzeye, who gave me the scene and told me to run with it, and RocketJ who was kind enough to beta this for me.
Logan stood on the platform, waiting for the D train. New York was almost tolerable at this time of the morning; sane people were home in their beds by now and usually the only people still up had someplace to go -- or no place to go. Logan was one of the "haves", on his way back to his little room in the East Village.
There were times when he just needed to get away and forget about being a hero. The estate was nice, but too confining. The Professor knew Logan felt cooped up within the mansion and he and Logan had struck a bargain: Logan could live wherever he liked in his own manner and Professor Xavier would not disturb him unless absolutely necessary. To that end, Logan set himself up in a little third-floor walkup just off St. Mark's in the East Village. He was glad to have a place where no one cared about his comings and goings, except the old lady in 1B who had appointed herself the local Neighborhood Watch.
He didn't often take the subway, preferring to stick with wheels or heels, but he had walked down to Coney Island while it was still light and a damn sight warmer. It would be quicker and warmer to take the train home. Unusually cold, Logan mused, as he watched his breath freeze in front of him, even for a February. He pulled the fleecy collar of his coat up to cover his ears and jammed his hands back into his pockets. Sheltering in the lee of a column to keep out of the worst of the wind, Logan surveyed the remainder of the platform.
A couple of fluorescent lights fizzled and blinked near the far end of the platform. An overturned trash bin surrendered its contents to the wind. Hamburger wrappers swirled around in little eddies until they finally blew off down the tracks. He could hear some kids using the stairwell around the corner as a skate park and chuckled to himself as they whooped their encouragement. On the platform itself though, Logan was alone save for the man curled up in a corner wearing everything he owned, with his arm wrapped around a little black and white mutt for both warmth and companionship.
As he leaned into the column, he heard the train rumbling a little ways off. Probably be here in a minute, and about damn time, too. He was cold and tired and wanted nothing more than just go home and get some rest. Logan caught a slight movement in his peripheral vision and turned to look. A young kid was standing at the edge of the platform, staring at the tracks. Huh, Logan thought, didn't even notice him, I must be getting tired. He reprimanded himself for not paying attention but conceded that the kid was downwind and he had been listening for the train, so that was probably why he didn't notice. Now that he had noticed, he could see short brown hair, pushed to one side by the wind, sticking out over an impossibly large army jacket. The kid seemed fixated on the tracks, only pausing every once in a while to glance in the direction of the train.
That kid's going to get himself in trouble standing that close to the edge. Logan thought he should maybe say something, tell the boy to step back because the train would be here any second. The boy knows the train is coming, he's watching it come. Oh, cripes! He's gonna jump in front of the train!
Logan sprinted across the platform without a thought or a sound. He didn't want to take the chance of shouting and scaring the kid right into the path of the oncoming train. The kid lifted up a foot and started to lean in as Logan's hand reached in and grabbed a handful of olive green material and yanked hard. The kid's feet left the ground as Logan's adrenaline rush gave him a little more strength than he really needed to employ. Logan realized this about halfway in and released his hold, allowing momentum to carry the kid away from the tracks and into the nearby tiled wall. The impact was still enough to knock the wind out of the boy and sent him slumping to the floor as the cars squealed to a halt at the station. The train was as empty as the station, so it pulled out quickly and continued its way south.
Logan looked down scornfully at the crumpled expanse of army green, searching for a face on which to vent his anger. He found one, but not the one he was expecting. He thought he'd find pock-marks and adolescent chin-stubble but instead found mascara stained cheeks and fine features. He blinked in surprise, but it only took him a moment to remember the tirade he was about to unleash.
"What in blazes d'you think you were doin', kid? Were ya tryin' t'get yerself killed?" Logan's eyes locked on hers and he saw the answer without her saying a word. She had purposely come down here this morning to do just that. When Logan saw that death-wish in her eyes, it took him aback; he recognized that deep, crushing hurt. His anger subsided somewhat and he saw that the haunted look in her eyes had been replaced by fear; a fear of him.
Logan regained his composure and thought how he must look to her. She had expected to come down here to jump in front of a speeding subway train and it would all be over. Just as she plucked up the courage to finally go through with it some guy comes up from out of the blue and yanks her into the air and against the wall and was now towering over her, shouting at her. As all this flashed through his mind, Logan crouched down to eye level and lowered his voice to a calmer register.
