The X-Men do not belong to me, I am only borrowing them for a little while.
When Logan came to, he felt as if he had been ran over by a train. His muscles ached and it felt as if his bones were about to come out of his skin. He rubbed his face with his hands as he stood up. Whatever had happened had knocked him for a loop. He stumbled down the hall, his only intent was to get to his room and sleep.
As he passed a mirror that was hanging on the hallway wall, he caught an image out of the corner of his eye. It was almost as if someone or something was standing with him. No, not with him, around him. Jerking his head to face the mirror full on, all he saw was a reflection of himself. "Must've hit the floor too hard." he muttered as he stood examining himself in the mirror. His head was beginning to ache and he couldn't quite remember why he was on this floor and not in his bed asleep.
He step into the elevator, face to face with Scott. "Have you had any luck, Logan?" the man asked as Logan joined him. Without thought, Logan answered, "Nah, wherever it is, it's long gone from here." That wasn't what he intended to say, but try as he might, he couldn't get his lips to from any other words. Too exhausted to really care, Logan silently rode the elevator to his floor.
When he reached his room, he fell across the bed not even bothering to remove his boots. The next morning, he awoke with a raging headache. He felt as if he hadn't slept at all, but when he looked at his watch, he had slept almost ten hours solid.
He sat up slowly, trying not to jar his head. His mouth felt dry, almost as if it were full of cotton. He sat on the edge of the bed, head down, wondering if it would even be worth getting up at all. Just then Rogue stuck her head in the door, "Hey old man. We were wondering when you would ever get up. Getting too old to stay up late anymore?"
He grunted and made to stand up, but a flash of pain so severe ripped through his head, that he fell back onto the bed, unconscious. It was during this state that he heard the voice. This will not do, my wild one. You are fighting me. It will only get worse if you continue to do so. Get out of my head Logan growled subconsciously to the intruder Get out of me Ah, but why? I promise, if you do not resist, there will be no pain... only peace.
Slowly, Logan relaxed as gentle hands caressed his forehead. It seemed so familiar, that touch. The cool fingers danced across his eyes and cheeks, Rest now. You are home. Faintly, he though he could smell jasmine and other flowers native to the orient. Bit by bit, he allowed himself to drift away in this dream. You are mine.