Adriana Writes

“Wait, um, wait here,” Logan said after unlocking the front door of a cheerful looking two story house. “I’ve got to check something first.”

“Okay,” Roman agreed easily. Logan opened the door just enough to slip his small frame through, like he thought Roman would barge in if he left any extra room. Then he closed and locked it behind him. Roman stood on the porch and waited.

He wasn’t sure why Logan didn’t want him to come in. Roman could see Mrs. Harris and her reaction to Logan’s new soulmark already with a quick glance into the future down the relevant path. Then again, Logan couldn’t see that, so maybe it made sense he was worried. He’d only been with Mrs. Harris for a couple of weeks, and new placements could be scary at times. Even with Roman’s ability to see the future, he knew that well. Sure, part of Roman’s problem was that he could only see good things, so bad things often blindsided him, but it had to be even harder not knowing anything at all.

When he’d first been told he was going to his current foster house, he’d seen a lot of good things like the cool room and the unlimited snack cabinet, and in truth the couple wasn’t the worst. They just… didn’t seem to care too much. Like right now, he was supposed to be at soccer practice, but he hadn’t actually gone to that in two weeks and they hadn’t even noticed.

The lack of care or affection had been a disappointment for Roman, but he didn’t know how people dealt with life not knowing anything good or bad about someone or something in their future. The most a majority people knew about their futures were their soulmarks, although apparently those weren’t as set in stone as Roman had always been told.

He considered his new soulmark, having not had a lot of time to look at it before Logan had dragged him to Mrs. Harris’s house. It was a star, a pretty basic shape for such a surprising soulmark, and it was a darker blue. Roman had noticed the same shape on Logan, but his had been red. Roman had already known his soul-color was red, had known it since he was born, but it would be a new discovery for Logan. Logan’s red mark had been on his upper arm and Roman’s blue one was on his forearm, which meant they were sibling soulmates.

Roman had been a brother before, but he’d never been a big brother, nor had he ever expected to be. He wasn’t quite sure how to be one yet, but he was going to try his best.

Roman heard Logan calling for Mrs. Harris, his voice slightly muffled from behind the closed door. Her voice called back to him from deeper in the house and Logan’s followed it. Roman waited patiently for a few minutes before Logan came back and shoved the door open all the way. “You can come in,” he said, his voice tinged with something akin to relief.

He followed Logan through the living room into the kitchen where Mrs. Harris was currently scrubbing a large pot in the sink.

“Hello,” she greeted him warmly.

“Hi!” he returned enthusiastically. He knew her already in little pieces, the smile she threw at him familiar despite having never seen it before.

“Why don’t you kids sit at the table,” she suggested. “I’ll get you some snacks in a minute.”

“I can get them,” Logan offered. He put his backpack down near the table and walked over to the sink. He used the side Mrs. Harris wasn’t currently using to wash his hands.

“Can I help?” Roman asked.

“No, I know where everything is,” Logan replied. He’d probably be surprised how many of the things Roman knew the places of, but Roman didn’t mention that, having not yet explained his powers to his new soulmate. “You can sit.”

“Sure,” Roman agreed. He put his own backpack down and sat at the kitchen table. Logan went to the refrigerator and grabbed out a bag of carrots, a couple of apples, and three Babybel cheese snacks. He rinsed a couple of carrot and the apples in the sink next to Mrs. Harris. She bumped shoulders with him playful as he did and he smiled wide at her.

He then grabbed a cutting board from one of the cabinets, a stepping stool, and a very large knife.

“Um,” Roman said as Logan climbed onto the step-stool and positioned a carrot. “Are you old enough to do that?”

Logan sent him a look that Roman didn’t quite know how to interpret. “I’m fine,” he said. Logan had corrected him very sternly that he was 7 and not 5 on their walk home. (Roman’s new baby brother was a bit grumpy he’d concluded after the less than 10 minute walk back to his house. And bossy.) Still, 7 did not seem old enough to be using that big of a knife. Roman knew he wouldn’t know how to use a knife like that and he was 9!

Mrs. Harris apparently overheard Roman because she turned to look at what Logan was doing. “I can do that Logan,” Mrs. Harris said. She left the pot in the sink and washed off her hands.

Logan looked at her for a moment, but didn’t argue. He hopped off the step-stool and pulled it aside so she could stand in front of the cutting board.

He went back to the fridge and got out a pack of juice boxes while Mrs. Harris started to chop. It was a variety pack and he offered Roman all eight available flavors to choose from. Roman enthusiastically selected the cherry flavored one, and Logan tilted his head just slightly to the left and blinked once. The future sparked suddenly with images of boxes of cherry juice being offered to Roman by those same hands but in a variety of sizes.

Logan chose a grape juice and Roman scrambled to store that fact in his own memory as Logan returned the pack with the rest of juice to the refrigerator.

Mrs. Harris finished cutting up the carrots and apples and put them all on a plate. She smiled at Roman as she set the plate between where Roman and Logan were sitting. “So, Roman,” she said. “Are you a friend of Logan’s from school?”

“Um,” Roman said, glancing at Logan. He was unsure why he’d not already told Mrs. Harris who Roman was when he’d first come into the house.

“Roman is my soulmate,” Logan said.

She turned to look at him, squinting a bit behind her glasses. “Oh,” she said. “I thought… oh, never-mind.”

“I didn’t have a soulmark,” Logan clarified. (Roman was confused about why he had to clarify that. She’d emergency fostered and then adopted him. She would have gotten a file detailing all of his soulmarks or lack there of in Logan’s case. In fact, in Logan’s case she really definitely would have known.) “I got a new one today.”

She stared at him for a long drawn out moment, enough that even Roman got a bit nervous about her reaction for a moment. He had not seen this part of it.

Then she smiled, but she still somehow looked sad.

She put a hand on the top of his head. “That’s fantastic Logan,” she said. “I’m so glad for you. I…” she trailed off and seemed to pull herself together. “Can I see it?” she asked with a growing smile. Only now did Roman’s vision of the future start to click into place.

Logan nodded and stretch out his arm. “A brother?” she asked in surprised delight when Logan revealed the soulmark.

“It seems so, yes,” Logan replied.

