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It started with a damn Christmas tree in the hotel lobby. Logan had eyed it like a villain from the start. Its bright twinkling lights and glass ornaments were bad enough, but the angel at the top, glowing with the white light of a beacon, was what sealed Logan’s fate. Laura couldn’t stop staring at it.
Her little neck had craned up since the minute they stepped inside. Her big brown eyes taking it all in with quiet wonder and awe. Logan looked over his shoulder with a scowl, watching as Charles tried in broken Spanish to speak with her.
“The Angel, es muy beuno. Si?”
Laura nodded her little head and Charles smiled widely, nodding his own head emphatically.
“Escuelay Angel,” Charles said. He pointed a withered finger at the top of the tree again, making gestures with his hands to illustrate what he was trying so hard to say in Spanish.
Logan turned back the desk clerk. The perky blonde kept on smiling as she rung up his last credit card. She tapped a few buttons on her keyboard, humming under her breath. Logan could smell the latte on her breath, the French vanilla wafting over whether he liked it or not.
“Alright, you’re all set up. It’ll be the room down the hall and to your right,” She said, handing back his credit card and giving him two key cards, “Happy holidays.”
Logan grunted, looking backwards again at Charle’s wheelchair, “The room is handicap accessible right?”
“Yes sir. Your father should have a very comfortable stay.” She assured.
Logan nodded his head, used to being confused for Charle’s son. Six months on the road, running from place to place… He could have been on his boat. He tapped the keycards against the countertop in thought, sighing once before leaving the desk area to grab Charles from his garbled conversation with Laura.
Charle’s face lit up as he spotted Logan, smiling brightly as he tried his best to relay his thoughts and conversation with Laura. Logan could feel his telepathy sputter and start as half formed thoughts and images pressed against his mind, not unlike a cat pawing at a door.
“I was just telling Laura about Warren; you remember Warren don’t you Logan?” Charles asked excitedly.
Logan grunted, grabbing the back of Charle’s wheelchair.
He remembered Warren. Logan remembered the way his body fell out of the sky, limp and lifeless as his wings burned in a trail of black smoke behind him.
“We should go visit him, and everyone else at the school.” Charles said wistfully.
“There’s no school anymore Chuck, remember? It all burnt down.”
The smile dropped from his old mentor’s and friend’s face as the memory returned to him, “oh yes, that’s right. I must have forgotten; it was so long ago.”
The wheels of the wheelchair stuck on an uneven spot of carpet and Logan had to push the chair a little harder, sending Charle’s forward with a jolt. He made a small noise of protest Logan quickly hushed up with a murmured apology. He pushed them down the hall, yelling at Laura to grab their luggage.
She dragged the roller bags behind her, the wheels skipping with her uneven steps. One of her legs was growing slower than the other, Logan was aware of the shin splints she had every night from it. She would whimper quietly as her body tried to grow properly around the adamantium bound to her skeleton. It made Logan glad he was an adult when he’d had his graft performed. Logan stuck a hand in his jacket pocket to thumb at the ibuprofen bottle inside it. how many did he have left? He couldn’t remember, but it wouldn’t hurt to pick some more up. Between Laura’s growing pains and his own headaches, they went through enough to justify the purchase.
When they got to their room, Logan handed Laura a keycard and a twenty in cash. “Here, I’ll have to go out tonight so you’re in charge. If you get hungry before I’m back, buy yourself some pizza.” Logan instructed her.
Laura blinked her wide brown eyes at him. Logan stared into them, seeing parts of himself reflected. Her face was looking more and more like his everyday. The jut of her chin, the shape of her eyes, the bridge of his nose. He wondered what she’d look like if she ever got older and shed the baby fat around her face. If she ever got cursed with his same immortality. Two hundred years from now, she could look exactly like him, a withered old man.
“Laura tells me she’s never seen a Christmas tree.” Chales said, “This is her first Christmas, isn’t that exciting Logan?”
“Yeah,” Logan said, pushing the wheelchair to one of the two queen beds in the room.
“We’ll have to find some Christmas pudding, and a ham.” Charles added, raising his frail arms to wrap around Logan’s shoulders.
