Chapter Seven Playlist:

•Bullet With Butterfly Wings ~ Karen O

Note:

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Feeling the heat rising in her —now red— cheeks, Johanna's jaw clenched. She was boiling with fury, her high blood pressure most definitely through the roof —adrenaline pumping throughout her veins and her head throbbing erratically. She then shot Logan a glare, and his countenance surprised her. He was clearly hurt —his brows furrowed, and his lips formed into a tight frown.

Shaking her head, Johanna forced herself to look away. Truthfully, whatever pain he felt, even if it was for her, didn't matter. And to hell with that soft, small voice in the back of her mind —who she called her conscience— that told her she was being callous; because he did seem to care about her. But right now, Logan's concern for her wasn't enough. Because it was neither his or, frankly, anyone else's problem at the moment. Her only friend was dead. Johanna had a every right to be callous.

"I'm so sorry, Anna." Logan began to apologize, reaching for her hand, which she snatched away.

Making up her mind, Johanna nodded. "I gotta get outta here," she said, determined; ignoring Logan's presence. To her, he was just a ghost now. A ghost who apparently brought bad luck. Because if it weren't for him, Lori would still be alive. At least... that's the belief Johanna currently clung onto.

Kicking the covers away, swinging her legs over, —which were a little thinner than she remembered— Johanna hopped out of the hospital bed. Taking a couple wobbly steps, Johanna felt stronger, despite what had happened in the accident. The car crash definitely took a toll on her body... or so she thought; the pain she recalled feeling, was now just a fuzzy memory.

"Now wait just a moment, Anna," Logan demanded. "What the hell are you doing?"

Johanna began violently ripping the needles out of her arm, oblivious to the fact that her wounds were beginning to rapidly heal; along with the prominent bruises. Clothing herself in silence, Johanna ignored Logan as she put on her shirt, jacket, and then her pants. There was no time for modesty, especially if she wanted to get the hell outta there.

Logan knew what was going on, the decision she'd made, the minute the needle and the tube hit the floor. She was on her own mission... to leave. To escape. Shutting his eyes, gripping the bridge of his nose, Logan was overwhelmed with the sudden feeling of major déjà vu. Wasn't he just here? Disoriented and heavily frustrated, because some stranger was about to poke him with something sharp, just like the scientists had done many times before?

Years ago, Logan had those same urges —to flee and break out of the mansion's infirmary; and whoever was in his way, was completely insignificant. Though... instead of him almost hurting who he later found out was Jean, Johanna was most definitely going to hurt him, if he made any moves to stop her. Because now —like Logan, once before— Johanna was not only tenacious, but also unrelenting; completely closed off to sound reason.

"Anna," Logan said slowly, approaching her as if he was dealing with a wild animal; ready to bite anything or anyone trying to harm it. "Just calm down. I can smell you. I know you're angry. Just please, listen to me."

No answer.

"I know what you're going through right now. I've been through a helluva lot worse, and it sucks, believe me. Maybe if you had a moment to cool off—"

At this, Johanna let out a quick breath through her teeth —almost sounding like a cat hissing— ferociously running her fingers through her thick, chocolate mane.

"Look... your friend, Lori, wasn't who you thought she was. She—"

"Don't you dare talk about Lori! You have no right!" Johanna hissed, stabbing her finger at Logan, her eyes a blazing blue. "You have about three minutes to explain to me what the hell happened yesterday! THREE!"

Johanna then lowered herself on the cold floor to put on her combat boots.

"Yester—" Logan then stopped, feeling as if the air had suddenly been sucked out of his chest. Holy hell, Logan thought. Of course she didn't know. How could she?

"Anna," Logan said firmly. "You'd been unconscious for about a couple weeks. Almost a month, actually."

A couple weeks.

A couple... weeks.

A... couple... weeks.

Logan's words incessantly echoed in Johanna's mind. And it only fueled her rage, adding more gasoline to an already scorching fire.

Making her way out of the infirmary, Johanna hurried down the long hallway, stopping at what looked to be an elevator. Jabbing the button, Johanna waited with her arms tightly crossed, dramatically tapping her boot. When the doors opened, Logan brushed past her as she entered; pushing a gold button that read Level One.

None of them uttered a single word the entire way up, Logan stealing a couple glances from the corner of his eye. Johanna was staring hard at the ceiling, fuming; her anger growing stronger as they got closer to the first floor. If Johanna was going to bite the outside of her upper lip any harder, he should just expect to see it gone sooner or later.

When the doors opened, Logan took a step forward, before Johanna shoved him aside —as much as he allowed— and booked it, darting past the small, cluster of students chatting in the foyer; who had already heard of the rumors about the new girl and herlengthy recovery.

Charging through the front doors, Johanna broke out into a jog, until she abruptly came to a halt; utterly thunderstruck. There had definitely been a few pictures released onto the internet, showcasing the school's campus. Though, to witness the property in person, was an entirely different experience; making Johanna feel as if she was standing in the middle of the spacious courtyard at Yale. Buildings, dorms, and trees surrounded the main mansion, and students —from the ages of twelve to about twenty three— were laughing and walking past her; smiling. Completely oblivious to her current crisis.

