"I don't know Charles, something feels off in the air," Logan grumbled, leaning against the wooden paneling of the walls within the Xavier institute.
The man known to most as the Wolverine was dressed in his typical day attire: white wife beater and a pair of extremely ripped jeans. He had just spent the afternoon training in the Institute's gym and was headed for a run when he felt the sensation in the air again. The mutant was voicing the same concern to the professor that he had been for the past several weeks. Logan could keenly feel something in the air, something that changed how it normally was, some kind of energy that sought him out and drove his instincts wild.
"I've had multiple sessions with Cerebrum Logan, but there doesn't seem to be anything going on that would be a cause for concern," Dr. Charles Xavier answered calmly, not entirely sure as to what Logan was referring to.
And it was true, Dr. Xavier had consulted Cerebrum multiple times. The Professor had allowed his mind to reach all corners of the world and had found nothing amiss. There were no evident dangers above the usual, and no new particularly dangerous or spectacular mutants that needed to be guided. But the Professor also wasn't one to dismiss instinct. If Logan truly felt there was something strange, Charles Xavier was inclined to believe the Wolverine.
"I've just got this itching in the back of my brain—and I'm feeling this…force…that keeps pulling at me and I don't know what it is," Logan tried explaining the sensation that he had been experiencing just as he had done for the better part of the last few weeks. In the last few days the strange pulling sensations had been especially strong and had kept the Wolverine's feet pointed South, though the mutant didn't know why.
"Do you think it may be your memories, your brain finally healing from the trauma and the left behind memories attempting to resurface?" Charles suggested, delighted as the idea that Logan might regain the part of himself that he had been desperately seeking for so long.
The loss of his memories, and not knowing his own history, had plagued Logan since the moment that Charles Xavier had met him and invited him to the stay at the Institute. Despite numerous sessions with the Professor, within Cerebrum, with other equally strong mutants that were telepathically inclined, no one could unlock the portion of Logan's brain that had kept all of the parts of his past that he wanted to know so badly.
Logan shook his head, although not ready to dismiss the idea entirely, "I don't know. It doesn't seem like it, plus I've been here the whole time, what could trigger any of my memories this way?"
"The world is a mysterious place Logan; we cannot explain everything that goes on. Only learn from it," Charles answered cryptically, as he was ought to do, causing Logan to huff in response.
"I don't know, all I know is, if it keeps going like this, I'm gonna end up clawing someone into ribbons," Logan growled, rubbing a hand tiredly across his face. The mutant was exhausted, constantly fighting the urge to move his feet and run South, for God only knows why.
"I'll keep that in mind, my friend," Charles answered congenially, before rolling away from Logan and towards the door, "Now I believe I have a class to teach, and so do you,"
Logan grumbled under his breath, reluctant to go teach a class of pre-pubescent kids who were all way too excited and overeager. But the Wolverine followed after the telepath with no complaint coming from his mouth.
….
Victor sniffed the air again. In the woods of Alberta, Canada, the feral had returned to his childhood home, a strange pulling dragging him away from the western United States and moving him east. The mutant mistakenly thought it was just his nostalgia and instincts, wanting him to go home. However, now whatever it was that was compelling him to move, was making him go South.
The feral hadn't felt like this in a long time. Rarely had Victor ever felt compelled to go anywhere that he didn't want to go himself. But the mutant knew that if he kept moving South, he would eventually run into Jimmy. Which was going to be sad enough on its own. His poor baby brother, all alone without his memories.
Despite what most people thought, Victor was severely protective of his younger brother, the only family he had left alive. But he also respected that the things that he had did while under Stryker's influence severely damaged his relationship with Jimmy. So he let his little brother have his space, let him live that human life with that Professor.
The kid had never been the same after her death. Neither had Victor. Which is probably why they had split, neither of the brothers could stand to be around each other initially after the incident. Shaking his head of the thoughts plaguing his mind, Victor stopped moving East and started moving South, toward whatever it was that was pulling him there.
The mutant had no idea what it could be. And no doubt Erik would be mad at him for being away from the Brotherhood for so long, but Victor Creed was never one to shy away from his instincts. And his instincts were screaming at him to go South and find whatever it was that was dragging him there. The feeling was so familiar it made Victor's heart ache, the feral surprised at the feeling because he had thought his heart had hardened and turned cold long ago.
Hopefully, he wouldn't run into Jimmy along the way. Those always end up in nastier encounters that gave Victor a bad taste in his mouth. Plus, the kid still didn't have any of his memories.
