Screams filled the air, accusing him of wrong-doing, shaking him to his core. The smell of their fear made him want to retch, but he could not turn his eyes away or dull his senses. It was too much… too much…
Logan sat up in bed, gasping and soaked through. Shivering, he pushed away the sheets and climbed out of bed, reaching for a nearby robe. He felt a little warmer once he put it on, but not much.
He laughed humorlessly. Imagine a Canadian, a man who was used to snow and cold weather, unable to handle a little New York nighttime chill. It was ironic to the extreme.
You know it's not the chill that bothers you, his mind taunted back at him, it's the dream. It's what you've done in your most recent mission that freezes your blood. Logan had destroyed the FOH headquarters after their latest mutant attack had nearly gotten him and his teammates killed, but hadn't realized until after his act of rage that it was children's day at FOH and each Friend of Humanity had brought a child with them. He hadn't let on to his teammates what he had done and was determined to forget it had ever happened.
"Shut up," Logan growled aloud to his conscience, trying to keep it down in spite of his ire. It wouldn't do if he woke up one of his teammates because he was talking to himself.
At this point, only Remy and Kurt were staying in rooms close to his and he certainly didn't want to talk to either of them right now. If Remy caught him in this state, he would probably make fun of him for losing it, but if it Kurt was the one who woke up, the German mutant would want to talk.
He would rather to meet up with Remy if he had the choice. A session in the Danger Room suited him much better than a heart-to-heart talk.
Of course, they'd have to hear him first.
Logan ignored his mocking brain and headed for the kitchen for a beer. It wasn't an air-tight theory, but he was willing to hope that the drink would take his mind off his nightmares.
He had barely gotten the beer out of the fridge when he heard a slight scuffle and he whirled around, instincts prepared to attack.
Rogue waved at him smilingly from where she now sat at the table. Logan rolled his eyes, reached back into the fridge and threw her a coke. She opened the bottle expertly and took a quick swig.
"Thanks," she said when she came up for air.
Logan finished his first gulp of beer. His brown eyes narrowed at her. "What are you doing up at this time of night, kid?"
"Couldn't sleep." Rogue twisted an auburn strand of hair around a green-gloved finger. She looked up at him through long lashes. "Why? Were ya 'spectin Kurt instead?"
Logan grimaced. "For what? The elf has to sleep sometime." He fidgeted uncomfortably under her gaze. Trying to read Remy's well-hidden secrets had made her too perceptive for his comfort at this moment.
Rogue pulled her sunflower-decorated robe closer around her as if to keep out the cold. Logan had always considered the sunflower an ugly flower and sometimes wondered if she was trying to make a statement with her liking of them.
She interrupted his line of thought. "Yeah, but you've been havin' nightmares again." She nodded at his dark red robe that had a W stitched on the right breast. "You never wear that unless its been bad."
Rogue leaned on the table, playing with her coke bottle. "Ah'm surprised you didn't wake Remy and Kurt wit' your screaming."
"It wasn't one of those kind of dreams." Darn, did he let that slip out? No one knew how much the killing he did bothered him after the fact and he had meant to keep it that way. "'Sides," he said quickly, trying to cover up the gaffe, "Gumbo was out all last night for some reason or another and didn't come back until early morning and the elf hasn't been sleeping too well lately."
The two mutants sat silently for a second. Kurt had only recently found out the one of their enemies, Mystique, was his biological mother. In spite of the brave front he tried to put up, he was having a hard time with it. Logan just hoped that Kurt was truly asleep instead of moping in bed.
"Don't call Remy Gumbo," Rogue finally said, "That's the name of a stew." She looked at her friend sternly. "An' changin' the subject didn't buy ya nothin', sugah. What kind of dream was it this time?"
Logan sighed. "Rogue," he rumbled, "back off."
Rogue didn't look impressed. "It's either to me or to Kurt. Ah'm quite sure ya don't wanna wake him up just t' talk t' him, do ya?"
Logan glared at her silently. This was none of her business, but she was trying to force him into a corner. He viciously chugged down some more beer.
"It's about your past ain't it, sugah. Somethin' you've done."
Logan choked on his beer and it splattered all over the table. Rogue leaned her chair back to snatch a kitchen towel from inside one of the drawers and quickly wiped up the mess.
She continued speaking as she thoughtfully cleaned. "Ah had dreams like that fer the longest time after Ah absorbed Carol. Everyone Ah sucked up kept tauntin' mah imagination, screamin', tryin' t' protest what Ah'd done t' them. Ah think Ah scared Remy and Kurt one time when we went drivin' in th' country, cuz Ah fell asleep in the backseat an' then popped up sweatin' an' gaspin'. Ah ended up smackin' Kurt in the back o' the head an' Remy was so startled he nearly drove us off the road. They turned th' car around an' brought me right back home t' be checked out by Hank. Nothin' would help, no sleeping pills, nothin'."