"Look, kid, there ain't nothin' so bad that's worth you doin' this," he jerked his thumb over his shoulder to indicate the tracks. "B'lieve me, I know."
She returned his gaze and he could tell that she was deciding whether or not this loud-mouth buttinski had any idea what he was talking about. Aside from the eye contact, she made no acknowledgement that she believed him, or even heard what he said.
"Hey, kid, ya made me miss my train an' it's damn cold out here. Whaddya say we go in for a coffee? C'mon, I'm buyin'." His knees popped as he stood up and he stood over her, offering a hand to help her up. Her eyes followed his, then she glanced at his hand, which was near her face. The girl looked back into his eyes as she angled herself away from the wall and slowly stood up. Logan clucked his tongue and a smile tweaked one corner of his mouth. He could see a little glimmer of defiance in her eyes. Good. He swung his outstretched hand towards the stairs. "After you. Gotta keep ya where I can see ya so you don't go runnin' off."
They climbed the stairs in silence, but Logan stopped to glare at the skateboarders when they asked him for some change. The teenagers shrunk back and muttered amongst themselves, remaining subdued until after Logan and the girl had reached the street.
When they reached the surface, Logan steered her towards an all-night diner. He opened the door and waited until she took the hint that he was waiting for her to enter first. She stepped in and was greeted by the smell of grease and bacon frying. She pulled her coat closed in a vain attempt to muffle the rumbling of her stomach. Logan followed her inside and they found a table and sat down.
The waitress was there before they finished situating themselves. She set two glasses of water on the table and handed them each a menu. "Special tonight's pot roast. If you wait until four we got breakfast specials, too."
"Thanks," muttered Logan. "We'll let ya know."
The waitress went back to her perch on the countertop by the kitchen window. She and the cook were talking about going home together once their shift was over. Logan turned his attention back to the girl, who was buried in the folds of her coat and hiding behind the laminated menu. "Whatcha gonna have, kid?"
"Coffee."
"Coffee'll stunt yer growth, kid, lookit me. 'Sides, way yer stomach was talkin', sounds like you need some food, too." The girl lowered her head, but Logan could see her blushing between the menu and the thick brown bangs hanging over her eyes. She was obviously very embarrassed that he had heard that. "I told ya I was buyin', so you can get what ya want."
Eventually, the waitress remembered she had customers and came back over to the table to take their order. "Patty melt and fries with chili and cheese. And coffee, darlin', it's damn cold out there." Logan winked at the waitress as he handed her his menu.
The waitress smiled and turned to the girl, "What about you, honey?"
The girl looked at Logan, waiting to see any change in his expression as she ordered. "Cheeseburger and fries and. . . a Coke." Logan smiled.
"We got Pepsi, is that okay?"
"Yeah, Pepsi's fine."
The waitress went to place the order and came back with the drinks. She set them down, smiled at Logan and went back the counter, where she filed her nails as the cook worked. Logan lit a cigarette and stretched out on his side of the booth, putting one arm over the back of the seat. The girl sat motionless opposite him.
"What's yer name, kid?'
Silence.
"Surely you can tell me yer name if I'm buyin' ya breakfast. My name's Logan."
"Jodie."
"There, see? That wasn't so hard. Now ya wanna tell me why you were lookin' t'catch that train from the front?"
More silence.
"Right. Well, where d'ya live? I'll take ya home after breakfast."
"Nowhere." Her eyes dropped.
"Well, I sure as blazes ain't gonna turn ya loose at this time o' the morning, not if you don't have somewhere to go. Yer gonna hafta come home with me. Least you can have a warm bed fer the night." Jodie started to squirm and protest, but the waitress blocked her from leaving the booth when she arrived with their food. Jodie's stomach gurgled again as she smelled her burger. She decided she may as well eat since she wasn't going anywhere anyway.
They ate without speaking. Logan stabbed at his chili cheese fries as he watched Jodie eat her burger without putting it down once. She ate like she hadn't eaten in a week, like she was afraid she would lose her sandwich if she let go. She was halfway through her fries before she even looked up from her plate. When she did finally raise her head, she saw Logan watching her eat. He had a strange little smile on his face as he chewed; she couldn't quite read it, but he was staring right at her. Jodie went back to concentrating on her food, but she could still feel him smiling at her.