…
The first sense to come back was smell. There was antiseptic in the air, letting Angeline know that she was most likely in some kind of sterile environment. Sound came next, and the beeping of a heart monitor alerted the mutant that she was in a hospital, or some kind of medical care facility. The next, sight. Eyes fluttering open slowly, Angeline looked around, before touch finally came back and she felt the IV lodged in her arm and pushing in more liquid into her body. Eventually, the mutant also noticed the handcuffs wrapped around her wrists and arms so that she was unable to move.
"So you're awake," a man in a black coat with one eye stood in front of the foot of the bed Angeline was occupying, "We had bets going to see how much longer you'd be out cold. Apparently the serum that Doctor Banner formulated was far more concentrated than anything used on you before,"
Angeline stared coldly at the man before her, forcing her will, trying to make something happen. But the terrifying familiar feeling of numbness and static filled her body and head, making it impossible for Angeline to access anything, to attune herself to anything. The mutant shook her wrists, trying to remove herself from the confines of them and the bed.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you. The more you move, the more of that special little serum will be pumped into your body. Wouldn't want you inadvertently killing anyone with your powers, now would we?" the man in the black coat smirked, obviously thinking that he had won and making Angeline fume with rage.
"Let me go," grinding her teeth together, Angeline had no choice but to settle back into the bed and try not to make too much movement so that the IV wouldn't drip more into her body.
"You see, as much as that would be the right thing to do, it is also the wrong thing to do. Do you know why Ms. Stuart?" obviously a rhetorical question, the Director was met with silence and he continued along, "Because Hydra wants you and you're dangerous. Which means we can't let you go anywhere outside of our supervision,"
"If Hydra comes, I will take care of them myself," Angeline spat vehemently, unamused with the man before her and ready to snap his neck, if only she had the power to do so at the moment.
"See that," Nick Fury pointed a finger at Angeline, "That right there is why we're so concerned. You're a ticking time bomb Ms. Angeline Stuart. And SHIELD can't risk someone like you falling into Hydra's hands or going rogue and trying to take over the world,"
Angeline rolled her eyes. "I don't care about such things. I just want my revenge,"
"That's what they all say, but you'll find after decades of working in this business, I don't take anyone for just their word," Director Fury placed his hands on the bars at the end of the bed, leaning forward to stare directly in Angeline's eyes, "You were under Hydra's care for a little more than 90 years Ms. Stuart. That's a long time to be an experiment, enough time for an organization to brainwash someone if need be. Especially an impressionable young lady like the one you were,"
A confused look passed through Angeline's face before a dawning look of comprehension sparked a sadistically mischievous look in her eye. "You think I am one of them. A trap." Angeline began to laugh mockingly, openly, to the point that Fury started to shift uncomfortably. "Brainwashed to do Hydra's bidding. So that I may what? Infiltrate your organization for them? Is that what is running through your head Director Fury?"
Fury narrowed his eye, unamused at Angeline's demeanor and opened his mouth to reply, only to be reprimanded by the mutant before him. "No! Keep your mouth shut. I don't need my powers to know what is exactly running through your mind. And while I applaud your deductive efforts, obviously the files you have pulled from Hydra are incomplete. I was never a young, naïve, impressionable little girl when Hydra took me. By that time, I was nearly half a millennium old. Or did the files you stole not tell you that? It wouldn't surprise me, given how little Hydra actually knew about me. They didn't care to look beyond my powers. Just. Like. SHIELD."
….
The Avengers watched the interaction between Director Fury and Angeline through the one-way glass panel of the hospital room within the SHIELD facility that they had put her in. The Director usually was an incredibly imposing, intimidating man. Therefore, it was extremely unsettling to see someone else dominating the conversation, being one step (or maybe even several steps) ahead of Fury.
"If he stays there any longer, and keeps going with his usual song and dance, Fury will poison her against us," eyes focused on his phone in front of him, Stark was only paying the bare minimum of attention to the interaction on the other side of the wall. But it didn't take a genius to know that the conversation that the Director was making, the typical one that he usually used to make people join SHIELD, wasn't flying. The intimidation factor seemed to do little to nothing to the mutant at all.
"You don't know that," always extremely defensive of Fury, Natasha's eyes betrayed her as she watched the interaction on the other side of the glass worryingly.
"Maybe we should have had one of us approach her," Bruce considered, not liking the hostile environment that was brewing between Fury and Angeline.
