Work Text:
06/10/2018
There were certain places in this mansion where Logan usually didn't expect to see his daughter in. Therefore, it took him longer than usual to find the girl after the just as long as fruitless debriefing earlier.
Even when the delicate scent of her favorite shampoo – lily blossom – led his steps to the upper part of the house, he could only be certain when he heard the soft, hesitant sounds of a piano coming from the studio just below the gables. It seemed that his little firebug had been secretly working on something in the last few months that he hadn't been expecting.
Noemi's life was actually too cramped for new hobbies. It was an unusual sight to find her at the old, somewhat out-of-tune piano, of all things, an image that evoked a peculiar kind of pride, the way she was sitting there, highly concentrated, her gaze fixed on her long, slender fingers, the row of keys. Including a small selection of the latter that were moving without a hand hovering over them.
Logan couldn’t help but smile, silently remaining in the doorway with his arms crossed for the moment.
In such moments, a passion emerged in Noemi that he had already loved very much about her mother. And as always, his little redhead wasn't content with just trying something out. She immediately started experimenting with it, and Logan had to admit that the additional sounds generated by her telekinesis didn't sound half-bad. If there had been anyone out there in the world of intolerance and fear who would have been interested in the art of a mutant, the girl would have shone with it at every talent show. At some point, when she would have had more practice and had stopped making so many mistakes.
But these little flaws mixing into the simple, cheerful piece, somehow even calmed him. He didn't need superhuman perfection around him. Supernatural powers had taken the one woman from him he had ever loved in the part of his life he could only remember.
Noemi, naturally, didn't see that quite so chill. After she had done a somewhat more demanding passage incorrectly for the third time, she took her hands off the instrument in frustration and turned to him with an elegant swing on the circular chair, grinning sheepishly. “Harder than it looks. I had a teacher in the Danger Room show me. Sorry, I know you don't like background noise not coming from the TV.”
Logan waved her off, no more than a brief tilt of his head. They didn't need big gestures or words between them. For that, they knew each other far too well, and their mental link worked too well for it, too, in case the use of the latter was necessary, and even that was rare. “Sounded fine to me. You can do whatever you enjoy, Red. Just because I'm not a fan of noise doesn't mean you have to stop making it.”
It was nice to see her smile; that definitely happened too rarely lately, and she wasn't talking much about what was on her mind right now. Even though Logan didn't like to admit it to himself: Slowly but surely, the kid was starting to spread her metaphorical wings. That was alright. Noemi was no longer 10.
He had taught her as much as he'd been able to, to survive out there. And nothing would ever change about every bastard in this sick world losing a few essential body parts for threatening his daughter. But it was reassuring to know that Noemi would hopefully be able to get by on her own, even if the two of them would no longer spend 24 hours a day together.
Still ... He couldn't deny a little melancholy over his almost grown-up, talented daughter no longer needing him half as much as she'd used to. Christ, this house had left its mark; now he actually was getting sentimental. Enough of that for a year or so.
If Noemi had wanted to, they would have talked, sure, but there'd already been enough crap for teenage ears discussed today. If Noemi was looking for a little distance to that in particular with such mush of all things ... There were worse things to endure. Logan didn’t want her to feel, she had to flee their apartment because of something like that.
And since his last Harley, there hadn't been any useful purchase in his household anyway. “You want one?”
Noemi looked both surprised and touched. ”Not worth my laziness, I'm afraid. This does just fine.” Lightly, almost lovingly, she let her fingertips graze the black wood, her gaze wandering through the brightly lit, mirrored room, the large windows, the outdated drums in the corner, an amplifier and microphones that had probably last been used in Kennedy's time ... Creative talent wasn’t something practiced a lot in this house, no, yet Noemi seemed to have fallen in love with this junk for some reason.
“There's so much in the air here, you know ...” She looked back at him shyly, probably expecting him to laugh at her, and searched for words when he gestured for her to continue. She started playing again, but this time it was a much calmer piece, with some jazz elements. If he put his natural reluctance aside for a change, he could admit that it sounded beautiful. “In rooms without people, I often feel something like echoes of emotions, of all kinds. I can't explain it. But I like to think that every soul leaves behind tiny traces of its deepest feelings, like a fingerprint. In here ...” She paused, and this time her smile was dreamy. “There have been so many wonderful songs and experiences here in the past. That love, it's like glitter in the air. I'm sorry.”
The skepticism must have shown on his tortured grimace. When their eyes met, Noemi laughed brightly, embarrassed. “Romantic, hypothetical nonsense, I know. Let a girl dream.”
Logan suddenly felt the urgent need for a cigar. “This is Scooter's and Cat's dancing room, Red. I try not to think about romantic encounters of any kind in here.” He did not mean to; after all, this was still his innocent little girl he was talking to. But his eyes were magically drawn to the old black leather sofa in the corner.