“That’s wonderful!” She turned to Roman with a huge smile. “Can I see yours?” she asked.

“Sure!” Roman agreed, happily pushing up his sleeve to show her.

“This is a call for celebration,” she declared. “Roman, what’s your favorite type of pizza?”

“Um, I don’t know,” Roman said. He knew what pizzas he’d liked best in the past, but it was impossible to tell which was actually the best one. He hadn’t had a chance to taste many types of pizza, but he knew there were so many fantastic options out there he’d never tried.

“Logan?”

Logan shrugged. “I’ve only ever had pepperoni or cheese because that’s all the group home would order.”

She frowned a bit and idly reached out to pet his hair. Roman watched a complicated look cross Logan’s face, but it had faded before she even spoke. “Well, we’ll just have to try a couple. Domino’s has a build your own pizza option when building online. I’ll let you boys make your own pizza and I’ll get a couple of tried and true ones. Sound good?”

“Sure,” Logan agreed.

She let them both order a whole pizza for themselves and ordered two other ones off the menu and some cheese sticks and soda.

Roman stayed below the three ingredient limit so there wasn’t an extra cost, but went a little wild with the combination. He ended up with philly steak, mushroom, and pineapple.

Logan was a bit more boring and just added onions to a pepperoni pizza knowing he liked pepperoni pizza and onions. Roman at first disapproved of his lack of creativity… until he learned he did not like mushrooms… or the combination of pineapple and marinara sauce. He tried a slice of Logan’s and it was objectively better and better than just plain pepperoni. He probably liked it the most out of the four pizzas, though he only had the one slice, not wanting to steal it from Logan. Instead, he ate the meat-lovers and veggie supreme Mrs. Harris got which were pretty good. Logan tried a bite of Roman’s pizza too, but his nose immediately scrunched up.

Out of a sense of obligation, Roman finished most of the slice Logan had taken a bite out of. He thought this was probably what being a big brother was.

Mrs. Harris had then let them watch two whole movies. Before coming to live with Mrs. Harris Logan had apparently only seen three movies that weren’t movies at school, since those were the only ones they’d had at the group home. He’d watched a lot while he’d been sick a few weeks ago, but said he barely remembered a lot of them.

Roman decided they’d start from the beginning with Disney movies, so pulled up Snow White and then Pinocchio. He couldn’t read Logan well enough at this point to know for a fact, but he thought the boy enjoyed them. At least, he didn’t argue with Roman when Roman told him they’d watch Bambi or Dumbo next.

