Neena Thurman pours drinks, kicks ass. (fallsinplace) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-03-04 10:53:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, laura kinney (wolverine), logan howlett (wolverine), neena thurman (domino) |
Who: Laura, Logan, and Neena
Where: the house they all destroyed
What: Neena keeps a promise
When: 2219 a couple months after this log
Warnings/Rating: R for mercy killing of PCs
Status complete
A couple months after the fight with Logan, Neena left the house on the beach and went down the road a bit. She’d intended to do this before, but settling into the house and spending time with Nate had cut into her available time for other things. She had her rifle on her shoulder, and a bag full of food. She was going to find Logan, and find out what happened to him.
She started to whistle as she got closer to the house where they’d been attacked, because it would be easy to hear from far away, even for a normal person.
There was silence, near the house. As though life had fled the place - or more likely tried to avoid it. The door had been clawed down, and claw marks led inside, and down into the basement. Logan was there, twisted and shattered still, though he could move much better than he could before. It was utter agony, as the razor sharp shards of metal inside him moved around. It had been worse at first. The metal healed slower than the rest of him.
There was a broken mass on a makeshift bed, in the corner farthest from the door, that he kept watch over.
The claw marks told her where to go, and she took a deep breath, scanning everything she could see before stepping inside. “Logan?” She searched the main floor of the house, but it was undisturbed. So she opened the basement door and sat on the top step.
He growled when the door had opened. He could smell her coming, and hear her, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. He was weak here, and vulnerable, and hunting was nearly impossible, but he’d done what he could.
Going into the basement was suicide, plain and simple. Every instinct she had told her not to go. She took a deep breath and went down the stairs. Her rifle was still hanging by its strap from her shoulder. She had expected things to be bad, but when she saw Logan and Laura, she immediately felt an intense surge of guilt. She pulled the bag with the food off her shoulder and set it down, retreating a few steps. "I'm sorry, Logan.”
Logan sneered, and snapped his jaws at her, before reaching for the food with one twisted finger. He pulled it close, and sniffed at it. They’d lost their way, a long time ago. Whatever (or whomever) had twisted them was long dead, and a woman who should be was standing in front of him. “Fuck off and die.” Hello to you too.
“I already did that.” Neena noted, sitting on the bottom stairs. “And I kept my promise to you.” She wondered what had happened, where they’d gone bad.
Laura made a pitiful noise, turning her head toward the food. “There’s water in there too. I figured you probably don’t have much that’s good to drink.” Neena’s voice was steady as she spoke.
Logan sniffed the water, then slid a bottle and some food over to Laura, never taking his eyes off of Neena. “Should’ve..sooner. Before...” Before what? He couldn’t remember any more. It had been so long ago.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” Neena said, her hands on her knees, so Logan would be able to see them. “I didn’t want to leave you.”
“I watched you die,” Logan said, voice gravelly and quiet. He pulled the food closer and dug into some kind of bar. As he took a bite, his face contorted. He started to laugh. "Son of a fuck. Who's is it? Tell me it ain't Slim's."
“Huh?” Neena made a face at him. Laughing was an improvement, though. She’d take what she could get.
“You’re pregnant,” he growled, before grimacing in pain. Some ancient, long buried part of him might actually be a little jealous.
“Oh. Fuck.” She facepalmed. “No, it’s not Scott’s. We don’t have anymore whiskey old enough to get me that drunk.” She wondered what the growling was about. Who could tell, at this point.
Logan snorted. It had to be the kid’s then. Not that he could talk. Ever. Especially now. “Why’d you come back? Finish the job? Take my head somewhere far away?”
“I don’t know. It wouldn’t work, anyway.” She leaned down a bit to look at him. “Is that what you want? Because what I want is my best friend by my side, helping me figure this shit out. But I don’t know if he’s still alive or not.”
"You know what he'd want," the man called Logan said. He shifted, sitting up, at great expense to himself. He really did feel helpless.
His voice broke. "You don't know what we've done, Neena."
“I do.” She said, with a nod. “And I don’t know what you’ve done, no. But I believe there is always room for penance. You’ve got a lot of time left to you, Logan. You can do good in this world.”
“Not as long as the Wild Pack lives in memory,” he retorted. He got into a crouch, then slowly stood, for the first time in months. His legs were weak, and wobbling.
“You’re going to force me into it, aren’t you?” Neena stood as well, her expression drained of emotion. She would protect herself. It would be simpler that way. Maybe she’d even have a clear conscience if it went down like that.
“With what, broken claws?” Logan snorted. He took a step, and then fell to his knees, letting out a curse. “Even if I wanted penance, I’m useless. You fuckin’ broke us too good.”
Neena went to him, to catch him before he fell again. “I guess there are limits to everything.” She took a deep breath. There were too many reasons to do this, and only one reason not to. “Do you want me to take care of Laura, too?” She wasn’t sure Laura could talk, and Laura didn’t say anything to prove she could.
“She’s all I got left,” Logan said, voice cracking. He wasn’t sure how long it would even take her to heal, or why it was taking so long. Maybe there was a limit, or maybe she didn’t want to live any more and he was just making her suffer.
Neena nodded. “I’m so sorry, Logan. I’ll be quick.” She kissed his forehead, and guided him back to the floor. There was an axe in the closet, so she ran back up the steps to retrieve it. It was better this way. Logan was centuries old, and his memories would make him feel even older. After all that, they both deserved some peace, and rest.
She took deep breaths, refusing to cry until the task was finished. The axe was where she left it, and still as sharp as when she’d put it away.
Oblivion was welcome.
There was what looked like a stained, bloody note, that Logan had kept on him. It was very old, the handwriting having faded long ago. There was also a picture, glued and stapled, and nearly as faded as the text. But if one looked closely, they'd see Neena and Logan's faces smiling out from in front of the bar.
Neena saw the note when she got back down the stairs, and tucked it into her bra for safekeeping, and to look at later. She went to Laura first, like she’d said she would. The girl was bad, it was difficult to tell she had once been a really beautiful woman. Neena took a deep breath, to steady herself, and brought the axe down hard on the poor girl’s neck. With care, she picked the head up and put it by the stairs. They would have to come with her. It was the only way to be sure.
She stood over Logan, the axe by her feet. “Thank you for being there for me, and helping me figure out I was still alive after all. I’ll see you soon.” Then she lifted the axe and brought it down again, as cleanly as she’d dispatched Laura.
Logan just smiled.