The Brilliance at the End

"You don't have to do this," Logan said. "You can still have your shower. I can go. You don't owe me anything, Sana."

The way he said her name was beautiful. It was like the rich, beautiful tone of a bell being rung deep inside of her. His soul called to her, and she'd be damned if she didn't make it clear that hers answered right back.

"Stay," she said, sliding off the counter. She placed her hands on his chest and gently pushed him, guiding him into the shower stall with her.

"You don't owe me," he repeated.

They got under the hot water. It beat down on them, washing away the dirt and grime from Sana's body. She looked up at Logan and gave him a small smile.

"If you want me, please take me. Neither of us are doing the other a favor. I don't owe you--and you won't owe me, Logan."

"Thank fuck for that," Logan said, and captured her lips in another kiss. It sent shivers running down her spine. She smiled against his mouth, amused by how odd he was. His strange way of speaking, coupled with the occasional vulgarity, was refreshing. Different.

Sana liked different. After a lifetime of repeating the same days in the North Zone back at VS, she was ready to rid herself of familiarity and monotony. Those gray walls at the facility she'd grown up in were probably destroyed by now, blown to bits by rioters. The same faces she'd grown accustomed to seeing every day had morphed into the wild people that ventured out of the Seclusion Cities.

Of course, there were no more of those left now. They'd all fallen in the months since she'd left VS for good. She'd been so young. Seventeen when she'd broken free of the North Zone, and twenty-six when she'd left the city altogether--and stupid; so, so unbelievably stupid. She'd had to learn to survive the hard way.

She had learned not to trust anyone--and yet here she was, baring herself to this strange man who spoke harshly yet touched with tenderness.

With gentle hands, Logan lathered up soap on a rag and scrubbed the dirt off her body. He murmured quietly about his life as he did it.

"I have a horse. Nightmare."

"Why that name?" she asked.

"He was a nightmare to break. A very stubborn animal."

As he lathered up her hair with soap, he grew more bold. Told her things she knew he'd never said out loud.

"It's too quiet here."

"Are you lonely?"

The answer was evident in his eyes. Yes.

"Sometimes," he said gruffly.

"Maybe you need to make some friends."

"No."

She raised a brow. "No?"

"I make people... sick."

Sana shrugged. "You don't make me sick."

His eyes darkened the slightest. "I could."

She didn't understand yet what he meant. In time, she would.

After he'd washed her, she returned the favor. She gathered up the soap on a rag and ran it over the hard planes of his body. He was unfairly good-looking, and it didn't help that his muscles were perfection. Her hands lingered, taking her time, drinking in the moment with him that belonged to them and only them.

After Sana had washed his hair thoroughly, Logan put a hand down on the tile by her head, walking her back against the shower wall. She stared up at him, her lips parting, breaths coming out in short puffs.

It scared her how much she wanted this.

Wanted him.

The way he looked at her, she knew that he could destroy her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his face down. Their eyes locked.

"Do it," she said, and let him destroy her.

Logan had existed for far longer than he could fully comprehend. That was how he thought of his time on Earth. An existence.

But as Sana spanned her hands over his chest, he felt something in him flicker to life, and suddenly he wasn't just existing anymore.

He was alive.

Kissing her against the tile wall, all the feelings burst free from deep inside of him. Their connection was magnetic, pulling him closer and closer to her, until their bodies had lined up. He could've claimed her right then, but he did not want to be another taker in Sana's life. He could tell from all the rough scars and marks that there had been a host of takers that had hurt her.

He would not do that. He would not hurt her.

"I need you inside me. Please."

Their eyes locked.

"You don't owe me anything," he said, his tone a little hopeless.

Sana pressed her hand to his cheek.

"I want you, Logan."

He blinked and water streaked down over his eyelids and down his face. The steam gathered around them, a thick mist that enveloped them. There was nothing he cared about in that moment except Sana.

He showed her tenderness. Slowly, hands roaming, lips kissing, his nose running a line up her throat and to her ear, whispering to her that she was beautiful, that she was wanted.

"I'm yours," she whispered into the mist.

