SCHISM

 
Author: Notmanos
E-Mail: notmanos at yahoo dot com
Rating: R
Disclaimer:  The characters of Angel are owned by 20th Century Fox and Mutant Enemy; the
character of Wolverine is also owned by 20th Century Fox and Marvel Comics.  No copyright
infringement intended. I'm not making any money off of this, but if you'd like to be a patron of the
arts, I won't object. ;-)  Oh, and Bob is *my* character - keep your hands off!   
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He thought the only thing they had in common was polytheism, and a tendency to be mistaken for one another by ignorant Westerners. But maybe there was something else. "Are you sayin' reincarnation?"

"No. Well, not exactly. Again, physics - energy isn't destroyed, just transmuted. If the question is is there a heaven or a hell that Human souls go to when they die, the answer is no."

He noted the parsing. "Human?"

"People touched by the supernatural and non - Humans often play by different rules. If a demon has a soul it might be shunted back to the plane where it originated from; if you're a Human unlucky enough to get vamped, your soul can get caught in a sort of a limbo state called the Ether, really an adjunct of the dimension where vampires originated from. Slayers get a special martyrs nook I believe, courtesy of the PTB's."

"What would happen to you?" He wondered, not actually expecting an answer.

Bob didn't disappoint. He simply smiled, and said, "You know I can't tell you that."

"No, you won't."

"Trust me, I can't. It wouldn't be good for your health."  Logan raised an eyebrow at him - was that an actual threat? - but Bob pressed on. "The brain wants to keep its vessel - the body - alive no matter what, so sometimes at the moment of death or severe physical distress, it will feed us images of things that just might encourage us to keep alive. For some people, that's fear of a hot place where Hitler rams a hot poker up your ass; for others, it's moments of peace, maybe a reunion with loved ones who have died before us. Or a memory of our wi -"

"Don't," Logan warned him. He knew exactly how that statement was going to end.

Bob looked faintly exasperated with him, but seemingly refused to get angry. "It's not Mariko who's killing you. It's your perceived sense of guilt."

"If I needed a psych consult, I'd ask."

"The cabin in Lac des Cygnes is still open."

"I don't need your charity."

"It's not charity, Logan. It never has been. It is a safe and secluded place to stay. Think about it."

"If I agree to, will you let me go?"

Bob nodded.

"I'll think about it. Are we through now?"

Although he did it reluctantly, Bob stepped aside, unfolding his arms and gesturing towards the door behind him.  

As Logan shouldered his bag once more, he did a double take as he realized Rogue was in the hallway with them. "She can't see you," Bob assured him, just as Rogue said, "Hey Bob, have you seen Logan?"

"He just left," Bob replied, as Logan walked around him and headed for the door. He knew Bob was doing him a favor, but he just couldn't muster up feeling grateful right now.

"Damn it," Rogue cursed. "I was hopin' he could stick around a bit longer this time."

Logan opened the door, wondering if she could see that, but not really caring. He just wanted to get away before he really lost his mind.

19

Logan wondered if there was an irony god. He had forgotten to ask Bob, but then again, Bob might be the irony god. It would make a certain amount of sense.

He had parked his motorcycle on the soft shoulder of the road and was now sitting on the ground and leaning his back against it, opposite to the direction of the kickstand. He felt like an idiot, and knew damn well he should.

He didn't know why he'd driven up here to drop in unannounced at Naomi's - what did he intend to say? All he knew was he wanted to see her, make sure she was doing okay.

But she didn't live here anymore.

Her parents did; they even remembered him from last time. They were very nice, told him that she had gotten restless and decided to move on with her life. Xavier had used some of his contacts, and she now lived and worked at a lab doing some secret work for Xavier ( is that how he got all his cool gizmos? ) at a lab in Minneapolis. She'd been there for a couple of weeks, and they said she sounded very happy.

Nobody told him. Why didn't anybody tell him?

Maybe because he was never around, or maybe because he never asked. He should have been angry - and he was angry, no doubt about that - but mostly he was simply disappointed. She was moving on with her life.

What the hell was he doing?

It was a nice day; sunny and warm, but not in the harsh, blast furnace way that L.A. had been. He had parked the bike in the shade of a spreading elm, and the sun was dappled as it shined through its branches, appearing as spots of gold on the street that moved with every breeze.

He should move on, but he felt like his legs had been kicked out from under him, and he had no great desire to get up again. What the hell did he think he was doing? And where the fuck did he think he was going?

He was not starting over. He was forever stuck in a past he could barely remember, and often wanted to forget.

Logan looked at the scrap of paper in his hand one more time. It had Naomi's new address and phone number on it. He could go there, see her ... but why? She was just a weird guy who may have been her boyfriend once, but was now reduce to just guy whose skin grows back instantly. He could drive all the way there, she could be nice to him and share a cup of coffee and several awkward pauses, and he would be reminded once more the Naomi he knew was dead, and he had simply never existed for her. He was already depressed - did he really need to make it worse?

What did you do when every step forward seemed like another step back?

He folded the piece of paper and shoved it in the front pocket of his jeans. He'd give her a call sometime, see how she was doing that way; no need to go and do it in person. She might start thinking he was a crazed stalker or something.

Finally he forced himself to move, reaching up and grabbing a handlebar to help lever himself up to his feet. He had to be careful, though, as he knew he was strong enough to not only pull the bike over but actually rip the front end off, and how would that do him any good?

He still had no idea what he wanted to do, or where he wanted to go, but he knew he had to be alone for a while, until he coud get his head straight. Okay, that was never going to happen - straighter, then.

He didn't want to pay another visit to Bob's cabin again, as nice and out of the way as it was. He didn't want anyone to know where he was for the time being. Okay, Bob always seemed to be able to find him, and Xavier could always slapped on his Cerebro thingymabob and find him if he wanted to. But Bob must have known by now that he really wanted to be left alone, and he could pass that on to Xavier. It wasn't that he'd never come back, it was just he needed a break right now. Gods knew from what, but hey, he had never been known for his rationality.

He straddled his bike and kicked back the kickstand before revving the engine. He had no idea where he was going; right now he was just going to drive, and see where that took him before he ran out of gas.

Okay, it wasn't much of a plan. But it was his, and for right now that was enough.

****

THE  END


 

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