Logan couldn't remember the last time he felt so tired. His mutation usually didn't affect his biorhythms too much, except for maybe letting him wake up feeling refreshed, no matter the amount of sleep he had. Right now, though, he felt like he hadn't slept in days.
He groaned a bit, his muscles aching. Having a mutation that kept you healthy all the time made it a pain in the ass to feel any different. Feeling the stiff sheets and pillow beneath him made him realize he wasn't in his bed, however, and forced him to open his heavy eyes.
Why the hell was he in the medbay?
A hand came to Logan's head to steady the headache that was itching to make residence there. Sitting up in the dark room, he listened to a steady beep and pinpointed its location to the monitor on his right. He watched it for a second before realizing it was matching his heartbeat.
He looked down and saw the electrodes attached to his chest. He growled in annoyance and ripped them off.
The movement caused a twinge in his left arm, and he inspected it to find an IV inserted, its tube connected to a clear bag dripping fluid into his blood.
He sighed this time as he ripped the long tube out of his arm. When would Xavier learn that he didn't need this stuff?
Actually, Logan, you were in need of it.
The Professor's voice reverberated, startling Logan enough to jump out of his bed and release his claws. It took him a moment to realize the voice had been inside his head.
His claws returned beneath his skin and Logan shrugged off the adrenaline that was now coursing through his body. He felt a drip on his arm and looked down.
A trickle of blood made its way down his skin, from where he had pulled out the IV.
Frantic, he felt along his arm, searching for the wound. It wasn't there. He wiped away the blood, and found only healthy skin beneath it.
You're body is weak, Logan. Your healing is still there, but it is taking longer than usual.
"What happened?" Logan asked the empty room, feeling like an idiot. He hated it when the Professor mind-talked.
I apologize. We were not expecting you awake this soon, and I had a matter to attend to.
He also hated it when the Professor read his mind. He gave a bit of a smirk to the darkness around him, sitting back on the bed when he felt a bit shaky at the knees.
He never felt shaky at the knees. "What the hell happened?" he repeated.
I'm not sure why, but your body has put a block to your memories. It may be a defensive mechanism. If you'd like, I can tell you what happened; or I can release the block and let your memories do the talking.
"Fine, whatever," Logan snarled. "Just do it already." While he didn't voice what he wanted, he figured the telepath could figure it out for himself.
Very well. Prepare yourself.
Logan felt the urge to roll his eyes at the request, but refrained from doing so. He was about to ask the Professor when this surge of memories was supposed to happen when, in an explosion of thoughts, it did.
"Ah don't think I can take going back to...." Marie's voice echoed in his head. He saw everything, then: him kissing her, the feel of her skin tingling and becoming stronger, unable to pull away. She had lost her ability to touch again, and in the worst way.
"Where is she?!" Logan yelled to the room, getting up despite his shakiness and making his way to the nearest elevator that lead up to the main floors.
"Logan," the Professor said.
His senses picked up more than just a voice in his head and Logan whirled around to see the Professor making his way down the hall.
"Where is she?" Logan repeated, his voice tight and his teeth clenched. He needed to know she was okay. He needed to let her know that he was okay, and that he wasn't afraid.
"Logan, when we found you you had been unable to breathe on your own. We had to intubate you. I suggest you calm down before you collapse again." The Professor's voice remained level, but was urgent. Logan's senses told him he was genuinely concerned.
So, to appease the Professor somewhat, Logan slowed his breathing and released some of the tension that was holding his back rigid and his hands in tight fists. However, he continued to push the elevator button compulsively.
"Rogue had some trouble adjusting to your memories. But she luckily had your healing powers to keep from hurting herself."
"You're not answering my question," Logan grunted out. Why the hell was the elevator taking so long?
"Logan, I understand your concerns. I know what happened." The Professor had brought his wheelchair up next to Logan, but did not stop him from trying to press the call button.
"She's going to blame herself," Logan said. His voice had lost the edge to it, and instead came out almost dejectedly. A thought tugged at him that the Professor had just hinted to his knowledge of Logan's more-than-friendly actions with Marie, but Logan ignored it. He'd worry about what other people thought about the situation later, if at all.
"I know," the Professor answered Logan's earlier statement.
The edge in the Professor's voice, however, caught Logan's senses enough to stop what he was doing and turn to face the older man. He couldn't bring himself to voice what he already knew, written clearly on the Professor's face.
"I'm sorry, Logan. She's gone."
There was something to be said about motorcycles and freedom.
Even through her tears Rogue couldn't help but let a smile form on her lips. The cool breeze of the autumn night filtered through the old helmet, filling her senses with asphalt, nature and exhaust all rolled into this unique, overpowering smell.
God, Logan could really experience the world.
His name brought back the memories of seeing him with a ventilating machine, and the smile left her face quickly. She shouldn't be experiencing these strong sensations; they were his, and she had stolen them.