When he entered her, they both let out little moans of satisfaction. He was gentle, his movements all careful and slow, easing into her as though it were both of their first times.

Thunder rumbled in the sky, and rain pattered against the bathroom window. A storm brewed outside, but Logan felt that no amount of rainfall was going to douse the fire Sana had set to his heart. He felt the blaze of that heat, and it traveled to every inch of his skin, warming him as he'd never been warmed before.

Gathering her into his arms, he let out a groan. He was fully sheathed in her now, and she was hot and velvety and tight. He was certain he could live on until the very end of time, and he never would be able to recreate such perfection. This was the stuff of dreams.

Sana was the answer to a prayer he hadn't even realized he'd made.

"Keep going," she quietly urged him.

He did. Moving his hips with purpose, he brought them both pleasure. Neither had known that it could be like that--neither had ever been wanted in that way before.

They didn't fuck. They could've, but they didn't. They made love.

Logan chased her release, stroking in and out of her, quickening his pace as her breath shortened. She gasped and moaned in his arms, her spine curving against the tile.

He supposed he did kind of fuck her after that. Hard and fast, pounding into her until she was suddenly coming all over him, her body shaking as she called his name into the mist. It didn't take him very long to follow. He gripped her hips, slamming into her before finding his release.

It was the most exquisite feeling he'd ever had the pleasure of feeling.

"Fuck, Logan," Sana said, taking his face in her small hands. "Where did you learn to do that?"

"Saw it in a movie once."

She threw her head back and laughed.

"I've only seen a couple movies in my life, but none that show those kind of moves," she said, grinning.

"There are all types of movies. Even dirty ones."

He did not know how she managed to blush after everything they'd just done together, but her cheeks tinged the slightest shade of red.

"You mean porn?"

Logan chuckled. "You're telling me you've never seen porn?"

"I was a pandemic baby. Cut me a break."

He stared down at her. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-seven."

Logan grimaced. "You are very young."

"You don't look much older than me."

"I am much, much older than I look."

"Don't tell me," she said. "Can I guess?"

Logan shut off the water and grabbed a towel.

"No," he said. "It's best you know as little about me as possible."

Sana stared up at him, and he wasn't certain she understood.

"Don't want me to get attached to you, huh?" she guessed.

No, he wanted to say. That was the very opposite of what he wanted. Attached, obsessed, enamored. He wanted her to want him in the wild way he already wanted her.

But the secrets he bore would destroy anything they could build. Her world was ending, and it was because of him and his brothers. He didn't participate anymore, but he was a contributing factor to her being a pandemic baby. If he'd never existed, she might've had a normal life in a normal world.

"Yes," he said curtly. "You can't get attached to me."

That night, Sana slept in the loft bed with the window on the roof showcasing the beautiful Huckleberry Mountains and the Columbia River rushing in the distance. Rain pattered on the roof all night, soothing her into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Logan did not sleep beside her. He'd drawn a line in the sand, told her that she'd come as close as he was comfortable with, and Sana supposed she better respect his boundaries. When he made his bed on the couch downstairs, all Sana had offered was switching places.

"No," he'd replied. "You will sleep in the loft. I am fine here."

"And they say chivalry is dead," Sana said, trailing her hand up the banister.

"It is," Logan said. "But I am not."

She'd chuckled at that.

The man had nearly shot her for daring to set foot on his property mere days ago. Now, he was inviting her in, acting like a gentleman.

She'd read about men like him, but she'd never met anyone who'd treated her anything less than what she was. And she was as low as they got. A pandemic orphan with no real skills. The North Zone had taught her so little about life outside of the city.

Hunting, she'd picked up only in the recent months. She'd learned from the scavengers and vagabonds she'd brushed shoulders with in the wilderness. And even then, it was only traps. She couldn't shoot straight for shit. She wasn't a very good cook, either, and mostly, she barely got by on scraps, anyway.

It had been only a few months since she'd gotten her diagnosis from the free clinic in VS before the city had gone down. Only a few months since a doctor had taken her hand and gently advised her to stay close to those she loved because the end was near.

"How long?" she'd asked.

"The equipment is old and I can't be one hundred percent sure, but I'm guessing three to six months."

