Note: Thank you very much for the reviews! Darlin, I think your question will mostly be answered in the next chapter.

The Barn

Chapter 3: Sleepless

Logan didn't make his way back to the house that night, and as Ororo lay in her bed trying to drift into a dreamless sleep, her mind wandered to the past. It was as if she could feel him lying next to her on the bed once again, hear his heavy breaths as he slept. Ororo closed her eyes tightly and rolled to her side as she hugged a nearby pillow, trying to imagine that it was Logan she was holding onto, resting her head gently against his back. A tear squeezed from her eyes and trickled slowly down her cheek, sticking at the corner of her mouth. She pursed her lips, sniffling almost silently, the tear drop vanishing and leaving only a damp trail over her soft skin.

If she would be able to get to sleep at all, Ororo knew it would be a long night and the luxury of rest wouldn't come easy. She knew she would think of Logan as she tried to slumber, and her dreams would be plagued by long-lost memories of their past together.

- - - - -

Laying across the front seats of the old Chevy parked just in front of the demolished barn, Logan stared toward the steering wheel as he tried to sleep. It was foolish for him to be there, sleeping in the old run-down truck instead of finding a hotel closer to the near-abandoned town, but Logan didn't care. He still wanted to be close to Ororo, even if her mother's farmhouse was atleast a good fifteen or twenty miles from the barn.

It wasn't that warm, but with an old wool blanket he had in one of his saddlebags,the temperaturewas bearable. Closing his eyes, Logan began to feel the pull of sleep luring him into darkness.

"Mr. Howlett, I'd like you to try writing your name." the nurse had asked nicely, seemingly unheard by the man she was speaking to.

Logan stared straight ahead at the window behind the table he was sitting at in a wheelchair. His arms rested on the table, a piece of lined notebook paper lay in front of him as well as a pencil that had been sharpened to a fine point.

"Mr. Howlett?" the nurse called again, slightly impatient.

Clearing his throat, Logan shook his head and picked up the pencil without looking at the nurse. He awkwardly held it in his hand as if he'd never written anything before, bringing the pencil's point to the paper. Grunting in frustration, Logan tried to get his hand to work the way he wanted it to so he'd be able to write down his name. As he worked on the seemingly simple task for several minutes, the nurse looking over him keeping silent, Logan only managed to scribble a jagged line on the paper. He let out a growly sigh and dropped the pencil down on the table, letting his hands go limp.

"It's alright," the nurse said sympathetically with a small smile. "We can work on something else today."

Logan's dream took a different course and he shifted slightly in his sleep, unable to find a comfortable position on the seats of the old truck.

He was opening his eyes, slowly at first, a bright light above him causing him to blink several times before attempting to focus. His head hurt, his entire body ached, and he felt as though he could barely move. The sound of a loud, muffled voice soon assaulted his ears.

"Get the doctor, I think he's coming out of it!!"

Coming out of what? Logan tried to speak, to ask what was going on, but his throat was sore and his tongue felt like sandpaper.

Soon a figure was hovering over him, holding one of his eyes open and shining a light into it. He tried to pull away, put he could barely move. That light was making his headache worse than it already was.

"Pupils are both equal and reactive, he's looking good." the figure spoke with a low, gravelly old voice.

"What would you like me to do Doctor Wells?" it was the nurse again. She had a young, sweet, caring voice.

Things were starting to come together once Logan could hear properly again and everything wasn't extra loud and muffled. He groaned, opening and closing his mouth and hoping someone would give him something to drink.

"Here's a glass of water hun," the young nurse spoke again, bringing a cup of water toward Logan and gently pushing the straw to his dry lips.

Logan slurped up as much water as he could take, the cool liquid immediately soothing his raw throat. "Whu-where's...'Ro?" he asked raspily as the nurse began checking his vitals.

"'Ro?" the doctor questioned, looking to the nurse for an answer.

"Um...I believe his fiance's name is Ororo." she supplied, Logan nodding to confirm her response.

"We'll give her a call for you son," the old doctor's low voice sounded as he patted Logan's hand and gave a crooked smile.

Soon the dream took a different turn again, distorting the versions of his memory.