"You don't have to leave, y'know." Logan called, putting a healthy distance between them. "It's really nice here."

Her hands planted firmly on her hips, Johanna glared up into the grayish sky, desperately trying not to cry —a sudden burst of emotions overwhelming her; from awe and confusion to rage and grief.

"I have to do something," she shot back. "And leaving, just feels... right."

"Then," Logan stepped forward, "I'll go with you." He had wanted it to be a suggestion, as to not spook her, but it came out sounding like a statement. Like he'd already made up his mind —which he did— to follow her wherever she went; to the ends of the earth if it came to it.

"No," Johanna said harshly, slowly making her way back to him; until they were only a foot apart.

"You are the last person I want following me around! It's your fault!" Johanna cried, shoving him. "She's dead because of you! I was fine before this!"

"Oh yeah?" Logan challenged, gruffly. "And what's your definition of fine? Because when people say they're fine, most times they're not. When I found you, you were hurting. And you're depressed, Johanna. You're angry. You're tired. And you're lonely!"

Without thinking, Johanna punched him in the chest with full force, sending him back a couple steps. "And why do you think that is? Huh?" she choked, violently sobbing, completely ignoring her new strength. "She was the only thing I had left! And she's gone, Logan. Gone!"

Now, herds of students were huddled closely, whispering, eyes wide; wondering who in their right mind had the guts to stand up to the Wolverine. But what shocked everyone even more, was how he did nothing, but stand there, taking the brunt of her pain.

"If you're gonna leave, and I'm not allowed to go with you, then here," Logan grunted, digging into his back pocket; pulling out his leather wallet. He then handed her eight hundred dollars. Johanna's eyes widened, eyebrows raised.

"I don't want your charity," she spat.

"The world's tough out there, Sweetheart. But fine! Think of it as a loan, then. Just pay me back when you can. Seeing as how you're too stubborn to just accept my help," Logan snapped.

Johanna glared at the cash still in Logan's outstretched hand, and defiantly took a step back.

Back inside the mansion, Storm, Scott, and the Professor were observing the whole interaction in his study.

"That poor girl," Storm said, sadly. "I wish there was something we could do to help."

Scott snorted. "Help? She's dangerous, Storm. She killed Orion without thinking twice, remember? We could've at least detained him somehow..." he trailed off, deep in thought.

"Detained him?" Storm gasped. "Orion was going to kill her. She only acted on self defense, and she saved both Rogue and Logan. Scott, where is your compassion? She has no family. No friends." Storm crossed her arms and frowned.

"Ororo is right, Scott," the Professor agreed. "Johanna just lost who she thought was her friend. She needs all the support we can give."

"But all that work, Professor," Scott complained. "Tracking Orion. And we were so close, too! Now, it's going to be even more difficult, trying to find the Sapien League compounds without him."

The Professor shook his head. Scott was like another son to him. He was a great leader of the X-Men. But sometimes, he could be quite insensitive.

Laura burst through the door, her claws itching to come out.

"Who's the chick hitting on my brother?" she demanded, and then smirked. "...literally," she clarified, walking up to the window; standing in between Storm and Scott.

"Her name is Johanna," Storm muttered.

"Okay," Laura drawled, a hand resting on her hip. "So, do I need to slice this "Johanna"? Or did my bro act like a douche?"

Scott chuckled bitterly, mumbling "It wouldn't surprise me," under his breath; earning a good punch to his bicep from Laura.

Storm then gripped Laura's shoulders. "Oh no! She's leaving."

The Professor sighed. "She'll be back," he said confidently. "She'll be back."

"And what makes you so sure?" Scott asked, skeptical.

"Because," the Professor paused, smiling softly. "Like Logan, she's searching. Desperate for answers. What she needs now is guidance and encouragement. And a little bit of what Ororo mentioned... our compassion."

The Professor exited the room, leaving the three teammates, huddled by the window.

"The Professor's right, Scott. And you know it. We can really help her." Ororo desperately wanted to join Logan outside. To not only comfort her dearest friend, but also possibly help out a new one.

Scott, though, remained silent; still set in his rigid ways and overly critical opinions. Logan always rubbed him the wrong way, ever since he showed up at the school; flirting with Jean and undermining him on most missions. But even after all that stopped, and Logan truly changed his life around —taking the role as Laura's brother more seriously— Scott still harbored those same feelings of... jealousy? Indifference?

Whatever it was, Scott was quick to showcase it; always on guard. And it didn't make things any better when his own son looked up to Logan, asking him for advice, seeking his approval. Maybe it was because Scott and Jean always fought when Henry was younger; and as he got older, the arguments got worse. And after twenty-two years, things still haven't changed for Scott; Henry barely talking to his father and mother now.

As Johanna walked away —throwing Logan's keys back, declining his offer to take his bike— the thunderclouds slowly approached; and all Scott could feel was... relief.

Maybe now, Scott thought cruelly, Logan would get a dose of his own medicine, knowing what it truly means to feel rejected.