He didn’t come the next day.
She tried to go about her normal routine, tried not to be just waiting for him like a teenager with a crush. Still, she started to worry.
The storm had alternated between sleet and snow all night, and the temperature had dropped even further towards morning. It was well below freezing even now.
By late afternoon she had wrapped up the sandwich she had made for him, putting it in the fridge for later. By dusk she got bundled up in her winter coat -- putting gloves on for the first time since she had arrived -- and walked around the silent, snowy clearing, looking for any sign of him.
She tried to tell herself that she was being ridiculous. He wasn’t obligated to stop by every day. Maybe something had come up that needed his attention elsewhere. Maybe a repair or something wherever he lived. Or maybe he just changed his mind, a secret fear in the back of her mind whispered. Maybe he decided he didn’t want to touch you anymore.
She stared out at the unbroken snow, arguing with herself.
Maybe he decided to come for dinner instead.
But he would have told me, he would know that I would worry.
Maybe he’s hurt out there, in the snow.
But he heals.
You’re being ridiculous, he has his own life to worry about, he doesn’t need to see you every day.
But he said he would come. He always means what he says.
Maybe you’ll never see him again. Never know what happened.
As evening wore on with no sign of him, that last thought was the one that occurred most frequently, and made her sleep fitful and restless.
___________________
He didn’t come the next day either. By early afternoon the worry was a gnawing ache in her belly, growing more intense every minute. She startled at every sound, opening the door to look out several times every hour.
The scenarios in her head got more and more detailed. She imagined him out there bleeding in the snow, victim of another mountain lion attack. She imagined him miles away, casually downing beers in a bar, having decided that someone untouchable just wasn’t worth the effort.
By evening she had made up her mind. At first light, she would go looking for him. She would call on the Logan in her head to find out where he lived, and she would get an answer, even if it was one she didn’t want to hear. She was the Rogue, she wasn’t going to sit idly by in this now-claustrophobic cabin and simply wonder.
___________________
The snow was past his knees, hampering his movements and making every few yards seem like a mile. He shivered again as the chill seemed to seep out from inside his very bones, the metal in his body making warmth seem like a distant memory. He followed the animal tracks, looking for their burrow. If only he could scamper across the crust of snow like the snowshoe hares he was tracking, instead of suffering the crushing weight of this damned metal skeleton.
The next step had him suddenly sinking past his waist. Damn it, the ruffled wind-swept snow had hidden a depression in the ground. He rarely ranged out this far, and didn’t know the terrain as well as he should. He should be careful...
Just as he thought it, he heard an ominous cracking underneath his feet. He made a desperate lunge, but to no avail. He was plunging down, down, into the freezing water. He pushed against the bottom, trying frantically to boost his heavy body up to the surface. His head clunked hard against the sheet of ice. He had drifted from where he fell through. He snapped the claws, trying to dig them into the ice to stop himself from sinking again, but they slid free and he felt himself sinking downward again.
He could no longer hold his breath. He felt the cold water rush into his lungs, choking him, and he struggled frantically, uselessly, his body jerking back and forth in the water. And then a few moments later he was no longer cold. He suddenly felt comfortable and warm. He stopped struggling, and let himself settle back to the bottom. If this is dying it ain’t so bad, he thought, and then the blackness took him.
___________________
Marie shot awake with a gasp. Her whole body was shaking. Was that a nightmare, or one of his memories? Had that actually happened to him? How could he possibly have survived it?
She stumbled into the bathroom, running the shower until it was almost scalding. She closed her eyes, her gnawing worry for Logan now an ungovernable flood of panic. The slow trickle of her tears mixed with the hot spray of water. She thought of Logan slowly dying in that freezing water, and felt like she would never be warm again.
___________________
Marie dressed for the cold, in warm layers topped with the snowmobile suit Xavier had insisted she buy, packing her backpack with some food and water just in case. When she was ready to go she sat on the couch, gloves in her hand, and closed her eyes.
She concentrated, delving into her mind, imagining the long hallway she had constructed with Xavier’s help. The structure she had created in her head had two wings -- one for humans, who were pretty innocuous for the most part, and another for mutants. The mutants were different in so many respects -- more trouble, especially Magneto, but also more useful now that she could call on their powers selectively.
She moved down the hallway, pausing briefly outside each door, monitoring the presence within. Magneto, zealous and power-hungry as always -- constantly scheming, assessing his chances of escape and plotting domination. Bobby, quiet and somewhat sheepish as usual. Jubilee, content to spectate and wise-crack from time to time. Jean, a calm and remarkably powerful presence despite the brevity of their touch. And then finally...