She cleaned her plate and looked up. The smile was still there, just barely, but he was still watching her. "I. . . uh. . . g-gotta go to the bathroom," she stammered, and scooted out of the booth. She followed the waitress' directions around the far side of the counter to the restrooms. There has to be a way to sneak out of here, Jodie thought. She peeked in the kitchen and saw the kitchen entrance was blocked by two large trash cans and a mountain of boxes. She pushed open the ladies' room door and was disappointed to find that the one small window had iron bars blocking her escape. She looked at her mascara-streaked face in the mirror. Better just make the best of this situation, she told her reflection.
She wet a paper towel and scrubbed the mascara off her cheeks, leaving them rosy. She combed through her hair with her fingers, trying to look presentable. She unwrapped a stick of gum and popped it into her mouth. No use having onion breath, she thought glumly.
When she came out, Logan had a few curled up dollar bills standing on the table. "I was gettin' worried. Thought maybe you fell in or somethin'."
"Just cleaning up," she said, avoiding eye contact.
"Well, ya look much better without all those streaks." She gritted her teeth. "Only joshin' ya. Ya look good." His smile was back. "You done or did ya need more to eat?"
"No, I'm good."
"Okay, that's good. I went ahead and called a cab. It's still a fair ways to my place, too cold to walk and I didn't figure we should take the subway." Logan stood up and swallowed the last of his coffee. "Let's go, Jodie." He put a hand lightly on her shoulder and tossed a smile back to the waitress. "Thanks for the grub, darlin'."
Outside, they waited in silence for the taxi. When it arrived, they rode down to the Village without speaking, the silence only broken occasionally by the sound of Jodie's gum. They got out in front of Logan's building and, as Logan paid the driver, she stared somberly at the face of the old brownstone and hugged her coat around herself tighter.
Logan was glad Mrs. Mahoney wasn't keeping watch this early. He'd be hard pressed to explain to the old busybody just why he was taking a teenaged girl up to his room. "Well, ya see, it's like this. . . " he'd start out, but he really couldn't come up with anything plausible after that. Maybe he'd get lucky and she'd be out when they came down.
A small click, and the door swung open on Logan's tiny apartment. He reached in and flicked on the lights. Jodie stood in the doorway taking it all in. There wasn't much to see, really. There was a small kitchen off to the left of the entryway, the counters were bare and even the refrigerator was blank. Sure, she didn't expect children's drawings, but even bachelors usually had pictures or magnets or something. She had found that you could tell a lot about a person by what was on his fridge. Nothing? Well, she wasn't sure what that meant.
"It ain't much," he shrugged apologetically, "but at least it's warm." Not much is right, she thought. She had been in phone booths larger than his "apartment." A half wall separated the kitchen from the rest of the room, which contained a double bed, casually but neatly made, against the wall opposite the kitchen. A small table stood next to the bed. A chair sat beneath the window and two doors were set along the wall to the right. The only decorations in the room were a framed picture of a mountain snow scene on the wall above the bed and a watercolor of cherry blossoms between the two doors.
"C'mon in, I don't bite," he smiled. She stepped in and he shut the door behind her. It clicked in the latch, and it was just the two of them. Logan walked over to the two doors and opened the one on the right. "Here's the bathroom, in case ya need it." He opened the other door and took a towel out of the closet. "I'll just put this in here," he said as he laid the towel over the back of the toilet, "if ya decide ya wanna take a shower or somethin'."
Logan noticed Jodie still standing by the door. "Hey, kid, can't stand there all night. C'mon, got a nice warm bed waitin' for ya." She crept into the main part of the apartment. He stood there, gesturing at the bed, and another wave of unease washed over her.
"I, I'm gonna go into the bathroom, you go ahead and get ready," she spluttered.
"Okay, sure, sure, take yer time. I ain't gonna rush ya."
She locked the bathroom door behind her and sat on the toilet lid wondering just what it was this Logan guy wanted.
Blast it, Logan shouted at himself as he dropped into the chair. Seems no matter what I try to do, she keeps gettin' more and more skittish. I suppose keepin' a body from committin' suicide'll do that, but there's gotta be more to it than that. I was bein' friendly and Jubes always said I needed to smile more, so I've been smilin'. I'm givin' her the bed, what more can I do? He ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed his neck. Just keep doin' what yer doin' until you come up with a better plan, bub.
Logan went over and pulled the bedspread off the bed and tossed it onto the chair. Might be uncomfortable sleeping in the chair, but there was no reason to be cold, too. He turned down the bed and sat down, remembering just how tired he had been on the platform, before all this had happened. He kicked off his shoes and lay down on the bed. Surely she couldn't object to him using his own bed until she was out of the bathroom. He put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes to wait.
