Reacquainted Souls: Part Two

by Kerri G.

Logan found himself jarred awake, his mutant senses inflamed, his heart racing. Something, somewhere had brought him from a deep sleep to battle readiness in a heartbeat.

Charlotte was still asleep, curled into a ball against him, one hand resting on his chest.

He blinked, listening intently, wondering if some already forgotten nightmare had come back to haunt him. The timing was lousy. Things were finally going his way, then a damned 'shiver of doom' had to run through his head.

Soft footsteps downstairs. Someone was in the house.

Gently he lifted her hand and tucked it next to her pillow. Charlotte murmured sleepily. Sliding out of bed, he slipped his pants on, the human essence draining from his expression, leaving only the animal. He released his claws.

He made his way down, moving silently from shadow to shadow. A dim light spilled from the kitchen. Peering around the corner he saw a figure of a large, blond man illuminated by the low light. He was removing items from the fridge. Someone broke in to steal food? How did he get through the security? Didn't matter. Slice an' dice time.

As the stranger reached for something in the back he felt 3 knife points at his throat.

"I don' know whatcha doin' here, bub," Logan snarled in his raspy voice, "but yer mama shoulda' taught ya better manners." He drew the bigger man back with a hand in his hair, pressing his claws deeper.

"As a matter of fact, she did," the stranger smiled faintly. "She also mentioned something about announcing yourself before you enter a room."

"She ever mention breakin' and enterin'?"

"Not specifically, but I believe she was against that."

"Matthew, do you need some help?"

"Thomas, I wondered when you'd join this little party. Enjoying yourself?"

"Of course. I so rarely get to see you at a loss."

"Well, say something before before he gets my blood all over Charlotte's floor. She'll make me clean it after I come back to life."

The overhead lights flipped on. "What's going on here? It's the middle of the night, for cryin' out loud." Charlotte demanded. She'd taken the time to slip on a thick robe against the chill in the air.

"Charlotte, milady, give me a hand, would you, dear?"

"Matthew, what a surprise! But what are you doing to Logan?"

"I'm not *doing* anything. Could you please explain to the gentleman that I am allowed to raid the fridge." Logan still held one clawed hand against his throat, forcing the man to stretched backwards off balance to accommodate Logan's shorter stature.

"If you would call ahead things like this wouldn't happen." She moved across the kitchen. "Logan, it's all right, you can let him go."

It took a minute, but he released him reluctantly, adrenaline still pumping through his veins.

Charlotte stood directly in front of him, her hands on her hips, eying him like a naughty child. Then she relented, her love for him plain to see. He looked at her with genuine fondness. Logan clenched his hands.

Matthew then picked her up, hugging her, swinging her around. Logan resisted the urge to gut him. He had his hands on his woman.

"So, why don't you call or write? Even I've heard of e-mail. Fingers broken?" She poked him hard in the stomach when he set her down.

"Perhaps if you would introduce me to your friend he would pull in his claws instead of plotting to put them through my sorry hide." Matthew smiled down on her with an expression of deep love.

"I apologize, Logan," she reached out and squeezed his arm. "This is a friend of Thomas', Matthew Brouwer." She turned to Thomas, embracing her son while Logan and Matthew sized each other up.

Both of the men noted Logan lack of clothing and the wild expression in his eyes. They also took noticed Charlotte's flushed and glowing face, the mane of disheveled hair around her face and shoulders, the bruised look of her mouth.

Logan resheathed his claws, as the situation became clearer. He could live with it, though he still didn't like it.

Charlotte pushed both men towards the kitchen table. "So, as usual, you both came home when you got hungry," she said as she surveyed the items on the counter. "Did you bring your laundry, too?" She nodded to Logan to take a seat. He shook his head.

"I'll leave ya alone to catch up," he told her quietly.

"No, stay," Thomas said, with a wink. "She might go easy on us in front of company," Matthew smothered a laugh while Charlotte threw him a displeased look. "Or not. She'll make Matthew's favorite waffles. You'll like them."

