There was something warm curled around me. I knew it more by instinct than by actual thought process. It was probably from instinct, also, that I recognized the warmth as coming from something familiar and, for once, not dangerous.
I opened one eye and saw only brown. Frowning, I opened the other eye and stared at the head on the pillow next to mine. Her face was as far from mine as her arms and legs wrapped around me would allow. Almost reverently, I lifted a hand to brush a strand of white hair off her face.
“She had a nightmare,” a weary voice said from across the room.
I was sitting up in bed and looking around quickly before I registered the voice. Jean. She sat in a chair by the door, dark circles under blue eyes that stared bleakly at Marie lying beside me. Yeah, Marie’s one heavy sleeper, I decided.
“She didn’t really wake up,” Jean went on. “But I managed to get her into bed with you, and she calmed down.”
I didn’t ask how she had gotten Marie into the bed still asleep or even how she had known that there was a problem. The answer was obvious. Instead, I asked, “Was the dream her own?”
Jean nodded. “Yes. She was reliving her experience with Magneto.”
Another question. “Has she tried to access any memories in her dreams?”
“We’ve blocked her subconscious mind from finding them. Her waking mind is too strong, though, and she uses the other psyches to bolster it instinctively,” Jean told me.
I nodded and looked down at the young woman sleeping beside me. “I can handle her now, Jean.”
“I know. The Professor and I inserted mental ‘tags’ of sorts to let us know if she tries to reach for one of the foreign minds. We’ll be alerted immediately, and we’ll let you know,” Jean said, turning to leave. Before she was out the door, she added, “Good luck.”
I laid back down and pulled Marie into my arms, absently smoothing her hair down as I considered the ramifications of what Jean had said. Damn, mental alerts in her brain to keep her outta those memories? I hated the thought, but I knew there was nothing I could do to change things. For her own sake, Marie had to let go of her addiction. Hopefully, withdrawal from the memories of touch wouldn’t be as bad as withdrawal from hard-core drugs or alcohol. I’d seen rehabs of both, and let me tell ya, it’s not a pretty sight.
I must’ve gone back to sleep at some point early that morning. That in and of itself was a new experience for me, simply because I had never been able to sleep in the same room as another person before. I always figured that my mutation would keep my body from breaking down because of lack of sleep and that it was worth the risk of physical exhaustion to protect myself from attack on any front. So, waking up to see Marie leaning over me, a sort of surprised and yet sweet smile dancing in her eyes and pulling at her lips, was a reminder of my revelation from the night before.
I love her.
“Logan,” she said hesitantly. “I’m sorry, I must’ve…” she began to say.
I didn’t want her embarrassed to be in my bed, so I interrupted her. “Don’t worry about it, Marie. You were having a nightmare, so I pulled you over here. You settled down after that, and I fell asleep,” I told her as casually as I could while she was pressed against me, her beautiful eyes so close to mine.
“Oh,” she said in a small voice. “I don’t remember. Did I…was I in the memories?” She sounded like she hoped that she hadn’t been, which was reassuring to me.
“No, Marie. Jean came in because you were disturbed, and she said it was a nightmare about Magneto and the Statue of Liberty. I probably triggered it when I got back,” I said, trying to take some of the blame.
Marie was quiet after that, maybe thinking that through. I decided to get up and get dressed. Respecting Marie’s privacy, even though the thought of dressing in front of Marie was very arousing, I took my clothes into the bathroom.
When I came back out Marie was still sitting up in bed. She gazed at me, and her eyes were so much wiser, held so much more pain than the last time I had seen her that I wondered if I could do this, if I could really help her.
“They think I went crazy, you know, after I absorbed Carol,” she said calmly.
“Why would they think that?” I asked, going over to sit next to her.
“Because I had to talk it all out. I had to remember me, only me, and it hurt so much that I couldn’t just do it in my head. Plus, my head’s too full right now,” she said with a small twist of her lips that might have been a smile.
“Jean said that she and Xavier will be helping you with that. They’re probably pretty qualified, since they’re telepaths,” I told her.
She looked down at her lap. “I know. That’s why I always avoided them as much as I could. I didn’t want them to realize what I was doing and help me. I didn’t think I needed help,” she told me.
I didn’t know what to say to that. I could understand why she had done what she did, but she couldn’t go on living her life like that, stealing other people’s memories so that she could feel what she’d never have again.
“Maybe while they’re in there helping you with the other personalities, they can figure out some way to help you control your mutation,” I finally said.
She nodded wearily. “Yeah. I never gave them much of a chance at that after I learned how to access the memories. It was easier, you know?”
I raised an eyebrow at her. “Well, we’re not going to let it be that easy from now on. You’re going to learn how to live, Marie. I’m going to make sure of that,” I said.
The look she gave me was part terror and part fascination. I saw her lips move, but even I couldn’t quite make out what she said. At least, I don’t think I did. She wouldn’t have had any reason to say, “Well, damn,” right?
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The first day back...