It was a relief to take the weight off her fractured leg as Rogue sank back down onto her bed. She let out a low sigh as she propped the crutches up against the wall besides her bed, ready for when she later wanted to move around. The infirmary was now deserted, and Rogue could only assume Jean had retired to the upper levels of the mansion for some well deserved rest after monitoring the new casualties all day.
With her head feeling distinctly clearer, she settled back against the headboard to think over the recent events she and Logan had been put through. It was a staggering amount, and shocking to think that only a few days ago they had finally consummated their relationship. And now? Well, now she was in a hospital bed, an invalid, bearing more injuries that she’d ever had in her lifetime and Logan was locked away in isolation because of the odd chance he could flip out and kill them all.
She was adamant that Logan would be the man he once was, and that Charles was exaggerating with the confinement purely for safety reasons. But deep inside, there was a nervous twinge that kept rising to her attention that maybe, just maybe, Stryker had succeeded. And if he had, that meant no more Logan. With Wolverine in control, it meant Logan was as good as dead. She curled up in her bed, frowning at the opposite wall as her thoughts plagued her.
Unfortunately, she remained this way until the confines of sleep overcame her, and even then, her mind continued to go over her restless concerns.
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The next morning she was greeted shortly after breakfast by Professor Xavier, who rolled in through the parting infirmary doors with a gracious smile. Jean departed with the plate of toast Rogue had struggled to eat. Eventually, she had given up on chewing the rubbery bread and had politely declined the second half.
“Good morning, Rogue,” said the Professor as he came by her bedside. “How are you feeling?”
Rogue shrugged in mild consideration. “Not bad. Thanks to painkillers.”
Charles nodded his head slowly in understanding, his eyes remaining on Rogue’s face. He always held a scrutiny about him, like he could read right through you, but Rogue was sure he wasn’t doing anything with his powers, for she knew the man had strict morals. Despite this, she shyly glanced down at the bedding, fiddling with a clump of it under her fingertips.
“How’s Logan?” she asked.
“He’s been sleeping since you last saw him. He’s doing fine, but there’s no change in his condition. It’s early days, Rogue.”
She nodded numbly, staring down at the bedcovers with a firmer inspection. “Just wish none of this had happened,” she muttered. “All that damn Stryker’s fault. He’s the one who did this to Logan in the first place, now he’s done it again, attackin’ your school in the process.”
“Of course,” Charles said in a reassuring tone, “But you’re back with us now. You’re safe, and we successfully rescued our captive students. It took a while for us to locate Stryker, but we managed it, and now you’re all back where you belong.”
“Yeah, well, Logan’s not safe, is he?” murmured Rogue, lifting a hand to wipe tears from her cheeks.
“We don’t know if he isn’t,” reminded the Professor with steeling optimism Rogue wished she could share. But since yesterday, she had pretty much settled for the worse.
The doors of the infirmary parted again, summoning both Rogue and the Professor’s attention. Jean entered, looking somewhat apprehensive. Charles turned his chair towards her, a slight frown contracting his brow. “He’s awake,” Jean informed softly. Rogue quickly looked towards the Professor, whom nodded slowly at the information. He appeared perturbed. Granted, it was safer for all of them, including Logan, if he slept and allowed his mind to repair the damage.
“Can I go and see him?” asked Rogue breathlessly.
There was a slight inclination of the Professor’s head in confirmation and Rogue proceeded to quickly gather her crutches and ease herself onto her feet. Jean quickly came to her side to aid her along and ensure she didn’t fall, resting a supportive hand against the girl’s back. Rogue pushed herself as quickly as she could bear, travelling through the infirmary doors and back towards the laboratory where Logan was situated.
Entering, she quickly turned her eyes to scan the room Logan was within, and saw him sat on the edge of his bed, looking down at the floor silently. His hands grasped the edge of the bed tightly, head remaining bowed. He was clad in naught but loose jogging bottoms, bare feet hanging inches from the smooth floor. Carefully, Rogue advanced towards the glass, leaving Jean loitering in the doorway uncertainly. As the proximity decreased, she saw Logan slowly lift his head, eyes rising until they met her own. They merely stared at each other for a long moment. The sudden movement from Logan caused Rogue to flinch a little. He had slipped off the bed, tearing off attached wires as he went. He staggered towards the glass, eyes transfixed on her face. Apprehensive, Rogue backed away a little, her gaze still locked upon his own.
But even as she retreated, he came closer, right up to the glass. Under the lighting, Rogue could see how drawn his face looked. He looked exhausted and weary, his eyes tired and lifeless. Pale face was topped with excessively unruly hair that hung over his unblinking gaze. Very slowly, he raised a hand to the glass, pressing his fingers there as though not entirely sure if the transparent divide was there or not. Finding the hard surface below his fingertips, he pressed a little harder, frowning as he watched the girl on the other side.
