Disclaimer: I own nothing except for my obsession with Wolverine, he's such a fun character to play with, who wouldn't love him? Besides, he says it's okay for me to write stories about him, he thinks they're fun to read. I hope you do, too, here's the next chapter, please enjoy!
I opened my eyes slowly and saw a dim fluorescent light blinking above me. There was a blur of sound before anything became clear and I could make out familiar voices. However, I soon realized they were just that; voices. The ones in my head. I tried moving, but then found out that I was attached to something that I realized was an IV and my left arm was incredibly sore. I looked around, a pounded headache breaking into my head and I saw a door a few feet away from where I was lying, in a bed. As I was watching it, the door swung open and I saw Logan, followed closely by Dr. Grey, walk into the room where I was.
He swore at me. "I want you to tell me what's wrong. Right now, no excuses," he said angrily, walking to my bed and bending down, looking me straight in the eye.
At that time, everything was still so incredibly confusing to me that I had no idea what was going on, what he was talking about or why he was mad at me. "Where am I?" I asked, continuing to look around. I felt drained, just completely weak and only wanted answers.
"You're in a hospital," he said, still clearly angry.
"Why?"
"'Cause you tried killin' yourself,"
It suddenly hit me like a brick wall and I remember what happened, but I had lived, and that wasn't part of the plan. Not that I had actually had a plan; I had just done what I was told to do.
I closed my eyes. "Oh yeah," I said lamely.
"Oh yeah?" he repeated. "Open up your eyes and look at me,"
I opened them back up. "I'm tired," I said breathlessly. "What do you want?"
"I was down in Newark with Summers, hadn't slept 'cause I'd been workin' when I get a call at nearly two in the mornin' that Marie had found you layin' in the kitchen with your wrists slit and covered in blood, so I don't care if you're tried, I am too, you're gonna' tell me what's goin' on,"
"I can't,"
He slammed his hand down on the post of my bed, making me jump. "Don't give me that, something's wrong with you and you're gonna' tell me what it is and why you tried killin' yourself,"
Jean wasn't much help to either of us; she just stood there quietly and observed our conversation.
I looked down at my hands, which were folded in my lap. "Where's my rosary?" I asked, panic rising in me.
"I've got 'em and you can have 'em back when you tell me why you need 'em,"
"Those are mine; I have to have them back Logan, please!"
"Tell me what's goin' on and I'll give 'em all back to you darlin',"
Desperation welled up inside of me and I realized then how far gone I was. I was lying in a hospital bed, at what looked to still be early in the morning because I had tried to kill myself. I was crazy and I needed help.
"I hear things," I started out quietly, tears beginning to form in my eyes. "They're voices. It started out as just one and then after a few of months, there was another one. Since I moved to the school they've gotten worse, there's more and more of them now. I don't know how many, I lost count after twelve. They talk so loudly at times, it's hard for me to concentrate on what's really going on around me. There's noise going on at all times, I never get any peace. I wear all of the crosses because they all tell me to kill myself and I thought that if I wore them, I could keep myself from doing anything bad, but I couldn't,"
"How long has this been going on?" Jean asked.
"About a year, I guess,"
"Why today, why now, though?" Logan asked and I knew that he felt somewhat responsible.
"Everything just got so hard. Dr. Grey couldn't work with me because of it, it was the day Ben died and when I tried to call home, my parents hung up on me. Then you got mad at me and I just felt so tired of it all. I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to go to the kitchen for that, I went for some water but I accidentally dropped the glass. Then one of them told me that I should just kill myself, that I could finally rest that way and I listened to it. It was stupid, I know, I'm sorry," I cried, my body convulsing from my violent sobbing.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked. "Or Jean, or Chuck? Why didn't you say something?"
"You had enough to deal with, I piled you up with enough of my problems, I didn't want you to think I was crazy,"
He lowered his head, not looking at me. "What do we need to do to help you get better?"
"I don't know,"
"Jean?" he asked, looking back at Dr. Grey.
"I don't know either, Logan, I'm not qualified to say, this isn't my field. You'll have to ask another doctor,"
"No, you can't tell anyone, please, I don't want anyone to know,"
"Layla, you have to have someone check this out, they might be able to help you," Jean told me.
"They'll think I'm crazy, please don't tell anyone,"
"You're not crazy; it sounds like Schizophrenia. I didn't realize that what you were hearing were voices, I just thought it was your own thoughts," she said letting out a sigh. "They have medicine that can help you with that now, though,"
"I'm scared," I whispered.