Now it was Noemi who made a face as if she had tasted a lemon. “Don't put images into my head if you don't want them in yours, James.”
They exchanged an apologetic smile. Noemi pretended not to have noticed his flinch at her little tease in the shape of his past name, and he tried to suppress the fact that Jean had also loved to call him it when they'd been alone.
“I got enough to do, trying not to picture what you're up to when you don't show up at home after dinner. I mean, you have been spending the last few nights at Ororo's again, haven't you?” Only after a few quiet, relaxed minutes, during which Noemi got better and better at this new, catchy song, did she speak up again.
Logan focused on a few deep drags on his cigar before answering. This, too, wasn't exactly a topic he wanted to debate in detail with his – still underage – daughter. Whenever Ororo had been awake during these last few difficult nights, after this new low blow in Alaska, their conversations had mostly been about work, but his instincts hadn't been able to ignore it either, whenever there had been that slight fragrance of adventure and the desire for shallow satisfaction in the air. There'd been no reason to, either, there rarely was.
But that wasn‘t anyone's business but his old friend's and his. “This thing with Jericho has thrown her off course. In times like these, she sleeps better with company in her apartment.”
“And in her bedroom, right? Come on, like that's a secret.” Unfortunately, his daughter was too curious to be satisfied with an evasive answer. “After all this time, why do you two still make such a mystery out of this whole thing? You like her, and she likes you, right?”
Slightly at a loss, Logan rubbed through his beard. It seemed, he'd been a little too careless about discretion regarding certain convenient things in his private life. He didn't invite people into his bedroom by nature whose scent he couldn’t stomach; therefore, it had been easier, sticking to what worked ever since Ontario Lake. He'd had enough of nameless adventures that had left a bad taste in his mouth for days, in his time on the streets after Weapon X. And his interest in bonds of any kind outside his family and his team had hit rock bottom 18 years ago already. It was simply practical to have someone you didn't need to bring chocolate and beer to get things going and who didn’t expect anything afterward either. Unfortunately, certain people in this house seemed to misunderstand that again and again, even those who should actually know him better.
“Would suck if we didn’t, working together in a team and all, yeah.”
Noemi's eyebrow suspiciously lifted in amusement. “Then what? You need help asking her out on a real date for once? I'm not exactly an expert on that myself, but I'm sure Sassy has tips for you.”
Logan sighed. Fine, no excuses then. After all, it wasn't as if his dear offspring lacked certain education, not least thanks to the extensive pedagogy skills of said casual affair in his life. “I don't think much of bullshitting you, Red. That already didn't work so well when you didn't have control over your powers yet. But things between Ororo and I have never been on a level because of which you need to fear having to call someone 'Mom' anytime soon. And neither she nor I have any interest in changing that. Sometimes all you need is a warm body next to you to deal better with all the shit going on out there.”
“Hey, no need to apologize for that ...”
"I'm not. No one in this household is a catholic," Logan replied a hint more cynically than necessary. "Which is better anyway as Alaska has just taught us. To that, Ororo would agree too, just saying."
”Not only to that, I figure." Noemi didn't seem particularly impressed by his sober assessment. "All I wanted to say is: Maybe this whole thing will turn into something more than you think, and then you don't need to be afraid that I'll end up crying in protest on the convenience store aisle. As long as you keep doing what you do at night somewhere where I can't hear, you can say I do for all I care.”
Logan formed a round smoke ring of routine with his lips to have time to think of an appropriate reply. “Is that what you want?” Why didn't all those clever guides that Scott had forced Logan to study after Jean's death, to prepare for his extended teaching duties, get one ready for that kind of conversation?
Then again, Noemi wasn’t like other kids in many regards, and she had never been allowed to learn how important she had been to her actual mother. There was nothing Logan could do to change that; he'd realized that early on, and on many days, that wasn’t easy to stomach.
Promptly, Noemi took her hands off the keys so abruptly that they resounded with an ugly, crooked note. The relaxed mood was gone in a flash. Now it was piercing, serious eyes that bore into his, a familiar, beloved touch in his soul that saw through him without pressuring him. “What I want is for you to finally stop being lonely, Dad. You've been there for me every day of my life. You stayed here, even though everything reminds you of her, just so I could grow up in a safe environment. Searching for your past, you almost gave up on completely, too. You sacrificed everything for me. Now I want you to be able to enjoy your life again.”
“I'm good, Red.” The dull reply came from his lips before he could regain his composure and think of a better one. What a joke. There hadn't been a day in his life since Jean's last death when he had been good.