She had promised Logan that she wouldn’t pry into his memories, and she hadn’t done so. Even now, standing outside his room and sensing the restless prowling within, she felt a twinge of misgiving. Then she thought of what she had dreamed last night, and the panic started to well up within her again. Even if he were angry with her -- even if he couldn’t forgive her for this intrusion on his privacy, she had to know.
She placed her hand on the door and pushed. To her startlement, the door didn’t move at all. She concentrated, pushing harder. The barrier remained unmoving, steady as a rock. Marie stopped, flummoxed. This had never happened before. The personalities in her head had always been quiet like Bobby and Jean, or eager to escape like Magneto. What was going on here? Was Logan...could Logan...be denying her access from the inside?
The more she thought about it, the more she realized it was probably true. She hadn’t known it was possible, but then again she had never absorbed someone like Logan. As guarded and wary as the man himself was, it made sense that he would be equally so in her head. And what they had done to him -- messing with his mind as they had. Maybe he had developed strategies for dealing with that, mental barriers akin to hers.
She leaned back against the door, nonplussed. And then she sensed the change in him -- his restless prowling halting for a moment before he moved closer to the door. An idea began to form. She didn’t know exactly how to go about this, but maybe...
Logan?
She couldn’t explain quite what she was doing -- not so much speaking, but thinking the words to him, much like she communicated telepathically with Professor Xavier.
He didn’t respond, but yet she somehow felt him, ranging closer to the door, his curiosity coming to the forefront.
Logan...do you understand what’s going on? I’m worried about you. I mean, not you, but him. The Logan that’s out there.
Nothing from him but a mild sense of injured pride and the unspoken assertion that he could handle just about anything.
Great, she thought. Can you put the alpha male macho bullshit on hold for just a minute?
An instinctive growl from him, changing to a reluctantly amused chuckle. You’re sassier in here, he thought at her.
She sighed, relieved that he was talking. Why won’t you let me in? she asked.
His amusement vanished as a torrent of turbulent emotions rushed over her -- fear, shame, self-loathing, and underneath it all a deep sense of protectiveness toward her.
Okay, okay, she thought. Settle down. She got the point. He was trying to protect her from something, something he felt he had to hide. So where did that leave her?
She pressed her forehead against the door. If she could sense his thoughts and emotions, could he sense hers?
She thought of the dream she had, trying to send the images to him. Was that just a dream? Or did that really happen to you?
She felt him shifting restlessly. Last winter, he grudgingly acknowledged.
She had known it on some level, it had felt like a memory, but still the shock of his confirmation shivered through her. How...she thought. How did you survive?
She felt his reluctance for a moment as he struggled to decide, and then he sent the memory to her.
His eyes opening to dark water, his body tangled in weeds. His desperate struggle to the shore, lungs still choked with now-warm water. Lying on the rocky ground, gasping and vomiting the murky fluid. Then finally raising his head to realize that the world had changed, the dead of winter transformed to late spring while he had remained, frozen under the ice until the thaw...
He must have sensed her horror. Regret rolled through their connection, from him to her. Nothin’ can kill me, he tried to reassure her. Nothin’.
She tried to get herself under control, but she was sure he was able to sense her rising panic.
You said you’d come. It’s been two days. All the scenarios she had feared flashed through her mind, even -- to her embarrassment -- the fear that he simply didn’t want to see her again. Would you...would you do that?
She felt his increased restlessness behind the barrier. No, he finally admitted, his certainty unshakable. I’d never leave you like that. Not on purpose.
Her stomach lurched. Please. She didn’t even know what she was asking him for -- begging him for, but she was asking it all the same. Please, help him. Help me.
She felt his concern -- not for himself but for her -- and then finally his grudging decision.
Okay, darlin’, he thought to her. Go.
____________________
Marie opened her eyes with a gasp, disoriented. She hadn’t felt it until now but she was sweating, smothered underneath the layers of clothing in the warm cabin.
She had no idea how he had done it, but she had a new memory in her head. The route from the cabin to his trailer, as clear and strong in her mind as if she had made that journey every day for months instead of him.
She heard the faint echo of his voice in her head. Go.
She grabbed her gloves and her pack, stumbling out the door and down the porch steps at a near-run.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
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Chapter End Notes:
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