The Burning Heart

by Amanda Sichter

The dark silence of the firehouse was broken only by the snores of the Summers boy. He had a snore on him that could only be described as a combination between a misfiring chainsaw and a seal whose last meal had violently disagreed with it. It had taken a while, but finally the company had got used to it and now they were sleeping deeply despite the aural onslaught.

None of them, however, slept through the alarms that split the night air. From slumber to fevered activity took less than three seconds.

Captain Chet Logan (known only as Cap or Logan - woe betide the man who called him Chet) swung his legs over the side of his bunk and into his trousers. Impatiently he began to pull his night-gear on while he waited for the announcement of where the trouble was. But the alarms just kept ringing, tone after tone, waking fire station after fire station.

'Shit,' Logan muttered to himself. 'This one's gotta be huge.'

For an instant his eyes met that of young Summers and he couldn't help the grimace that crossed his features at the wide-eyed eagerness of the rookie. If this one was as bad as it sounded that eagerness would soon be wiped. Logan hadn't heard so many alarms since the chemicals factory up the river had gone up two years ago.

Finally the last tone died out and the dispassionate voice of the dispatcher listed the stations that were to attend. Logan counted fifteen. 'Explosion,' the dispatcher finally said. 'Ninth Street bridge. Two trains have been crushed. Approach from Cross Street only. Ninth Street is completely blocked by debris. Repeat. Explosion . . .'

By the time the dispatcher had repeated his statement, the fire-trucks of Logan's company were on the street and away.

* * * * *

'What a fucking mess,' said Logan, his voice low as he looked at the scene of devastation before him. 'Jesus Christ, what the fuck happened here?'

Gage shot him a questioning look and then turned back and looked at the twisted wreckage in front of them. 'I'd say the explosion took down the bridge,' he said. 'The trains were passing underneath it, one east, one west-bound. The concrete slabs have come down on the front carriages of one train, the middle of the other one.' Gage was going for an engineering degree at night-school and, at times like this, his knowledge was useful.

'Okay, let's get 'em organised,' said Logan, shaking himself out of shock. 'We've got to get the injured out of the carriages, then we'll have to try and stabilise the bridge and see if there's anyone trapped under there. Stoker, you get back on the dispatcher, tell him we need a fleet of ambulances. Summers, Kelly, Franklin, you get down to the end carriages and see if you can find anyone alive. I'll be with you, soon as I've sorted out the rest. Gage, I want you to check around the bridge, see whether the whole lot's gonna tumble down on us, while we're still workin' on it.'

Silently, swiftly, the men moved to where they were told. Despite the fact that Summers had only been with them two months they were already a well-oiled team. Under Captain Logan, they didn't have a choice.

Logan moved out to intercept the other brigades that were arriving. As ranking officer and first on the scene, this was his area to control until a superior arrived, and he was going to make sure everything was done as quickly and as efficiently as possible. They weren't going to lose anyone but the already dead if he had a choice.

'95,' he yelled. 'I need you to start getting the power lines shut off. 87, we need to check there's no water mains broken or gas . . .'

* * * * *

Summers' eagerness was gone. At least, Logan assumed it was gone. It was a little difficult to see his face as he noisily spewed the remains of his dinner off the side of the carriage.

'What's up with him?' he asked Franklin, jabbing a thumb at Summers.

Franklin looked up from the mangled seat he was trying to extricate from the wreckage and saw where Logan was pointing. He thrust his chin into a gap in the carriage and, curious, Logan put his eye to the gap. He grunted in shock as he saw a passenger's face. For a second he went to say something reassuring and then realised what had made Summers lose his dinner. There was only one eye in the remains of the face, and from the mangled flesh behind it, the brains of the man leaked out over what was left of his shoulders. Logan offered a quick, silent prayer to whatever god looked over the souls of commuters and pulled back from the gap.

'Nasty,' he said.

'And getting nastier,' replied Kelly from where he was wedged under the carriage. 'Looks like one of the steel pylons blew out from the bridge when the explosion happened, went through the last few carriages like a hot knife through butter. Reckon nearly everyone in this part'll be dead or dying.'

