Title: Marie's Diary: Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad?|
Fandom: X-Men (movie)
Rating: PG-13, I think.
Summary: Rogue's POV of when Logan has the nightmare.
Spoilers: for the movie, of course
Disclaimer: The title of the diary entry is the name of a song from Moby's Play album. I don't own Rogue, Logan (darn), or any of the other X-Men; Marvel and Fox own them all, the selfish buggers. lol
Archive: Anywhere, but please send me the site URL so I can check it out.
Feedback: Yes, pretty please, to email@example.com
This is my first X-Men fic, but I have ideas to make this a series and nothing gets me writing like a shot of your comments, be they positive or negative! :)
Tonight, I awoke to the sounds of someone struggling. The noises came from the air vent over my bed and I recognized their source at once: Logan. My mind raced. He was in trouble. Intruders? More members of the Brotherhood? We had been ambushed in Canada, but Storm and Cyclops had got to us just in time. Have they come back to finish what they started? I pushed those thoughts away. The mansion seemed far too secure to be broken into so easily.
But Logan was still making those noises. I had to check on him. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't... I left my room and crept down the empty hallway, where Logan's sounds were muffled by the wood panelled walls and thick carpeting. Logan's room was just two doors down from mine; I had made sure to ask Jean when she showed me my own room. It seemed important to know he was close by at night.
When I reached his door, I opened it slowly. I peeked in cautiously, unprepared for what I was about to see. I'd barely seen him at all since we've arrived at the mansion and now that I had the chance, I half wished I didn't.
Logan was having a nightmare, but it must have been a really bad one because he seemed to be in agony. He was tossing and turning in his tangled covers. Sweat beaded his forehead and he was growling. He was fighting a losing battle, and I was standing in the doorway like an idiot.
I went to his side, uncertain as to what to do next. My heart went out to him as I watched him suffer. I fought the urge to touch him; I wanted to wipe the sweat off his forehead, run my fingers through his disheveled hair, calm his shaking shoulders. I couldn't though because I stupidly left my gloves in my room and I didn't want to leave Logan.
I wanted to do something, anything. And then it hit me. I lowered my head towards his and called his name, hoping my voice would reach him and bring him out of his nightmare. It worked. His eyes snapped open aggressively and his fist was up instantly. I heard the sound of metal sliding a split second before I felt it.
Pain spiked though my chest and I knew that the claws had pierced my body. Recognition flooded the anger out of Logan's brown eyes. The claws retracted, but it was too late. My vision blurred and I fell into his arms. I gazed into his anxious eyes and I suddenly wanted him to stop worrying about me. I wanted to ask playfully if he was surprised to see me, but I couldn't. It was getting more and more difficult to breathe and I could tell Logan knew. A thought flitted through my mind and it comforted me greatly: at least I would die in the arms of someone who loved me.
I forced myself to focus on Logan's face, to memorize his every detail before I died. His eyes locked onto mine They were... begging me to stay. He didn't want me to die.
With the last of my strength, I managed to raise my hand to his face. I couldn't speak so the silent question formed in my eyes. He nodded, almost imperceptibly. He must have been confused, not exactly sure what I was asking of him, but he had agreed anyway, out of desperation. I placed my hand on his face and instantly felt his power surge into my body, through my blood, into my mind.
His healing power went directly to my chest, repairing and closing my wounds. As the return of life overwhelmed my senses, I concentrated on Logan, watching with horror as I drained his face. It was hurting him and he began to gasp for air.
I pulled my hand away and Logan fell back on the bed, limp. I backed away from the unconscious figure, sick to my stomach with what I had done. There was movement at the doorway. The others were awake and they must have seen everything. Jean pushed past me to tend to Logan and Cyclops just stood in the hallway, arms crossed. I tried to explain, but they didn't understand. I ran out of the room and ignored Storm's outstretched arm, knowing she wouldn't dare touch me.
Retreating to the safety of my room, I turned the lock to the door and hoped no one would come. No one did.
I cried for a long time, crouched in a corner.
Why did I do that? Even worse, I did it to Logan. I was selfish. I didn't want to die... but he didn't want me to die either. I was sure of that in his room. Maybe. I wasn't so sure now.
What have I done? Oh please, let him survive this. He may never speak to me again, but that's ok because I'm not sure I could face him anyway.
My heart, why does it hurt so much?