Chapter Text
There is a photograph of them both on the mantelpiece. Just leant against the wall without a frame, and battered with a crease diagonally across it, like it had gotten bent in the bottom of a bag. Logan may not have mastered interior decorating, but even this cannot mask the significance of a single physical photo, ever rarer as this century drags on.
Neither of the subjects, him and Laura, had known they were being photographed. Lucky, considering the glare that Logan sends anyone that tries to photograph him. He claims it's an important insurance measure for anyone at risk of immortality, to not be photographed, because he can't admit that really he's just shy in the odd gruff manner that is unique to him.
It was a sunny day, a Saturday afternoon, probably. Logan is bent over the open engine of an old truck he had taken in like a stray, as is his habit. He is smeared up to his elbows with engine dirt, and so are the old jeans and the white vest he is wearing. His hair is shorter than it was in the 20th century. He looks younger than he used to, though there is still grey at his temples.
Clinging to his back, her legs wrapped around his torso, and one arm around his shoulder, is Laura. She is peering over his shoulder, eyes intent on something deep in the engine to which he points. She had been there for quite some time, but in the photo, he is caught mid-word as he explains to her the fault that had brought the truck to a wheezing stop last Tuesday.
It is a memory that neither of them can recall specifically any more. Its edges faded and blurred with all the other weekends they had spent the same way. Together, never more than metres apart, Laura leaping on and off Logan as she pleased, or staying there for hours at a time, as neither her nor Logan's muscles tired. A common enough sight that someone, familiar enough to take teasing sentimental photos, had snapped one when the light was good, and when neither of them were looking.
So now, there is a photograph of them on the mantelpiece.
But don't point that out to Logan. He hates to blush.