'Yeah, maybe,' replied Logan. 'But keep looking.'

'Course, Cap,' replied Kelly and his head disappeared back into the hole he was working in.

Someone cleared his throat behind Logan and, turning, he fixed his eyes on Summers' pale visage. 'You okay, Scott?' he asked, quietly.

'Yes, Cap,' replied the youngest brigade member. 'I'm sorry about that. But I've never seen anything like . . .'

'Forget about it,' interrupted Logan, gruffly. 'We've all done it, sometime. Just get your butt back into seeing if we can find any survivors.'

'Yes, sir,' replied Summers, and went to help Kelly under the carriage.

* * * * *

Logan was with Stoker, using him as a relay to tell everyone where and when they had to go, when Gage panted up to them. 'Cap,' he yelled, and then took a second to catch his breath. 'Cap, we've got the flood-lights set up on the bridge so we can see what we're doing. The whole thing's real precarious, though. We're gonna hafta get braces in below it to hold it all together before anyone can get in.'

Logan nodded, thoughtfully, his mind working swiftly. 'Okay, Gage,' he said. 'You work with the rescue squads, tell 'em where you want the bracing. We've got to try and get under there, see if anyone's still alive. And the Gas Authority says there's definitely a leak around here somewhere, so tell 'em all, no naked flames, no sparks.'

Gage nodded, suddenly aware of why he hadn't heard any concrete cutters going in the mangled wreckage. He turned and then hesitated. 'Have we got anyone out?' he asked.

Logan sighed and allowed himself one moment of small triumph. 'Over a dozen,' he said. 'Paramedics are here, taking care of them. All the boys are workin' tryin' to find more.'

A slight smile touched Gage's face and then he was gone, hurrying away towards the flood-lit bridge.

* * * * *

'Is it safe?' Logan asked, dubiously inspecting the dark hole that gaped beneath the fallen concrete slabs.

'Safe as we can make it,' replied Gage. 'We've got braces and jacks at the places where we're likely to lose it. So long as we're careful and don't try and move anything much, we should be okay.'

'Alright,' said Logan, and picked up the powerful halogen lamp at his feet. He looked at the men around him and sighed. 'Looks like it's you and me, Summers,' he said. 'No-one else is gonna fit in here.' He sighed again as Summers' face positively shone at being chosen. He really was going to have to teach Summers the facts of life one day.

Carefully, the captain began to wriggle his way beneath the remains of the bridge.

* * * * *

'Shit. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Shit. Fuck.'

Logan had never heard Summers swear before and it was disconcerting to have the rhythmic cursing at his back. He didn't stop the boy, though - he understood all too well the helplessness that Scott was only getting out through swearing.

The carriages beneath the bridge were nearly flat. Tonnes of rubble had smashed them down until they were little more than a couple of feet high. The powerful halogen lamp stabbed through the darkness, but all Logan could see was mangled wreckage and, here and there, the remains of something that once must have been human but were now little more than disjointed pieces of flesh.

Hopelessly, he reached towards another arm protruding from the wreckage and felt for a pulse, but there was nothing. He wriggled forward a few more feet and tried it again. Nothing.

For an instant, Scott's swearing stopped as the boy manoeuvred his way between metal spikes, and in that instant, Logan was sure he heard something.

'Shut up,' he hissed back at Scott, who stopped moving instantly.

Logan strained his ears to try and hear the sound again, but there was nothing. 'If there's anyone alive in here,' Logan bellowed, 'try and make a noise. Any noise.'

His ears strained again, he and Summers holding their breath, trying, hoping to pick up any noise. Just as he was giving up, and went to let out his breath, he heard it.

'Help me.'

* * * * *

Logan wiggled his way past the last bit of crumpled carriage that blocked his way and got to the side of the compartment. 'Are you still there?' he asked.

'Yes.' The voice was faint, but definitely female.

Logan looked in frustration at the mangled hulks of metal and body parts in front of him. ~Shit, how'll I find anyone in this? Let alone get them out?~ But none of his frustration was in his voice as he said gently, 'Can you move something? Anything? If any part of you is outside the carriage, can you try and move it?'