It was dark by the time Mrs. Harris offered to drive Roman home. She’d frowned when he’d asked her to drop him off at the corner instead of at his foster home, but she’d done it.

~~~

It was only two days later that Roman learned why Logan was weird about him meeting Mrs. Harris, and it wasn’t because he’d ever thought she’d react badly. Roman had walked him home from school again. Logan told him he didn’t have to, but despite the short distance, Roman didn’t like the idea of Logan walking home by himself every day. Mrs. Harris’s house was too close to school for the busses to run there, but Roman was surprised Mrs. Harris didn’t either walk or drive to pick him up.

Just like the first time, Logan had gone into the house first, leaving Roman on the porch, but this time, he’d come back outside, and shook his head.

“She’s not feeling well,” he’d said. “You can’t come in.”

“Uh, okay,” Roman had agreed. He hadn’t been able to see any future where they ended up in the house, so he’d let Logan lead him away.

They’d ended up in a small park down the street.

“So… does she have the flu or something?” Roman asked. He could vaguely see her being fine sometime next week, so it couldn’t be too bad.

“No it’s…” Logan trailed off and looked at Roman with a small frown. “I don’t really know much about soulmates, but you’ll keep a secret for me if I ask you too right?”

“Of course!” Roman agreed instantly, but Logan still seemed hesitant.

“You can’t tell anyone,” Logan said seriously. “Not our teachers. Not our social workers. Not even Miss Harris.”

That made Roman pause. As far as he was aware, Mrs. Harris was wonderful and good but… sometimes Roman couldn’t see what was actually happening beyond the futures behind his eyelids.

“Is she hitting you?” he asked seriously.

“No, it’s nothing like that,” Logan said, seeming annoyed by the suggestion as he waved it away. “She’s good to me. She’s the best adult I’ve ever had in my life. That’s why I want you to keep it a secret that she’s sick. I’m worried I’ll get taken away and put somewhere bad again if you tell.”

“Okay,” Roman agreed. “If she’s not hurting you, I promise not to tell.”

Logan still took a moment to study Roman before telling him. “She’s sick,” he explained, “but she’s not sick like she has a temporary cold or even something long term but more physical like cancer.” He paused again before continuing. “She has Alzheimer’s, at least, we’re pretty sure. She hasn’t been officially diagnosed, hasn’t even seen a doctor for it, but it’s clearly some sort of dementia. It’s still early stages, but she’s starting to forget things.”

Roman had heard of both Alzheimer’s and dementia, but honestly knew very little about them. “She’s forgetting things?” Roman asked. “Like what?”

“Right now? Little things. She forgets when she’s cooking sometimes until stuff is burning or she’ll loose things.” He paused and dug his toe into the dirt for a moment. “She forgets who I am sometimes. Not just forgetting my name for a few seconds. Sometimes she looks at me, and she thinks I’m someone else entirely.”

“That…” Roman started, unsure what to say. “Is bad,” he continued lamely.

“She wasn’t planning to take in any more kids,” Logan continued, “but Miss Harris told her about me. I was so sick, and no one would take proper care of me, so she stepped in. I don’t think she’d realized how bad she’d gotten until she was trying to take care of a kid again. She needs help, and she could get it easily. She took care of a lot of children during her life; a lot of them would care for her back. But she’d loose custody of me.”

He looked down at his arm and the soulmark on it. “Maybe now that I have a soulmate it might be different,” he said. “Maybe one of her children would be willing to take me in, but I don’t know. We haven’t talked about it yet. She’s been bad the last couple days after meeting you.”

“Oh,” Roman said. “Well, that explains why I didn’t know about it.”

Logan looked at him confused, and well, Logan was his soulmate, so he’d need to know soon anyway.

“I have precognition,” he explained. “Limited precognition, but, uh different than most limited precognition.”

“Different how?” Logan asked.

“Uh,” Roman said. “Most people with limited precognition only see one future path or something even more limited.”

“Like Del Amore,” Logan said immediately, which told Roman he didn’t need to explain anymore.

“Yeah, exactly,” Roman said. “Del Amore saw one fixed day with perfect clarity, but couldn’t see any other day or see what could happen if events changed before it. I’m not like that. I see the future more like someone with non-limited precognition... I think. Things that will happen soon are a bit clearer and I can see how events would play out based on different choices, but I can also see events further into the future. I probably see better than most people with non-limited precognition do. The limitation is that I can only see positive events.”

Logan titled his head to study Roman. “Do you have a twin with the opposite power?” he asked.

Roman blinked. “Yeah, I do. How did you guess?”

“Basic power inheritance theory,” Logan said with a shrug. “You probably were identical twins who basically split a non-limited precognition power. That sort of thing happens pretty frequently actually. Where is he?”

“I don’t know,” Roman said. “He was seen as the more ‘useful’ one when our parents died. So, he got adopted and I got shoved into foster care. I haven’t seen him since. Not even in a vision.”

Logan gave him a look that Roman couldn’t quite read. “I see,” he said and then abruptly changed the subject. “I grabbed the iPad before leaving Mrs. Harris’s and the library has free Wi-Fi. Want to go download the next movie you insist I must watch?”

“Sure!” Roman said, perking up. “I think you’ll love it!”

Usually, Patton liked sunrises. He didn’t know if he’d call himself a morning person (it took him a bit too long to fully wake up every day for that), but he was usually up early enough in the mornings to see it. Even when he wasn’t quite awake yet (or worse hadn’t slept because he’d been called in for emergency surgery in the middle of the night) seeing the sunrise almost always improved his mood.

Today, seeing the first rays of gold creep through the window did nothing to improve his mood; it just made him feel more lost.

Logan hadn’t slept. Patton wasn’t sure if physical discomfort contributed to his inability to sleep (he’d refused pain pills when Patton had offered them) but he knew for a fact it was mostly mental reasons.

They’d been up since 2am, having gotten approximately 3 hours of sleep before that. Logan had told Patton that he should stay in bed, but Patton had refused, following him down into the living room. This had clearly annoyed Logan, but Patton had know he wouldn’t have been able to sleep knowing Logan wasn’t. Patton had explained that to Logan. It only seemed to make Logan more frustrated.

They’d been sitting on the couch for hours watching banal early morning television, and Patton could feel Logan’s agitation growing with every moment. Patton’s very presence next to him seemed to feed the emotions that had kept Logan up. Any yet, Patton couldn’t find it in himself to walk away.

The Channel 4 morning talk-show had come on, the cheery co-hosts chattering about random topics. Currently they were talking about some new movie coming out. One of the movie’s actors was going to be on in a later time slot.

“I’m going to make coffee,” Patton said, rubbing his eyes. He stood up and walked into the kitchen. Logan usually drank plain coffee, but he secretly had a favorite flavor: hazelnut. Patton put a scoop of that into the coffee machine and then stood next to it, leaning against the counter with his eyes closed as the coffee brewed.

