Chapter Text
Logan woke up to a throbbing pain in his chest. He swallowed a gasp as he shifted and his eyes flew open, the edges creasing with stifled pain. For a moment he stirred restlessly, unsure of what was happening or where he was. Then the memory of the attack flooded back and he jerked upwards, his pulse racing, his heart in his mouth.
‘Charles!’
For a heart-stopping moment he feared the worst. Then the sound of footsteps sounded outside the bedroom door and then it swung open and there was Charles, looking rather bruised and worn, but nevertheless breathtakingly whole and alive. There was a tired smile on Charles’s face that quickly morphed into one of concern when he saw Logan sitting up in bed.
‘Logan!’ he said, moving forward, his eyes roving anxiously over Logan’s tensely-held frame. ‘Are you alright? Have you pulled any stitches? Why are you sitting up?’ His hands fluttered around Logan’s chest as if he were reluctant to touch him and cause him any additional pain.
Logan grunted, the sight of Charles doing more to relax him than the realisation that he had been tended to and was in his own bed. ‘I’m alright, Chuck,’ he said, placing a hand on his ribs and wincing slightly at the twinge the action created. His eyes lingered on the bandages around Charles’s head and he frowned. ‘What about you?’
Charles gave him a wan smile. ‘I’m alive,’ he said simply. He sighed when Logan’s expression darkened. ‘It’s not too bad, really,’ he said gently, trying to assuage Logan’s worries. ‘I’m up and alert and my head doesn’t feel like it’s going to crack open any time soon. There’s no need to worry.’
Logan sighed, allowing his eyes to flutter shut for a moment. He allowed his fingers to play with the loose end of the gauze that was wrapped around his chest and then turned his eyes back to Charles. ‘I take it that this wasn’t your doing?’ he asked, indicating the bandages on the two of them.
Charles’s expression turned solemn. ‘No,’ he said heavily, and came to sit at the edge of the bed next to Logan. ‘No, it wasn’t me.’
Logan let out a long breath. ‘Who was it then?’ he asked quietly. He frowned then. ‘I saw someone,’ he said, tensing slightly as the memory returned to him. ‘He came in after the other two … he had a gun …’
He turned to look at Charles, who was regarding him with a grim smile. ‘Yes,’ he said, his expression unreadable. ‘That would have been Erik.’
Logan felt his body tense up once more, this time for a completely different reason than before. ‘Erik?’ he repeated, and despite himself the name came out in a growl. ‘Your Erik?’
Charles’s eyebrow raised slightly but he did not correct Logan. ‘The same,’ he agreed, dipping his head. ‘Erik Lehnsherr. Not someone that I ever expected to see on this mountain … not someone that I expected to see ever again, to be frank – but then again, I don’t suppose that means very much, given the circumstances.’
Logan frowned. Something about Charles’s words seemed strange to him, but he didn’t yet feel mentally alert enough to figure out what it was. He pushed himself further upright, leaning with relief against the headboard of the bed, and turned his gaze once more on Charles.
‘Is he here?’ he asked simply.
‘Who, Erik?’ Charles blinked as if in surprise. Then he shook his head, smiling slightly. ‘No,’ he said. ‘No, he’s not here. He left – quite some time ago now.’
A huge swell of relief that Logan hadn’t even known he had been sitting on welled up inside him and he let out a long, slow breath. A moment later, however, he turned concerned eyes on Charles, eyeing him closely. ‘You okay with that, bub?’ he asked, his voice rough, scanning Charles for any sign of upset or disappointment.
Charles’s expression softened at the question and he reached out and laid a hand on Logan’s wrist. ‘Entirely,’ he said, with complete sincerity.
Logan sighed and leaned backwards, closing his eyes. He allowed himself a moment to bask in his quiet relief before grimly pushing forward. ‘I guess now would be the time for you tell me what exactly happened here.’
Charles’s expression turned grave but he nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said solemnly. ‘I would say that it is.’
Logan lay quietly as he listened to Charles recount what had happened after the fight, when he had woken up to find himself beside Logan, the both of them with bandages across their wounds. He listened intently through it all, frowning a little, trying to put his finger on something that had been tugging at him ever since Charles had started speaking.
It was only when Charles started to talk about his history with the Markos that Logan realised what it was.
‘Wait—’ he said abruptly, cutting Charles off mid-sentence. ‘All this about the Markos and your past … did Lehnsherr tell you all this?’
Charles paused. ‘No,’ he said carefully. ‘No he didn’t. Not entirely.’
The looked at each other.
‘You remember.’ The realisation sank into Logan. ‘You remember who you are.’
‘I do,’ Charles agreed. He watched Logan carefully.
Logan was silent for a long moment, digesting this revelation. Then he nodded grimly. ‘You can continue.’
And Charles picked up the thread of the story and continued.