Logan was laying in the hospital bed, everything around him was dark and it appeared to be sometime after midnight. There was suddenly a bright light from the door, out in the hall. He squinted his eyes to focus on the figure that had stepped into the doorway, the light shining brightly behind them. It was Ororo, she had come to see him. "'Ro?" he choked out, voice still pretty raw from disuse.

Ororo's long, silky white hair billowed out behind her and she bowed her head, looking sad. The long and flowing white dress she wore made her look just like an angel, like she had the day he fell from the barn roof and broke his leg. She locked gazes with Logan for a moment, then suddenly her form grew transparent and she began fading away.

"'Ro!" Logan choked out again hoarsely, weakly raising an arm to reach out to her as she disappeared. He tried yelling her name, but no sound came out of his mouth and all he could do was stare after her.

"ORORO, WAIT!!!" Logan woke up screaming, his eyes burning with unshed tears. He began coughing from use of his dry throat and sat up, gasping for air. Chest heaving, Logan flung open the car door and staggered out of the truck, stumbling and dropping to his knees in the dirt. He clenched his eyes shut and grasped at his head with both hands, breathing heavily and trying to steady his nerves. He felt lost, as if he was waking up from his coma all over again and his world had been turned upside down. It was like he was losing Ororo again too.

Climbing to his feet heavily, Logan walked back to the truck and snatched his dufflebag from the back. He dragged it onto the seat and blindly dug around until his fingers clasped around a small cylinder shape. He pulled it up and raised it to the dim light of the moon, confirming that it was the right bottle. Twisting off the cap, Logan tipped the little orange container until two pills spilled into his palm. Popping the sleeping pills into his mouth, he swallowed, not having any water nearby to cleanse his dry throat and make them go down easier. Logan had a feeling he'd really need the pills to cure his insomnia tonight after his vivid dream.

- - - - -

Ororo tossed and turned in her sleep, thoughts of Logan plaguing her mind. She restlessly rolled to her right, her left arm dangling over the edge of the bed and her face stuffed into the pillow. Her guilt nagged at her, filtering in through her dreams and depriving her of true restfulness.

"Do you need anything?" Ororo asked as she handed Logan a glass of water and adjusted the pillow under his leg cast.

He gave her a look and a crooked smile. "'Ro, fer the billionth time I'm fine. Now quit babying me an' go do somethin' for yerself." he instructed firmly.

She smiled, then sighed and sunk into the chair beside the couch that Logan was laying on. "Peter returned your call, he'll be coming up tomorrow to start working on the roof."

Logan nodded with a soft grunt and rubbed the back of his head before laying back and closing his eyes.

Ororo knew that Logan would much rather be working on the roof himself, but with three fractured ribs and a bad break on his right leg, there was no way he was going up on that ladder anytime soon. Getting up, Ororo passed by the couch and bent down to kiss Logan's cheek. "Alright, I'm going down to the flower shop for an hour or so just to help out a bit. Will you be alright while I'm gone?"

"Mm-hm." Logan just nodded absently and changed the channel on the television.

"My mother will be stopping by in a little while to get dinner started. I told her just to let herself in. Oh, and she's bringing some homemade cornbread." Ororo rubbed his shoulder and smiled.

Logan grinned. "Ooh, I love yer mom's cornbread." he smirked, glancing back up at her.

Ororo smiled again, then picked up her purse from the coffee table and headed out the old screen door, opening up a window before she left to let the warm spring breeze flow into the house.

When the fond memory of being with Logan years ago had passed, Ororo's dream took a different turn, warping into a sad and all-too realistic nightmare.

It was nearly dinner time and Ororo had just returned from the flower shop in town. She was looking forward to the dinner that her mother was preparing, and she could smell the fresh cornbread scent wafting out through the window screens. Stepping in through the door, Ororo was somewhat surprised when she didn't find Logan sitting or laying on the couch where she'd left him. She knew with his injuries he had trouble getting around and was supposed to be resting, so she had figured he would be there to have his dinner in the livingroom. "Logan? Mom?" she called when she wasn't greeted by any friendly, familiar faces at her arrival.

"In here!" it was her mother's voice calling from the kitchen.

