Linger (Logan and Tashi)

Logan walked along the edge of the forest. It was freezing outside, probably below freezing to be precise. He looked at the timer running on his watch and did some quick math in his head. Thirty two days. He'd been here for thirty-two days now. He remembered what had happened, back at the concert. Margaret had tried to explain this place to him, but it didn't feel real. He just needed to get out. To get back to Bobby. Glancing around, it seemed as if Logan was alone. There didn't seem to be anyone else around, not in sight at least. It was always peaceful out here, and he enjoyed it. Glancing to his right, he looked through the forest, wondering how far it stretched. Logan heard footsteps behind him and turned around, looking for who it was.

Natasha had never really been one to stay inside all the time. Or at all. It had been this way as long as she could remember. She was always so skittish, she couldn't stay still. And here, she didn't have to. She didn't have guards watching her every move. She didn't have people wanting her dead- well, she was already anyway. But she was happy.

She had been here for years. She liked it, but it wasn't what she really wanted.

She skulked behind a tree, watching a boy she'd seen a few days ago. He was relatively new. A lot newer than she, Will, Maggie, and Lou were. She swallowed the lump in her throat and walked behind him before saying, "Hallo."

Logan turned around and saw a brunette girl standing behind him. He'd seen her around. Not that he really knew anything about her. "Hey," He responded, not exactly sure what to say. He supposed he should probably introduce himself. Sticking his hand out, he smiled out of the corner of his mouth. "Logan Capshaw. Pleasure to meet you," Logan said, unsure if her should tell her when he was from. After all, he knew that Margaret was from like the 1300s. So God knew when this girl was from.

Oh. He spoke English. Studying English for so many years during her life and...here had given her skills in the language. "I-uh- hi." She straightened her coral pink dress and shook his hand cautiously. "I'm Natasha. Oh, erm, Natasha Petrova. It's very nice to meet you too," she said with a small smile and slight blush. She never really held hands with boys, even if it was just a handshake.

Logan noticed her dress and figured she was from a different era. Forties or fifties maybe? She shook his hand. Her surname was Petrova. Russian, it sounded? His mind flitted to the Holocaust...he wouldn't bring it up. Besides, she could just be Russian. Not necessarily from that. "So, if you don't mind my asking, when are you from?" Logan would probably never get used to asking that. At least he was able to accept it...not that he didn't want to get out.