*
It didn’t take too much longer for Charles to finish telling Logan everything about Erik’s visit. Logan’s jaw had tightened at several points in the story – he had balled his hands into tightly-curled fists when Charles had revealed that Erik had been paid by the Markos to befriend and then murder Charles – but he never interrupted. Only when Charles revealed his suspicions about the fate of the Markos – and Erik’s involvement in it – did Logan nod grimly, almost as if in approval, and allow another weight to fall from his shoulders.
‘So you are safe now?’ he asked gruffly, his arm curling around Charles’s almost protectively.
‘Yes,’ Charles replied, smiling. He twisted his arm around so that he could slip his hand into Logan’s. ‘I’m safe.’
‘Good,’ Logan said, leaning back in the bed. He felt suddenly tired, even though all he had done was listen. ‘That’s good, Chuck.’
His eyelids started lowering of their own accord. He felt Charles gently extricate his hand from Logan’s and then, moments later, he felt Charles’s head upon his shoulder as he laid down beside him on the bed.
Logan tightened his arm around Charles’s shoulders. Then, feeling at peace and secure, he fell asleep.
*
The next few days, as if by mutual agreement, neither Charles nor Logan mentioned anything about Erik, the Markos, or Charles’s past. They simply concentrated on each other and on getting better.
Logan knew this period of convalescence to be what it was: a kindness, allowed by Charles, to spare Logan from the inevitable sadness to come. For now that Charles remembered who he was and knew that there was now no obstacle preventing his return, it was inevitable that he would want to leave the cold and lonely mountains as soon as possible and return to the comforts of his true home and the company of his friends. Logan knew this, and tried to brace for it as best he could; yet for all of his attempts to steel his heart and inure himself to the idea of Charles’s coming departure he knew that it was already far too late – when Charles left, as he undoubtedly would, Logan would be left alone, shattered and broken in a way that he knew even now would be impossible to fix.
Charles seemed to sense these moments when Logan’s thoughts would, almost against his will, turn to the future and he would stare at him, tight-lipped, looking torn between broaching the silence and spending their remaining time together in peace. Logan always broke away from his dark mood before Charles could manage to speak, making the decision for him, and so for many days they stayed together in peaceful harmony, trying to ignore the impending shadow that was sure to cross their paths.
It came on a day with sunshine and clear skies, in a period of contentment that had almost lured Logan into lowering his guard. Charles had been sitting by the window, gazing out with silent pleasure at the view while Logan cleared away the breakfast things. Charles looked up just as Logan finished drying his hands on an old kitchen towel and let out a sigh.
‘I think it’s time for me to go home,’ he said softly.
Logan paused. The words hung between them for a long moment, filling the previously pleasant atmosphere with a sudden weight of tension. Then Logan sighed, nodding his head, and pulling back a chair, allowed himself to sink down heavily into it.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Okay. Okay.’
Charles looked at him, as if waiting for him to continue, and then frowned. ‘That’s all?’ he asked softly.
‘What else do you want me to say?’ Logan asked tiredly. He sighed when Charles didn’t respond. ‘I’m not going to make you stay, Charles,’ he said, rubbing a hand over his face. ‘I’m not going to take your decisions away from you. Besides,’ he added, sounding reluctant. ‘I think it’s for the best.’
Charles went still. ‘You do?’
Logan smiled wryly. ‘You don’t belong here, Charles,’ he said. ‘I’ve tried to look past that, to ignore it, but I can’t anymore … not now that you know who you are and where you come from. Now that you’re well enough to go home …’
Charles listened quietly, his hands neatly folded in his lap. He nodded as Logan trailed off, his smile mimicking Logan’s own. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I see.’
They sat there in silence for a moment.
‘So,’ Logan began awkwardly, reluctantly. ‘When do you think you might …?’ he trailed off.
Charles, understanding, gave him a weak smile. ‘I’m not sure, but … soon, I think?’ He sounded almost uncertain. As Logan watched, however, his resolve seemed to firm and he nodded slowly to himself. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I think it’ll be soon.’
Logan closed his eyes. ‘I see,’ he said quietly.
Charles watched him anxiously, chewing his lip. After several minutes of silence, he stood up and let out a sigh. ‘I’ll … I’ll just go out and get some more wood from the woodpile,’ he said awkwardly, turning away and moving to the door.
Logan nodded, even though Charles couldn’t see him. He watched as Charles pulled on his coat and boots and quietly left through the door. He did not mention that the basket by the hearth already had more than enough wood to last them through the night. Charles, naturally, already knew that.
It was nearly an hour before Charles returned. He quietly placed the wood by the fire before removing his coat and slipping into the seat by Logan’s side. Logan, in the middle of reading one of his worn paperbacks, didn’t react.
He said nothing as Charles pushed closer, allowing his arm to brush against Logan’s. ‘Read to me?’ he asked quietly.
Logan felt something loosen inside his chest. He slowly turned back the pages of his book till he was at the beginning and paused, breathing deeply, as Charles gently laid his head against his shoulder. Then he sat back, cleared his throat and began.