With a raised eyebrow, Ororo set down her purse and strode toward the kitchen. She found her mother by the stove, stirring a pot of chili, the still-warm cornbread sitting on the kitchen table. "Mom, where's Logan?" she asked with confusion, looking around.

"He's dying." Ororo's aging mother responded in an eerily calm tone, not looking away from the stove.

Mouth gaping open, Ororo suddenly found that her heart was beating hard in her chest and she felt extreme panic welling up inside her. "Whu-what?" she gasped in a bare whisper.

Suddenly a loud gunshot errupted in the silence and Logan staggered into the kitchen. His leg was free of the plaster cast, and he was wearing a grungy army uniform. He turned, the entire left side of his head and face covered in blood. Mouth hanging open, he suddenly collapsed and lay sprawled out on the kitchen floor, staining the tiles with oozing dark crimson blood.

"Logan!!" Ororo screamed, dropping to her knees by his side. She looked to her mother for help, but the old woman was just stirring away at the pot of chili as if nothing was happening. She frantically reached for Logan's pulse, but found none. "No!" she cried, tears streaming down her face. "You're not dying! You can't die! You didn't die!!" she pleaded, but he was already gone.

"LOGAN!!" Ororo shrieked, hot tears streaming down both sides of her face, her expression contorted with anguish. She was sitting up in bed, her heart beating erratically and she couldn't be calmed. Flinging her feet over the side of the bed, Ororo got to her feet and padded softly toward the bathroom. She turned on the cold water and splashed some on her face, still breathing heavily. She realized she was still sobbing, but she couldn't stop herself. The dream was so real, Ororo suddenly felt like she had to find Logan or else she wouldn't believe he was still alive.

Thinking back on her dream as she dressed, without even caring that it was quarter to four in the morning, Ororo couldn't help but dwell on the image of Logan dying. She wondered if it was somehow symbolic, because when she first got the call that Logan was dead, then was later told he was in a coma, Ororo thought that maybe it would be easier to believe that he was dead so she could move on without hurting so much. She knew now, that it was a foolish thing, and that she should have visited him when he was hospitalized, but it was all too much. Shaking her head, Ororo took in a deep breath before leaving her room and searching for the keys to her Jeep.

- - - - -

Nothing close to sleep came to Logan even after he had taken the sleeping pills. He laid awake, staring at the inside roof of the truck. He could feel his droopy eyes, but everytime he closed them it was like it made him more awake. Another thing Logan noticed was that his headaches seemed much more frequent since he'd returned to Arkansas, and wondered if it somehow had to do with stress, or maybe anxiety? Sighing loudly, he finally gave up on pursuing sleep and decided to keep himself busy so maybe he could exhaust himself and sleep would find him.

Logan sat up and climbed out of the truck, slamming the loud creaky door behind him and grabbing his dufflebag. He thought about working on the old Chevy to keep occupied, but realized he had no lighting. With that idea scratched, he pulled his motorcycle keys from his jeans pocket, having gone to sleep in his clothes, and mounted the bike. After sitting there for a moment and staring up at the velvety sky, he kicked the Harley into gear and rode off down the dirt road.

- - - - -

Driving toward the old barn, Ororo somehow thought that by going there she would find Logan again, though this time she was wrong. All she found as she pulled up just in front of the Chevy was an empty area, no Logan in sight. Sighing sadly and not knowing where else he could possibly be, Ororo got back in her Jeep and drove toward town.

While speeding along the close-to-deserted roads, Ororo kept glancing at the clock set into the dashboard of the old Jeep. It read: 4:28 a.m., and she doubted there would be any sleep for her before morning. Her thoughts drifted to a memory of a warm spring night where both she and Logan were suffering from insomnia.

"You can't sleep either huh?" Ororo leaned against the doorframe to the kitchen where Logan was sitting at the table with a glass of water, his plaster-casted right leg propped up on a chair. She had gone downstairs after waking up restlessly and discovering that he wasn't in the room.

He cleared his throat and grinned at her, shaking his head. "Nope." Slowly slipping his leg off the chair, he reached down for the pair of crutches on the floor and hopped to a standing position, putting little weight on his right leg. "Let's go fer a drive."

