The first thing he felt was pain. A shooting pain throughout his whole body, and a blankness in his mind. 'Oh no,' He thought, trying to sit up. His eyes were blinded by the light, his ab muscles like a newborn baby's. 'What's... Wrong with me?' The school, the students, Charles all shoot to his fatigued mind. He is recalibrated now, and he needs to see that they're all alright.
He moves a little too quickly and groans in pain. His acute hearing picks up that someone's right beside him. His mind shoots to the petite Katherine Pryde. She's slowly turning into an adult, even if she can pass for fourteen. She'll always be a little girl to him. He almost smiles at the thought of her, waiting patiently by his bedside even though he's fine. It's very like her.
He forces his eyes to open and he catches a flash of red leaving the infirmary. His heart stopped. There were no other red heads at the school, not like her. He found a second wind and leaned up, grunting with the effort. He hears an amused humming beside. A very distinct voice. Southern. A voice he hadn't had the pleasure of hearing for some time.
His eyes watered involuntarily, the stiff bandaging rubbing against his midsection. He turned to his side to see none other than Rogue. Her hair is just grazing her shoulders. She sat there in a cropped leather jacket and a black, long sleeved 'X' shirt, smiling. She still painted her eyes and lips too dark, but he can't help but bust out into a goofy grin. She tucked a bit of silver hair behind her ear in a way only she can, and Logan realized how much he'd missed her.
But this wasn't right. Was he dead, also? He began to feel uneasy as she smiled like her. If it was an illusion, it was the most elaborate one he'd ever encountered. With shaking hands, he reached out for her. He didn't know what else to do. And like she might cry herself, like she understood, Rogue reached back and linked a gloved hand with his. She swallowed hard, her eyes watery. "Welcome back." She sighed.
Logan didn't care about looking or seeming tough, crying or not crying. He was sure he would find out something devastating later, that this wasn't the truth. This was only his death dream. And worse, he'll have to return to the living knowing it wasn't real. But for now, he would cherish it. Savor it. Hold on to it as long as he could. "I could say the same, Stripes." The nickname hurt to say, Logan hadn't been much for nicknames in the times after her passing.
She squeezed his hand so tight he began to become convinced she was real (or he was dead, and they were together). "You're a sight for sore eyes. I was beginnin' to worry." Rogue finally flickers at the moisture collecting in her eyes. Logan couldn't take his eyes off of it. She's aged, but just barely. She looked exactly how he'd picture her if she was still there.
'This can't be real,' He remembers, his head foggy with seratonin. She frowns when she notices his expression. "What is it, what's the matter?" He grips her hand tight.
"You're not... You're not supposed to be here." He looked at her as though he were guilty. "Are you?" Rogue sat back uncomfortably.
"Ah should get Hank." She insisted, standing. But he pulled her tight and looked at her like he might never see her again. The look made her sit down slowly.
"Please," He choked. "Don't leave." Rogue looked into his eyes and she'd never seen him so desperate before.
"Ah won't go anywhere. Ah promise." He leaned back, feeling groggy despite not wanting to sleep. 'What if it's a dream... What if I can't see her and Jean again...' He blinked, his vision going blurry. "Get some rest. Ah'll be here when ya wake up." His eyes shut against his will and he surrendered to the dark.
When he awoke hours later, she was curled up in the chair beside him. His heart rate slowed as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. His healing factor seemed to have finally kicked in. He didn't feel any pain. He turned and jerked when he saw Jean Grey by his bedside. His breath escaped his lungs in surprise. "Hey, sleepy head." He blinked, taking in the sight of her.
She was just like she always was, perfect smile. Perfect hair. He fought the urge to rub his eyes. "Red," He croaked. She beamed at him.
"You're finally awake." She tossed an affectionate look at Rogue. "Maybe now she'll get some real rest." He can't find it in himself to laugh, he's too busy watching her, like she's a mirage that might fade away. "What's with the look, silly?" His tongue is completely and hopelessly tied. He can't stop thinking about how lucky he was to be seeing her, even if it was a trick; a lie.
