Oh back to Yellowsuccess! I think after the plane crash Logan would become obsessive trying to arrange a rescue until enough time passed for him to "cut his losses" and shut down, and things would get even nastier between him and Kendall because of how it seems that he's brushing off the disappearance of his supposed favorite child like it's nothing and Kendall takes out his own feelings of guilt for being a shitty brother onto him. He's also the first to recognize that Shiv is probably dead while Roman is the last, coming up with elaborate scenarios in his head for what she might be doing and maybe for a while believing he's got some kind of psychic connection with her. And then of course things gets Very weird when it turns out she's been alive after all.
Logan is not an idealist. He never claimed to be.
Look, life's not a walk in the fucking park. It's a rollercoaster that goes off the rails onto the crowd below. If you’re lucky, you scramble over the crushed bodies beneath you out of the wrecked train, bleeding all over the cotton candy squeezed in a dead fist. It's a shitstorm.
Terrible things happen. People die.
You can't make it to the soccer match that gets your daughter's team into Nationals. There have been too many whispers about cruises lately, so you need to be at that board meeting. To make up for it, you hire a few nonunion mechanics to spruce up one of your recently decommissioned private planes so your daughter and her teammates can fly to Seattle in a little luxury. The thing's no hunk of junk, just a little smaller and more delicate than the top of the line, newest models. It's not like they're flying to fucking Hong Kong. Compared to the far flung cities Logan regularly flies to, a quick trip over Canada from New York to Seattle is a mere hop, skip, and a jump. It'll be fine.
But no, actually, because the fucking plane crashes somewhere in the Canadian rockies.
Terrible things happen. People die.
But Siobhan --
Siobhan's not People. Siobhan is his.
It is nearly four in the afternoon. Logan skims over another damn contract about some obnoxious port problem off the coast of Brazil. ATN drones on in the background about Dubya's daring new Medicare cuts. Outside the glass doors he suddenly hears hurried feet, rushed whispers. He glances up and a PA is darting here, another darting there, and here comes Gerri looking pale as if she's about to lose her lunch. Frank and Karl follow, looking about the same. The new press girl Karolina trails them, speaking rapidly into her phone.
"What," he barks as they hussle in. God, don't tell him there's another NRPI situation he needs to sign away discreetly while deliberatey avoiding the written details. On top of this fucking Brazil thing --
But no, Gerri's pallor, Frank's stony expression --
"Logan," Gerri's voice is weaker than he's ever heard it, but as always she's keeping it together. "Logan, it's Shiv."
It doesn't occur to him. Not yet. But Gerri's face.
"What about her?"
Her tongue darts over her lips quickly and he's never seen her like this.
"The plane" --
Karolina cuts in, shifting her phone away from her mouth. "It's leaked. I've given Cyd the go-ahead so ATN can announce it first."
Gerri closes her eyes.
Fear, fear Logan is mostly able to keep at bay, rushes in like a flood from the creek Rose drowned herself in --
"Someone fucking tell me right now or you're all fired!"
Before they answer, from the TV comes, "We're getting word now that a private plane carrying a high school girls' soccer team to Nationals in Seattle has lost contact with airport authorities after being overtaken by a storm surge over the Canadian Rockies. It's early hours yet, but authorities fear the plane went down --"
Water, rushing water all up and down inside him, plummeting.
Nothing's quite real anymore.
Rose....
But Siobhan is not Rose. Siobhan is a scrappy fighter like him, a survivor. She has Ewan's annoying habit of disagreeing with him. She has her mother's acid tongue, his mother's grit. She has none of Rose's vulnerability. They don't even look that much alike outside of the coloring --well, okay, that's not strictly true, they look a little bit alike, okay, now that Logan thinks about it, they look a lot alike -- but they're not the same.
No. Shiv's tough. Shiv's tough. She's a survivor. She's his whip-smart Pinky with the wicked smile, his little hell-raiser confidant. His girl.
Logan doesn't believe in any of that woo wee woo, cosmic bullshit about feeling whether someone close to you is alive or not, but...Logan would know.
Shiv is his blood, his self. Add Shiv and her brothers up and they equal Logan. Ken, Rome, and yes, Connor -- sometimes they make up the parts Logan loathes about himself. But not Shiv.