He held his breath again, holding it tight until he thought he would faint. And then, miraculously, a slim, brown hand in the centre of the wall of twisted metal moved, waved slowly back and forth.

He'd never moved so fast, not ever. Within a second, regardless of the dangerous metal around him, he was next to the hand and grasping it. 'I've found you,' he said. 'I've got you now. We'll get you out, darlin', it'll be okay.'

'I hope so,' said the faint voice. 'Can you give me something? For the pain. My legs are trapped and it hurts so much.'

'No problems, darling,' said Logan and pulled the medikit off his belt. He quickly found the pethidine and injected it swiftly into the vein in the back of her hand.

'Thank you,' she said after a moment. 'That's much better.'

'Summers,' Logan turned to the rookie, but made sure he didn't let go of the hand. 'Get out and tell 'em we've got a survivor in here and she's trapped by her legs. We've got to start getting her out of here.'

Scott nodded and disappeared back into the gloom, his torch fading away.

Logan settled down on a piece of metal jutting out. 'What's your name, darlin'?' he asked.

'Ororo,' she said. 'Ororo Summerhaven.'

'I'm Logan, Ororo,' the Cap said. 'It's a pleasure to meet you.'

Her laugh was gentle and musical and totally unexpected. 'The pleasure is all mine,' said Ororo and her hand clutched his more tightly.

* * * * *

He and Scott had worked together, slowly, gently pulling pieces of carriage and, occasionally, human bodies away from where Ororo was trapped. But no matter what they were moving, one of them always held her hand, murmuring soft words of reassurance to her as the rubble around her twisted and shifted and settled.

Finally, they'd managed to clear enough space that Ororo had said, 'I can see your light. I can see your light,' and her voice was full of tears.

'That's good, darling, that's good,' said Logan and stroked her hand.

'Yes it is,' she replied, and her voice was stronger, as if she'd swallowed her tears down. 'I don't like the dark very much.'

'Can you tell me when you can see it?' asked Scott and moved the light around. From her answers they were able to determine where her head was in the wreckage and gradually tunnelled towards it.

Logan moved a piece of seating and suddenly said, 'Your hair. It's white.' His voice was startled. From her voice, Ororo was a young woman.

Her laugh twined around him again. 'Yes,' she said. 'It started to change when I was twenty. I tried colouring it, but vanity lost out in the end.'

Logan smiled and removed another piece of the broken seating and suddenly, there she was. She was pretty, very pretty, her silver hair a startling contrast to her coffee-coloured skin and dark brown eyes.

'Logan,' she said, and her voice was full of wonder.

'That's me, darlin',' he replied, his voice thick and his hand clenched tightly around hers. 'I'm here to get you out.'

'Oh, thank you, thank you,' said Ororo, and her eyes suddenly shone with tears.

Logan smiled down at her, and then turned to Summers, just behind him. 'Go and get Gage,' he said. 'We've gotta get him in here to see how we can get Ororo out. And get one of the paramedics as well.'

'Yes, Cap,' said Summers and vanished into the gloom again.

It was five hours since the explosion had torn through the night.

* * * * *

The paramedic's parting words rang in Logan's ears. 'You've got to make sure she stays awake,' the man had said, before going back out to tend to those they were still freeing from the wreckage.

'So,' said Logan, looking down at Ororo's features, composed now that most of the pain had been taken away, 'you married?'

'Yes,' said Ororo, her eyes opening. 'Eight years now. Peter Summerhaven.' Her eyes shone with love and sudden terror. 'Gods, Logan, what if I never see him again? Or the girls? I couldn't stand it if I never saw them again.'

'Hush,' soothed Logan. 'That's what I'm here for. To make sure you get out. Along with the combined forces of most of the district. Now, who are the girls?'

The terror subsided slightly from Ororo's eyes. 'My daughters,' she said. 'Elisha and Skyla, six and four. They're my whole life. That's why I'm on this train. I was picking up their costumes for their school recital. Otherwise I wouldn't have been here. And now I won't be able to get their costumes to them. Oh, gods, and the babysitter will be frantic. Who'll tell my husband where I am?' Ororo's voice was rising in panic, but Logan's squeeze upon her hand brought her back, her eyes locked on his face.