Logan found himself interested in spite of himself. "What did you do about it?" He tried not to sound like it meant too much to him, but it did. The dreams were getting worse with each passing night.
Rogue shrugged. "Ah guess it was corny, but Ah told myself Ah wasn't goin' t' let this beat me. An'…" She didn't look at Logan and shifted in her seat. "Ah let Kurt take me to his little chapel t' sorta make mah peace with mah victims."
"Don' laugh," she snapped fiercely, although it hadn't been on Logan's mind, "it helped. Ah felt… clean. Like Ah was forgiven."
"So you prayed." Logan felt some amusement. It sounded like Kurt had been evangelizing again.
Rogue stared at the table and her fingers twitched. "Ah guess you could say that. It wasn't somethin' stupid, Logan," she said, looking up at him. Her green eyes determinedly locked with his brown ones, "It really helped. Ah was able to admit that Ah had made a mistake, but now it's behind me. Ah don't hafta wallow in guilt t' make amends t' Carol an' the others."
"You're suggesting I pray." Logan's voice was skeptical. His life had been such that he doubted that there was a merciful God looking after him. Kurt's faith made the man happy and content, but Logan couldn't come to terms with the idea of a good God when he thought of the things he had suffered and the things he had done. No good God could have possibly allowed that.
Rogue shook her head. "Ah suggest you keep an open mind an' think about it. Logan, Ah'm not like Kurt with his unshakable faith; Ah don't go prayin' all over th' place. But this helped me." Her eyes bore into him. "The things Ah've done are bad, but Ah'm thinkin' that you've done things just as bad or worse. You might want to consider just stoppin' in Kurt's chapel, just t' lighten some o' that load."
Logan looked at her grimly. "It won't go away, Rogue."
"At least you won't feel like you're carryin' it alone," she whispered over the mouth of her coke bottle. She took another sip. "Ah don' know if there is a God, Logan – that's more of Kurt's department, but Ah do know that just sittin' in his chapel helped. It's peaceful."
She leaned the coke bottle back and took a large swig. She set the empty container on the table and leaned toward Logan. "Jus' think about it, sugah," she said gently, "That's all Ah ask. Ah don' wanna see ya run yourself down 'cuz of things you've done."
Rogue blew him a kiss, and flew back upstairs to bed.
Logan stayed in the kitchen a while longer, nursing his beer. The conversation with Rogue kept replaying itself in his mind, in spite of his desire to block it out, to handle this latest set of nightmares by himself.
With a sigh, he dropped the empty beer bottle and Rogue's abandoned coke bottle in the trash can and headed up to the little room that Xavier had been kind enough to set aside as Kurt's chapel. Kurt had been grateful and delighted and every evening he let a priest friend in to perform some kind of ceremony there.
Logan glanced at the grandfather clock in the hall. It confirmed his suspicion that it was too late for the priest or Kurt to be in the chapel, so he should have it all to himself.
No one would know he had been there – not even Rogue if he decided he didn't want to tell her.
He pushed open the door to let himself in and stood there as if turned to stone upon the sight that greeted him.
Candles shone majestically on a covered table and a smell permeated the room reminiscent of kingly processions, yet it did not overwhelm the sweet scent of wildflowers that sat on the floor in front of the table. On the table itself was a strange kind of golden stand, simple, yet beautiful beyond belief, with a white object of some kind elevated in its center.
It gave Logan a feeling of awe at its royal air, yet in some strange way, it made him feel calmer as well – as if he had been accepted for who he was. As if he did not need to explain himself or pretend to be someone he wasn't.
"Logan? What are you doing up, mien Freund?" Logan hadn't even noticed Kurt's presence for once and jerked as if he had been awakened from some sleep.
"Just… thought I'd stop by," he stammered, uncharacteristically unnerved.
His friend studied him closely and then smiled gently. "Gott always welcomes visitors." He inclined his head toward the mini-pew he had convinced Bobby and Warren to make for him. "Have a seat."
Kurt returned to the kneeler he had frequented and smiled up at the golden stand as if he was having an intimate conversation. He seemed at… peace.
This is where he gets his strength to carry on each day with a smile, Logan realized, soaking the feeling of acceptance in.
Although Logan didn't know what was in the stand, he smiled toward there to, sensing that his sense of peace came from the Object in it.
Maybe Kurt and Rogue were right. A man needed someplace to turn to in order to keep from tearing himself apart.