"Because that worked so well last time?" Clint quipped sarcastically, causing Thor to nod along agreeably, the Thunder God also displeased with how the interactions have gone so far.
"Well let's send the Cap in there and maybe if he makes goo goo eyes at her she'll comply," Stark suggested smarmily, though from the look on his face everyone could tell he was serious.
"What?" Steve looked over at his team mates, startled, "Why me?"
"You did rescue her, like a damsel in distress," Natasha shared a look with Tony, the two coming into the same line of thought, which was probably a sign of the apocalypse itself.
"And she called you pretty," Tony smirked, "Yeah, we heard that over the comms line. You were out cold but the rest of us weren't,"
"I do not think it appropriate to manipulate Lady Angeline in such away. She has already been tortured and manipulated for a very long time, if the information you and Jarvis have extracted have indicated anything," there was an unsettled look on Thor's face. The centuries of chivalry and codes of honor that were ingrained in the Asgardian rubbed wrongly against this sort of deviousness.
"What choice do we have?" Clint threw up his hands, "It's us or them and right now with the way that Fury is conducting things, it's more likely she'll pick them. We let her go out on her own, she's going to get captured. We don't do anything to convince her, Hydra might just find a way to do it instead. This is war and we need to win every little battle we can,"
Everyone was surprised at the archer's outburst. No one knew where it came from, Agent Barton being usually so level headed, stoic even.
"You okay there Agent Barton?" Bruce eyes watched Clint warily, not wanting to set the SHIELD agent off. High amounts of stress and anger, even in other people, could set off the Other Guy and right now was not an appropriate time to also lose his own cool.
"I'm fine!" Clint announced to the group who were all watching him with various degrees of concern and confusion, "Look, she's a victim as much as any one else and right now, Fury is treating her like a hostile. He did the exact same to us and do you all remember your own reactions?" looks of comprehension were slowly coming to every member of the group, "Now imagine if you had 90 years of trauma, of mental manipulation and torture under your belt only to be treated like a hostile by everyone you meet after you're rescued. Trust me when I say I know the feeling—even if my time was much shorter than hers,"
A moment of silence descended upon the team. Everyone taking a second to really think about what Clint had said. Each team member looked at each other, sharing looks, and slowly understanding came. This was a woman who had been abused for longer than any of them could comprehend. What she needed right now was a friend, not an interrogator, not another organization that just wanted to use her.
Steve sighed, "Alright, I'll go in to see her,"
…
The Asset glanced around at the rubble of what was left of the Hydra base in Namibia. The Director was not happy. None of the leaders were at the turn of events. And because he had been tasked with subduing the patient and bringing her in, with every base that was destroyed, he had been punished.
The punishments didn't faze him. Nothing did anymore. After all these years, the only thing the Asset truly feared was the chair. The pain of the chair was beyond comprehension, and everything always became worse after it. Not a single thing would make sense, and the only things he'd know were the orders that the leaders gave him.
However, that had been changing recently. Sometimes, at night, he would have nightmares, memories, of his past. Sometimes the patient would be in them to. And sometimes, she would communicate with him. It started ever since her escape.
"James" the calling of that name would send the Asset's eyes flying open—although he knew even subconsciously that he was still asleep, in the room that Hydra was want to put him in whenever he was back from a mission and was successful and not in need of more "discipline," and having not felt the deep cold of the room he usually slept in surrounding his limbs. Instead, a familiar warmth washed over him and he sat up and looked around.
The image that the Asset was presented with was a forest, somewhere he recognized but couldn't remember where. But instead of the winter cold in which he was used to, the Asset found himself standing in the forest in the middle of summer. The Sun was shining through the leaves of the trees above, breaking a part in a scatter of light. Holding up a hand, the Asset crouched down and touched the ground, before standing up and walking around a bit, feeling wonder at how lifelike and real everything felt. The ground crunched beneath his feet, and the Asset wondered how it was possible the Patient could get something like this so accurate.
The Patient appeared, looking much better than when he had last seen her—healthy and glowing even. The Asset was very much aware that her escape had meant that the Patient's powers had returned, he just wasn't expecting her to reach out to him. He watched her with wary eyes as she approached him. No doubt she was currently resting somewhere, the Asset deduced that there was no way she would recover fast enough in order to expend this amount of energy and still remain conscious—especially if it was over such a great distance.
"This isn't a dream," a wicked little smile played across Angeline's face as she observed James' overall confusion over what was going on.