'We'll tell him,' said Logan. 'Summers is on his way back in, and I'll get him to take a message out. Give me a phone number and we'll make sure they know.'

Ororo recited a number and Logan passed it on to Scott when he returned. Then he turned back to Ororo. 'Now tell me about your family.'

* * * * *

'It's sounds lovely, darlin',' said Logan to Ororo. 'A nursery right in the middle of the city. Sounds like just the right job for you.'

'It is,' said Ororo, and her smile lit her whole face. 'It's how I met Peter. He's a botanist you see and I did a course in growing exotic plants and that's when I met him. You'd like him, Logan.'

'I'm sure I would,' replied Logan.

He was about to continue, but was interrupted when Gage's dust-covered head suddenly reappeared in the light. 'Got it, Cap,' he said. 'Got everything braced up. We can start moving the debris from Mrs Summerhaven's legs now.'

'Okay,' said Logan and turned back to Ororo. 'I'm gonna have to let go of your hand, now,' he said, gently. 'I've got to move some of the stuff from around your legs, see what's got you trapped.'

Ororo nodded, but her eyes were wide and filled with fear. Slowly, reluctantly, she let go of Logan's hand. He looked down at her and unexpectedly, even to himself, leaned down and lightly kissed her forehead. 'It'll be okay,' he said, and his voice was gruff with emotion.

Gage knew better than to comment on his Captain's slip and together the two attacked the pile of debris around Ororo's legs. Slowly, carefully, they removed all the broken pieces until they could clearly see her legs and what held them there.

Logan closed his eyes, his face dead white. Inside his head a litany of hopeless swear words paraded through, but when he turned back to Ororo his face was normal again.

'You've got a big beam on your legs,' he said, his voice gentle. 'It's right across both thighs. It's going to take us a while to get it off you.'

Ororo nodded, but her words were unexpected. 'There was a girl I was talking to,' she said. 'In the seat in front of me. Can you see her? Is there any hope?'

A startled look flashed across Logan's face, but he turned back to Gage, who looked at him steadily and then moved so Logan could see the body beneath him. She was not much more than fifteen, her face pretty with an Asiatic cast, her hair short and black. But her brown eyes stared sightlessly at Logan and he knew that she had died very quickly.

He turned back to Ororo and shook his head. Her eyes closed for a moment. 'Poor little Jubilee,' she whispered.

* * * * *

'Logan!' the voice seemed far too loud in the confined space and Logan's face was angry as he looked up at whoever had just come through the gradually widening tunnel that led to Ororo and himself.

His angry words died on his lips as he looked up into the face of Commander Nathan 'Cable' Summers, chief of the county and old friend. Logan was one of the few men who'd been around long enough to know exactly why Nate's nickname was Cable. He'd been a rookie then, but he remembered the drunken bet involving nudity, a tall building and a long piece of rope. He still tried not to think about it much.

'I need to talk to you, Logan,' rumbled Nate and Logan knew he couldn't refuse.

He turned back to Ororo and smiled down at her, gently pushing the hair off her forehead. 'I've gotta go talk to my chief,' he said. 'Scott'll be here for you,' he said and waited until she had nodded.

Summers eagerly moved in and took Ororo's hand. 'Remember,' cautioned Logan. 'Don't let her go to sleep.'

The two men moved out from under the bridge, to where the flood-lights still lit the sky. Logan was astonished to see the faint flush of dawn in the sky. It must have been nearly eleven hours since the explosion had gone off.

Cable had his no-nonsense voice on as he said, 'You've got to come out from there, Logan.'

'What?' Logan turned to his chief in astonishment. 'What the fuck are you talking about, Nate? I can't leave her in there, alone.'

'You've got to,' replied Cable. 'We're going to start moving some of the concrete slabs off with the cranes. If it starts to settle and you're under there, we'll lose you.'

