Ororo made her way down to the MedBay, a gym bag over her shoulder, feeling a surge of unaccustomed uneasiness.
In her heart, she feared seeing Logan's madness for reasons that ran deep. However, they were nebulous and impossible to define, so she shoved her emotions aside and placed her hand on the door, hearing the faint click as it accepted her hand and retina prints in the pulse of a moment.
The door slid open obligingly, and the shadows seemed to ripple and flow, the only marking of the room's inhabitant.
Hearing the door slide shut was no comfort, for it placed her squarely in Logan's territory, and she knew it. Yet she refused to allow herself the luxury of fear.
"Logan?" she asked, keeping her voice soft and low.
A low growl. Ororo was aware then that she was being circled, scented, observed.
The restraints were tatters on the bed.
She felt a chill knowing that he was unfettered, but again, she remained calm and spoke softly.
"Logan." she made the name a statement.
Another low, sharp growl. Glints of gold marked the point that her teammate and friend had halted, watching her from the shadows.
"Do you understand what I am saying?" Carefully, she moved deeper into the room until a harsh sound warned her she was to stop.
There was no reply.
Logan resumed his restless circling.
Ororo waited until his circular movements brought him to the edge of the shadows, where she could see his outline. That and his sharp, observant eyes.
She brought the bag she carried out, setting it on the floor, then moved back.
Logan moved forward, a claw extending, and fished it back into the shadows. She heard him slash it open impatiently, the rustle of movement, then the soft clicks of her offering.
Old toy blocks spilled onto the floor, and he looked back at her, eyes tracking her movements.
Taking a series of letters, she spelled out his name. "L-O-G-A-N." the weather mutant said, softly, resting a finger against each block.
Logan swatted them aside, expression fierce. He grabbed one block, sniffed it curiously, then tossed it to the floor.
She picked it back up, watching him. "That is your name." Keeping her voice gentle and reassuring, she tried again, and the reaction was similar.
Finally, she lifted a block and tried again, a different name.
"O-R-O-R-O." Indicating herself, the young woman pointed to the blocks. "My name."
He sniffed the air, and suddenly her senses were assailed by scent and awareness. Scent-almost-taste of honey and almond. Orchids in bloom. Clouds clean and soft swirling about.
Logan regarded her with unreadable eyes.
Ororo was shaken, but handed him a block.
He crouched down, placing one atop it.
Encouraged, she placed another block, then he, and soon they had a small, wobbling building that rose almost a foot high.
Smiling then, she made a motion as if to knock it over, for the sheer fun of it.
His eyes were puzzled as he obliged. Blocks went everywhere, and Logan gathered them up, returning them to a pile in front of her, clearly curious as to what silly game she intended to play next.
As they stacked and built, she tried to coax his memory, any recogniton at all, but he did not respond, other than to growl low in his throat. Strangely, it was not threatening, only a dismissal of her attempt to broach the subject.
Several hours later, she rose and promised, "I'll come back tommarrow."
Captive. Lone. was the eddy-thought-sensation in reply.
Ororo left quickly.
Once outside, she leaned against the door, struggling not to weep for her friend.
Yet the strangest thing was - she had enjoyed herself with him.
Playing with simple, non-technological blocks, she had - fun.
With Logan?
She had fun - more fun than the board games the group occasionally played. More fun than the television, even more - or at least as much - pleasure as she had working with her plants.
Ororo was confused, but more, she was deeply worried.
As she left the area, she tried to think of another simple toy she could use to jog the memory of the mutant known as Wolverine.
Even in sleep, late that night, she thought about coloring books and action figures, pencils and blue horses, and a little boy with golden eyes that watched the others play but stayed in the shadows, watching...watching...
Watching...