"How are you doing this?" the Asset managed to find his voice, wanting to know just how much the Patient had recovered, what was the extent in which she could operate now that she was out of Hydra's grasp.
"It's time to leave, James," the Patient approached him, her face blank but her eyes kind as she reached out a hand. "Find me," placing her outstretched hand on the Asset's arm, the Patient gripped his arm until it hurt. "We have work to do,"
And like that, the Patient disappeared before the Assets's eyes and he bolted awake in his head, his head drenched with sweat and his body still warm. Besides that being the evidence that the interaction had actually been real, the Asset looked down at his real arm and saw the bruising of finger's on his skin.
Taking a deep breath, the Asset considered his options. There was a compellment that he was feeling, deep somewhere in his consciousness, to listen to the Patient. Whatever hold she had on him—because of her powers or not, the Asset felt the need to find her, she was right, they did have work to do. He couldn't remember what the work was, as he was want to remember anything usually, but he knew that they did. The two of them had to do something and so the Asset began preparing himself to find the Patient and reunite with her, so that they could continue on their journey.
Because of the patient, things were piecing together again, though the Asset was careful not to let anything slip, not to let anything show. He was still determined to find her, so that they could continue their work—whatever that work was. The Asset just knew that it was important, and that he needed to find her.
Especially because something was wrong.
When she escaped, the patient had left a trail for him to follow, in his mind. And there was a warm presence in the back of his mind, guiding him. Trying to communicate with him. Sometimes it would work, and she would be able to get to him. But now everything was cold and silent.
Something must have happened. That the Asset was sure of it. Thus, under the guise of tracking her down for the Director, the Asset was making his way to try and find the patient, so that she could fix him, once and for all.
…
It took a little arguing on their part. Okay, a lot of arguing. But eventually, the Avengers managed to convince Fury to let Captain Rogers meet with Angeline Stuart one on one, on his own. In the face of his super-powered team, the Director had no choice but to acquiesce. Especially when miracle upon miracles, they were all in agreement with each other for once. That was a rarity in and of itself.
Thus, Steve Rogers stood in front of the door that would lead into Angeline Stuart's hospital room, unsure with how to proceed. In terms of the team, besides Dr. Banner, he was the most like Angeline. Genetically enhanced, from a different time, and with personal beef against Hydra. But the Captain was unsure he would be able to bond with the mutant beyond that. Plus, he had never been good at talking with dames, like ever.
Reaching a hesitant hand out, Steve turned the door knob and opened the door, slowly walking in. Momentarily blinded by the white, fluorescent lights of the ceiling, the Captain's eyes adjusted for a moment before the image of Angeline appeared solid before his eyes.
She looked a lot better than she did before. Face no longer gaunt, a glow to her skin that wasn't there the day that he had took her from the Hydra compound. She had sharp, angular features—classically high cheekbones and a strong jaw. But her eyes were round, and had the possibility of looking kind, once upon a time. Steve was hoping that their conversation would go better than their previous ones.
Angeline pursed her lips, not entirely displeased with the new arrival who decided to enter into her prison room. "Captain Rogers," her voice was smooth and clear, with no detectable sign of hostility, just a casual tone that made it seem like the two of them were going to start a normal conversation, "Curious that Director Fury would send you in. I was under the impression that Dr. Banner was your resident biologist,"
"We're not going to have Dr. Banner test you, ma'am. Not unless you consent to it," stepping further into the room, Steve sat down at the chair at the opposite end of the wall from where Angeline sat.
Lift an eyebrow curiously, Angeline frowned, "Than what is it that you want?" leaning forward, Angeline met Steve's eyes unwaveringly, "Do forgive me, without my abilities, I can't anticipate everything in your head right now, no matter my powers of deduction,"
"I thought we could talk," Steve suggested lightly, uncrossing his arms from his chest in order to seem more open.
Angeline barked out laughter, "And what is it that you would like to talk about? My time with Hydra? The information that I know? Whether or not I will be joining your ridiculous little team? Fury has tried that already, what makes you think you will be more successful?"
"Ma'am, I know a thing or two about being experimented on. But I thought we could just talk." After a beat of silence when Steve realized he was the one that was going to have to give more, the super solder continued, "I was born in Brooklyn, in the 1920s. Dad was a soldier in the army, mom a nurse. He ended up dying on the front lines so my mom, Sarah—that was her name, she ended up raising me on her own," a small smile stretched across Steve's face, trying to be as warm and friendly as possible in order to tone down the hostile situation.