Five and a half months had passed. The end had come sooner than she'd thought.

The next morning, Sana would wake and leave Logan and his strange kindness behind. She wanted to find somewhere beautiful in the mountains to live out her last few days. Somewhere that would remind her that beauty still existed in the world.

Logan woke before dawn, and considered letting Sana wake to the smell of sizzling sausages, but she was already gone. He wasn't sure how she'd snuck out without disturbing him. He supposed he'd slept a little too well, knowing she was finally in the loft and not out shivering by the river again.

The second he'd stepped up to the loft and found it empty, he'd rushed downstairs, throwing open the front door, breathing harshly--just to find her by the edge of his fence, bent over and digging.

For the first time in a long time, Logan smiled.

"What are you doing?" he asked as he casually stepped up behind her.

"I didn't want to disable your gate--"

"You don't know how to disable my gate."

"--Right, well. I'm going out the only way I know how."

Logan crouched down beside her, until she was eye-level. Sana gazed back at him.

"I might have put too many sausages on the pan," he said.

Sana swallowed. "Sounds like you have quite the problem."

"I wondered if you could help me solve it."

He saw her bite back a smile.

"Well, I've got a lot on my schedule, but I suppose I could take some time to help you with this... problem," she said, getting to her feet.

"You can start by washing those dirty hands."

"Yes, sir."

Logan led her back into the house and went to go flip the sausages as Sana made her way to the sink. She washed her hands with his homemade soap, cleaning off all the dirt. When she turned around, Logan handed her a plate. Sausages, some hash browns, and a couple sprigs of parsley. She didn't know a world that served meals with garnishes. It had ended long before she'd been born.

"Gross, this tastes like soap," she said a few minutes later. She'd eaten the sausages and the potatoes with such speed that Logan feared she'd choke. The garnish had been the last thing on her plate. Sana had saved it for last because it was something green and fresh, but after tasting it, she wished she'd never touched it.

Logan chuckled. "It's genetic."

"What is?"

"Parsley isn't tasty for a certain set of people. For others, it's fine. I read an article about--"

"You read a what?"

"An article. It's like a short piece of writing that you'd find in a newspaper or a magazine or online."

Her eyes widened. "Online. You mean like the internet?"

Logan nodded.

She looked him up and down. "How do you know what the internet is like?"

"I'm older than I look."

It had been nearly fifty years since the Four Horsemen had been set loose on the world. Fifty years since entire empires had come crashing down, taking the internet with them.

Logan knew he did not look over fifty. Hell, he hardly looked over thirty, most days. He was made to be flawless and beautiful, with skin polished like silver, so bright that he almost glowed. His hair had once been long, golden and tousled by the wind, flying behind him when he'd ridden Nightmare from city to city with his brothers.

It was cut shorter now, and the beard helped to hide his beauty. He did not have wrinkles or scars, and though he looked like a rough man upon first glance, anyone who looked too closely could easily put together that he was not of this world.

Anybody but Sana, apparently.

"I'm not asking how old you are," she said, pushing her plate away from her. "You don't want me to know you. And I guess that's a good thing."

"Why's that?" Logan asked, curious.

She gave him a sad little smile. "Neither of us benefits from getting too attached."

Logan understood then that she was aware of the cancer inside her.

"We don't have to get attached. But if you need a place to stay, I--"

"Only if I can take the couch," she said, cutting him off. "I'm small. You're big. You get the bed. The couch is more than enough for me."

Logan would be damned before he allowed her to spend her remaining days on the couch.

"We can take bets," Logan said, knowing he'd always win.

"What kind of bets?"

"Betcha I can outrun you."

She bit her lip as she smiled. "That's not fair."

"Life isn't fair."

"Isn't that just the truth?"

"Yes," Logan said. "It is."

Sana followed Logan as he did his chores. He tended the garden, yanking out weeds and watering his crops. Next, he checked on his chickens, letting them out of the coop and scattering feed for them to fight over. After that, he made his way to the large barn to let the cattle out to graze, explaining they were the Brangus breed. Sana liked their long, droopy ears and friendly, slightly sad faces. She patted her hand along the sleek coats as they grazed.