He tried to think of nothing except the sounds of the coffee maker as it heated up. The trickle of brewed coffee started slow, the sound of the liquid hitting the bottom of the pot the only indication to Patton that time was passing. The smell of the coffee grew stronger as the sound of liquid hitting glass transformed into liquid hitting liquid.

Patton only opened his eyes when the coffee maker beeped to tell him it was done. The stream of coffee slowed to a trickle and then just drips a moment later. He took a breath and grabbed coffee mugs from the cabinet, passing over the more decorated ones for today, and selecting two from the set that matched their plates. The dripping had stopped by the time he returned to the coffee pot. He poured the coffee and added two teaspoons of sugar to each cup.

The talk-show was still playing, but Logan was not watching TV when Patton returned to the living room. Instead, he’d leaned his head back against the couch and was staring blankly at the ceiling. He didn’t look like the man Patton had married in that moment. He looked like a Logan robot that had run out of batteries.

The only sign he wasn’t a robot (or statue even) was his left hand. He was squeezing his own leg so hard that Patton was worried he’d bruise his own skin.

“Just yell at me,” Patton said, setting the coffee mugs down on the table harder than necessary. The thunk as ceramic hit wood drew Logan’s eyes away from the nothing he’d been staring at. “I know you want to.”

And Logan… did not yell. However, suddenly the seething anger that had been boiling up all night (that had been boiling up for months) was suddenly fully on display in the line of his shoulders. “No,” he said firmly, “I do not.”

“Yes you do!” Patton accused. “Of course you do! You’re angry and hurt and resentful, and you’re just letting it all bubble up under the surface because you think if you lash out at me I’ll break.”

Logan stared at him for a long moment. “Has it occurred to you,” he asked in a clipped tone, “that even though I’m feeling trapped and angry and hopeless I don’t want to take it out on you?”

Which... was when Patton realized what he was doing.

“Oh,” he said. He sunk down onto the couch next to Logan. There was silence between them for a long moment as they both stared blankly at the opposite wall. “I’m doing it again.”

He’d worked on not doing this exact thing for a lot of years, and he’d gotten pretty good at preventing himself from spiraling down that train of thought. Almost too good. He’d relaxed; he’d stopped watching himself as carefully. The problem was, no matter how much better he’d gotten at not letting his mind take him down that path, the path was still there. When things got difficult, well, a well trodden path was easy to follow.

Some part of Patton would probably always see himself as an emotional punching bag. It had been a reality for so long. Someone got mad enough when Patton was nearby, and they’d take it out on Patton. That was a fact of life. Anyone who hadn’t done so yet just hadn’t ever gotten mad enough. Unfortunately, to that little tiny voice in his head, ‘anyone’ even included Logan. And that was unfair to Logan.

“Sorry.” Patton said.

Logan sighed and looked at him. He still looked frustrated but he offered out a hand towards Patton as a peace offering. Patton took it gingerly. “I admit I am not blameless in this,” he said and squeezed Patton’s hand softly. “I have not been properly communicating with you which I know can leave space for misunderstanding. I apologize.”

Patton nodded slowly. “Should we,” he asked hesitantly, “talk about it?” Usually the answer to that question would be an obvious yes, but usually when Patton spiraled it was because Patton was the one in the worse mental state. Today, that was clearly not true.

When Logan was upset, he didn’t like to talk about it immediately, needing time to process things alone first. But... this wasn’t immediate, was it? This had been brewing for a long time, and while Patton usually waited for Logan to want to talk about it, this time, he might be waiting too long.

Logan grimaced. “I don’t know how to talk about it. I can’t get my thoughts straight in my own mind, let alone put them into words.”

“Maybe I could help you?” Patton suggested.

“I don’t…” he said and then hesitated, “I don’t want to burden you with these things.”

“I’m your husband, Logan,” Patton reminded. “Sharing burdens is what the vows were for.”

“...I don’t…”

“Hey,” Patton said when it was clear he was struggling to come up with anything to say, “It is not fair for me to expect you to take out your feelings on me, but it’s also not fair for you to hide your feelings from me because you don’t think I should have to listen to them.”

He took a long moment to think, and Patton let him. Then he sighed. “I honestly don’t even know what I’m feeling.”

“Well, that make sense,” Patton said. “You went through a pretty big thing. You’ve probably been having a lot of feelings lately. I imagine they’re a bit confusing, maybe contradictory? There may be some you don’t want to feel, so then you have feelings about your feelings. It’s… a lot.”

“Yes,” Logan said, though Patton could sense the reluctance in the word. He did not want to agree, but he knew it was true. He squeezed Patton’s hand again briefly and sighed. “Sometimes I think you understand my emotions better than I do myself,” Logan said. “Other than when you’re having your own cognitive distortions.”

“Well,” Patton said. “You don’t need to figure out everything about how you’re feeling right now. Why don’t we try dealing with one emotion at a time?” he proposed. He considered Logan for a moment and then hesitantly suggested. “We both picked up on the fact that you’re feeling angry.”

“Yes,” Logan confirmed with only a bit of hesitation. “I’m angry.”

Patton nodded. “Who at?”

“The people who captured me mostly of course,” Logan said and then paused for a moment, again seeming reluctant to voice his thoughts “but I think I’m also angry at myself.”

“For being captured?” Patton asked.

“No,” Logan said. “At least, that’s not the main reason.”

“Do you know what is?” Patton asked.

He took a few moments to think, that 100 yard stare Patton had noticed him doing since his kidnapping on his face. After a few seconds, his thumb started rubbing circles on the back of Patton’s hand absently. Patton let him think, the silence between them stretching out so long it made Patton feel twitchy on the inside, but he still did not interrupt.

Finally, Logan spoke. “I,” he said, “did not behave rationally when Virgil found me.”

Patton nodded slowly, though he wasn’t sure if Logan saw that since he was still staring into the distance. “When you erased everyone’s memories?” he clarified.

Logan didn’t say anything for another couple of seconds, and Patton was worried it was going to be another uncomfortable couple of minutes of silence, but then Logan blinked and turned to him. “I think it was the right call,” he said. He reached out with his free hand to touch the side of Patton’s face, the touch feather light, “but that was not why I made it. I acted out of emotions.”

“Acting on your emotions isn’t necessarily bad,” Patton hedged. “Sometimes when logic fails, it’s the only thing you can rely on.”

“Not as Bluebird,” Logan said. “Bluebird is a hero. I have a duty of care when I wear that mask. I cannot be irrational. If I’m irrational, I become a danger to others.”

“That isn't fair to Logan,” Patton said.

“It’s not about fairness,” Logan said. “It’s reality. I made the decision to wipe people’s memories, and I didn’t even think about it. It wasn’t like I got angry or scared and threw someone across the room too hard. That would have been bad enough, but using mind warping out of an instinctual, emotional reaction, is inexcusable.”