‘Rainfall didn’t come often to the prairie,’ he read. ‘But when it did the earth itself was glad …’
*
It didn’t take very long for Charles to ready himself for departure. He had little to take with him, since all he’d had when Logan had first found him were the clothes on his back, which, even undamaged, wouldn’t be very useful in everyday life. Still, he lingered, taking longer than he needed to. Logan realised this but he didn’t say anything; he was grateful to have any extra time that Charles allowed him.
Things couldn’t be delayed forever, however. Logan returned from the woods one evening to find Charles waiting for him, his mouth set in a look of determination.
‘I called Kitty,’ he said, holding himself awkwardly – almost defensively, to Logan’s mind. ‘Officer Pryde, I mean. I told her to expect me. Tomorrow. That’s – I’ll be leaving then.’
Logan hadn’t been unprepared for such an announcement – he had deliberately steeled himself against it, shoring up his defences and trying to harden his heart so that, when the announcement inevitably came, it wouldn’t hurt as much as it might otherwise have done.
The idea was good in theory. In reality, it didn’t help in the least.
‘Tomorrow,’ Logan rasped. He slowly moved towards a chair and sank down into it. ‘You’re leaving tomorrow.’
Charles stood stiffly in the centre of the room, his fingers tugging at the cuffs of shirt. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I am.’ He stood there a moment, as if waiting for Logan to argue with him. When all Logan did was to look back at him, his expression completely naked and his feelings unhidden, Charles could stand it no longer; he immediately went to Logan’s side and knelt by his chair.
‘I had to do it fast,’ he said quietly, his eyes on the floor even as his hands clutched the arm of Logan’s chair. ‘I had to – or else I know that I’d never leave. I’d just let things go on as they are and keep drawing it out and out and out … and that wouldn’t be fair. On either of us.’
Logan nodded. ‘Yeah,’ he said gruffly. ‘I know.’ He placed his hand on the arm of his chair and tangled his fingers with Charles’s. ‘It’s – it’s for the best.’
‘It’s for the best,’ Charles echoed. Neither of them sounded fully convinced.
After a few minutes Logan cleared his throat. ‘You said Pryde was expecting you?’
‘Yes. I called her on the old phone she gave us. She said she’d come and meet me halfway in her old jeep – that’s the furthest she can get up the mountain by car. She said you’d know the place?’ He glanced over at Logan, tentative.
Logan nodded. ‘I know it,’ he said gruffly. ‘I can take you there. Tomorrow.’
‘You don’t have t—’ Charles began apologetically, but Logan waved him away irritably.
‘And let you wander out there on your own?’ he growled. ‘Don’t be a damn fool. Of course I’m coming with you. I wouldn’t—’ he stopped, halting. ‘I wouldn’t let you go without saying goodbye,’ he said at last.
Charles smiled. ‘I know,’ he said gently. ‘And I wouldn’t go without you saying it.’ He squeezed Logan’s hand. ‘I hope you know how much you mean to me, Logan.’
Logan swallowed and looked away, unable to meet Charles’s eyes. It took him a moment to respond. ‘If it’s anything like how much you mean to me,’ he said roughly, squeezing Charles’s hand tight in return. ‘Then yeah, Chuck. I think I know.’
Charles smiled, though his eyes remained sad. ‘There’s that, at least,’ he said quietly. Slowly, he pulled himself up so that he stood beside Logan, looking down on him, their hands still connected. ‘Do you want to come to bed?’ he asked quietly.
Logan studied him for a moment. ‘It’s still early,’ he said, without refusing.
The corner of Charles’s lips pulled upwards. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘But I can’t think of a better way to spend my last day with you.’
Logan looked at him. It was probably a bad idea to do anything that would prolong any attachment between them, he knew.
Then again, he thought as he rose to his feet and held Charles’s hand more firmly in his, it hardly mattered now. After all, the damage was already done. He was already in way too deep; there was no point in turning back now.
He tugged Charles gently by the hand.
Charles smiled, and followed.
*
The next day they both rose early. In truth, Logan had barely slept a wink. There would be time for sleep later, he told himself; now was the time to savour that which would soon be lost to him forever.
For he was entirely sure that that’s what would happen. Charles might cling to him now but the moment he was out in the wider world, the moment that he found himself back where he belonged, in the real world with people he loved and who loved him back, then the time he had spent on the mountain with Logan would be relegated to something from his past. It would be no more than a distant memory, part of an amusing anecdote that he would tell others about the time that he had lost his memory on the top of a mountain and had been taken in by the lonely hermit who dwelt there.
It was just as it should be, Logan told himself for the hundredth time that morning as he and Charles started their journey down the mountain. Logan was made for loneliness and isolation and hard living, but Charles was made for better things. He deserved so much more than what Logan could give him and that was Logan’s one solace in the matter: that Charles would be going back to a life of love and comfort among people who could value him as he ought to be valued.
Charles was silent as they made the trek down the mountain. He had lingered at the cabin, reluctant to leave it, and had stood for a long time outside its doors, simply looking at it. Logan could tell that it had taken him a great effort of will to pull himself away but at last he had – but only because he knew that Officer Pryde would be waiting for him.
