Disclaimer: Marvel's characters are not mine. I promise to play with them (semi-)nicely, and put them back in the same condition they were found in.
Okay, so the last statement isn't entirely true.
This is just some drabble scratching at the walls in my head. It's unknown if it will/can be finished. Enjoy!
By nature of his abilities, and whether he liked it or not, Logan was intimately aware of each and every person he crossed paths with. Most were frails, and easily ignored, some were mutants, cataloged but ignored the same. The rest etched themselves into primative sections of his brain. She was one of them.
He first knew of her at Xavier's. He'd been "passing through" again and wandered through the hallways looking for what, he didn't know. He'd bathed, eaten, and slept more deeply than he had in a long time, and now he was bored. The students were loud and boisterous. They joked with each other. The ones who recognized him said hello, but not much more. They all seemed to hurry to get outside in the sunshine, away from teachers and schoolwork.
Walking passed an open doorway to a small sitting room, Logan noticed her. She sat withdrawn, not even glancing up at the multitude of kids making enough noise to wake the dead. None of the other students acknowledged her.
Logan thought that was odd.
She looked normal. Petite, fair-haired, wearing jeans and a blouse. No obvious mutations, but she must be one, to be a student here? Logan stepped into the room.
"Hey," he said. "You okay?"
He startled her, and she looked over quickly. Just as quickly she cocked her head away from him, as if another person addressed her. She shook her head. Logan sensed it wasn't in response to his question.
"You okay?" he repeated. He came further into the room. "What's your name, kid?"
The girl cocked her head again. Logan's enhanced hearing caught her whispered words, "Can I talk to him?"
He did not hear a reply.
She glanced back to him, then away again, like a nervous tic. "Can I?" she whispered again, with more urgency.
In a rush, Logan felt a wave of uneasiness fill him. This girl was not right. This situation was not right. Xavier's school took in mutants; she acted oddly, like something was mentally off. She seemed to become more and more agitated as her whispered question recieved no answer.
"Can I? Can I? Please, can I?" her voice rose with each inquiry. Her head twitched back and forth between him and her invisible companion.
"Hey--hey," Logan said, stepped closer to her. In an effort to calm her, he insisted, "It's okay, that's fine. You're fine. You don't need to talk to me. It's okay."
She continued her questions through his talking.
Christ! thought Logan. Where's Jean or the Prof when I need 'em?
"I will!" the girl shouted, making him jump. She was suddenly very still.
Licking his lips, Logan paused. With no other comforting words coming to mind, he repeated his first question, "You okay?"
"Yes," she nodded quietly. The picture of sanity sat in front of him. "I'm Emily."
Not trusting her to start another one-sided dialog, Logan nodded with her. "I'm Logan. It's stale in here, why don't you head outside with everyone else?"
"I don't like to be around people."
It occured to him that it didn't seem to be the same reason that he didn't like to be around people, or the reason Rogue didn't like to be around people. Both he and Rogue were interested in other people, but wouldn't get close; this girl was mostly shut-down to the people around her. Logan took a breath, thinking he was the wrong person to deal with a person like her, and wondering how to back out of this room that had become uncomfortably small.
"You're Wolverine," Emily stated.
". . . yeah. I guess my reputation precedes me."
"No."
She didn't offer an explanation, and the small hairs stood up on the back of his neck.
"You readin' my mind, Emily?" He tried to say it lightly but failed.
"No."
He narrowed his eyes and thought he should just leave. Nothing was holding him in this room. Just back out . . ..
"I don't know much. You're Wolverine, and you're not dead."
"What did you say?"
"You're Wolverine, and you're not dead. Not yet, anyway. But there were lots of times you thought you should be, huh?"
Now it wasn't just the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. Logan wasn't sure if what she said was a threat, but it made him angry. He stepped closer to her and made to grab her shoulders.
"Don't touch me!" she shrieked, trying to sink into the chair's cushions.
He stopped, breathing hard, and demanded,
"What do you mean by that! Who are you, girl?"
She looked infinately sad as she choked, "They call me Reaper."