“It’s…” Patton hesitated. “Something you have to be careful with, but it doesn’t make you evil that you used them out of emotion in that high stress situation. You were angry and irrational, yes, but even then you were careful. You didn’t hurt anyone. Not even the people who hurt you.”

“Maybe not,” Logan said, “but I could have. Maybe I even did in ways no one realizes. Mind warping in dangerous. I don’t use those powers for a reason.”

“Well,” Patton said carefully, “Maybe you should.”

Logan looked at him seeming almost startled.

“You feel like you lost control,” Patton pointed out. “Maybe that’s because you’re not quite comfortable with them. You never use them. If you practice, maybe they’ll be a bit less scary, and maybe next time there’s a reason to use them, making that choice will feel less irrational.”

“Mind warping is not something I want to train,” Logan said shortly. “I never have.”

“Why not?”

He looked away, and suddenly Patton knew.

“You think I can’t handle you having a mental power.” It sounded like an accusation and to be truthful, it was a bit. Logan stared at him and after a moment, Patton nodded sharply. “You said as much when you discovered it. That’s why you’ve never trained it. It’s about me.”

“I don’t need it,” Logan said. “At least, I shouldn’t.”

“So, you, what?” Patton asked. “Thought you’d chop off a piece of yourself so you’d fit me better?”

He frowned. “That is not a piece of me.” He said it with a tinge of disgust, but Patton could see past it. There was a type of shame there, yes, but it was the same shame Patton had felt all those years ago while crying in a dorm shower after his first attempt at sex with another man. It was not something that was wrong with him intrinsically, but a fact about himself he’d known would disappoint other people. Patton had been right. Logan was not.

“Yes it is,” Patton snapped. “You don’t get to do that just as much as I don’t. My parents abused me with their powers throughout my entire childhood,” Patton said, “but that’s because of who they were not what powers they had. I am not a child anymore. I’m a fully grown man with decades of therapy who gets to choose what I can and cannot handle. Yes,” Logan had not even moved to speak, but Patton could feel the rebuttal on his lips, “even on the days where I slip into old patterns. I don’t need you to protect me from you. I need you to be honest with me and honest with yourself.”

“I just…” He didn’t finish. He didn’t seem sure how to finish.

“You’re scared,” Patton told him. “You’re scared of hurting me.”

He nodded.

“Well, here’s the thing. I get to be scared of hurting you too.” Patton studied his face, “and I think maybe I have. Or, at least, I didn’t notice you hurting yourself for me. That’s gotta stop though, alright? You’ve got to trust me.”

There was another long pause. “Okay,” Logan said, but he was still unsure. That was probably okay though. It’s not like he could turn his entire perspective around with one good speech from Patton, but at least Patton knew to look for this now.

“Okay,” Patton said. He leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “I think that’s enough talking about your emotions for now. You’re a bit overwhelmed, but I’m glad we at least started this conversation.”

“I think I feel worse,” Logan said quietly.

“Yeah,” Patton said with half a smile. “That’ll happen.”

“Also the coffee is certainly cold by now.”

Patton chuckled. “Yeah, probably.” He shifted to get up and take the mugs to the kitchen to warm up, but Logan grabbed him around the waist. He heard the coffee mugs clink as they moved from the table under Logan’s instruction. A few moments later, he heard the microwave start up. Patton leaned against Logan and got a kiss on the head in response.

“I am so tired,” Logan muttered into his hair. “I don’t think coffee will fix me this time.”

Patton giggled. Everything still felt a little horrible and Patton felt gross from his own lack of sleep, but the mood was suddenly a bit lighter than it had been in months. “Is Logan actually admitting he isn’t physically capable of exchanging a good night’s sleep for coffee?”

“My attempts to sleep did not fix me either,” Logan grumbled.

“Do you need pain meds?” Patton asked, drawing back. “Seriously?”

Logan shook his head. “There isn’t much pain,” he said. “Just a lot of thinking.”

“Well,” Patton said. “Let’s try the coffee and then maybe put something on TV better than a talk show. Maybe if we stop trying to sleep, we’ll manage to trick ourselves into a nap.”

“It’s worth a try,” Logan agreed. He pulled back back towards him and Patton went willingly. “I love you.”

Remy’s phone buzzed twice on the table in front of him. He glanced at the message preview and then unlocked his phone.

‘Text me when you’re done... Let me know how he is.’ the message read. Remy sent back a thumbs up before switching the phone fully to silent and setting it back onto the table face down. Then, he stared blankly at the clock on the wall across from him for a few minutes.

Despite everything, they were right on time.

Logan looked in some ways better than the last time Remy had seem him and in some ways worse. He was upright on crutches instead of in a wheelchair (though Remy wondered if he should be). The bruising was starting to fade, but his skin was still a sickly bluish yellow in many places. His arm still sported fresh bandages but his neck only had a slight scar and his eyes were mostly back to their normal shape and size (as far as Remy could see from this distance).

He also looked a little bit like an animal that wanted to start biting itself out of stress.

Virgil spotted Remy, and pointed him out, walking to the right and slightly behind Logan. His arms weren’t quite raised as though to catch him if he fell, but with how he tracked Logan’s every minute shift of weight, he easily could at a moment’s notice.

Virgil pulled out the chair across from Remy for Logan and then stood next to it as Logan shifted off his crutches onto his uninjured leg and moved to sit. Once Logan was seated, Virgil tried to take the crutches but Logan refused to hand them over, pulling them away and balancing them up against the table next to him.

“You do not need to hover,” Logan told Virgil. The tension at the corners of his eyes told Remy he would have snapped the words if they had been directed towards literally anyone else (even Patton). Instead, it sounded like he was trying to speak without dropping a small rock held between his molars.

“I’m not hovering,” Virgil replied evenly while looking ready to scale a wall. “I’m just getting you settled, and then I’ll get out of here.”

“You do not have to leave,” Logan said, firmly. “You are not my chauffeur.”

Virgil pressed his lips together but didn’t respond.

“Logan, you were in a car wreck less than three weeks ago,” Remy interjected pointedly. Three weeks ago Remy had helped this man fake a car wreck. “Let him help you to a chair.”

“I am fine.”

“Bitch, you’re leg is broken.”

“I am well aware.” Logan did snap at Remy, eyes cutting into him from across the table.

“Yeah?” Remy said. “Well so am I.”

“What do you two want?” Virgil interrupted their impromptu staring match, sounding tired.

Logan took a breath. “Just a normal black coffee, please,” Logan said, his tone back to that constrained rock biting grumble.

“My order’s too complicated, so I’ll go with you,” Remy said, getting to his feet.

Virgil threw a glance at Logan but Logan was pretending to readjust his crutches so they stayed balanced against the table.

They were silent as they walked up to the counter. Virgil ordered Logan’s coffee, putting air quotes around the word “black” and gesturing towards Logan. The cashier, obviously recognizing Logan and knowing the story about the car crash, asked Virgil how Logan was while ringing up the order.

Virgil tiredly went through the whole “He’s doing better;” “Yeah it was scary;” “He should be fine;” spiel and then escaped as fast as he could to the drink pick-up area the second the cashier stopped holding Patton’s credit card hostage.