Logan bent down and kissed my forehead. "Don't be scared, I'm gonna' take care of you,"
"We all will, we'll do whatever it takes to make you better," Jean said. "I'm going to leave the two of you and let you talk, if you need me I'm going to check of Rogue and you can just call her room,"
"Rogue's here, is she okay?" I asked.
"She went into early labor; she's going to be fine, though,"
"What happened?"
She looked pained at the question and seemed to be debating on whether to tell me the truth. "When she found you in the kitchen, it startled her and put some stress on the baby,"
"I didn't mean to do that, I promise. Please tell her that I'm so sorry," I said, continuing to cry.
"I know, she understands, and they're both going to be okay, don't worry about it,"
"I just feel so bad, I didn't mean for any of this to happen this way,"
"It's okay, we're going to take care of it and all three of you are going to come home and we'll take care of all of you." I closed my eyes, tears streaming down my face from my tightly closed lids. "I'm going to go and check on her now, I'll come and see how you are a little later and see if you feel like having any visitors,"
"Okay," I said, nodding my head.
I opened my eyes to see her smile at me. "Get some rest," she said, they walked to the door, opened it and left.
I tried to lift my hand to wipe away the tears from my face, but they were both sore, one from the IV and the other from where I had cut it, and I couldn't quite move either one. Logan realized what I was doing and wiped them away for me. "Thank you,"
"I'm sorry for yellin' at you,"
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about what was bothering me, but they kept telling me that you wouldn't want to be with me anymore if you knew what was happening to me and I didn't want that to happen,"
"It's not goin' to," he said, pushing the hair away from my face.
"You promise?"
He nodded at me. "Yeah, I'm not goin' anywhere, darlin',"
"Can I have my crosses back?" I asked.
"Are they botherin' you in there?" he asked, grazing my forehead with his hand.
"Yeah," I said quietly. "Can I please have them back?"
He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a plastic bag with all of the crosses that I had been wearing in it. He took out my silver, gothic cross necklace and when I lifted my head, he fastened it around my neck. He patiently fastened the other four on for me as well and when he got to my rosary, he gently wrapped it around my wrist.
"Did it hurt?" he asked.
It was such an ironic fate that a man who cannot die and a girl who tried to kill herself should be together, both searching for a cure that we were never sure that we would ever find.
I swallowed hard. "Yes,"
"Do you regret doin' it?"
"I don't know. I regret it not working, I just wanted everything to stop, I didn't care how,"
"You're gonna' get better, Jean knows doctors and they can help you, but you gotta' promise me you won't do this again,"
"I'll try, I can promise that, I don't know how to promise you anything else, that's the best I can do,"
"Then I'll take it," he said.
He moved, sat on my hospital bed and then lay down beside me. There was a grown man, over six foot tall, three hundred pounds, who swore, smoked cigars and chugged whiskey like water, lying beside me, petting me, stroking my hair and whispering to me that every was going to be okay. I needed nothing more than that at that particular moment.
"Thank you for taking care of me, you always know how to make me feel better; I like you for that,"
He kissed me on my forehead. "I love you,"
I managed a smile. "It's about time you started saying so," I joked.
"Why were you waitin' on me to say it first, then?"
"I tell you that I like you all the time,"
"There's not a difference?" he asked with a cocked eyebrow.
"Well, I've always loved you, I just didn't like you. You know how I am; quite to jump into loving someone just to get hurt, which make me not trust or like people. So, when I realized that I liked you, I was excited and told you because I rarely like people. I do trust you Logan, more than anyone else. I know that you'll tell me the truth and that everything you do is real because you're not someone who cares what other people think of you and I can always count on you to be honest with me, even if it hurts sometimes. It means a lot to me to be able to trust you and I'm really sorry if you can't trust me anymore," I said, the tears that I had thought were finally done, sprung back to life in my eyes.
He pressed his mouth to the side of my face and cradled it in his hands. "I still trust you, I know you were scared and I'm sorry for accusin' you of not trustin' me. I'm gonna' take care of you, so don't worry about anything,"
"I love you,"
"I love you too, darlin',"
"Oh my word, she's beautiful!" I gushed, looking at the tiny baby in Rogue's arms.
It had been two days since Rogue and I had been admitted into the hospital and they had let me go down to the third floor to see the baby, who was absolutely adorable. Although the doctors had no known whether or not when she was born, if Rogue would be able to touch her, but luckily for her, she could. Perhaps it was because the baby was part of her that allowed her touch to be normal, not fatal.
"Thank you," she smiled. "You wanna' hold her, Logan? Besides Layla I think you're the only one who hasn't held her yet,"
He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head nervously. "Uh," he stammered and everyone laughed at him.
"You won't break her, I promise,"
"Yeah," he said, looking incredibly nervous.