Logan's gaze could have cracked steel. 'No,' he said, simply.

'What do you mean, no?' Cable's voice was rich with astonishment. 'This is a direct order from your superior officer.'

'Then respectfully, no, sir!' replied Logan. 'I'm not leaving Ororo down there by herself. I trust what Gage and the others have done, and I'm not going to stay out here while we're trying to help her. I'm going back into that tunnel and you are not going to get me out.'

Nate Summers looked down at his friend for a long time. 'What about Scott?' he said, finally.

Logan sighed. 'I don't think you'll get him to come out either,' he said. 'He's only a rookie, but he's as brave as his father.'

Cable groaned. 'I know,' he said. 'That's what I'm afraid of.' He looked at Logan, long and hard. 'Don't get my grandson killed,' he said.

Logan's eyes met his, clear and steady. 'No way, Nate,' he said and he knew that both their thoughts turned to Chris Summers, Nate's son, Scott's father. If he hadn't died, he probably would have been Captain now as well. But a factory fire had killed him when Scott was just five and the boy had been brought up by a brigade full of firies. It was no wonder he'd become the third generation Summers to join up. And both Logan and Nate knew he had to be allowed to stay with Ororo. The ghost of his dead father couldn't rule the boy's whole life.

Nate clapped his hand on Logan's back. 'Take care,' he said. 'And take care of my boy.'

'Yes, Nate,' replied Logan and then his eyes narrowed. He waved at the broken bridge and trains. 'Do we know why it happened?'

* * * * *

Logan smiled as he listened to Scott enthusiastically telling Ororo about his girlfriend, the school teacher who had won his heart. He was telling her how pretty Jean was, how she could have been a model if she'd wanted.

~Yeah,~ thought Logan. ~If she didn't have such a penchant for peasant blouses and skirts and had some idea what to do with her hair.~ The shy but fiery redhead could definitely have been gorgeous, but Logan couldn't help but sigh every time he saw her at a fire brigade do. Couldn't someone tell her the sixties were dead?

'I'm going to ask her to marry me,' Scott was saying, his voice puppy-dog eager. 'I'm sure she'll say yes.'

'I'm sure she will too,' replied Ororo, her rich voice sounding very tired, but she managed a smile as she saw Logan approaching.

'Hey, gorgeous,' said Logan and, sitting down, he took her hand from Scott's. 'They're going to start movin' the slabs above you with a crane soon, so there'll probably be a lot of movement and it might get a bit hairy. But I'll be here with you.'

Ororo's eyes were locked on his face, suddenly terrified, but slowly she nodded. 'If they can get me out, I suppose I can stand it,' she said. 'So long as you stay with me.'

Logan nodded and turned to Scott. 'You stayin' too, boy?' he asked and wasn't surprised when he nodded his head.

'Well, let's settle in,' said Logan.

* * * * *

Summers pulled back from where he had flung himself over Ororo's head. 'You okay?' he asked, anxiously and relief flooded his face when Ororo nodded through the dust.

'That is - somewhat frightening,' she said, her voice almost too calm.

Logan shrugged. 'They've taken off a slab,' he said. 'The movement comes from everything settling when something changes above us. It'll be okay. You'll see daylight soon.'

'It's been that long?' asked Ororo and sighed when Logan nodded. 'Why did it happen?' she asked. 'What caused the explosion?'

Logan grimaced suddenly. 'It was the En Sabah Nur,' he said, his voice filled with anger. 'They've claimed responsibility. You know, the usual - saving the world from the forces of evil, striking a blow against American capitalist pig-dogs. That kind of shit.'

'Hmmm,' said Ororo. 'I've never been a force of evil before. I always wondered what it felt like.'

Logan laughed at the unexpected humour. 'What do you think?' he asked.

'No, not really happy with what it feels like to be a force of evil,' replied Ororo. 'A bit too painful, I think. I'm quite happy to be a housewife, mother, small businesswoman again.'

Logan laughed again, Ororo's musical laugh joining his, until the ceiling shifted again.

* * * * *

For the first time Ororo could see her legs, as the last concrete slab was carried away. Logan tried to stop her looking, but he didn't move in time as Ororo looked down.