The mutant watched Steve warily. Not completely knowing just exactly where the super soldier was going with this. Obviously he was trying to disarm her, but why tell her person details about his own life? So Angeline remained silent and did not say anything.
Steve continued on, not discouraged whatsoever by Angeline's lack of response and went on undeterred, "I had a best friend growing up, his name was Bucky. Well really his name was James but everyone called him Bucky and his family was like a second family to me. But since I was frozen…I haven't gone to check on them yet, but I will. One day,"
The super soldier wanted the mutant to feel more comfortable around him, around the Avengers in general. But seeing as he had been put up for slaughter, it looked like he was the first person she would have to get comfortable with. And thus Steve kept going—feeling his mouth run off about his life, about everything that happened pre-serum
As Steve continued to ramble on about his life, telling anecdotes of a time when he was just a scrawny-little kid, Angeline began to settle in the hospital bed a little more. During a lull in Steve's speech, she finally decided to ask her own question. "You never met your father?"
Steve shook his head, "No, died before I was born. But mom had pictures and would tell me stories growing up,"
Angeline nodded, this story she could empathize with, "She must have been strong then, to do everything on her own," her eyes spoke of personal experience, watching her own mother work as a young child in order to provide for them when she was only a wee little mutant.
"Yeah, she was the greatest." Steve's throat tightened a little at the memory of his mother, so the super soldier cleared it before continuing, "Where were you, in the 1920s?"
The mutant looked hesitant to answer, but after a brief moment of deliberation, decided to answer, "Europe," a contemplative look crossed her face, "New York in the 1920s. I missed out on that. They said it was the city to be in,"
"I grew up in the 30s and 40s, so I wouldn't know," Steve rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, not sure how to proceed. "Things changed a lot, after the Depression…and the start of the war,"
War. That Angeline could fully comprehend. War was what she'd known all her life, war destroyed and created, brought out the best and worst of men. And a city like New York? Of course it would be hit just as hard.
"War, Captain Rogers, is a part of life. Struggle and difficulty as necessary as the air we breathe," an amused look played across Angeline's face but the mutant did not allow herself to smile, "How else are we supposed to grow?"
Surprised at the fact that Angeline decided to continue the conversation, Steve tired to muster enough bravery within himself to ask her a question, "Have you seen a lot of it? War? The files we managed to find said that you were captured after the First but there isn't much on your background,"
Angeline nodded slowly, staring at her hands that were handcuffed to the bedrails momentarily before looking Steve dead in the eye, "Yes I have. I have been walking the Earth far longer than Hydra has been in existence. It's not surprising that they wouldn't have any information of my time prior,"
There was a tired look in Angeline's eyes, one that Steve recognized. Similar to the look that vets would have after serving one too many tours abroad. But there was also a small spark of something, Steve wasn't sure of what, but he knew there was more to this woman in front of him than the revenge-obsessed, war-tired, exhausted and distrustful person that she was presenting to the world.
"Would you tell me about it? What it was like, when you were a kid?" there was a pure and earnest look on Steve's face, like a lost child trying to find direction.
The look made Angeline cautious again. With her powers, she could sense anyone's intention, could manipulate to her will, could fully comprehend a person and their motives to the best of her ability. But without them, she was left with the regular observational skills that she had, which wasn't enough to see if Steve was genuinely looking like a lost child because he didn't know how to proceed without seeming disingenuous, or if he was just a severely good actor and agent.
There was a beat, and Angeline decided that she could trust this solder in front of her. "I was born on a small farm in the 1500s," at the look of shock on Steve's face the mutant continued slowly, "My father died, as well, when I was just a young girl. Leaving me to be raised, alone, by my mother. I had two siblings, twin boys, who were younger than me and died of the Sweat before they could even reach maturity,"
"I'm sorry for your loss, ma'am," Steve consoled, meaning every word. He knew what it was like to lose people that were close to you, people that you considered family, people that were family. He couldn't imagine losing younger brothers and not being devastated at the loss. The super soldier also knew that the mutant before him was old, having been listening to her conversation with Fury, but hearing her say just exactly when she was born brought a whole other world of perspective for Steve to contemplate.
Angeline shrugged, unfazed after all these centuries, "It was a long time ago, there's nothing to be sorry for,"
"Still, they were your siblings. And losing siblings, no matter how long ago, hurts," there was a crack in Steve's voice, his tone so filled with emotion and his eyes so expressive that Angeline couldn't help but believe him.