The trip down the mountain was dismally brief, despite the fact that they needed to take a more circuitous route in order to reach the lone vehicle-accessible road that snaked up its side. It was little better than a dirt path, barely wide enough for a car to traverse, and it only led half-way up the mountain.
‘They used to come up here for lumber,’ Logan explained at Charles’s puzzled look. ‘But that all stopped when the forests became protected. Hardly anyone comes up here, now. Good thing too – the trail’s a death-trap when it’s icy.’
Charles nodded, the curiosity fading from his eyes to replaced with the more familiar moroseness.
Logan watched him as they slowed their walk, his eyes taking in the dull look and the wan colour of Charles’s skin. He sighed.
‘Come on, Chuck,’ he said, nudging Charles gently with his elbow. He forced his tone to be light. ‘I thought you’d be excited about this. Heading back to civilisation and finding your people? You can’t tell me you’re not looking forward to that.’
‘I am,’ Charles agreed. ‘I am, truly. But—’ He came to a stop and turned to Logan. ‘I just wish that going back to one life didn’t mean forfeiting the other.’
Logan swallowed. ‘You’re not forfeiting anything,’ he said firmly, reaching out to grasp Charles by the arm. ‘Whatever happens, Charles, you’ll still have me. I promise you. You just need time to figure out who you are … to find your place in the world again.’
‘And what if my place is with you?’ Charles asked quietly.
Logan felt his heart clench. He refused to look too deeply into the words, refused to acknowledge them. ‘You might think that now,’ he said gently. ‘But that’s just because you’re here with me … because you’ve been through so much since you left home and you’re scared to go back. You didn’t choose this life, Charles, not like me – you were thrown into it by force and just made the best of a bad situation. You need to find your way back home and back to who you were. That’s the only way you’ll be whole again, and you know it.’ He paused and gave him a small, painful smile. ‘You just wait till you get back home. You’ll realise what you’ve been missing. Heck,’ he added with a smile that was more a grimace of pain. ‘You’ll forget all about me.’
‘Never,’ Charles said at once, defiant. He reached out and laid his hand against Logan’s rough cheek. ‘Never, Logan. Do you hear me? Never.’
Logan drew in a breath. He turned his head so that his lips brushed the cool palm of Charles’s hand. ‘I—’ he began.
Just then the spluttering of an engine sounded and they both pulled away and turned around to see a battered old jeep pull up on the dirt track behind them. A moment later the door swung open and a beaming Kitty Pryde stuck her head out, looking out at the two of them.
‘Hi Logan,’ she beamed. ‘Hi Charles. Ready for your adventure back into the big wide world?’
Charles smiled weakly. ‘Quite ready,’ he said, sounding apprehensive.
Kitty’s eyes crinkled kindly. ‘It’ll be fine,’ she said reassuringly. ‘Everything’s been arranged. I’ve been talking to your sister back home – she’s been sorting things out on that side and she’ll be waiting to pick you up once you land. You can call her from the station before we head to the airport, if you’d like.’
‘Oh,’ Charles said. He turned to glance at Logan before turning back to Kitty. ‘Thanks, I – I’ll think about it.’
Kitty gave him a knowing look before turning her keen gaze on the small rucksack that he was carrying. ‘That all you have?’ she asked, her eyebrow rising. Then she shook her head. ‘Actually never mind, that makes sense. I guess that’s all then, huh?’ She turned her friendly gaze on Logan.
Logan swallowed, his throat suddenly tight. This was it, he realised. After having feared it for so long, here it finally was. It was time to say goodbye.
The same realisation seemed to have dawned on Charles, who looked suddenly devastated. Logan tried to smile for him – tried his best not to show his own sense of bereavement – but his expression faltered before he could help himself and then suddenly Charles was in his arms, his hands thrown around Logan’s neck and his head buried deep in Logan’s shoulder. Logan froze for the barest of moments but then his arms were encircling Charles and his head was lowering, his face coming down to bury itself in Charles’s soft brown hair.
They stayed that way for a long moment. When at last they pulled back they were both smiling, though Logan could see that Charles’s eyes were decidedly watery.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?’ Charles asked quietly, reaching up to wipe at his face. It was not the first time he had asked the question but the words still somehow contained the same amount of hope as they had before.
Logan sighed and shook his head. ‘My place is here,’ he said gently, reaching out to cup Charles’s face in his hands. ‘But, more importantly, your place is there. Without me. You know it’s true, Chuck. You need to find out who you are – who Charles Xavier is – and you can’t do that with me there.’
Charles bit his lip, his face still framed by Logan’s warm, gentle hands. ‘And once I do figure it out?’ he asked quietly.
Logan gave him a quick smile. ‘Then you know where to find me,’ he said, and leaned forward and kissed him.
Things seemed to move forward in a rush after that. Kitty, who had tactfully averted her eyes as they talked, came forward and took Charles’s bag from him, smiling sympathetically as she guided Charles into the jeep and shut the door behind him. Logan stayed where he was, rooted to the spot, the taste of Charles lingering sweetly on his lips as he watched the car begin to move off, spiriting Charles away from him.