'Oh,' she said, and suddenly tears ran down her face. 'It's not good, is it?' she asked Logan.

'No, darlin',' he responded. 'Not really.'

For a long moment Ororo was silent and then she said softly, 'If I die, Logan.' He went to protest, but her raised hand stopped him. 'If I die, tell my girls how much their mummy loved them. Tell them mummy would do anything to be there to watch them grow up, but she had to go away and they've got to look after their daddy now. Mummy will be watching them from heaven and mummy will always love them.'

'I'll tell them,' said Logan and his voice was thick.

'And tell my husband I love him so very much,' said Ororo and then went silent.

* * * * *

'Can't they give me something for the pain?' said Ororo, as she watched the cables being hooked around the beam that still pinned her.

'No, darlin', they can't,' replied Logan. 'You'll be out of here soon and you'll be straight to hospital and if they need to operate you can't have any more drugs.'

Ororo nodded and then gripped Logan's hand tightly as Gage called down, 'Ready to go, Cap, ma'am.'

The beam lifted quickly into the air, so easily now, off from Ororo's grotesquely swollen legs. And then she was screaming as the pain from her legs hit her and her screams split the morning air as the paramedics rushed towards her to get her to the ambulance.

It was sixteen hours after the explosion. She was the last one to be taken out alive.

She was still screaming when she got into the ambulance. Logan sat beside her and held tightly to her hand. 'We're going to St Hugh's?' he asked the paramedic, but the man shook his head.

'Full up,' he said. 'We're going to Mother of Mercy.'

Just before they closed the doors Logan shouted their destination to Summers. 'Get someone on to her husband, tell him where we're going.'

Then the doors shut behind them.

* * * * *

'Shit, shit, shit,' The intense Hispanic woman whose name-tag identified her as Dr Reyes couldn't seem to stop swearing as she inspected Ororo's legs.

Ororo had lost consciousness in the ambulance and Logan hovered now in the emergency room thankful she couldn't hear the hopelessness in the doctor's voice.

'I can't deal with this alone,' said Reyes, eventually and turned to one of the nurses. 'Get Dr LeBeau, now.' The intern vanished through the door and Logan took the time to offer whatever god was listening whatever he wanted to keep Ororo alive.

The doctor that came through the door was handsome, too handsome Logan thought. But the pretty-boy face was drawn with exhaustion and his eyes, a startling light blue against his dark skin, were blood-shot. But Logan couldn't fault the competence with which the doctor examined Ororo. He and Dr Reyes consulted in low voices and then the handsome doctor turned to Logan.

'You a relative?' he asked. Logan shook his head.

'I'm the fireman who sat with her.'

LeBeau nodded. 'Den I can' tell you much,' he said.

'Anything, doc,' said Logan, only just restraining himself from reaching out and shaking the doctor by the lapels of his white coat.

The Cajun ran his hand over his face, but finally nodded. 'She's gonna lose her legs,' he said, very softly. 'And I really don' know if she gonna live very long. I'm sorry, homme.'

Logan nodded in silent acknowledgment of the doctor and then went into the waiting room as the doctors moved Ororo deeper into the hospital.

* * * * *

He was still waiting when the agitated man with the two little girls ran into the room. 'My wife,' he said, urgently, and suddenly Logan knew that this was Peter Summerhaven. He rose to go and talk to him, but before he reached him, the nurse had paged someone and the doors swung open to reveal the too-handsome doctor.

None of them noticed the exhausted fireman as they moved further into the hospital.

Logan sat back down again. Time crept by.

Summers joined him, then Gage, then slowly Franklin, Kelly and Stoker made their way in. The company waited as the hours ticked away.

* * * * *

Logan was asleep when a hand touched his arm. He woke, startled, and nearly punched LeBeau in the face. The Cajun doctor's face had gone past exhaustion and out the other side into a state of suspended animation.

'Ororo?' croaked Logan.

The doctor didn't need words. He shook his head, softly. 'I'm sorry,' he said. 'We did everyt'ing we could, but de poisons in her legs overwhelmed her system. We even got Dr McCoy in, but he couldn' do anyt'ing. I'm so sorry.'