Jodie looked around the bathroom, trying to keep her mind off the man waiting for her in the next room. Maybe he had some pills in his medicine cabinet or something. She didn't feel like trying anything right now, but maybe she could take them with her once she got away from him. She tugged on the mirror and found. . . a comb, a toothbrush, a tube of toothpaste and a condom. No aspirin, no prescriptions, no nothing. Disappointed, she decided to take a shower, desperate to stall for time. She knew he wouldn't let her get away until he had gotten his "payment" for feeding her and saving her life, but she wasn't exactly looking forward to it. Jodie stood under the hot water for a long time. It seemed like ages since her last real hot shower. She turned off the water, stepped out of the shower and rubbed her hair dry. She looked down at her grubby clothes and was disgusted at the thought of putting them on again. She combed her hair and wrapped the towel around herself, then she put the comb back in the cabinet and took out the condom. She was glad that he had one, at least. Jodie looked at herself in the mirror one more time to steel her nerves and unlocked the door to face Logan.
Logan had initially tried to stay awake until she came out of the bathroom, but he was asleep before he realized it. He heard the soft click of Jodie unlocking the door and that roused him somewhat, but his sleepy mind was still a bit muzzy. He lay on the bed, listening to her but not opening his eyes. She moved around and sat next to him on the bed. He opened his eyes slightly, just enough to be able to see her without her knowing he was awake. She seemed more comfortable thinking he was asleep so he kept up the pretense, not wanting to spook her. She sat there for long minutes, just watching him, wearing nothing but the towel.
Usually by now, most guys were stripped and ready to go at it, but this Logan guy was laying on top of the sheets, fully-clothed and sound asleep. He was definitely different from any other guy she'd been with since coming to New York. Most guys were pretty direct about what they wanted her for but, now that she thought of it, Logan had only done a lot of weird hinting around and stuff. Well, it takes all kinds, she thought. Might as well get this over with.
She turned around to face him and stroked his stomach through his shirt. She was just reaching down to undo his belt buckle when he decided it had gone far enough. He pulled his hands from behind his head and caught hers before she had the buckle open. "Whoa, whoa, whoa there, kid. Whaddya think yer doin'?" He spied the condom packet in her hand. "I didn't bring ya up here so you could have yer way with me," he teased. She looked into his eyes and it finally clicked with him. All this time, she had been thinking he was going to have his way with her. No wonder she'd been skittish.
"Hey, look, kid. I'm not gonna take advantage of ya, if that's what you're thinkin'. That ain't why I brought ya here. Is that why you think I brought ya here?"
"I just thought. . . the way you were flirtin' and stuff. . . and how you said you didn't want me gettin' away from you and you wanted to take me to your place and stuff. . . " She avoided his eyes as she spoke, playing with the hem of the towel and looking very small and childlike.
Logan clasped his hands across his stomach but otherwise remained motionless. "I didn't want ya t'run off and try t'kill yerself again if I left ya alone. I know what it's like to try'n outrun things you can't possibly beat, an' I know desperation'll make ya do rash stuff that seemed like a good idea at th' time. There ain't nothin' in this world worth goin' t'those extremes."
He could see Jodie trying desperately not to cry. All the pent up frustration, anger and fear threatened to bubble out of her all at once. She sniffled and coughed and wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. Logan sat up. "Look, darlin', I'm sorry if ya got the wrong idea about me. I didn't mean nuthin' by it." He stood up and walked over to the closet and fished out a T-shirt and a pair of shorts. "These'll be better'n wearin' that towel. We'll get yer other stuff washed up tomorrow or somethin'."
"Thanks. A lot."
"S'okay. Like I said, sorry if you got the wrong idea 'bout me. Jubilee's always tellin' me I need t'lighten up and stop bein' such a hard nose. Guess it's hard for an old dog like me t'learn new tricks, huh?" He dropped himself into the chair and picked up the bedspread. Jodie took the clothing and went into the bathroom to change.
From behind the door she asked, "Who's Jubilee?"
"Friend o' mine. She's about your age, maybe. A real little spitfire and tough as nails. She don't take guff from anybody." He smiled to himself.
Jodie stepped out of the bathroom. His clothing hung loosely about her, but it was a dramatic improvement from the towel. "She sounds cool."