He watched as the jeep moved over the rubble-strewn path, his eyes unwaveringly fixed on the passenger side of the car. Charles’s head was turned backwards, gazing back at him, the blue of his eyes visible even from a distance. His figure diminished as the jeep moved on, his figure growing smaller and smaller, till at last the car vanished altogether, leaving Logan alone on the hard steep ground of the mountain.
He stayed there for a moment – two moments – longer, his eyes on the curve of the mountain’s steep path. Then, wordless, he turned around and walked back up the mountain, alone once more.
*
Logan did not leave the house for the next few days. It had nothing to do with his mood, he told himself; he just wanted to make sure that he wouldn’t miss it if Charles chose to call him on the chunky old phone that Kitty had left them. True, he wasn’t altogether sure that Charles knew what number to call even if he wanted to, but Logan nevertheless kept it within his reach just in case.
The phone did ring once – just the once – some hours after Charles had left. Logan had seized it immediately, his heart beating fast, but the call turned out to be from Kitty, who was calling to inform Logan that she had brought Charles down the mountain safely and had then taken him to the closest airfield where she had seen him off on a plane that would take him to the nearest large airport.
‘He’ll get a commercial flight straight home from there and his sister will be waiting to pick him up,’ Kitty had told him, even though Charles had told him the details of his return the previous night. ‘He’ll be fine. It’s all been sorted out.’
Logan had made a noise of assent and had gruffly thanked Kitty for the update before putting the phone down. He felt oddly bereft. Charles was truly out of his care now – out of his reach altogether. He sighed, leaning against the wall of his cabin. It had been very good of Kitty to call and to keep him updated, but all the same he very much wished that it had been another voice that he had heard at the end of the phone instead of hers.
The days that followed seemed long and drawn out. Only one call came through on the telephone and that again was just from Kitty, who had called to inform him that Charles’s plane had landed and that he was once more in the hands of his friends and family. Logan had waited by the phone for a long time after that, hoping for a similar call from Charles, but none had come.
It was nearly a week after Charles had left that Logan at last ventured outside. There was simply too much for him to do to while away the time moping indoors, and besides, there was simply no point in confining himself to the cabin in wait for a phone call that, he was forced to admit, might never come.
Weeks went by but no call came. Logan kept watch over the phone, waiting, but it did not ring. Even Kitty, it appeared, had no updates to share.
Two months went by, and no news came. Logan made his scheduled trip down the mountain to gather supplies as usual, although this time his first stop was not at the grocery shop or the hardware store but instead at the police station. Officer Pryde greeted him with a warmth that was almost disconcerting but she’d shaken her head when he asked her if she’d heard from Charles.
‘Not recently, I’m afraid,’ she said apologetically. ‘Not since just after he reached home. There’s no reason to worry,’ she added quickly, mistaking Logan’s look for concern. ‘He’s safe now – and in very capable hands from what I could tell from the sister. Not to mention the fact that I’ve been in touch with my counterparts in Westchester and they’ve promised to keep me informed if anything comes up. There’s really no need to worry.’
Logan let out a grunt. ‘You keep such close tabs on all the strays you help?’ he asked dryly.
Kitty smiled. ‘I don’t come across as many strays as you seem to think,’ she laughed. ‘Especially not with amnesia. But in this case, I suppose …’ She thought for a moment and then shrugged. ‘I don’t know. It’s just Charles, isn’t it?’
Logan smiled grimly. ‘Yeah,’ he said. No more needed to be said.
When he returned home that evening, Logan went directly to the table where he had left Kitty’s old phone. He stood there, staring down at it for a long moment. Then he picked it up, walked determinedly over to the back of the house to a disused cupboard full of forgotten relics and assorted odds and ends, and grimly deposited it inside. He paused for a moment, hesitating, before his face settled into an expression of resolve and then he at last moved away, closing the cupboard door firmly behind him.
The days sped by quickly after that. Things soon settled back into normality, in the way that things had been before Charles had arrived.
At least, that was how Logan intended it to be. He was, however, disconcerted to find that things were not exactly the way they had been before – that he, in himself, was not the person he had been before. The cabin was not the restful, tranquil place that it had once been; where before he had felt safe and secure in his territory, he now felt confined. He spent as much of his day as he could out of doors but that was not enough: he had an itch under his skin now, a sense of restlessness that reignited his desire for more. Each week saw him wander further and further away from the cabin, scouting the mountains and the valleys around him, and often staying away for days on end. His trips into town also increased in their frequency and Logan, despite himself, found himself speaking to Kitty each and every time he found himself there.
Kitty never remarked on this, though the fact that she had seen more of him in a few short months than she ever had in years of his living there could scarcely go unnoticed by either of them. She always looked glad to see him, however, and sometimes, if she had no prior engagement, she would take him to the local diner and they would eat together, sometimes in silence but always in peaceful companionship.