"They're beautiful," she whispered, but Logan heard her.

"They are."

"How can you stand to butcher them?"

Logan's eyes darkened the slightest.

"I can hardly stand it."

"But I guess you need to eat," Sana said.

"Vegetables alone can't sustain me. The work I do is laborious."

"What about the chickens?" she asked.

"When they stop laying..."

"Ah, I see."

After that, they walked the perimeter of Logan's fence. He tested it for weaknesses. Checked that it was still sturdy and keeping out what must be kept out, and keeping in what had to be kept in.

"You were smart to dig. Best not to touch those spikes up there," he pointed to the top of his fence, "because it's electrified."

"How do you have electricity out here?"

"Solar panels."

"Oh. That makes sense."

Logan led her back to the house for lunch. He made her a fried green tomato sandwich, and she had to admit, it was the best thing she'd ever tasted in her entire life.

"If I could eat my vegetables like this every single day, I'd die happy," she said, wiping her fingers on a rag. Logan had slathered homemade mayonnaise on her sandwich, and that was something she'd never tasted before. She liked--maybe even loved it.

Logan brought her another plate of the remaining small green tomatoes cut into slices and fried in cornmeal batter.

"Dip it in this," he said, bringing her a small bowl of something that looked like mayonnaise, but wasn't. "It's ranch."

"What's ranch?"

Logan smiled at her, amused. "Just try it."

She tried it and decided she loved ranch, too. Especially with fried green tomatoes. Crunchy, a little sweet, the tiniest bit sour, and salted perfectly. Paired with the ranch, it was heavenly.

"I want this as my last meal," she said, before she could stop herself.

"That can be arranged."

"Of course, who knows when that'll be?" she said nervously.

"Right."

"Couldn't we share the bed?" Sana suggested late that night.

Logan had sat there for a moment, quietly mulling over what to do. On one hand, he longed to climb into bed with her and just hold her for the night, and on the other, he knew she didn't want him to get anymore attached to her than he did to her. There were things a person should know before getting into bed with somebody, and his secret was one of those things.

Shouldn't a woman know upfront that she was getting into bed with a monster?

"I don't think that's a very good idea," he said, raising his gaze to meet her eyes. She blinked in surprise, but composed herself quickly.

"Well, the offer stands if you change your mind," she said, and turned around to trudge up the stairs.

"It's not because of you," he said.

She paused but didn't turn around.

"There's something I can't tell you," she said.

"There's something I can't tell you either," he replied.

She finally looked over her shoulder.

"You keep your secret. I'll keep mine. And in the meantime, help me keep your bed warm, Logan."

He rose from his seat.

"Promise me you'll never ask me what my secret is," he said.

"Promise me you'll never ask mine, either."

"I promise."

"Okay," she said. "Come here."

When he reached her at the stairs, she slipped an arm around his waist, and together, they climbed the steps up to the loft.

For him, the end would never come. For her, it was frighteningly near.

And for the first time in his life, Logan found something in this world that scared him. He had not known fear before Sana, and now fear was all he felt.

She was going to die, and it terrified him.

They shared more than a bed.

As the days passed, Sana found that they shared interests and hobbies, too. They both liked to read, and Logan had quite the collection lining the shelves of his living area downstairs. Some were tomes, but Sana liked those the most. The words seemed endless, and even though she knew she was running out of time, she couldn't help but pick out the biggest books to read. She inhaled the words off the page, tasting a distant time when things hadn't been so crazy. A time when people had the time to write--and a time when there were others who had the time to read.

She wasn't very strong, but she helped where she could. She tended the garden in the early morning, bent over in the dirt as she tugged out weeds and helped the vegetables to flourish. She even took care of the parsley, though she never ate it again. Logan liked parsley, and that was reason enough to grow bunches and bunches of it.

By midday, they had done most of their chores. Sana found that Logan liked to cook, and learned that she did as well. She hadn't understood how important spices were until she tasted them in the meals he cooked. He taught her, showing her how to properly handle a knife and then teaching her the different dishes that he seemed to have filed away by memory.