"Sorry, woke up feelin' weird..." He mumbled, seeing it pointless now to cause a ruckus. Jean nodded knowingly.
"I bet, Wanda did a number on you." He rubbed his head, itching to get out of his bandages. "You're gonna feel a little concussed for a few days, it's nothing strange." He nodded dumbly, his eyes following her form as she tidied up the infirmary. She draped a blanket over Rogue and smiled at him. "Get some rest so we can all get out of this infirmary."
He still couldn't speak. He just watched her, an unreadable expression in his eyes. Jean cocked her head to the side. "What's that look, Logan?" He shook his head.
"Nothin', just finally damaged this brain of mine." He knocked on his head sheepishly. He watched as she disappeared down a corridor. He needed to get to the bottom of this before he lost the will to. And that would happen fast.
When he awoke in the morning Rogue seemed to have retired to her bed. Replacing her spot was Laura. He stared at her for a long while, perfectly still. Like she was a mirage who would disappear if he spooked her. She stared back, thousands of words in her dark stare. Words he understood all too well. "Laura..." He rasped after a while. She moved forward through the sunlight blaring through the windows.
She didn't say anything, but she touched the rough bandaging on his chest. "I never got to..." She touched his arm, as if to silence him. He obeyed, just enjoyed another moment with the girl. Something he was denied in real life. When he lost track of time, she disappeared into the heart of the mansion, leaving the man to his thoughts. He didn't know what to think. If this was the product of Wanda, he had every incentive not to give in to accepting this to the truth. It was probably a trick, and he was dying in reality.
And yet, it was so tempting. The ones he failed living peacefully, happily... It scares him how tempting it was. Would it be wrong? A splitting pain wracked his head, a sudden memory. He sees Wanda and Pietro talking. 'Did the Scarlet Witch do what he said... Is this the reality I've most wanted?' Seemingly peaceful with everyone he cared about taken care of?
If so, was there any harm in leaving it that way? If everyone got the reality they were suited to? He felt selfish for pondering it, but also tired. Tired of fighting. Of losing things. People. He couldn't lose anymore. Jean and Laura seemed content, the exact same. But something seemed off about Rogue, like she knew as much as he did. That something wasn't right. He sighed, moving the sheet from over him.
He wandered down the identical mansion to his room and found a change of clothes. He threw out the bandages and dressed himself in a familiar dark t shirt and jeans. On his way out, he spots Jean in the rec room in a smock. Painting. He sighed, remembering painting together when she was just a little girl. She smiles and warms the wild man's heart. "Join me."
He feels he has nothing to do here, so he takes her up on it. He sits beside her in comfortable silence. He just lets the brush and the colors lead him, his painting turning into a sunset. He peaks over at Jean and sees her painting wild, warm flames. He smirked to himself, on brand for her. They paint together in silence in the mid afternoon.
He wandered outside to the backyard after a while, to find Kitty, Bobby, and Kurt all barbecuing.
"It's a picnic, Mr. Logan!" Kitty called, waving him over. They were all the same as they were in what he thought was the real world. Just happier, here. There seemed to be no trouble in this reality. He wandered over and joined in making peanut butter and jelly sandwich with Kitty while Kurt cooked wieners. It felt like an eternity since Logan could relax like this with any student. He didn't relax at all after Rogue died.
He couldn't identify the strange feelings he felt. He felt uncomfortable. Angry. Was it peace? Was he finally not worrying, not mourning for these children he let himself fall in love with? Kill and die for. He wanted to feel that way, more than he wanted to find the truth. More than he wanted to fix things. How can it be fixing things if so many would be missing?
At least here, they had everyone. If he worked at it hard enough, he could forget where he came from. He squinted in the distance where Scott waved at him. He waved back, trying to shake the strange feeling. 'If I feel like this is where I should be...' He looked up, seeing Rogue beside Scott. 'Who can tell me it's not?' Maybe, after a life of trying to fix everything, everything he could. He deserved this.
He looked at the unbitten peanut butter and jelly sandwich in his hand. 'Can I do this?' He thought about Jean, about Laura.