Who: Jessica Jones and Logan Howlett What: Jessica stops in for a drink Where: Logan's bar When: Recentlyish Ratings/Warnings: Low/none Status: Complete
Jessica had hoped that by ignoring the problem, it would just conveniently go away, but she was beginning to learn that that wasn’t at all the case. Things had only managed to get stranger, it seemed. Killer rabbits and talking peeps almost seemed normal compared to the jumping onto an alien Starfighter and the dreams that left her anything from a badass leather jacket to the lamest sandwich costume she’d ever seen.
She hadn’t been back to Logan’s bar since Easter, as if somehow avoiding the man and the bar would help things quietly disappear. But she couldn’t really forget the encounter. Like how he’d known her name, for one. She’d learned more about the dreams since then, and she suspected that he must have dreamed of her at some point. But there was no one like her in her own dreams.
She entered the building, and made a beeline toward the bar, where she slipped onto one of the barstools.
“Fancy meeting you here,” Logan said, walking over as he wiped a glass. He set it down and poured a drink like he could guess which drink it was she wanted.
Jessica could have thought it strange that Logan already knew her drink order already, but frankly, that was the least strange thing that had happened this month. She knocked it back, then placed the empty old fashioned glass in front of him. “I thought it was about time I made my way back here.”
At least some things didn’t change between universes. Logan could be happy about that, all things considered. “Told you. Best bar in town, you’d be back.”
If he was going to question her further, he kept it to himself.
“How could I resist. Especially when the bartender already knows my name?” Jessica asked, flashing Logan a wry smile. “I don't really look like someone you used to babysit for, do I?”
“You look exactly like her. Don’t mean you are her.” He scratched his jaw, “Or at least not that version of her. It’s… complicated timey wimey bullshit.”
Jessica’s eyebrows furrowed as she looked at Logan, trying to take in… well, whatever the hell it was she was supposed to be taking in. “More complicated than jumping into the clouds?” she asked skeptically.
Logan stared at her for a moment, then took out a bottle of beer, popped a claw, used the claw to pry open the cap, and then took a swig, “Multiple universes exist. Realities where things go a little different. Maybe in one you’re a bad guy, maybe in another you’re a queen. Maybe in one you’re a good friend and an’ avenger, maybe in another I don’t even exist.”
Every part of Jessica screamed that there was no way any of this was real; this had to have been some sort of mass prank that someone was pulling. But she’d seen enough, experienced enough, to know that Logan was telling the truth. She laced her fingers together and bowed her head, resting her forehead in her hands for a moment. Then she picked up her empty glass for a refill. “I’m going to need a lot more alcohol for this conversation.”
“I got you,” Logan said, pouring her another glass. He knew what it felt like to need that kind of drink. Fuck, he wished he could actually feel that kind of buzz again. Getting drunk wasn’t an option for him, and never would be.
With a single motion, Jessica downed the glass again and made another motion for Logan to fill it. “So, multiple universes?” she asked. “You mean, more than the one I’m living now and the one I Dream about? Because frankly, two is more than enough for me.” Especially since both of them seemed to have all the same bad in them.
“Yep.” He pointed at himself, “I’ve dreamed of three different ones, an’ in one of those universes I’ve met other versions of me from other universes I ain’t dreamed about yet. A friend has dreamed of dozens of alternate versions of herself.”
Jessica wondered if she’d dream of multiple different universes as well. People had spoken of their dreams ending, which was all she wanted. But if she had dozens of versions of her life to dream, well, who knew if they’d ever end? She wondered if she’d have to dream of her family dying in every version of it.
“Sounds like the fun never stops,” she grumbled. She wanted to ask his advice, how do you deal with this?, but she didn’t know how.
“It does, eventually for most people.” Logan shrugged his shoulder, his expression growing somber, “I died, on both versions of me that I’ve dreamed. Like to think they were good deaths. But they were still deaths.”
Reliving the car wreck that had taken her parents had been more than enough to show her just how real the dreams could get. She didn’t want to think about what dreaming of actually dying would be like. It had to have been horrible. “Sorry,” she said sympathetically.
“Eh, I’ve died a thousand times. Tend to heal back from it, except those final ones. But the dreams, at least my dream world, doesn’t mean that death is forever.” It was like a revolving door, and was a big reason he was so cavalier about death. At least his own. It was different when you loved someone, and worse when that someone was normal or baseline.
Baseline folks didn’t come back from the dead.
“So that healing thing you’ve got going on,” the one she’d seen in action when the rabbits had attacked him at Easter, “that heals death too?” She frowned. If she was going to die, she’d probably rather just stay dead.
“Most of the time, yeah. Once got hit by a nuke. Or close enough to one. Blew myself up a few times to sneak into places via bodybags. I think Death is sweet on me, she’s always on about gettin’ me permanentlike. What finally got me both times was somethin’ holding my powers back.”
“You’ve met-” Jessica started, and then cut herself off. Of course he’d met Death herself. He was just talking about blowing himself up to sneak into places, Death being a being that could speak to someone was hardly the weirdest part of all of this. “Even if I could come back from the dead, I don’t think I’d willingly blow myself up. That has to hurt.”
“It does.” Logan frowned, growing momentarily sober. “Gets to a point where you want that death. Or at least accept that it’s finally comin’. Spent too long avoiding it. Sometimes you gotta accept it.”
Jessica nodded. Those thoughts she could understand. It wasn’t that she particularly wanted to die, though she often thought she should have died alongside the rest of her family.
She wasn’t really sure what to say. She’d never been entirely comfortable talking about death, and she was glad to change the subject now. “So, in at least one of these versions of your dreams, you’ve dreamed of me?” she asked.
Logan nodded. “Yeah. You’re an Avenger, a superhero team I’m on occasionally.” It was a subject he usually avoided - while he liked the Avengers and liked working with them, they also tended to ignore mutant issues which was problematic at best.
The idea of Jessica a) being a superhero, and b) being on a team of superheroes was more unbelievable than anything else that had happened to her over the last few months, and for a moment, she could only stare at Logan. “You sure you’re thinking of the right girl?” she asked after a moment.
“Yep. Well, used to be a hero, became a PI, then a journalist before returnin' to superheroics with your husband, Luke." It was a summary, a very, very short summary of a whole lot of bullshit.
“My…” Jessica shook her head. Marriage wasn’t something she ever thought much about, mostly because it was something she was pretty sure would never happen to her. It wasn’t something she’d ever given much consideration after Sterling had died.
“Well, I’m sorry you’ve got to deal with two of me now,” she said, a wry smile at her own joke.
Just wait until the baby.
But Logan kept that to himself, since he didn’t know if the kid was a multi-universe thing.
“Eh. Could be worse.” She could be Wade.
“Thanks,” Jessica scoffed, though there was a genuineness behind her words. It had been surprisingly helpful to have someone to talk to from the dreams, someone who dreamed of her even if she’d had yet to dream of him.
“Let me pour you one more drink,” Logan offered. After a discussion like that, he knew she probably needed one. And maybe they could talk about things other than terrible dreams.