Logan stared at him in silence for a long time. 'Her husband?' he finally forced out past the obstruction in his throat. 'Her little girls?'

LeBeau nodded at the door leading in to the hospital. 'Dey're in dere, wit' de chaplain. I don' t'ink now is a good time.'

'No, no, you're right,' said Logan. 'Thank you, doctor.'

The Cajun inclined his head, slowly. 'I jus' wish . . .' His voice trailed off and slowly the doctor made his way back into the hospital.

Logan watched his back as he walked away and wondered how on earth he was going to tell Summers the terrible news.

* * * * *

Logan wrapped his arms tightly around Sigi and buried his face deep into her fur. The half-wolf, half-Alsatian wriggled slightly and then sat still. Logan breathed in the fresh, clean scent of his dog and tried not to cry.

The arms around his shoulders tightened, trying to give him comfort. He could feel the weight of Mariko's head against his neck as she curled around him and the warmth of her body pressed against his back.

'I'm so sorry,' said Mariko again, and Logan shrugged his shoulders slightly.

Finally, he lifted his face from Sigi's back and lay it against Mariko's arm. 'Why couldn't I save her?' he asked.

Mariko gently stroked his hair. 'I don't know,' she said. 'You did everything you could, Logan. I'm sure the doctors did everything they could. Sometimes things just aren't meant to be.'

'No, that's not enough,' said Logan, and his voice was vehement. 'There has to be more of a reason for her death than that. For all their deaths. Shit, Mariko, a hundred and twenty-two people died. Two hundred or so more wounded. What was it for? Because some stupid fucking terrorist group wanted to kill some perfectly harmless people going about their business on a winter's evening? What were they doing, buying the Christmas presents of evil? What the fuck is it all about?'

'I don't know, Logan, I just don't know,' said Mariko and her voice was helpless. 'All we can hope for is that there's justice, that the En Sabah Nur get caught and sentenced.'

'It's not enough,' shouted Logan and Sigi ran away from him. 'If you could have seen her little girls, Mariko, they were just little girls and now they don't have a mummy and I had to sit there and watch her die for hours and hours. It's just not fair.' And finally the barrier broke and tears stormed from Logan's eyes and Mariko held him tight as he sobbed as loudly and as helplessly as any child, as Summers had bawled back in the hospital waiting room when Logan had told him the news.

Finally the storm passed and Mariko held Logan tight in her arms as his body shuddered into stillness and he relaxed slowly. Exhaustion caught up with him and he suddenly felt too heavy to move.

'Mariko,' he said softly.

'Yes, my love,' she whispered.

'Why couldn't I save her? Wasn't I good enough to save her?'

Mariko looked down at him and her dark eyes danced with sympathy. 'Logan, my love,' she said. 'Don't be silly. You did everything you could and no-one, *no-one*, could have done anything more. You are the best there is at what you do.'

Logan nestled tight against her, his arm circling her waist. 'She wanted me to pass on a message to her girls, to her husband,' he said. 'I have to go and see them.'

'Tomorrow,' said Mariko, gently. 'You're too tired, tonight, and it's all too much for them, I'd think. Tomorrow, we'll go and see them together.'

'I have to see them,' said Logan, and his voice was muzzy with exhaustion. 'Have to tell them how much their mother loved them. The boys are going to do a collection, too, help them out. We have to go to the funeral, too. She was so beautiful, Mariko. So beautiful. Not fair she died. We've got to help them as much as we can.' And then he was gone, slipping into sleep in an instant.

Mariko looked down on him and re-arranged herself and him so he lay on her lap, his head cushioned on her thighs. Gently, she stroked his hair and then leaned down to kiss his forehead.

'Sleep well, my love. Tomorrow, we'll go and see her family and you can tell them how much she loved them and we'll do everything we can to help them. You did your best, my love, and that is always good enough.'

And she held him tight to her, this man she loved, and she knew that she loved him because of the pure, gentle flame that lived within his heart.

The End

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