So he would know if she was -- he would feel it, no matter how much he disavows that spiritual shit.
He doesn't feel it, not now. He didn't feel this coming at all. Shiv is alive. Shiv is alive.
Shiv is alive, so he has to act, now.
"Call DC," he says to no one in particular and so that means everyone. "Tell Cheney we need a search party. Top of the line military OP types, no bleeding heart volunteer morons. If he flinches, tell him we've been sitting on that story about the Chump-in-Chief falling off the wagon in Key West. Tell Laird to pucker up and suck off whatever Canadian officials we need to get full access beyond the border. Who's overseeing this? Get me on the line with them, now."
This is different from Rose because he is in control now. Total control.
Evening. The door opens and Roman is there in the study. His eyes are more haunted and frightened than Ken can ever remember them being, and Rome often wore that look in his childhood.
They embrace.
"Like, what the fuck, man? What the fuck," Roman asks into his shoulder.
Ken gives him a squeeze. "It's going to be okay, Rome. Shiv's too much of a bitch to go down that way."
Roman hiccups a laugh. "Yeah, she probably pushed the pilots out of the way and landed the thing herself. She's going to get those poor bastards fired."
They don't separate until Connor arrives. He wraps them both in his arms.
"Hey, guys. Whatever happens, it will be okay."
Both secretly resent him saying that, since it implies something might happen.
The door opens and here comes their father. He whispers a few words in Gerri's direction and for once shuts her and the rest out to address them.
Sill, when he speaks, his voice is as impersonal as the one he uses when trying to boost morale amongst hired underlings. Almost light, airy.
The only difference is his eyes. They're glassy. Unfocused. He doesn't meet any of their gazes.
He claps, starts. "Boys, uh, glad you're here. Glad you're here. Thank you for coming. Uh, it's all good. All good. We've got search parties setting off now. And we're getting word they've picked up a signal from the plane's transmittor. So it won't take long now."
He hasn't once said even her name.
Still, not just for Logan, but for Roman, Kendall says, "Yeah. Yeah. Of course. It's, like, impossible for a plane to completely go missing these days. They'll find the signal and pick them up."
"Right." The briefest of nods from his father, a rare sign of acknowledgement, thanks. He takes in a breath and finally brings her up. "Your sister's tough, now. She's tough. She's going to be just fine. Isn't she, Connor?"
Connor's sitting on the back of the sofa, and his face is grim. Still he nods. "Sure, Pa. Sure."
Roman's too much in shock to notice what they're doing. It's for him. With Shiv gone, Roman is the baby. It's a show for him.
The youngest son says nothing, just gives a weak smile behind the fingers covering his face. His shoulders are hunched upward like a dog mincing away from the whip.
"Uh-huh. Okay." Logan's eyes wander over the room. If they didn't know him, they'd think he was a confused old man who doesn't quite remember where he is. But Dad's not old, they all tell themselves. He's not. And he knows what he's doing. He's just a little...unsettled. "Thank you, boys. Thank you."
"Uh, dad," Kendall clears his throat. "Is there...is there anything I - we can do right now? Like, does the search party need volunteers?"
"Huh? Oh, no, son. We've got top of the line -- it's taken care of. "
"Okay. How about, how about Mom? Does - she knows, right? Or --"
"Ah? Oh, your mother. Uh, yes, I'm sure she knows by now. Someone must have...I mean, if you want to call her..."
"Sure, dad. Sure. I can do that."
Logan's gaze finally rests on Kendall, and there's true warmth there. "Thank you, Kenny. Okay, boys, I'll keep you posted." Then, without another word or glance, he leaves the boys behind him, their haunted eyes on his retreating back.
It's about five in the morning when Logan's bedside phone starts ringing. He's only been in bed for three hours, and been asleep for just about one. He'd just been dreaming of a campfire, and girls were laughing. Shiv's face is covered in soot but she's smiling, eyes sparkling as she knocks shoulders with one of her teammates --
However, he's awake instantly and answers. "What? Siobhan?"
Gerri. Her voice is very quiet, which means there's bad news.
Logan listens.