Logan reached under his legs with practiced ease. He let out a little grunt as he got used to his old mentor’s weight. He placed him gently on the bed, adjusting the pillows behind his back so he was comfortably reclining. He checked it over once before throwing the television remote on the bed. “Find something you want to watch.”
‘Laura would like an angel Logan’ Charles projected into his mind. Logan did his best not to flinch away from the pain the thought left behind.
“Yeah, ok.” He responded out loud before reaching into his pocket for the bottle of Ibuprofen. He downed two and forced the cap back on.
Across the room, Laura got herself settled on the other queen bed, pulling at the blankets and pillows to nestle herself down in the hotel’s sheets. When she was done, only the crown of her head was visible to Logan.
“Try not to sleep in your jeans again,” He mumbled to her, looking back to Charles, “Alright, I’m off Chuck, be good. Laura can help you if you need anything.”
“Goodbye Logan, think about what I said.” Charles said, a hand waving as he turned on the television, flicking through the channels.
He gave the room one last look over; satisfied things weren’t going to fall apart the minute he stepped outside.
Logan spent his time roaming the streets, breathing in the cold December air. He tasted the city’s smog as it mixed with the bright colours of Christmas lights. Laura had stared out the window at every main street they passed, taking in the twinkling displays. It drove home how much of her life had been the inside of a lab.
Logan needed cigarette. Out of habit, he found himself searching for his pack, forgetting he’d smoked the last one on the drive in. He sighed to himself and added it to the list of things he needed to get, along with some more money. They were down to the petty cash he carried in his wallet, a scant hundred and fifty bucks. He could get the ibuprofen, and a carton… maybe have a few bucks left over for gas.
He stepped into the first convenience store he could find. The little bell above the door chimed and Logan was assaulted by the aggressively yellow lights of the store. He made his way through the aisles, walking casually on his hunt for pain killers. He grabbed a few sticks of beef jerky and stopped in front of a Christmas display.
It was a peg rack of cheap plastic ornaments with equally cheap and tacky slogans. They had all the classics, the snow globes, the antique glass balls, wreaths and angels. Logan stared at the angel ornaments, remembering the one from the hotel lobby. It had darker hair, longer too.
He moved on, finding the rest of his list and grabbing his carton of cigarettes. He handed over the cash, only sparing a glance at the receipt to catch the date.
Christmas Eve.
“Shit,” Logan said under his breath.
“Is something wrong sir?”
Logan’s head snapped up, “No, thanks. Uh, Merry Christmas.” Logan rushed. He didn’t spare another glance at the clerk.
How could he have forgotten what day it was? It was practically hitting him in the face. He wiped a tired hand over his face, tearing into the plastic wrap around his cigarette carton. He pulled out the first pack and lit up, sucking down the acrid smoke. He felt it burn his lungs along with the guilt.
He smoked his cigarette until the embers burnt his fingers and he could taste nothing but the filter, getting every last drag of nicotine he could get.
Logan should get Laura a gift, maybe that ham Charles wanted. It’d be precooked, not even close to the same, but it’d be something.
It was getting late, the stores still open for Christmas Eve were slowly turning off their front lights, leaving behind only the decorations to guide Logan’s way. There were still a few stores, the big box ones that had extended their hours to midnight.
Logan approached them like a traveller might approach an oasis in the desert, with a weary heart and sand in his shoes. He looked around the small toy section, looking for anything, something. He never realised how expensive children’s toys were. Thirty bucks for hunks of plastic they’d stop playing with in a couple of weeks. Logan eyed all of it critically, choosing to skip over it for now. He’d find something else.
He managed to find a frozen dinner he could bring back to the hotel that passed for ham. It held the promise of stuffing and a little brownie alongside its thinly sliced sides of dry turkey. Charles would hate it, but it was the best Logan could do right now.
Logan did one last desperate loop around the toys, counting the coins in his hands and sighing. He shoved the tv dinner under his arm as he ran his fingers through his hair. Just one thing, he wanted to get her one thing, that’s all.