And he had nearly died because of her.
Determination once again took priority, and Rogue accelerated on the motorcycle she had stolen from the garage, barreling down the interstate.
She had a ways to go, yet.
Logan paced in the sterile, metal hallway, walking from one wall to the other, ignoring the concerned look Jean and Storm were giving him. Scott seemed to be glaring at him, but the visor made it hard to determine.
"Would you quit it already, Logan? You're going to wear a hole in the ground."
Definitely annoyed. Logan didn't care, however, and shot the younger man a glare that caused him to glance away, quickly.
Jean came up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "We know you're worried, Logan, but I'm sure she's fine."
He lessened his glare at her; after all, she had said it nicely. But even that look, too, made Jean take a step back as quickly as she came forward. So Logan started pacing again.
The sound of the doors to Cerebro opening, however, made Logan stop, turn, and wait impatiently as Professor Xavier rolled out of the room.
"Well?" he said.
The Professor looked thoughtfully at Logan. "She was hard to find. She has much of your psyche at the forefront right now." Logan opened his mouth to further the conversation to the point, but the Professor beat him to it. "I can't pinpoint where she is exactly, but she's heading south."
"To go back home, perhaps?" Storm offered.
At the Professor's answer, Logan had bent his head down in concentration. "She's got a bike, has been gone for at least six and a half hours...." Logan growled and looked to the Professor. "She can be taking a lot of routes heading south. You can't pinpoint which one she's on?"
The Professor shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. Every time I try, I lose the connection because of you being inside her head."
"Why don't you try to pinpoint Logan, then?" Scott asked, standing up from the wall he'd been leaning against.
"I tried that, too," the Professor relented. "It leads me here, to the real Logan." His attention turned toward Logan, who was about ready to make some new vents in the walls. "She's got enough of you inside her head that she's masked herself from Cerebro. We might have to wait a couple hours for the effects of you to wear off."
With a loud snikt Logan's blades came forward from their home between his knuckles, his hands clenched and ready for them. "A couple hours? She could be a couple states away by then!"
"Yes, but we'll be able to catch up to her quickly in the Blackbird," the Professor retorted calmly, eyeing Logan with an equally calm stare.
Logan knew the Professor meant well. He did. But that didn't stop him from pointedly grumbling, "We wouldn't have to catch up at all if you'd kept an eye on her."
This time Storm took a step forward. "Logan, she had assured us she was fine and wanted to sleep in her own room. You know as well as I do that Rogue can hide her emotions well." She crossed her arms, giving him a rather stubborn look. "We already had to chain her once—I don't think she would've been keen on us doing that again."
Logan scowled at the last remark. The Professor had told him what had happened to Rogue while he'd been unconscious. While a bit unnerved at the thought of Rogue being chained like some dangerous prisoner, Logan understood that they had done it to protect her more than anything.
And seeing the broken window upstairs with her blood on it quelled his anger, as well.
But it didn't change the fact that they let her hide in her room for the rest of the evening. It'd been a couple of hours before Kurt had come to check on her, only to find the room empty and clothes missing.
They should've known better than that, especially with him of all people floating around inside her head.
"I thought she had days before her skin turned back on," Logan finally said, glaring at the Professor.
"Hank and I estimated that the amount of Leech's power she absorbed would take days to wear off, as it did when she had touched Mystique." The Professor frowned, his hands forming a triangle and resting against his lips in thought. "It's possible that it wasn't entirely Leech's power that had part in the loss of her power."
"You mean she may have been controlling her skin on her own?" Jean asked, taking a step forward to the Professor.
"If she had, it was triggered by touching Leech, or by using his power," Scott added.
"Logan, did she say anything about how she felt before she touched you?" Storm looked to Logan, and Logan was a bit frozen at her words. She had said she touched him, not the other way around. Apparently the Professor was the only one who knew what really happened.
"She didn't touch me," was all Logan grunted.
There was a long pause, but he didn't say anything to the group of people now staring at him. Instead, he stalked to the elevators, sheathing his claws only because he realized pushing an elevator button was a bit hard to do with metal extensions sticking out between your knuckles.
The elevator hummed to life as the doors hissed open, and Logan marched inside, slamming the button that would take the elevator to the main floor.
He saw Jean run up but stop just outside the elevator. She looked at him concernedly.
"Are you okay?" she finally voiced. He didn't answer her. Her brow twitched in curiosity and furrowed after a moment, her eyes focusing on him differently than before. Logan quirked his own eyebrow at her but scowled when his senses picked up her mental invasion.
He growled at her intrusion and she startled in surprise. As the doors slid shut, her eyes locked on his in confusion and wonder.
He could tell that, whilst searching his mind to make sure he was okay, she had accidentally stumbled upon the emotion that was raging through him stronger than anything he had felt in a long, long time.
Love.