His veins are on fire. He's sitting on the edge of the bed and the darkness of the room turns red. "What? How? How can they lose the fucking signal? Those boxes are supposed to be goddamn indestructible, aren't they?...I don't fucking care that they're doing their best, Gerri, I need them to...well, don't they fucking know by now where the signal was coming from before it went away? Didn't they have jets going there?...oh, don't give me that garbage about the storm, I fucking know about the storm, that's how the plane -- interference? Fucking...what the fuck good are those fucking boxes if they can't give you the correct location through a fucking storm? Don't give me any shit about interference, Gerri!"
He listens a few moments more, breath chugging out of his nostrils like a bull ready to charge. "Well, you tell Cheney and the air force that I don't give a fuck. Tell them to keep pushing. This isn't some run of the mill commercial flight with some hodunk assholes from Iowa flying to Florida for vacation, this is my daughter. In fact, there are a lot of fucking important daughters on that plane. Tell that reptile that if he wants his braindead idiot reelected, I better not hear one fucking word about the operation slowing down. Fucking got that, Ger?"
He slams the phone down. His nerves are open and raw, and the darkness is too close and Shiv is out there, she's out there and the signal is gone.
From below, Richard, giving the morning's instructions to staff, hears a roar and the phone crash against Logan's bedroom wall.
Eleven-and-a-half months later, Kendall has to see it on the news like everyone else.
He doesn't give Richard any time to warn Logan before he bursts into his father's home office. His father is not at his desk but sitting on the couch holding a scotch, staring at nothing.
"What the fuck, Dad? What is this? You're fucking calling off the search?"
His father doesn't move, doesn't look at him. "It's been almost a year, Kendall." His voice is a thousand years old.
"So? That's it? We're done? You're not gonna fucking..."
"Not gonna fucking what, Kendall?" At last his father turns to face him, and his glazed eyes are even older than his voice. "We've done everything. Searched everywhere in that damn wilderness." His eyes are on the amber liquid in his glass. "Nothing."
"W-well," Ken's stammer is back. "We-we-we can"--
"Kendall," his voice is sharp, commanding. "It's done. There's no going back. Your sister..." Kendall must be rocking on his feet, because it looks like his father is swaying. "Your sister is gone." His voice cracks at gone.
But Kendall won't hear it. "Come on. Come on, Dad. It's not like you to give up like that. We"--
"The shareholders aren't going to want anymore money going to a search party that isn't finding anything."
"So that's what it all comes down to? Fucking money? Dad? Again? That's all that matters to you, now even?"
He sees the storm cloud gathering in his father's face. "We can't keep throwing resources" --
"Throwing resources? That's what you call funding the search party to find your fucking daughter? Your alleged favorite?"
"Don't fucking push me, son."
"No, this is -- wait." Ken's eyes cast about the room. "What...where?" He cranes his head all around, checking every end table, every surface. "Dad, where..." his eyes focus back on his father. "Dad, where are her pictures?"
Logan says nothing, stares into nothing, his face saying nothing. The only horror is in his wide glazed eyes.
Kendall points to the hutch against the wall. "The picture of her and Rome as kids? Her yearbook picture on your desk? The team on the wall? Where...where the fuck are they, Dad? Where did you put them?"
Logan's voice is as low as it is ever capable of being. "They're in her room. Which is locked."
Ken is too numb for a second, but then the pain and anger burst out. "In her room? Locked away? Like she never even fucking existed? Jesus fucking Christ, Dad"--
Logan is all at once on his feet, the drink slammed down on the coffee table. "And what the fuck have you been doing, Kendall? Hm? What have you been doing to find your sister? All this time, playing with your dick in your overpriced dorm room at that Ivy League dump instead of joining the search party?"
Kendall doesn't know whether to laugh or scream. "You told me not to volunteer, Dad. You told me not to interrupt my education. You said I wouldn't know what I was doing and I'd only get in the way"--
Logan's red face is inches in front of his. "Oh, you needed my permission, hm? My permission to go out and find your baby sister?"
"That's not fair" --
"GO ON. FUCK OFF. Your sister is gone, Kendall, and no amount of mewling about her pictures is going to bring her back. So, GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE AND STOP WASTING ANY MORE OF MY GODDAMN TIME."