"You mean your favorite waffles," Matthew retorted.

Logan wavered, then nodded. "I'll be back."

Thomas waited until Logan left the room. He turned to Charlotte. "I am sorry we intruded."

"You should be. But, being the kind-hearted, indulgent mother that I am, I will forgive you."

"Just be careful, Mother." He only called her mother to irritate her and when the situation was sufficiently serious to him.

"I am always careful," she told him, putting the food back in the fridge. "Now, did you say Matthew's favorite waffles?"

Logan returned to find the men deep into breakfast. He'd showered and dressed slowly, taking time to bring himself back under a semblance of control. He stood back a minute to look them both over carefully. Something still wasn't right. A sense of 'darkness' swirled around them both. It made him edgy.

Charlotte saw him in the doorway and motioned him over, setting a plate in front of him. "What's in it?" he asked.

"Oh, everything. Bananas, nuts, blueberries, chocolate chips, apples, coconut. If its edible and you can put whipped cream on it, it's in there."

After all three men had stuffed themselves and Thomas had told her all the news, Charlotte poured herself another cup of coffee. She had listened to Thomas sweet talk himself around what he really came here for long enough. She fixed her son, who so looked like his father, with a stare. "You've forgotten who you're feeding that line of manure to, young man."

Thomas assumed an innocent expression that looked anything but. "No manure. We're on our way to San Francisco. We just wanted to stop and say hi."

Matthew wagged his fingers at her. "Hi."

She wasn't diverted. "You two came here for a reason. Talk."

The two men looked at each other. Thomas abruptly rose from his chair and walked out of the room. Matthew sighed, than reached for his coffee.

"We were in Scotland visiting the Edinburgh house when they got a call from the San Francisco house."

"The Luna Foundation? Derek?"

Matthew nodded. "They've got a problem and needed some help. The situation makes us both a little uneasy, so Thomas insisted we stop here to get some...reinforcement. I believe he also wants some information from the computer files. It's so close to winter we really didn't think you'd be here. We didn't intend to disturb you or your guest."

"How long will you be here?"

"Day after tomorrow, latest. Thomas will go to the mountain for the rites." He yawned. "It's been hurry up and wait for the last 36 hours in airports. Now that I have stuffed myself with Thomas' favorite waffles, I need some sleep."

"Of course." She got up and led him to the first floor guest room, picking up fresh towels on the way.

Logan sat back and thoughtfully finished his coffee. The clock on the wall showed the time as 3:30 am. He could sleep some more.

Thomas returned from the basement carrying a long thin bundle wrapped in tanned deer skin. He saw Logan alone.

"Yer friend's sleepy. Charlotte's settlin' him in." Logan answered his unspoken question.

Thomas nodded and continued through the kitchen. A few moments later he heard the front door closed.

Charlotte returned and began loading dishes into the dishwasher. She hummed a little, winking at Logan when she refilled his coffee cup. "Sorry for the confusion. Those two are always into something."

"I didn' realize he was yer son's friend," he apologized awkwardly for his earlier actions. He was not used to explaining himself. That was not something he did. "I thought we were bein' attacked."

"Serves him right. He knows better, but like any child he believes he is welcome at home any time of the day or night." She smiled faintly. "And he's right."

"What's goin' on wi' them? Somethin' ain' right."

"I know. Thomas is, for want of a better word, scared. For him to come here and seek the magic, it has to be serious. He won't tell me, and I have no right to pry." She looked pensive for the moment. "If he needs me, he'll ask."

He drained his cup, putting it into the dishwasher. He swung her up in his arms and carried her out of the room and up the stairs.

She nipped his ear, sucking the lobe hard enough to send a shiver through him.

He closed the door with his foot, tossing her lightly on the bed. "I'm comin' to getcha," he threatened with an evil grin. "If ya gonna beg, better do it now."

"Never! Well, okay, maybe a little."

[next part]

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