Let My Love Open The Door I
*Scott*
I can hear him, his moans of despair and fear, thin ribbons of sound penetrating my sleep. Wolverine, Logan, having another nightmare. No one else seems to hear them. I'm half tempted to wake Jean up and get her to shake him out of it. She's the telepathic one, after all. She doesn't have to actually touch him to get him out of his nightmare, to bring him back. I don't want to do it, not after what happened to Marie. Unlike her, I won't survive Logan's cold, steely claws.
I get up anyway, I don't want to wake Jean. Actually, it's probably an issue of whether or not I want to act like a coward. I qiuetly get out of bed. I pad lightly to his room, and hesitantly, I open the door. "Here's goes nothin'." The door makes a whiny creak noise, just very lightly, and I open it slowly. I step in and shut the door behind me, why I shut it, I'm not too sure.
Logan is twisting and turning, there is a light sheen of sweat gleaming on his bare chest. His bed sheets are tousled and awry, his pillow no longer on the bed. He is begging, now, whimpering. I wince at the sight, I don't know what or who drove him to this condition, but it must have been something so awful, something I could not even imagine. There are tears now, glittering like jewels over his tightly closed eyes. The sight is terribly upsetting, and I feel like I'm invading him somehow by watching, so I decide to wake him up.
"Logan..." I call his name tentatively. I still feel a charge of fear, like electricity running through me. He can still kill me. "Logan, wake up...it's Scott." He doesn't snap out of it, and I'm starting to worry. I can't move in any farther, he'll be able to reach me. "Logan, please wake up, come on..." I say it louder this time, but his melancholy cries of pain drown out my quiet demands. I can't think of anything else to do, so I pick up his discarded pillow, take a deep breath and throw it at him.
As I thought he might do, he awakens with a jolt, claws flashing out like lightning and he cuts the pillow to pieces. I stand stock still. I watch him as his angered gaze meets mine, still sort of hazy, not fully awake. His eyes are still glistening from the tears. I don't look away, I wait for him to regain his composure. His look turns to one of shock. "Scott..." He pauses for a moment. "Did I hurt you?" he asks quickly, with a flash of concern. He has not forgotten what happened to Marie. "Oh, no, I'm fine, I just heard you down the hall, and I thought I should wake you up...but, uh, your pillow has seen better days." He rubs his eyes, and looks confused, and I point to his pillow, rather, the shreds of his pillow on his bed. He looks down and laughs. "Oh, well, better the pillow, and not you, I guess. Wouldn't want your Professor on my ass, now would I?" He wipes at his eyes again, quickly, and coughs a little. "Well, you know, it's kind of hard to get any kind of sleep with your noise, Wolverine." I chide myself for the sarcasm, but Logan just smirks, and throws it right back. "Sorry to cut in on your beauty sleep, Pretty Boy. I'll be careful next time." I snort, and turn to leave, but something stops me. I think it was curiosity. I don't know. "Logan, are you okay? Do you, um, need anything?" He stares at me incredulously for what seems like ages. "Not from you." I take the hint and leave. I go back to bed, but I can't sleep, so I just stare out my window, wondering about Logan, till I do finally drift off.