"Here, go to Uncle Logan," she said, slipping her into Logan's arms.
"Are ya'll going to call her Josephine or Joey?" I asked.
"Joey," Bobby answered.
I looked at her from where I stood behind Logan and there was an overwhelming realization that unless I got my sickness under control, I would never know the joy of having my own children. I couldn't, and wouldn't, put a child into a life where their mother wasn't secured a healthy future. And what if it was hereditary? I would never be able to live with myself if I thought that my own selfish want of a family would force another person to live the way that I had in that near twelve months.
Joey opened her eyes and blinked, looking up at Logan, then she smiled at him.
"I think she likes you," I said, smiling at him as well.
Though he was still completely and utterly nervous, he looked happy, which made me happy. Those couple of day that I had been there, he had stayed right with me as I had talked to doctor after doctor about what was wrong with me. After going through quite a few different tests by each, plus a couple of CAT scans there at the hospital, they had diagnosed me with Schizophrenia, a sickness in my mind. I couldn't be cured, but they had all agreed on prescribing me a strong antipsychotic. I was meant to start them that day and stay in the hospital for a week so that they could check on me. Logan instantly asked for Storm to bring some of his stuff down so he could stay with me. He had been so incredibly supportive of me that I almost felt guilty for ever thinking he wouldn't be.
I placed a hand on one shoulder and my chin on the other, watching as Joey closed her eyes and decided she wanted to go back to sleep. It was sad to think that right then she was so young, so innocent and yet she would have to grow up in a world that hated her parents and all of her family. Then it struck me; I was part of that little baby's family. Everyone in that room, the Drakes, the Summers, Logan and everyone who was at the school, we were all family. I didn't know if my medication had kicked in already or if I simply just realized at that point that I didn't need my family at home to accept me, my family there did. However, my sudden epiphany was shot down in scale quite a bit when a nurse came into Rogue's room.
"Is there a Miss Jameson in here?" she asked.
"That's me," I said, turning around.
"A nurse on your floor just called and asked for you to come back to your room as soon as possible,"
"Okay," I said, then turned back around, facing Rogue and Bobby. "If I don't see ya'll again before you go home, I love you guys and be careful; I want to hold that baby when I get better,"
"All right, we will," Rogue said with a smile.
"I'm gonna' go with you," Logan said, trying to pass Joey back to Rogue gently so as not to wake her.
"No, stay here, you haven't spent enough time with them, I'll be okay on my own,"
"We live in the same house, I'll spend time with 'em later, I'm goin' with you,"
I gave him a look and debated arguing with him, but I knew it would just be pointless, so I decided against it. "Fine, bye guys,"
"Bye," the all said as Logan and I left the room, following the nurse.
We took the elevator up two floors and walked down the maze of halls before making our way back to my room. When I pushed open my door, I saw both of my parents standing there, waiting for me.
Never in my life had there ever been another time when I had wanted to run away so badly buy felt completely glued to the floor. I'm not sure that I had ever actually understood that phrase, 'Glued to the floor', not before right then, when I literally felt as though my feet could not move from the spot where I was standing.
I attempted to speak, but no words would come out. "What are you doing here?" I asked when I finally found my voice.
"We got a call saying that you had cut your wrists and were in the hospital, that's what we're doing here," my mother answered.
"My wrist, actually, it's singular, I only cut one of them and why do ya'll care what I do with my self? We haven't spoken in over five months and when I called a few days ago, one of ya'll hung up on me,"
"The doctors said you have a mental disorder, I think you're remembering things wrong," said my father tactlessly.
"Yeah, well, they said it was Schizophrenia, not amnesia, so I think I'm good for remembering what happened just fine and I would appreciate you to either explain a helpful reason for why you're here or please leave. I'm under enough stress as it is, I don't need ya'll up here picking on and criticizing me for everything that I do,"
"Miss Jameson," Scarlet, the nurse who had been working me hall that day, said as she walked into my room. "I'm afraid that your visitors will have to leave, visiting hours are over,"
"We're her parents," my mother said.
"Well, I apologize, but there can only be one member of the family staying with her,"
"Then I'll stay here with her," she said.
"So your husband's finally goin home to get some rest?" she smiled.
"You married him?" my mother nearly shrieked.
"No, we didn't get married and he's staying here,"
"He's not a member of your family,"
"Well I don't care, 'cause I'm not leavin',"
"Well, I'm sorry but if Miss Jameson wants her boyfriend to stay then you'll have to leave," Scarlet said.
"We've flown all the way from Tennessee here to New York and we've barely got to speak to her," my mother argued.