Summer came and went, and the days began to grow shorter. The weather turned and the mountains grew colder, which restricted Logan’s movements: he knew that it was the height of foolishness to hazard the mountains when the rain and mists drew in, and so he resigned himself to frequenting the areas around his cabin. He also became a lot busier – winter was not far off and he needed to be fully prepared for it when it came. Collecting firewood was of particular importance, and Logan tried not to think of Charles in these times; tried not to remember how he had found him the year before on a day not too far off from the present one while he was out gathering wood.
The first frosts of winter set in not too long after. Logan found himself beginning the usual preparations for the season, ensuring that he was safe, well-stocked and secure for the winter. The cabin was due for a little maintenance, he knew, and this kept him in work for some weeks, happily driving all other thoughts from his mind for a time.
The maintenance work, though time-consuming, eventually came to an end. Logan was finishing up the last task on his list – the reinforcement of the outer wall – when something wet touched his forehead, breaking his concentration. He blinked, frowning a little, and paused from his work before taking a slow step back. A second something brushed his face, and he looked up.
A snowflake alighted on his cheek. It halted there for little more than a heartbeat, and then it melted, letting a thin trail of ice-cold water roll down the side of his face before evaporating into the air.
Logan lowered his hammer. His work was done – and, it seemed, it was just in time.
For it had begun to snow.
*
The snow came steadily, dusting the mountaintops in a new coat of whiteness. It was not yet unbearable, however; Logan’s side of the mountain was not overly affected by the snows and the ways across the mountain were not yet impassable. The icy chill of the weather was a strong deterrent, however, and Logan found himself reluctantly cooped up in the cabin more often than he had expected to be. He found himself thinking that he must be getting old, to let a little wind affect him in this way, but he couldn’t deny that the lure of a warm fire made him less inclined to worry over the matter as much as he might have otherwise done.
He often spent his evenings this way, sat by the fire with one of his old worn paperbacks and watching the snows fall outside his windows. One afternoon saw him retire to his chair earlier than normal, after the snow picked up outside, coming down in sheets that were beautiful to watch – but only if one were doing so from the comfort of the warm indoors.
Logan had just reached the end of a chapter in his novel when a noise outside caused him to glance up sharply. At first he thought it was the call of the wind, but then the noise came again and Logan realised with a start that it was a human voice. Wondering about the kind of fool would try exploring the mountain during such weather, Logan quickly put down his book and rose and moved quickly to the door. He blinked when he opened it, at first blinded by the eddying flurries of snow, before squinting and gazing out into the snow-covered landscape.
The sound came again. Logan frowned. It sounded almost like a curse.
Grabbing hold of his coat, he slipped out of the door and moved closer towards the direction the sound had come from. A moment later, he caught sight of a human figure in front him, standing with their back turned towards him as they tried with difficulty to tug something forward.
Logan paused, his heart suddenly beating fast. Something about the look of the figure … about the muffled cursing … it looked so, so wonderfully familiar …
Logan swallowed through a suddenly dry throat, the icy sensation of the snow and the cutting winds suddenly gone.
‘Charles?’ he rasped out.
The words weren’t said very loudly – indeed, to Logan they’d seemed to be little more than a whisper. The person in front of him, however, suddenly went very still. Releasing his hold on the unwieldy case behind him, he turned around until he was facing Logan. Then, with gloved hands, he reached up, and slowly pushed down the hood that shielded him from view.
‘Hello, Logan,’ Charles said, and he smiled.
Logan stared, for a moment unable to comprehend what he was seeing. It was indeed Charles, whom he had never expected to see again, standing before him – and, a distant part of him was glad to note, dressed this time in clothing much more appropriate to the weather than he had been the last time he had ventured up the mountain alone.
‘Charles,’ he said again, not knowing what else to say.
Charles’s expression softened before turning slightly apologetic. ‘I don’t suppose …’ he said, turning to gesture helplessly at the suitcase stuck obstinately behind him. ‘Only I think it’s a little cold to have this conversation out here.’
Logan blinked and then scowled at himself. ‘Got it,’ he said gruffly. ‘You – you go inside and get warm.’
Charles, looking relieved, did as he was bid, letting go of the handle of his case and heading towards the cabin. He slowed as he approached Logan, hesitating for a beat. Then he reached out and laid a gloved hand on Logan’s arm, squeezing it briefly, before walking past him into the warmth of the cabin.
Logan stood still for a minute, trying to sort through the jumble of emotions in his head. He was glad that Charles had gone inside – he needed a moment alone to parse through his emotions and to think things through.
Charles was back. He had returned to Logan – at the start of winter, no less – and he had come alone, with a suitcase in tow … why? Logan had resigned himself to never seeing Charles again, for their time together to have been a short, bitterly sweet memory to be treasured and held close against his chest to look back on in times of loneliness. For Charles to turn up again, after having heard nothing from him for so long, was something that Logan couldn’t quite reconcile to himself.
A particularly sharp gust of wind broke him out of his reverie and, with a low grunt, he set to hauling Charles’s case out of the snow and dragging it along behind him back into the cabin.
