"That's just stupid," Logan spat. "It's just a contradiction."

"What if it's not?" insisted the woman behind him. "What if one of the constants in your life was…wrong?"

"It wouldn't be the first time."

"I'm sorry. I know what you mean by that. Contradictions don't…exist."

"Like hell they don't." Logan grumbled.

He searched the table against the wall for a wrench. Whenever he needed a specific tool, it wasn't within easy reach. On top of that, tonight, he had to deal with another person, and the fact that she had long, dark red hair.

"Just keep what I'm saying in mind; that's all."

He rolled his eyes, found the wrench, turned around. His wallet chain clinked against his belt.

"Natalya," he said slowly. "I might."

She nodded curtly.

"Now can I get to my car?"

"Please?"

"Please."

She stepped out of his way, grabbed a nearby bottle of motor oil, and held it out to him. He looked up to catch her gaze, surprised that she knew he'd need it. Her eyes stayed away, though, and he wondered, briefly, tiredly, if it was a sign of things to come.

"I, um…start shift at the bar in an hour. I'm gonna go," she informed him. "See you next weekend, maybe?"

Her eyes moved to his, and he nodded before kneeling beside his car.

"Next weekend. I can do that." He said quietly.

She smiled, though he didn't see it, and headed out the open garage door to the race-ready Mustang in the Institute driveway.

"Natalya!" Logan called, his eyes still on his task.

"Yeah?"

"How'd you get your hands on a '71?"

"An old friend has a thing for cars, found a Mach 1, sold it to me. Considering, I couldn't have asked for a better price."

He nodded, impressed, but still didn't turn completely around. Natalya started her car, left the driveway, left the property, and left Logan there to watch her dark red hair flowing with the wind. He wondered if this was punishment, in some sick karma. Case in point: Jean. He remembered Natlaya warning him that she was going to change her hair; grow it, but...he'd never expected this...and it looked so good on her. He ducked underneath his car.


Contradictions do not exist. Whenever you think that you are facing a contradiction, check your premises. You will find that one of them is wrong.

- Ayn Rand, Atlas Shrugged