Ororo raised an eyebrow, then shrugged her shoulders and grabbed a light coat to put on over her nightgown. "As long as I'm driving." she teased.

Logan rolled his eyes and half-smiled. "Oh, good one." he said with mild, joking sarcasm as he slipped his left foot into a boot.

Grabbing the keys to her Jeep, Ororo walked out the door and held it open as Logan came hobbling along behind her.

They drove through the county, past many empty fields and ones littered with hundreds of dairy cows. There were no streetlights, but telephone poles lined the roads, traveling to the few farmhouses that led up to the small town which was brightly lit.

"I could go fer a beer, pull on up ta Shannigan's place." Logan said suddenly, glancing over at Ororo from the passenger seat.

With a raised eyebrow, Ororo humored him and pulled up to the bar, shifting the Jeep into park. "And how do you propose we get that beer? We're hardly dressed to go out in puplic." she smiled light-heartedly.

"I'll go in an' get it." He smirked, then popped open the glove compartment of Ororo's Jeep where he knew she always kept an extra wallet. He pulled out enough bills for two beers, then started to get out of the Jeep.

Ororo stifled a laugh and looked him over as he grabbed one of his crutches and steadied himself. "In your boxers?"

"Hmph." Logan grunted, then raised an eyebrow and smiled slyly again. "Lemme borrow yer coat." he gestured toward her with one hand.

Shaking her head and laughing, Ororo complied and pulled off her long trenchcoat and handed it to him. "You're crazy!" she laughed.

"Maybe I am." Logan smirked as he struggled to balance himself and put on the coat. It was tight on his broad shoulders, and the sleaves were a little too short, but it was long enough to go past his knees so that no one would know he was only wearing boxer shorts. Fumbling with the buttons, he smiled gratefully as Ororo crawled over to the passenger seat and helped him fasten the coat. When he was all buttoned up Logan hopped to turn around and began hobbling toward the bar entrance.

Ororo waited patiently, trying to imagine the face of the bartender as Logan hobbled in there looking rediculous in her coat. She laughed to herself, then glanced to her side as the passenger door suddenly opened and Logan stood there, reaching in the Jeep and handing her the beers as he took of the coat. "How'd it go?" she asked, trying to hide the fact that she was laughing.

"Fine," he smirked. "Everyone was too drunk ta notice how stupid I looked." Logan sat down on the seat, pulling his crutch in and shutting the door.

"And the bartender?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

Logan let out a snort and smiled crookedly. "I think he was hammered too."

Ororo laughed, shaking her head as she started up the Jeep and pulled out of the parking lot.

"The bar!" Ororo exclaimed loudly to herself with a brief smile at the memory as she began driving up to town. She hoped that Logan would be there, it used to be a place he went to often during the occasional bouts of insomnia. Mentally crossing her fingers, Ororo pulled into Shannigan's dusty parking lot. The place was one of the few businesses in town that hadn't run off after the worst of the tornadoes, and for that she was thankful. She sighed with relief when she saw Logan's motorcycle and braced herself to head into the bar.

- - - - -

It was just about time for the old place to close down, and Logan was only on his second beer. The slightly smokey atmosphere proved that there were not only very few patrons in the bar that night, but the bartender himself had smoked atleast five cigars in the short time Logan had been there, and was working on his second case of beer. The big old Irish guy had a thick red beard, a bald head covered by a black leather bandana, and several Celtic tattoos on his thick, bare arms. Logan knew the guy could hold his liquor, and it must've been a slow night. It was probably always slow nights around this place ever since the town went to hell.

Finishing off his second bottle, Logan tossed a few dollars on the bar and got up. As the bartender glanced over at him with a nod, the big guy muttered a "'Night fella," and started cleaning off glasses. As he stepped out the door, head bowed, he discovered a forest green colored Jeep next to his Harley and a familiar woman coming toward him.

"Logan," Ororo said quietly as she warily approached the scruffy man.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, then raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. "What is it 'Ro?" he asked gruffly.

Bracing herself for rejection, Ororo took another step toward him. "I had to see you."

- - - - -