"You've lost quite a few people haven't you Captain? Important people, people that you have loved and respected," it didn't take a genius or a telepath to see that the man before her, Angeline noted, had experience great loss and heartache.
The super soldier nodded, hands balled in fists and looked determinedly at the wall behind Angeline's head, "Yeah, I have ma'am. Thanks to the war, to Hydra. We all have—every single one of the people in my team," Steve took a deep breath, steeling himself for the next part of the conversation. The part that the people in the other room were waiting for.
All of this would be pointless unless they got Angeline to their side. And they needed her, she was more powerful than any one they had ever encountered and despite the protests of several of the team members (namely Clint and Natasha) having her around could be an incredible asset. Besides that, Steve felt, for the first time, a connection with someone. With her. She had come from the same time (sort of) as him, had been plucked out and isolated for decades. If anyone knew what it was like to be a person out of time, it would be her.
"Look, ma'am, Hydra, they're bad news. And SHIELD, while some of their tactics may be questionable, they're out to do good. To get rid of Hydra. And we could use your help," Steve struggled to find the words to communicate himself to Angeline in an original way, who had already heard this speech before. "They took my best friend from me, 70 years ago, and made me lose decades away from my friends and family. I know a little bit of what you lost and I think together, we can bring them down and get justice,"
Angeline watched Steve carefully, searching his face for any signs of falsity. The mutant recognized the look of pain and loss that painted the super soldier's features, she had seen it enough in the mirror in the mornings and at night. The emotion coming from him seemed genuine, he seemed genuine, but it didn't mean she trusted the organization that Steve vouched for. But, Angeline contemplated, perhaps she could trust the man before her—who was baring his heart and soul unabashedly, even with the knowledge that she could flay it.
Finally, after another moment of deliberation, Angeline nodded slowly. "Send in your Director, I would like to have a few words with him,"
….
Logan rolled over in his bed, grumbling underneath his breath. Sleep had evaded the mutant for the better part of the last few days.
The nagging that he had been feeling in the back of his head, the need to move his feet and head South hadn't evaporated. It had only gotten worse. Despite what the Professor said, the feral still had a feeling in the pit of his stomach and the small feeling in the back of his mind had turned into something more. Before, it was more like a nudge, a little hint, but now it was like there was something crashing around in his mind, urging him to move. To find something that he had no recollection of, that he wasn't familiar with.
Flashes of memories would come back to him sometimes. Brief conversations, an image in his head. A melodic voice that Logan didn't recognize. At first, they had only come once every few days. But as time moved on, as weeks passed, the brief images became more and more frequent. They were still jumbled up and only partial, never making more than a brief appearance, never a full story or conversation.
A flash of dark hair. An image of startling blue eyes. A smile. Laughter. The woods. The images would bombard him at the most inconvenient of times. And after the images would flood his mind, the persistent force would urge him to move again, becoming stronger and stronger each time. It was starting to get hard for Logan to resist.
Professor Xavier didn't know what was wrong with him either, unable to access that portion of his mind. Whatever it was, it was being protected by a strong barrier within Logan's mind that only the mutant had access to, and even that was limited. But the Professor advised to not move, thinking that whatever it was, to be able to breach the mind of the Wolverine, it had to be a trap by one of their enemies. Perhaps Erik had found another telepath, this one stronger than any that they've encountered, to try and brainwash Logan away.
He had tried going to Jean. Their interaction had been…awkward. Not initially, when it was the two of them it was the usual banter that he had with the redhead. It didn't get stilted until Scott walked into the room, the man still not particularly happy whenever Logan and Jean were alone together despite the fact that Logan had promised that he would back off. So Logan asked Jean to go in his head, with Scott watching them in the corner of the room. But even a strong of a telepath as Jean was, she couldn't even get in his head and find out what was wrong. So Logan was left to his own devices.
His gut was still rolling around, making him nauseous sometimes. That had started only a few days ago. The headaches and nausea were actually getting worse really, the more he tried to ignore the call. The Professor had told him that perhaps it would pass, but Logan was finding that hard to believe. Something this strong had to be an omen for something and there was no way that it was just going to pass on its own.
Rolling out of his bed, and throwing on his leather jacket, Logan made his way out of the institute. Firing up his motorcycle, the mutant decided that he would go out for a drive in the woods, hoping that at least would clear up his mind.
!