Logan heaved the case indoors and then shut the door firmly behind him before turning around again. He paused. Charles was sitting in his usual seat by the fire, his coat and gloves set aside, in a scene so reminiscent of what Logan used to come home to that it almost took his breath away. He stayed there for a moment, allowing his eyes to greedily take in the sight before him, and then sighed and moved into the room.
Charles was silent as Logan removed his snow-caked boots and coverings and then settled himself into the chair beside Charles’s.
‘So,’ Charles said. ‘I’m sure that you’re wondering what I am doing here.’
Logan couldn’t help but let out a snort. ‘You’re not wrong,’ he said dryly. He did not look in Charles’s direction, choosing instead to study the fire.
Charles sighed. ‘You’re angry at me,’ he said unhappily, his shoulders slumping.
Logan looked up at that, surprised. He paused for a moment, carefully parsing through his feelings, and then slowly shook his head. ‘I’m not angry with you, Chuck,’ he said gently. ‘I’m not altogether sure what I’m feeling, but I promise you, anger isn’t a part of it.’
Charles let out a weak laugh. ‘Well, it really should be,’ he said, looking down at his feet. ‘God knows that I’d be pretty ticked off if I were in your position …’ He trailed off and grimaced. ‘I should have at least called—’
Logan shook his head. ‘What you went through was tough,’ he said firmly. ‘You needed to get your head right and you did what you needed to. If that means that you had to keep yourself to yourself and focus on your past then I’m not judging you for it.’
Charles was silent for a moment. ‘That is why I stayed away, yes,’ he agreed, speaking slowly. ‘For the most part at least. For the rest …’ he bit his lip. He seemed to struggle with himself for a moment before soldiering on. ‘Do you know, that whenever I told people about you – about how I felt about you – they all told me that it wasn’t real? My friends, my sister, my therapist – they all said that my feelings were the product of circumstance … that since you were the only person in the world that I knew and since you cared for me in a time of helplessness it was only natural for me to start experiencing some sort of transference … for me, in effect, to imprint on you.’ He looked away, his mouth pulling up into a humourless smile. ‘One of my less tactful friends even called it Stockholm syndrome.’
Logan felt a heaviness in his chest. He couldn’t fault the explanations of Charles’s friends. After all, how many times had he thought the same thing: that the only reason that Charles felt anything for him was due to their circumstances … that the only reason he could ever have the attention of someone like Charles was because there was no one else in the vicinity?
He forced himself to speak. ‘They’re not wrong,’ he said haltingly. ‘That – that makes sense.’
Charles watched him sadly. ‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘There is logic to what they said. I know that.’
Logan sighed, lowering his head. He could not blame Charles or his friends for having their doubts. All the same, he almost found himself wishing that Charles had not come at all – that he had simply stayed home and kept away if this was all he had come to say.
‘It’s why I didn’t get in touch with you,’ Charles continued, oblivious to Logan’s thoughts. ‘A clean break, that’s what they advised – at least to begin with – so that I could stand on my own two feet away from you and your influence and learn how to be myself again.’
‘Not bad advice,’ Logan grunted, not meeting his eyes.
Charles nodded. ‘It was sound in its own way,’ he said cautiously. ‘And I won’t lie – the time alone did me good. I know who I am now in a way that I didn’t, even after I got my memories back. I know myself.’
Logan nodded slowly. He could see it, even in the short time that Charles had been back. He was more self-assured … more confident in his own skin. This, more than anything Charles said, reassured him that whatever his own feelings on the matter, Charles’s time away had done him good.
He forced himself to speak. ‘So why did you come back?’ he asked, his voice rough.
Charles’s expression softened. ‘Because,’ he said tenderly. ‘You may not be the only person in the world that I know anymore, but Logan – that doesn’t mean that I want to stop knowing you.’
Logan paused and then looked up, eyeing Charles warily. ‘You want to know me,’ he repeated slowly. ‘I see.’ He paused again before forcing himself to carry on, keeping his voice deliberately bland. ‘And – is that all you want?’
Charles did not respond immediately. He bit his lip, considering. ‘That’s what I wanted to figure out,’ he said at last. ‘And to do that I needed to come back here … I needed to see you again. I had to see you with full knowledge of who I am and what I want and what I need … And so here I am.’
‘I’m guessing your people back home aren’t all too pleased about that,’ Logan muttered.
Charles snorted out a laugh. ‘Oh, they were very annoyed when I told them,’ he agreed, smiling wryly. ‘They laid it all out to me in serious and reasoned arguments why I shouldn’t come back here and see you again – especially not on my own.’
‘And yet here you are,’ Logan said. ‘Why?’
The humour in Charles’s expression faded. ‘Because I realised that while what everyone said made sense – while they were right to be cautious and to advise me to be the same – they didn’t actually know anything. They didn’t know how I felt – not really – and they didn’t know how things were between us. They didn’t know you. And once I realised that, I knew what I had to do.’
‘And what’s that?’