"I apologize but visiting hours ended at eight o'clock and it's time for her to take another dose of her medication, so you'll have to leave,"
"We were informed that our daughter has just been diagnosed with a server mental disorder and so I don't believe she's capable of making a decision like this on her own and as her parents, I think we should be able to decide for her," my father told my nurse.
"I have Schizophrenia, I hear voices, but I am perfectly capable of making an informative decision on my own and even if I couldn't, I would sign that right over to someone from the school, not ya'll," I said. "I'm tired, I need to take my medicine and maybe if you call tomorrow, I might let you in during visiting hours, but right now, I just want to go to sleep,"
Begrudgingly, they left, I was given my medicine and I changed into my pajamas. After that, I walked back into my room and saw Logan sitting in the chair beside my bed, drifting off to sleep. I smiled. He had to be just absolutely tired, he had stayed up, watching me, taking care of me and had barely slept the entire time while I was there. Which had to have been hard since he had hardly slept the night I had been admitted. He had been going on less than eight hours of sleep in three days. I went to him and kissed his forehead. He opened his eyes and sat up straighter from where he was slumping in his chair.
"Hey, it's okay, go back to sleep," I said to him.
"No, I'm good," he lied.
"No you're not, you're making me tired just looking at you. Why don't you pull out that couch-bed thing and sleep on it? I'm not going to go anywhere; nothing's going to happen to me and you need some sleep,"
He looked up at me skeptically, but he must have known it was true. "Alright, fine," he said, standing.
"Good night, I love you," I said, wrapping my arms around him. He kissed the top of my head and held me to him for a few minutes. "Am I ever going to get better?"
"I don't know," he said honestly. "But I'm gonna' take care of you no matter what,"
"I don't want to be a burden on you Logan, you never wanted this, you don't deserve it,"
"Hey, listen to me, if I didn't want this, I wouldn't be here. Have you ever known me to do something I don't want?"
"No,"
"And you're right; I don't deserve it, because I don't deserve you. You're a person Layla, a person, not some stupid disease, all right? I don't care what happens, this is what I want, you got that?"
"Yeah," I said, nodding my head. I then kissed his shoulder, his neck and then his mouth. "Do you have any idea how much to mean to me? I love you so much,"
"I love you too, and we're gonna' be alright, darlin', don't worry,"
But I did worry. I was scared out of my mind and my worst fear of people thinking, and at that point, knowing, that I was crazy, had come true.
I sat up in bed, letting out a small scream. Logan jumped from the pull out couch that he had been sleeping on and looking around the room wildly, still half-asleep.
"What's wrong, are you alright?" he asked, turning to me.
"Yeah, sorry, I had a bad dream," I said just as a nurse came running into my room.
"What's going on in here?" she asked.
"I just had a nightmare, I'm sorry, I'm fine," I said.
She looked from me, to Logan then back to me again. "Okay," she said then turned and left.
I desperately fought back tears. I was tired of crying. Actually, I was just plain tired. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up," I apologized.
He sat down on my bed beside me and held me. "I don't care if you woke me up, it doesn't matter," he said, lying me back down on the bed, continuing to hold me. "Why are your dreams so bad, what are they about?"
I curled up to him, burying my face into his chest, still biting back tears. "They're about Ben, about when he died. I hate sleeping because I know I'll have them. I thought that after this long they would stop, but they haven't,"
"What happened?"
"He was sick and he started throwing up. The doctor had said it was a virus so I gave him some medicine to settle his stomach, but he got choked on it. I panicked and my mind went blank, I didn't know what to do, so I called an ambulance. I let him lie there for nearly two minutes, choking, and then he stopped breathing. I tried giving him CPR but when they got there, he was already dead. I should have known the symptoms of an Appendicitis and not given him any medicine. When he was choking, I should have turned him over so that he could get it up and I should have done more, but I didn't," I cried.
It had been the first time that I had told the truth about what had happened that day and I didn't feel relieved, I felt guiltier than I ever had and I just broke down.
"People react differently when stuff happens; it's not your fault that you didn't know what was wrong with him,"
"I'm a nurse; I'm supposed to know about that,"
"You were worried about taking care of him right then, doin' what you knew you should do. You probably didn't do everything you could've, but you knew to call an ambulance to help, you tried givin' him CPR, the only way that you could've done something wrong is if you didn't try, but you did,"
"I just miss him and think that if I could have done something different he could still be alive,"
"And if you had done something different then he might have died sooner,"
I let the thought sink in and found it oddly comforting. Nothing that I had thought or told myself had ever put what had happened into perspective quite as what he had said did. It may have been simple, yes, but it was the truth and even thought it didn't fix all that I had been feeling, I knew that he was right and that I could finally begin to accept it.