Remy ordered his own drink plus a cinnamon roll. The cashier grabbed the cinnamon roll and bagged it while Remy signed the credit card reader. Then, Remy went to join Virgil.

“Here,” Remy said, pushing the bag into Virgil’s hands.

Virgil glanced into the bag and then nodded with a small smile. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

Remy leaned up against a nearby wall. “So, how’s he actually doing?” he asked.

Virgil’s eyes flickered to Remy and then away. “He’s doing alright.”

“So. Bad then.”

“You know he’s always a bastard when he’s sick,” Virgil said, “but he’s not sick.”

Remy reached into the wallet he hadn’t yet pocketed and drew out a $20 bill. “Here,” he said attempting to hand Virgil the money. The kid just raised an eyebrow at him. “There was that one movie about the creepy clown you wanted to see.”

“I know you know what It is, Remy.”

“No, what is it?” Remy asked. Virgil stared at him unamused. “Anyway, go buy yourself a ticket, get a bunch of junk food, and watch It… or cry into your popcorn, whatever you’re feeling. My treat. I’ll keep your old man busy for a couple of hours.”

“I have money, Remy,” Virgil said while Remy continued to shove the cash in his face. He reluctantly took it.

“You’re here because Patton needed a break, but I think you need a break too.”

Virgil hesitated and his eyes darted to Logan. “I... don’t.”

“Okay, well, even if that were true, I’ll be totally honest with you, I think Logan needs a break from you guys too.” Virgil looked at him like he’d never considered this. “He’s been cooped up in a house for weeks with an overbearing Patton and the most anxious wreck of a being I’ve ever met. All while trying not to upset either of you. Give him some breathing room.” Virgil continued to look unsure. “I’ve got him. Trust me.”

Virgil sighed. “I’ll keep my phone on vibrate,” he relented. Remy had zero plans to text or call him, so that was fine.

Logan’s coffee was finished significantly quicker than Remy’s, so Virgil took it to the table. He and Logan talked for a bit and then Virgil gave him a brief side hug before giving Remy a two finger salute and leaving the coffee shop.

Remy was given his coffee a few minutes later. He plopped it down on the table across from Logan. “Sup?” Remy asked as he slid back into his own seat.

“I believe you’ve been kept updated on my current state well enough,” Logan said coolly.

Remy took a sip of his drink. “Would you rather Patton not talk about his feeling to anyone at all?” he asked, “Or would you rather I didn’t give a damn enough about you to ask for updates myself?”

There was a long silence. “...My apologies.”

Remy rolled his eyes. “No, no, go ahead. You want to bitch? Go ahead. Bitch at me.”

“Remington, honestly?”

“Seriously,” Remy said. “Go ahead and bitch at me. I want you to. Because then I get to be a bitch to you and honestly that is the thing I want most in the world right now.”

Logan sat back in his chair slightly. “And do we truly think that would be a productive use of our afternoon?” he asked, tone dipping into scorn.

Remy narrowed his eyes at him. “Oh, ‘Do we think that?’ Glad to know you didn’t break your being an asshole bone along with your leg.”

“Please show at least a bit of maturity.”

“Oh ho ho,” Remy said. You want to get out of here? Let’s have a fistfight in the parking lot.”

“For the 107th time, Remington, I am not physically fighting you, especially not in a parking lot.”

“Afraid you’ll loose?” Remy questioned. “Don’t worry. Either I get beaten up by a guy on crutches or I get seen beating up a guy on crutches. It’s a loose/loose for me.”

Logan took his glasses off his face, a clear sign that he did not know how to deal with Remy right now. He cleaned them idly with a microfiber cloth (which he always had in his shirt pocket because he was a nerd) before putting them them back on his face.

“Was there an actual reason you wanted to meet today?” he asked.

Remy shrugged. “It’s Tuesday,” he said, “and Patton said you were fine to go out. Plus, I have, like, 50 stories about Brenda since the last time we talked.”

“Brenda, the one with the really good teeth?”

Explanation:

I mean… well, this is the crux of it all, isn’t it. It’s where the name of the series comes from and I think it perfectly encapsulates who Logan is as a person.

Comments:

I still really like what I did with the … Guns … interjection there. We can see Logan’s mind drifting. I might style it differently these days but still fun.

Haha. Yeah. Man, Logan. That is totally a fully grown man.- Me the whole time

Poor little dude does not expect any help from any adult ever even if he just got shot for them.

Note Logan only thinks they’d arrest Virgil because he thinks he’s an adult. If he knew this was a child, he would have taken him to a hospital. (Honestly they may not have arrested Virgil anyway. The police slightly like him.)

Our first bit of Doctor Patton^TM. It's a slightly healthier version of Doctor Patton^TM than from Relabeled; Refiled.

Missy! The baby! You should let her out Logan. I’m sure she would not jump on Virgil’s bed and lick his face…

“I am not that things daddy.”- Sure Jan

Look at Logan identifying Patton is upset and helping emotionally support him. Those years of therapy and genuinely doing their bests to communicate their needs to one another really paid off!

Patton be like “he is baby” before even realizing he is, in fact, baby.

“Well, I’ll just have to apply love and affection.”- And then he did. End of story. We can pack it up. We don't need another (probably by the end of it almost) 400,000 words.

Facts for me to Remember/ Keep Track Of:

Bludgeon- a villain

Oh right! I forgot about the one woman who bashes in knees! She has a story (mostly constructed by my discord lol.)

Oh, also the boy who Virgil talked down has a story! He’s fun! Okay, well his story is pretty tragic. Pretty sure he eventually becomes Logan’s student. That won’t be for a bit though, he was, like, 9.

Things I Would Do Differently:

Well… I love the whole quote above, but, uh, it kind of forced me to kill of Logan’s parents and Lia. Oops.

Also I think a lot of people were slightly unhappy that Logan never showed Patton his light blue folder, but I still insist that showing it to Patton at that point would not have actually been a perfect fix so…

I did not know who Deceit was here and I put him in as the guy who’d shot Logan, but he evolved since then. I’d probably change that little mention of him to be more accurate.

Just realized Logan said Patton was not on call that night but he definitely was supposed to be because he bailed on Remy lol. I never noticed I did that. XD

Themes:

Theme 1: Legacy- Even just in this chapter, we see the way past decisions of characters impact future events. We see that Virgil’s heroic actions (especially during the school shooting) has impacted how people (including Logan) treat him and ultimately led to Logan choosing to take him home instead of the hospital.

Theme 2: Small Things- We see the small interactions of Patton and Logan and get a good idea of the health of their relationship. They clearly know each other very well and care for each other. Logan warms up food for Patton without being asked and knows which of the leftovers he will and will not like.

Theme 4: Working to Better Oneself- Though there is no context for this currently, Logan’s reaction to Patton crying is a result of a long-term effort to learn how to help Patton when he’s upset, a skill that does not come naturally to him. However, he has consciously chosen to make an effort to do so in order to support his partner.

Fun Facts:

I wrote the first draft of this while giving a final.

