Work Text:
ALL THROUGH THE NIGHT
by Techie
I woke up to hear...Logan howling.
Oh, not the deep-throated roar he threw his emotions in - this was worse, far worse.
No longer resting against me, he was thrashing, hair sweat-damp and eyes wild despite the sleep-fog that dimmed their normal depth.
It was almost inaudible, howls too enormous for any throat reducing the sound to short gasps and choaking hitches of breath.
"Logan?" I said his name gently, trying to reach out with my empathy, comfort him...and found him unable to accept it, so dark with pain and a kind of wild terror that I ached with the echoes of it.
With a sound between a snarl and a sob, he rolled off the bed and backed into a corner.
With a snickt, his claws extended, cutting the air in wild, unpredictable movements as he huddled there.
I knelt down in front of him, not even considering he might hurt me.
"Logan." I said softly.
Low growl, face taut with pain and anger.
I inched a little closer, touched his shoulder, felt the tension there, the restrained rage.
"I'm here." I stroked his shoulder gently, and a flicker of suprise appeared in his eyes.
He seemed more startled that anyone was trying to comfort him.
Using my thumb and forefinger, I gently caressed his neck, up to his cheek, and was finally able to lean close enough to pull him gently into my arms.
For a moment, he was stiff, more fearful of harming me than himself, then he relaxed, head against my shoulder, breath slowing to normal.
A faint tremor traced it's way up my spine at his trust of me, his body against mine.
His claws had retracted, and I rocked him against me, crooning an old tune I had learned as a boy.
"Rem." his voice was a rasp, as I stroked his back, my fingers tracing the scars, wishing I could heal him, comfort him, take away the torment that his dreams were.
"I'm here." I spoke softly, not wanting to shatter the calming silence.
"I coulda hurtcha." his voice was low, a trace of sadness weaving through it. "Ya should...leave. When I dream I could..."
"You wouldn't. You won't." My voice was utterly sure.
His gaze caught mine, and I watched him, showing him my heart.
"Do you want me to leave?" My heart hammered in my throat as I said the words. I didn't want to leave him, but vunerability was another small tear in his heart, opening him up to hurt and lonliness.
I had to be strong enough to let Logan choose.
Even if it tore me apart inside, I knew that was a need in him, more than a desire.
A man can only bear so much uncertainty and pain before he withdraws, cuts himself off, welcomes anything - even losing themselves entirely - to be free of the anguish.
Logan had lived lifetimes full of torment, even if he were to be only Xavier's age.
But he was far older. We all knew it. Years, centuries, of pain. Of lonliness, and worse.
He stared at me, searching my eyes for something, reading my face. Finally, he shook his head and whispered, "No, Rem. I don't wantcha to go."
"I won't leave you." It was a promise.
Logan seemed to wince just a tiny bit, and it made me think.
How many times had that promise been made to him?
By friends?
By lovers?
How many times had he been left, more bereft than the time before?
I would find a way to keep my promise, I swore it to myself.
"Come lay back down." I said, coaxingly. "I'll move to the chair if..."
His gaze flicked upwards, meeting mine, and he touched my face.
I had felt many erotic jolts in my life, but nothing compared to the gentle way his fingertips explored my cheekbones, my neck, my hair - my lips.
Inadvertantly, I gasped, leaning into his touch, and the feather-light touch became a caress.
"Yer trembling." He said, sadness again in his tone.
"Because I want you." I said, voice shaking with that desire.
"I don't know what kinda life I can give ya, Rem." His voice was deeper now, but a question was being asked, and I had to answer.
"It doesn't matter, Logan, as long as you're in it."
A slight expression of awe touched his features, transforming them for a moment into hesitance.
"I don't wanna see ya get hurt, Rem." His voice was a whisper as he went on.
"Ya mean too much to me."
There were no words in English or Acadian to comfort him, so I changed languages.
Leaning forward just a bit, I kissed him, tasting the wildness in him as well as the calm.
He tasted like warm carmel taffy, a treat I had adored as a child.
It was then I realized it was not a one-sided kiss.
Though hesitant, his lips were caressing mine, and I tugged him gently to the bed.
I knew what he needed now was love, comfort -
And I gasped again when he murmered in my ear, "I need ya, Rem. I..."
His face was haggard, drawn.
Likely Logan had been tormented my nightmares, finding no peace or rest for quite some time.
So despite the eager response of my body and my heart, I caressed his cheek, feeling the sideburns I'd always secretly loved, and whispered, "I need you, Logan. I always have."
His cheek came down to rest against my chest, and I caressed him gently, coaxing him to relax, rest, and using my empathy to soothe now, wrapping around him, love him.
I knew that Logan had reached out to me, despite his doubts and fears, and it made me love and respect him even more.
It was still a few hours until dawn, until our first day together began, and I held him gently, and began to sing an old song I'd heard and loved when Jean-Paul had first adopted me, first accepted me - when I'd finally had a home, family.
I sang it to give the same to Logan, and I sang with my heart and soul, soft and sure, banishing the darkness for this night, as I filled the empty void as best I could with my love.
Sleep my love, and peace attend thee
All through the night;
Guardian angels God will lend thee,
All through the night,
Soft the drowsy hours are creeping,
Hill and vale in slumber steeping,
I my loving vigil keeping,
All through the night.
Angels watching ever round thee,
All through the night,
In thy slumbers close surround thee,
All through the night,
They should of all fears disarm thee,
No forebodings should alarm thee,
They will let no peril harm thee,
All through the night.
As I lay there, I knew that a - if not the - most painful part, the shadow-cut of darkness and the whispering shadows before dawn, were behind us, and I let myself drowse, waiting for the coming of dawn.
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