Talking About the Wind
by ALC Punk!

The room was dim, the curtains pulled across the windows, when he entered. Logan paused to sniff at the air, then relaxed. She was here. "Domino?"

"I'm busy."

The sound of a bullet exiting a silencer filled the room, Wolverine's acute senses magnifying it a thousand-fold. A moment later the curtains were opened and she stood from her crouch, a fluid grace marking her careful movements.

His eyes traveled over her, taking in the worn leather pants and ripped black t-shirt. Logan wasn't sure what he'd expected to find. Domino looked fine, not a mark on her skin (what was visible); nothing to show that she'd been held against her will for a year.

A year. It frightened the crap out of him that he hadn't known. All that time, and he had blithely assumed -- he'd always assumed a lot of things about her. "Neena."

"Hey, old man." Crystal amethyst eyes mocked him. "Worried?"

"Always."

"I can take care of myself." The insouciant shrug was reminiscent of her as a teenager, and he wondered just how much it cost her to produce.

"That's what I thought."

Another careless shrug, and she went back to stripping down the rifle, movements quick and sure.

She'd always been good with guns, even before they realized how easy things fell into place for her. Her fingers seemed to know every inch and section of the deadly metallic weapons. Sometimes, he wished he hadn't set her on this path.

"So, what was it, this time? Money?"

"It's always about money." A fleeting grin, "Best thing in the world, money."

"What do you do with it?"

"I live."

He grunted. Hey, if she wanted to lie, it was no skin off his nose (which would grow back, in any case). "So. Got any plans?"

"Two more jobs lined up." She paused and ran a finger down the side of the scope, frowning, "I think there's a crack in here. May have to make a stop in Moscow, have someone fix it for me."

"Moscow?"

"It's close enough to where I'm going."

And Logan knew he didn't want to know where she was going. "You take care, Neena."

"Don't I always?" That half-smirk that pretended so hard that everything was fine slipped across her lips. "Besides, old man, I've been hearing interesting things about you. If half of them are true, well, let's just say you've got me beat."

He grunted again, then tossed her a card. "You call if you need anything."

No question, because a question would let her wriggle out of it. "Sure thing, *dad*."

Logan shook his head, "You've been hanging around Cable too long."

"Until he pulled me off that wall, I hadn't seen Nate since he blew the Six Pack up," her tone was almost brittle.

"Yeah. And look what good he did ya again." He wanted to rant. Wanted to curse and scream and deride the man who had lost her, who had let *this* happen to her.

"Don't."

But it wasn't his place to do so. He studied her posture, the tenseness that flickered in her hands for a moment and then was gone. "Fine. But if he gets in your way again, gets you into trouble? I will collect, Neena."

"Fine." The case clicked and she hoisted it up by the strap. "Just be prepared to pick up your own pieces when he's done ripping you to shreds."

"Might surprise ya."

"No," Her eyes were sad for a moment and then she moved towards the door, "You won't."

She was gone into the afternoon, a breath of wind stirring the motel curtains. Logan stood there for a moment, then sighed and picked up the card she'd dropped. "Girl needs a keeper."

-f-

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© 2005 ALC Punk!