Patton inserted himself into the narrative in this chapter lol. This was just a Logan and Virgil story at conception.

Not everyone in Logan’s life was as kind as Mrs. Harris, and while his new status as an adopted child benefited him very much at home, at school it did not. In fact, in a lot of ways, it made things worse…

Logan hit the ground hard, the impact pushing all of the air out of his still slightly weakened lungs.

“Soulless freak,” the boy who’d just shoved him spat down at him. His peers clearly had not missed him in the two weeks he’d been gone from school to recover from his illness. Logan reached up to adjust his glasses which had been knocked ajar. He didn’t recognize the boy standing above him nor any of his lackeys surrounding him. They were older kids: third or perhaps fourth graders and much bigger than Logan. Logan knew better than to try to fight back or even get to his feet. Maybe he’d have tried to run, but even if his lungs were at full capacity, the bully’s circle of friends blocked all escape paths.

Logan did not reply to the bully’s statement, and this just seemed to make him angrier (not that Logan thought anything he could have said wouldn’t have made him angrier). “You’re not fit to live in society,” the boy said. The words set awkwardly in his mouth and Logan wondered if he was quoting someone. “You’re going to grow up to be a serial killer or a supervillain or both,” he continued.

It was nothing Logan hadn’t heard people say about him before. He had to bite his tongue to not point out that this boy’s clear inclination towards violence at a young age made him a much more likely candidate for those career paths than Logan.

When Logan still did not respond, the boy reared back and kicked him in the stomach. Logan saw stars and lost control over his tongue.

“No,” he said when he managed to pull in oxygen to replace the breath that had just been knocked out of him.

“What was that?” the boy asked.

“I said,” Logan said, tilting his head back to be able to look at the boys face. “No. I won’t.”

The boy looked down at Logan blankly for a long moment and then sneered. “Get him up,” he ordered his lackeys.

There was movement to Logan’s right and left but before the other children could obey, a voice cut across the playground. “Hey! What are you guys doing?”

The main bully paused and turned around to look at the source of the voice. He looked about to speak but was cut off.

“Are you beating a kid up?” The owner of the voice came into focus behind the bully’s back. He was probably about the same age as the other kids. He might have been a bit older since he was slightly taller than the bully.

The bully’s expression had changed with the addition of this other boy. He looked suddenly nervous. “He’s soulless.”

The new boy made a confused expression.

“He doesn’t have any soulmarks,” the bully explained, but that didn’t clear the new boy’s expression.

“He’s, like, 5,” the new boy said, sounding unimpressed. Logan frowned, but luckily he had managed to wrest back control over his tongue.

“But he’s soulless,” the statement turned into a question in the bully’s mouth under the scrutiny of the new boy.

“Beating up some random kid for nothing but his soulmarks is weird,” the new boy declared, nose scrunching up. “I thought you were cool.”

“I…” the bully stuttered. “But he doesn’t have any.”

“Still weird,” the new boy said flippantly.

“But…” The bully hesitated for a moment but then seemed to square his shoulders.

“Leave,” the new kid barked before the bully could say anything else, “or I’ll punch you.”

The bully paused again and glanced at his lackeys, but the other kids had backed up from Logan at some point after the new boy’s approach. They did not seem to want to get into a fight with this boy.

“I thought we were friends,” the bully’s whined like the petulant child he was.

“And I thought you were good,” the other boy said sharply. He took a step forward and pushed the bully so he stumbled but didn’t fall like Logan had. “Now go away.”

“He’s not going to be thankful for it,” the bully spat even as he started backing away, his lackeys quick to follow. “He can’t feel anything.”

“Bye,” the boy said shortly. The bully scowled one last time, but then ran away with all of his friends towards where the busses loaded.

The remaining older kid waited until they were out of sight before turning to Logan. “Hey,” he said, looking down at him. He’d let the scowl drop from his face and was looking at Logan with a small smile. The expression was soft around the edges. He looked… nice. Logan didn’t meet a lot of people who looked nice, or at least who looked nice while looking at him. Mrs. Harris was the only one he could think of. “Are you okay?”

Logan’s chest hurt a bit more than it had this morning, but he was relatively unharmed, certainly less harmed than he would have been if not for this boy. He nodded.

The boy smiled at him. “I’m Roman,” he said.

“Logan,” Logan replied.

Roman held out a hand to help Logan up, and in the brief moment Logan stared at the offered palm before taking it, he made a choice.

The second their skin made contact, a light burning sensation started up on his arm slightly above the elbow.

“Oh!” Roman said, as he pulled Logan to his feet. “We’re soulmates!” Then he paused, frowned, and looked down at his own lower arm in confusion. “Uh,” he said. “I didn’t have that soulmark before right now.”

Logan Berry had a superpower, but it was a strange one. It was very unlike all of the superpowers he saw sparking to life in the children around him at school or the trained and mastered ones he saw adults use on TV. He could not make fire in his palms or shoot light beams out of his eyes. He could not create matter in an instant or destroy things with a snap of his fingers. He could not read minds or see into the future. In fact, he lacked every known or discoverable genetic marker for superpowers. Like 80% of the population, Logan walked around without any apparent extraordinary abilities.

That did not mean he didn’t have a superpower. It was just of a different sort.

Logan had the very common, but rarely utilized, ability to think... and then to make those thoughts real.

Not in an instant, of course. Logan did not have the ability to conjure things out of midair like those with the power to manipulate matter or summon objects. No, he made things real in an extraordinarily ordinary way: with a little bit of time and a whole lot of effort.

Usually the things he created did not look exactly how he’d imagined them in his head. Often, they were barely held together with what little supplies he’d had to make them. But they were always real. Thoughts transfigured into reality: decision metamorphosed into fate.

If he decided to, Logan could take the world apart by its seams.

No one knew of this power, of course, not even Logan. But, perhaps some sensed it. Maybe they saw a glimmer of a power they had but could never channel and felt threatened. Maybe they just noticed the oddities his power caused and didn’t like them.

Whatever the reasons, Logan had lived most of his life disliked by a majority of people around him.

When he was born with unmarked skin, his parents chose to abandon him at a fire department. Though he will never know it, he was their third child and they would have another after him. They will never regret their decision.

For the first 7 years of his life, Logan lived in a group home. Most children moved in and out of the group home as they were assigned to different foster families or were adopted. However, almost all foster families would have refused to take children without soulmarks even if it had been legal, so Logan never left.

The employees at the group home rotated out only slightly less frequently than the children, baring Mr. Hennings. So, even if Logan wasn’t impeded by his lack of soulmarks, he wouldn’t have had much of a chance to connect with anyone. Mr. Hennings himself was never interested in Logan either, clearly discomforted by his lack of soulmarks even if he was professional.

