Nineteen Dollar Memories
The events at the lake; the destruction of Stryker, the fight with the girl like him, the death of Jean. They'd all brought back his memories. Not a great sweep of the fog clouding his memory lifting, but in dreams. Nightmares, really, but more tangible, comprehensible than those which had haunted him before.
Night after night more memories return to him. And with each of them he learns to hate himself just a little bit more. He remembers his past, what he did, who he was, and he can't stand it.
He remembers sex. Lots of it. With men and women alike, but mostly with hookers. Women with short skirts and painted faces, women who he'd mindlessly fuck and then pay for their services.
He remembers a boy, aswell. Fifteen year old, blind kid on the streets. Scott Summers. 'Course he hadn't known his name then, but he knew the blind kid of the streets of New York who gave head for twenty bucks a pop.
Of all the hookers he could have picked up, of all the bastard men that could have used the kid and taken him for a spin, Logan had had to pick the one kid who seventeen years on, he'd be fighting along side. Thank God the kid doesn't remember him. Or maybe he does, but doesn't want to show weakness.
His past is never mentioned, not like Logan's which is constantly analysed by the Professor. Scott's past has never existed, as far as most at the institute were concerned, or at least they didn't care to find out. Logan thinks it's probably better this way; that no one knows how their fearless leader, who even after the death of his wife still struggling on, used to suck dick on the streets of New York just to survive.
Logan remembers a cold January night, in an alley behind a seedy bar. He remembers the amazing things the kid could do with his mouth. He wonders if he can still do them, or if years with Jean had left him without practice. He remembers thinking he could short change the kid; give him a dollar bill instead of twenty- how could a blind kid, or one who at last refused to open his eyes, know any different. Trouble is, now Logan can't remember if he did or not.
He wonders if he should ask Scott how he ended up on the streets blowing dirty old men, but thinks better of it. Who needs reminding of a past like that?
The next morning, Logan slips nineteen dolls into an envelope, and pushes it under Scott's bedroom door. Just in case.