Charles took a deep breath. ‘I had to see you again,’ he said quietly. ‘I had to see you with full knowledge of who I am and with all my memories and faculties intact. I need to know if—’ he hesitated. ‘I needed to know if what I felt for you was true.’
Logan’s head shot up. What he felt … His heart started beating fast.
Charles, however, was carrying on, seemingly oblivious to the bolt that his words had struck.
‘The problem with everyone back home … they didn’t really understand.’ He paused and took a deep breath. ‘It took me a while to understand it myself – to trust myself enough to understand it, but Logan – I didn’t fall in love with you simply because of circumstances or transference or whatever it is everyone else is convinced it was. I fell in love with you because you’re good and kind and generous and – and, to be frank, everything that I could possibly want.’
Logan’s mind whirled. I didn’t fall in love with you because of circumstance. ‘You –’ Logan’s voice was thick. ‘You fell …’ he couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence, couldn’t bring himself to voice out loud what he so desperately wanted to be true.
Charles was watching him tenderly. ‘Of course,’ he said softly. He reached out and slowly slipped his hand – small and cold and so, so perfect – into Logan’s larger one. ‘Oh Logan. Did you not know? Of course I love you.’
Logan found himself reeling. He couldn’t tell if the world had stopped making sense or if, for the very first time in his life, it finally was making sense.
He looked down at Charles’s hand, loosely gripped in his. The sight calmed him; he let out a breath and his heart rate slowed, becoming more even.
There was only one thing to do. He gently closed his hand over Charles’s, squeezing it tight, and spoke.
‘I’ve loved you since the first night I met you,’ he said quietly, honestly. ‘And I’ve never stopped since.’
Charles sucked in a breath, as if astounded by the revelation – as if this were news, as if it hadn’t been something that had been painted on Logan’s face and heart and soul since the day they had met. His face glowed. He looked, to Logan’s eyes, impossibly happy.
‘Logan,’ he said, and there was so much love and longing and happiness in that one word that Logan felt unmade.
And then they were kissing, their mouths pressed together, and though it had felt a lifetime since the last time they had done so, there was nothing rushed or desperate about the kiss; instead it was soft, gentle, reverent … and to Logan, incomparably perfect in every way.
They at last drew back from each other, though not very far; Logan could feel the soft breaths from Charles’s mouth brush against his lips, and now both their hands were twined together, clinging tight.
‘I want you to come back with me,’ Charles said abruptly in a rush, the words spilling out of him as if were unable to contain them any longer. He sped on before Logan could react. ‘I want to you to come back home with me, Logan. I want you to be with me, stay with me.’ Charles paused and bit his lip, uncertain, before forging on, not looking Logan in the eye, as if afraid to hear the answer. ‘I know that this is your cabin … that this is your home and that you must love it very much – god knows that I do, and I was only here for one winter—’
‘Yes.’
‘— And that this is such a lot to ask of you when I know that you don’t—’ Charles stopped and then blinked. ‘What?’
Logan smiled. ‘I said yes,’ he said gently. ‘Yes to what you said. I want to be with you, Charles,’ he said, squeezing Charles’s hands as Charles stared at him in delighted disbelief. ‘Wherever that is. This place—’ he looked around at the cabin, ‘—it’s not been home since you left it. You’re where I want to be. You’re home.’
Charles was staring at him, still disbelieving, still too full of shocked happiness. ‘But I had a whole argument planned out,’ he said breathlessly, even as his face shone. ‘I was going to tell you about the estate with nobody around for miles and the bed—’
‘Big, is it?’ Logan murmured, hiding a smile and his own growing delight, his index finger gently sketching the contours of Charles’s hand.
‘Very,’ Charles breathed, teasing. ‘Decadently big, I would say.’
‘Oh?’ Logan continued to trace patterns on Charles’s hands with his fingers. ‘Sounds like it’s worth seeing.’
‘Then I’ll make it a point to show it to you right away.’
Logan hummed. ‘Sounds good to me.’ He stopped the movement of his fingers. ‘There’s only one problem.’
Charles blinked. ‘Oh?’ he said cautiously.
Logan pointed out of the window. ‘It’s still snowing.’
They both turned to look outside.
Beyond the window, the snow was coming down thick and fast, forming a white curtain between them and the rest of the mountain. Already they could see the paths and trees and slopes outside obscured by layers of snow and ice.
‘That doesn’t look like it’s going to stop any time soon,’ Charles observed. He didn’t sound very upset about that.
Logan glanced at him.
‘You know,’ he said casually, calmly lacing their fingers together. ‘If it keeps falling like this then we’re going to have trouble making it off the mountain.’
Charles frowned in thought, but his eyes were starting to shine with suppressed delight. ‘I see,’ he said slowly. ‘And if that happens – how long might it be before we’re able to go down again?’
Logan felt his mouth pulling upwards. ‘Oh,’ he said, feigning gruff authority. ‘All winter at least.’
Charles smiled, leaning forward till his lips were brushing Logan’s. ‘You promise?’ he asked.
And then kissed him.