When he finally went to school, things weren’t much better. On average teachers were worse than the group home staff. Group home staff members were more used to oddities like Logan’s. There weren’t a lot of people born without soulmarks, but a lot of those born without soulmarks ended up in state funded child care. Logan himself had met 5 in the course of his life. This was impressive considering only 7 children born without soulmarks (who had made it out of infancy) had been recorded in the state in the past 20 years. The majority of teachers would never come into contact with a soulless child, and as such didn’t understand them nor did they have any desire to put forth the effort to try. And it was human nature to hate anything they didn’t understand.

Luckily, Logan was quiet by nature, so for the most part could be forgotten about by his teachers. He learned to write down what he thought the answers to questions posed to the class were instead of volunteering the answer. He learned that he was in the class but wasn’t part of the class.

He was a quick child and promptly discerned that any mistakes on turned in work were likely to be brought up loudly in front of the whole class, so he was careful to follow instructions and check all of his work for mistakes. Though he entered school behind the other kids in basic skills like reading, writing, and mathematics, the extra care he put into assignments had him pulling ahead in all of these subjects by the end of kindergarten.

This did not make most teachers like him, but it did allow him to fade into the background while in the classroom. Lunch and recess were another story. Teachers and lunch staff would become angry at him for being a loner and not playing with the other kids, but at the same time clearly didn’t want him to interact with any of the “normal” kids. These contradictory desires from the staff made it difficult for Logan to not get in trouble. What’s worse was the other children began to pick up on the adult’s opinions on Logan which facilitated bullying both inside and outside the classroom.

The only major exception to how teachers treated Logan, was Ms. Harris. Ms. Harris was never Logan’s teacher. She was hired as a kindergarten teacher the year Logan entered the 1st grade. Ms. Harris was kinder than most to Logan, mostly by ignoring him during the shared kindergarten and 1st grade recess. She let him sit on one of the distant swings or scamper off to hide behind the baseball backstop net when no games were being played in the field. She would even tell other children to leave him alone if she caught them harassing him.

One week, in mid-October, Ms. Harris noticed Logan sticking close to her. He wouldn’t interact, but he’d sit on the ground a few yards away from where she stood to watch the other children, his back to her. She didn’t say anything about the odd behavior for three days. On the fourth day, the pattern was set to repeat, except after being distracted watching a group of children seeming far too interested in a tether ball that had been left out, she turned back to see Logan laying on the ground instead of sitting.

He was unresponsive when she went to check on him. His temperature was 103.2 degrees when the nurse checked it after she carried him to the front office. An ambulance was called to take him to the hospital. She’d learn later that he’d gotten a bad case of the flu which had turned into pneumonia.

The next day, he was back on the playground, sitting in the same position, his back to her.

Ms. Harris then did the most considerate thing anyone had ever done for Logan Berry. Right there on the playground, she called her mother.

Mrs. Eloise Harris was not Ms. Harris’ biological mother. She had adopted Ms. Harris when she was 13-years-old, the last in a long line of adopted children. She had not intended to ever foster long term or adopt a child again, but she was still well respected enough by social services that she was able to get custody of Logan before lunch. She took him home (not that he remembered much of that day).

The soulless could not be fostered, so she filed adoption papers before his fever broke.

Logan had worried when he’d first became fully aware of his new situation. He may have only been 7, but he’d still understood that the reasons why most people would adopt a soulless child were rarely good. However, Mrs. Harris had been different. She’d been nice if a little… absentminded.

He’d asked her once on one of her more present days why she treated him so differently than everyone else, and she’d explained that she’d had exactly one biological child. None of the colorful marks decorating her hands belonged to him.

Her son had been born without any soulmarks, and everyone had told her she should get rid of him, just like how Logan’s own parents had gotten rid of him. Everyone, including her husband at the time, said he would never love her, so why waste the effort when her own soulmarks said she had many loving future children to look forward to.

She’d refused, because she’d already loved him. She’d said that day was when she’d known that, no matter what people said about the soulless, it couldn’t be true. She’d loved her son so much, and she could tell even when he was so very little, that he’d loved her too.

He’d died before he was two. It was some heart condition the doctors hadn’t even realized he’d had until after he’d passed. She’d told Logan that she imagined there were many different reasons why someone might not have soulmarks. It wasn’t always, maybe never was, what people thought.

She’d gone on to foster and adopt many children over the years. Her old hands were littered with filled in soulmarks for the children she had raised. Yet, she had never forgotten that small “soulless” child she’d held and cared for for his entire life. When she’d heard about Logan’s situation, she’d decided she had to do something despite her own degenerating health. She had never believed that having no soulmarks meant you were incapable or undeserving of love.

“Okay, why there?” Roman asked. There was no response from the figure sprawled out on the floor. He poked Virgil with his toe.

“Go away,” Virgil mumbled into the floor.

“I want cereal,” Roman said.

“I’m not your personal chef,” Virgil grumbled back.

“I’m not asking you to…” Roman bit off a disgruntled sigh. “You’re laying halfway in the pantry.”

Virgil turned onto his side and looked up at Roman with a yawn. “Oh yeah, right.”

“Why are you even sleeping there?”

“It’s warm.”

“You are the worst roommate ever,” Roman bemoaned. “And I lived in the same room as Remus for a few years.”

Virgil reached out a hand and grabbed Roman’s ankle. Decades of brotherhood almost made him kick Virgil in the face full force, but almost as long teaching himself not to harm everyone he touched kept him still. Virgil did not bite him as Roman’s brain half expected but instead just tugged.

Roman hesitated a few moments but then allowed Virgil to move his foot a few inches towards the pantry.

“Huh,” Roman said. “It is surprisingly warm there.”

“I think there’s a vent or something running along here,” Virgil said. “Come join me.” He patted the spot next to his head.

“...Can I get the cereal first?”

Virgil obligingly shifted himself enough so Roman could get to the pantry without stepping on him.

“How did you even figure out that was there?” Roman asked while picking out a box.

“Logan says I have a latent perception power dedicated only to finding warm areas in a house.”

“...Do you?”

“He was probably joking,” Virgil said, but then paused. “Although… heat is just a form of energy. Maybe I do.”

“Huh,” Roman said, sitting down on the floor next to Virgil.