“Like you said ... You can't bullshit me.” The piano lid was slammed shut with an ugly cracking sound. This unpleasant point in their conversation, they didn’t reach for the first time; having a similar temper did that to you. There were far worse things to endure. Tomorrow evening at the latest, over a glass of whiskey and tea, they would laugh about the whole thing ...
That was at least what Logan thought until Noemi fully turned his way and all but hatred shining from her eyes hit him in the shape of deep blackness via their link, too. Hatred for Jean. “This will never stop, will it? This is obsession, and you can't even see it.”
“Says the one who goes into battle with nothing but wings on her upper body.”
“I don't take fashion advice from guys in yellow spandex,” Noemi hissed, sounding honestly offended.
“Stretchier. And cheaper to replace if you catch a few bullets or blades every other week. You should give it a try, Red. Saves you from having to telekinetically tug at your top all the time. That's a waste of energy that you will regret at the latest at some point if you get caught up in a nonstop real conflict for days. And the message that you don't give shit about your mother's memory, has come more than across to everyone by now,” Logan added harshly. No, not even one of these teasing and more often than not useful discussions about their work could bring back the loving levity into the conversation, in the face of this one worst topic, which was once more in the air – between them, without either of them wanting it to.
Apparently, with these mutant-hating psychos who had offed Jean showing up again, it was time to set a few more things straight without any sugarcoating. “She's a part of me, Noemi. That'll never change. I've never asked anything of you but to accept that.”
An almost scornful snort came from Noemi's aggressively tightened lips. Within seconds, they were back to the point where they would soon be shouting at each other if this went on like this. And even with all his stubborn ignorance, Logan couldn't ignore the sadistic, satisfied chuckle behind his forehead at such moments, right where the link to Noemi was. A chuckle that went right through both their souls, even though they never would have said it out loud for fear of what the answer would be.
“That woman has cursed you, Dad. She'll haunt you for another hundred years if you let her.” With her arms crossed tightly, Noemi had leaned back against the piano, her jaw thrust forward, just waiting for a snappy retort so the argument could really begin. So that she could take out her anger and frustration on someone, which in truth was nothing more than sadness and loneliness anyway, radiating off of her lean shape in waves, salt and acid in the air irritating Logan's senses.
Logan swallowed away what he had actually wanted to say. He would not fight with his daughter on Jean's grave, no matter how much Noemi – or maybe someone else – wanted to provoke it. In this regard, he was once again glad about Ororo's support over the years. Being Phoenix' daughter, Noemi had never had it easy, but in this particular aspect, he just couldn't help her.
“I don't expect you to understand her, Red. It took me years before I was even remotely able to. I'll let you handle her your way and you do the same, alright?”
For a moment, it looked as if Noemi wasn't going to give in, but then her tense posture collapsed and she closed her eyes as if that would belatedly also have helped hiding the smell of her tears in the air. Nothing would change. As long as the two of them didn't let some invisible person come between them, they could live with it. And that, Logan had always been able to prevent, fortunately, not least thanks to Ororo's support.
Now, too, it only took a brief moment to catch her breath before Noemi could smile again, even though it looked a good deal resigned. “I'm sorry. You know I love you, Dad.”
He only had to reach out his hand a little her way and she was already wrapping her arms around his neck, wiping the small traces of her sadness on his shirt and clinging to him for long seconds until her breathing had calmed down for good.
And he held her tight, as he always did, with the same deep, unconditional affection that he had once felt for her mother, which flowed between them like a warm, spicy gust of wind. Which accompanied the close, comforting and reconciling touch, without him having to say anything that he had rarely uttered in his life. Noemi knew anyway, or at least he hoped so.
He startled as much as she did when she suddenly backed away and followed her glance to the window questioningly, to the beginning darkness outside.
“I feel something ...” she murmured absently. ”Can you wait a second? I'll be right back.”
“Nonsense.” Smiling, Logan brushed back a few of her wild curls and released her with a quick kiss on her forehead. ”Take your time. You don't have to keep a bitter old man company every night.”
Maybe Noemi had secretly read his mind a little earlier after all, or he really needed to learn to control his face again. She didn't smile back. She suddenly looked as serious as he had rarely seen her, even when dealing with her team. Her fingertips dug almost painfully into his shoulders. The unbroken determination, the fighting spirit in her eyes held his gaze, as if she were fixating it telekinetically. “I'll always come back to you, Dad. Me, you're not gonna lose.”
Logan shook himself a little to get rid of the sudden gloom in his soul. Not today, not after they'd almost already come to blows a minute ago. He nodded outside, sending Noemi to whatever it was that had caught her mental eye. He had a vague idea what it was, and for that, she wouldn't need his help. For one day, she had been reminded of her difficult fate often enough. Distraction was the best medicine for that. “Go.”