Logan turns away and marches over to his desk. His back is to Kendall, but Ken sees his arm go up over his face. Blocking everything out.
A stab of love. "Dad, I" --
"Go on, Kendall. Go on. Go and see to your brother. I can't right now. I need...I need some time."
Roman's sitting on the stairs when Kendall comes out. He's been home since everything started, "for Dad", he says. As if Logan has noticed at all. He's insisted throughout that Kendall stay at Harvard, but he's never given a serious shit about what Roman does.
"Is...is it true? He's called off the search party?"
"Yeah, Rome. Yeah, it's true."
"But why?" His voice breaks. He's trembling. "Why would he do that?"
Ken feels empty, like a clockwork man. He parrots his father. "It's been close to a year, Roman."
"So?" Roman is on his feet, arms wrapped around his slim body. He's been losing more and more weight recently. "That doesn't mean anything. If...if they're close to water, if there's game, they can still be..."
"Roman." Kendall closes his eyes, breathes. "Roman, she's gone."
A jolt shakes Roman's body. "Oh, fuck you, Kendall. You don't know that."
"Rome" --
"You don't know that. Anything could have happened!"
"We would have heard by now."
"Not necessarily! There's a lot of fucking wilderness out there."
"Right, so the chances of them making it this long"--
He stops short as Roman suddenly shoves him hard in the chest.
"Shut up! Just shut the fuck up, man! You don't know shit!"
"Hey, hey, Roman" --
"No! Fuck you! What, they teach you about surviving in the woods in your fucking Harvard business classes?" Another shove. "You're just fucking useless."
Kendall can't take it and he spits back. "Oh, yeah? Well, at least I'm not delusional."
"I'm not delusional."
"Yes, you are. This whole time you've never even considered that she might be" --
"Because"-- Roman cuts himself off and turns away, hands on the back of his head.
Kendall frowns. "Because what, Rome?" His shoulders slump. "Not because of your dreams. Bro, please don't tell me that."
Rome's arms are crossed again, still turned away from his brother. "Fine, I won't," he mumbles.
"They're just dreams, Roman," Kendall says for about the millionth time.
They started soon after the plane went missing. Shiv almost burning up on the crashed plane, but Roman tore off the seat belt so she could escape. Shiv happily splashing her friends in a lake they just discovered. A creepy cabin in the woods. A dark-haired girl wailing over a frozen body as the first snows fell.
Roman would never meet Ken's eyes when telling him, usually as they sat on his bed in the evening. He'd stare at his bedspread and say, "I don't know, they just feel really...real. Like I'm actually in front of her. Sometimes she sees me and gets really shocked but we..talk and stuff."
Ken never said much in reply.
He didn't want to say he'd been having the same dreams.
And now, he just won't put up with it. "You don't have some kind of psychic connection with her, okay? Like, you're not even twins, you're Irish twins." Born barely a year apart. Logan liked to throw the term around because he knew it bothered their old-English mother who deep down carried an ancient bigotry against the Irish like the rest of her family.
Roman finally faces him. "Yeah, I fucking know that, okay? But they feel more like visions than dreams"--
Kendall now shoves him hard, because he just had a flash of his own dream from last night, of Shiv stumbling in the snow and sniffling. She looked so relieved when she saw Kendall standing there in the cold, ready to help her up.
Another shove, and Roman whimpers. "You're fucking delusional, Roman. She's gone. She's dead, all right? She's fucking dead."
He doesn't wait to take in his brother's tears. He storms out of the house, pushing past Richard.
Roman collapses on the steps.
Logan can hear his youngest boy's sobs through the closed door. He's relieved. They're covering the choking sounds he himself is making. He's slouched over the window seat, clutching the curtains.
He can't stop it now, tears cloud everything.
Just last night he was sitting by Siobhan on the bank of that frozen lake again. She was wrapped up in that patchwork coat made out of bear and deer skins. He could see scars on her face. That wolf nightmare was true. His arm was around her, and he was telling her stories about how he and Ewan used to ice fish.
A little over nine months later, the call comes. Crash site found.
Survivors found.
