Bobby appeared in the doorway then, a puzzled look on his young face. In his hurry to get downstairs, he'd put his pajama bottoms on backwards; and he was bare-chested. He remembered the black T-shirt in his hand, and quickly slipped it on.
"What happened?" He asked Logan.
"She's sick. She just…collapsed," Logan rasped.
"So what do we do?"
"I dunno. If the Professor were still…" he trailed off.
Bobby just nodded. Then, his eyes lit up. "Hey, what about Rogue?"
Logan's bushy eyebrows knitted. "What?"
"If she touches you and Sonya…"
Logan shook his head vehemently. "Don't even go there, Bobby!" He set Sonya down on the red couch in the middle of the living room, then started toward the kitchen again.
"Do you want her to get better or not?!" Bobby called as he followed him.
"Of course. But that sure as hell ain't the way to do it," Logan's voice replied from inside the kitchen.
Bobby leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms, watching the man as he slammed through every drawer and cupboard in the room. After he searched the last one, Logan stopped and glared at the young man.
"What?" Bobby asked.
"Where do you people keep the dishcloths?"
"In the hall closet, like everyone else."
"No. Normal people keep their dishcloths near the sink, where they actually use them, not in a closet outside the kitchen!"
"Dude, calm down. It's probably just a fever or something. Kids get sick all the time."
"First off, I'm not a 'dude'. And second, I can tell that it's different this time."
Bobby stared at Logan for a moment, then shook his head. "Whatever. I'll get the cloth for ya. Hang on."
"No, you won't," a female voice said from behind him. "You will go to bed now."
Bobby and Logan looked up. Storm stood there, her arms crossed lightly over her chest, her white hair braided down her back. She'd let it grow out again, Logan noticed; he thought it looked nice.
"Go," she said again, and Bobby let out a sigh.
"Fine. Goodnight, Logan. Hope Sonya feels better."
"I…" Logan started to explain, but Storm merely held up her hand, a dishcloth folded into her palm.
"She'll be fine, Logan. Here." She handed him the cloth, and he ran it under lukewarm water, squeezed it out, and headed back into the living room. He sat down on the edge of the coffee table, and placed the cloth on the girl's forehead, again listening to her heart with his sensitive ears.
"Raven was here, rifling through papers over there," Logan said, indicating with his chin where he'd seen her before.
Storm's eyes grew wide. "What was she looking for?"
"I don't know. I was just about to get it out of her when Sonya came downstairs. I caught her when she passed out." He swallowed, then locked his gaze with Storm's. "You don't think…I mean, she's only 11. I thought…"
Storm sat beside him, also watching Sonya. "It's always a possibility, Logan. The way I understand it, mutant ability becomes apparent either at puberty, or after some great stress. Now, whether that stress was actual or emotional, is the missing piece here. But I still wouldn't worry. She's a strong, smart young lady. And most of all, she has you looking after her."
Logan's throat tightened at that. Never had he felt so much responsibility as he did right at that moment. "I don't know if I can help her, Storm. She's so…small."
Storm's brown eyes looked warmly into his. She reached over and took his hand. Though her skin was warm, he could feel a tingle run through her fingers, as if her powers were running through her veins even then.
"I know you doubt yourself often, Logan. But no one else does. Especially not Sonya."
"So what do I do?" He asked.
Storm stood up, letting her hand slowly slip from his. "Just stay here and keep an eye on her. If her powers are surfacing, the symptoms are somewhat like the flu. When she wakes up, give her some water. You'll figure out the rest."
When she was gone, Logan turned back to the sleeping girl, watching her eyes moving beneath her closed lids. As he listened to her quick breathing, a memory came flooding back to him without warning, and no matter how hard he tried to block it out, it began to play in his mind.
Running.
He was always running. This time, though, he wasn't running in fear. There was what some might call a smile on his face. Directly in front of him was a fall of brown hair, swinging back and forth with each step she took away from him. Wet grass crushed under his bare feet, soaking the legs of his pants and slicking his heels. The sun was warm, but a light breeze blew around them, cooling the sweat on his face.
With a final leap, he caught her by the waist and twirled her around until they both fell down. The dew turned his t-shirt dark blue, but he didn't feel it. The only thing that mattered was that he had her, and he wasn't letting go. Laughing her musical laugh, she rolled over on top of him and put her slender hands on either side of his face. Her nearly-black eyes gazed lovingly into his, and she leaned down and gently kissed his lips. His arms still around her waist, he pulled her even closer and deepened the kiss, pressing his tongue against hers. When they finally broke away from each other, she stared at him for a moment, until he noticed a mischievous grin wash over her naturally pink lips. Then, before he could stop her, she got up and ran away from him, holding up his boots like a prize.
With a chuckle, he also stood, and took off after her once more.
Running.
Logan woke with a start, glancing around disconcertedly. He instantly recalled where he was, and was angry with himself for drifting off. He looked down at the couch, where Sonya still slept. Her face looked even paler than before, and it worried him. His heart squeezed at the thought of her being in pain, and at the realization that he was fairly helpless to comfort her. He didn't know what else to do, so he gently picked her up, sat down on the couch, and let her sleep in his arms.
What am I doing? He asked himself. Do I really think this is somehow going to help, or is this just my selfish wish to be closer to her in any way possible? Even so, he noticed that her breathing became deeper, less rushed. Maybe it would help, after all.
Logan adjusted the blanket over both of them, and before he could think about anything else, he was asleep.