"Yeah, she is pretty cool," he answered, still smiling. Jodie stopped short. That was the same smile she had seen in the diner, yet somehow it had gone from salacious to comforting. "Now, get some sleep, been a long day."
"You sure you don't want the bed? I can sleep in the chair."
"One night in the chair ain't gonna kill me, just crawl in t'bed an' don't worry 'bout it."
"Okay, if you're sure. . . " She crawled under the covers and relaxed into sleep within minutes. Logan covered himself with the bedspread and listened long enough to hear Jodie's breath fall into the gentle cadence of slumber, then he was sound asleep as well.
By the time Jodie awoke, it was just past ten. Logan had turned the chair to face the open window and had his feet propped on the sill. He didn't look up from his paper but said, "Mornin', darlin'."
"Mornin'," she mumbled, wiping the sleep from her eyes.
"Hungry? There's corn flakes in the cupboard above the range or there's some ham in the icebox. That's about all I've got, sorry."
"No, corn flakes is good. Thanks." She got up and went around to the kitchen. Jodie opened cupboard after cupboard until she found a bowl, then retrieved the cereal from above the stove. Upon opening the refrigerator, she found the ham Logan had mentioned as well as a six-pack of beer and a carton of milk. "Boy, when you said you had ham and corn flakes, you weren't kidding, were you?" she joked as she sniffed the milk.
"Been meanin' to go shoppin' but I never get around to it."
Jodie poured the last of the milk on her cereal and fished around until she found a spoon. She stood at the counter with the bowl in hand, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. Logan folded up the paper and turned the chair around so it pointed towards the kitchen. "You feel more like talkin' this mornin'?"
"I dunno. What about?"
"Ya said last night ya didn't have a home. Ev'rybody's gotta come from somewhere. Where do you come from?"
"Garden City, Kansas."
"Yer a long way from home, darlin', what're ya doin' in the Big Apple?"
Jodie had set her bowl down and propped her chin in her hand on the half wall. She was still slurping up her corn flakes and looked very young in the morning light. "I wanna be famous. I always dreamed of coming to New York ever since I was a little girl. I wanna be on Broadway and star in a big musical like 'Les Miz' or something. But," her voice grew softer, "it's a lot different than I imagined."
"New York's a tough place, kiddo, it'll eat ya whole if yer not careful."
"Yeah, I know. I've been doing all kinds of bad stuff since I got here just to make it and it's like I can't get away. I'm never gonna get outta here and I just don't wanna do it any more."
"Never say never, darlin'. Who's back in Garden City?"
"Everybody. My folks, my grandma, my older brother and sister."
"You wanna go home and see 'em?"
"Yeah, sure. 'Course I do. But I can't ever save up enough money to get out of here!" Her voice grew desperate.
"Well, whatcha say we get you cleaned up an' on the next bus back to Garden City?"
Jodie was stunned for a moment before realization took hold. "No way! You mean it?" Her eyes brightened enormously at the prospect and her smile stretched ear to ear.
"Yeah, sure I mean it. I'm one o' the good guys. It's what we do."
Jodie nearly tripped over herself in her attempt to race across the room and hug him. She stumbled the last few feet and sprawled into his lap as a mass of gangly limbs. "Whoa, easy there, darlin' yer gonna hurt yerself! C'mon, I told ya we'd get yer clothes washed. You wanna look presentable when yer mom sees ya, don't ya?"
By four pm, they were at the Port Authority Bus Terminal. Jodie had only the clothes on her back, some sandwiches and a couple of magazines, but she felt better than she had in months. Logan slipped two twenty dollar bills into her hand.
"No, Logan, I couldn't! You already got me my ticket and everything, I can't take any more of your money!" She tried to push the money back at him.
"Nah, keep it. You never know when you might run into trouble and a couple extra bucks could come in handy." She slipped the money into her pocket. "Now you remember, you change busses in St. Louis and again in Oklahoma City, right?"
"I remember. Thanks, Logan. For everything." She leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek as she hugged him goodbye. Then she boarded the bus and took a seat at the window so she could wave at him as the bus pulled away. Logan waved until the bus turned the corner, then he dropped his hand to his side.
Amazin', he thought, flippin' amazin'. How being in the right place at the right time can completely change someone else's life around. Sure it's great to have the power to save the world, but saving one person at a time, just by being human. . . that's infinitely more rewarding.
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