The overhead lights offered little inspiration, the light leaving not even a halo on the dingy ceiling tiles above them. The intercom buzzed on, and Logan was informed he only had fifteen minutes before the store closed, encouraged to take his purchases up to the front till.
The tv dinner under his arm sweated and Logan admitted defeat. He marched his way up to the front of the store sliding his single item onto the conveyor belt. He counted out what he needed to hand over, glancing up at the register once. He froze when he locked eyes with a stuffed angel, sitting just behind the register.
‘Laura wants an angel’
It looked a little beat up and dirty, like someone had stepped on it, but it was perfect. It had the same dark hair and eyes, just like Laura’s, like his, “How much for the angel?” Logan said, pointing at the plush.
The cashier turned, a little surprised, looking over the dirty item, “Oh this? Some kid dropped it earlier, it’s not for sale.”
Logan swallowed around the lump in his throat, “Can I uh… have it?”
The cashier shrugged, “Sure, would have been thrown out anyways. Your total comes to four dollars and sixty eight cents, are you paying cash or card?”
“Cash.” He handed over the cash, not bothering with the two cents in change. He shoved everything into his bag from the convenience store and headed back to the hotel.
His bones ached with cold, his face a ruddy red when he made it back inside the room. Charles was still watching television, the clock on the night table reading a quarter after midnight. The telepath spared him a glance, putting a finger up to his lips and then pointing to the lump under the blankets.
“She’s sleeping.” Charles whispered.
“Did she change out of her clothes this time?” Logan asked, setting the bag down on the ground, fetching out the tv dinner.
“She did, and even brushed her teeth.”
Logan nodded his head, punching in two minutes for Charle’s meal to spin around in chef mike. “It’s not a ham, but you know, figured it’d do for now. We can get Chinese food in the morning.”
“Don’t worry about it, Logan.”
They waited in silence, Logan pulling open the microwave door on the last second to spare Laura from the beeping. He fetched a fork, carefully taking it over to his old friend, “Careful, it’s hot,” Logan reminded, before setting it down on Charle’s lap.
Charle’s graciously accepted the tv dinner, placing it down gently, “Thank you Logan.”
He was so tired. He missed when things were easy. “It sucks getting old Chuck,” Logan admitted
It garnered Logan a chuckle from the telepath, “It certainly does.”
Looking at Charles, Logan couldn’t imagine a world where anyone would guess he was the older of the two. He’d lived enough for two lifetimes, and still he felt so lost. Logan wondered where Charles got his wisdom from. He waited for Charles to finish his meal, going over and making sure he was comfortable before setting the older man to bed. He turned the tv off, the blue glow no longer keeping the room alight.
Logan fumbled around in the dark, finding the angel doll. Logan held it out in front of his face, giving it a half-hearted beating in an attempt to rid some of the dirt from its fur before gently slipping it into Laura’s sleeping arms. He completed the arduous task of slipping in behind her sleeping form. He laid onto of the blankets, sweeping a curl of black-brown hair away from her sleeping face. Laura squirmed slightly in her sleep, burrowing deeper into the blankets and clutching the angel Logan had placed in her arms.
Jesus, she really was just a kid.
Logan could see her as any of the many misfits that had made their way through Charles Xavier’s halls. She would have gorged herself on the turkey dinner Scott would cook up for the sleep away kids. Feasting on cranberry sauce and stuffing until her little stomach distended and she would fall into a peaceful sleep. She’d have little friends, other girls, someone besides him to talk to. The school was always lively around the holidays. He would have helped her decorate the tree, lifting her up so she could place the angel at the top of the tree and not just hold it in her arms as she slept.
She wouldn’t be sleeping in some dingy hotel, chasing the dream from the back of a comic book.
Logan sighed for what felt like the millionth time that day, wrapping himself around his charge. He held her close to his body. In the morning they’d order Chinese and Charles could tell her about the school, and they could go see the Christmas lights again. He’d give her close to what a normal Christmas was like, it was the least he could do for this little girl. He closed his weary eyes, emotionally and physically exhausted. As the clock rolled over to one in the morning, Logan gave his final seasonal greeting and fell asleep.
“Merry Christmas Laura.”