Logan’s apparently calm nature soothed her worries a little, and she advanced with a small limp on her crutches. His gaze was almost pleading as he stared down at her. Tears hung on the edge of her lower eyelids, and she slowly looked up at the man trapped behind the glass. Releasing the handle of her crutch, Rogue gently lifted her palm up towards the glass, brushing her fingers over his visible palm. Silently, she saw him mouth the word ‘Marie’, but nothing was heard through the thick glass. Rogue couldn’t help but give a dry sob as she watched him try to talk to her. Slowly, her fingers stretched out to match his hand position, her eyes watching this with increasing tears.
“Logan?” she called in return, but wondered if even he would hear her through the reinforced glass. Carefully, Jean advanced from the doorway, placing a hand on Rogue’s shoulder in an attempt to calm her tearful state. Rogue glanced towards her before back to Logan. “You’ll be out of there soon,” she continued. “The Professor’s just gotta make sure you’re alright.”
He just stared at her, and Rogue wished she knew if he heard her or not. He appeared to be getting increasingly frustrated with the divide between them, his hand curling into a fist, which proceeded to bang heavily against the glass. Rogue jumped at the strike and edged backwards.
“Logan, it’s alright!” she cried as she stared at him, but he didn’t seem to notice her words. He banged again, heavier and there was a suspicious creaking from the window frame.
“Go back to your bed,” ordered Jean quickly, eyes not shifting from the increasingly violent Logan.
But Rogue ignored her request. “It ain’t him, is it?” she sobbed, tears freshly streaming down her face.
“Rogue!” Jean commanded, watching Logan as he soundlessly bellowed and pounded on the glass. “I said go back to your bed!”
“They’ve killed Logan!” Rogue screamed in response, frantic breaths shaking her words. “They’ve killed him!” Her exclamation was cut short as the glass smashed, summoning cries from both women. Rogue lifted her hands to shield her face from the glass, but slowly looked up to see that Jean had frozen the motion with her hands. The tiny pieces hung in the air like frozen raindrops, slowly rotating and gleaming in the light. Then, as one, they all collapsed harmlessly to the floor.
Logan leapt upon the window frame, gripping both edges as he balanced there, staring at those in the room. His eyes snapped between them, staring hard and searchingly.
“Logan..” Rogue sobbed weakly, slumping against her crutches as she rested her weight against the laboratory wall. Jean extended her hands defensively as she watched Logan, whom now slowly jumped off the window ledge and carelessly into the shards of broken glass.
Jean had been told of Logan’s swiftly changing nature when found by Scott and Storm, and how he had battled to control himself. A battle Xavier knew would continue, until they managed to safely get him back to his normal state. “Logan, this is not you,” Jean called warningly as she watched him continue to assess the pair with narrowed eyes.
Logan slowly moved his eyes from Jean and back towards Rogue, to whom he slowly began to advance towards, glass crushing below his heavy footsteps. “Marie?” he said quietly, watching her face with searching eyes.
“Logan?” she tried quietly, face evidently wary as she gazed up at him.
“Please..” he whispered with a fearful frown, his eyes quickly closing. He took in a soft breath before he spoke with a soft plea, “.. Help me. I can’t control it."
Carefully, Rogue extended a hand, meeting Logan’s bare arm. “You can,” she said in a soft tone, fingers brushing across the hair of his forearm before her grip tightened upon him for support. “The Professor is gonna help you, Logan. He’s gonna get things back how they were.”
Logan slowly lifted his head to watch her, and there a brief flicker of anger in his gaze before he reached forward and grabbed her in a tight hug. Surprised but reassuringly elated, Rogue clung onto him tightly in return, squeezing him against her in a bid to keep Logan present, and the dangerous Wolverine at bay. She wanted to help him, to ensure that with her presence, Logan could become stronger.
“Logan, do you object to solitary confinement?” asked Jean uncertainly as she glanced over the broken glass over the floor. Eyes returned to Logan, hands lifted just in case he turned against her.
Slowly, he picked his head up from Rogue’s shoulder, and shook it in answer. “No. Not if it’s for your safety.” He looked down at the broken glass with a frown.
“I can fix that,” said Jean, noting his concerned expression. With a simple wave of her hand the glass flew back into place against the window, gleaming brightly at the shards moulded back together to form the clear sheet.
Turning back to Rogue, Logan held her against him, closing his eyes as he breathed in the scent of her deeply. “I need you to help me.”
“And I will,” she said softly, her arms remaining tight about his torso as though she feared letting him go. “I promise that, Logan.”
She saw the tiniest of smiles quirk his dry lips and for the first time in days, she found one forming upon her own.
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