Chapter Text
Fear.
The feeling wakes me out of a sound sleep – heart pounding, hands shaking – and I immediately know the cause. Barely restraining myself from the immediate urge to sit bolt upright, I let my eyes adjust to the darkness, breath catching as I realize how narrowly I’ve avoided impaling myself on the savagely sharp claws so dangerously close to my chest.
He’s sitting up, arms thrown out to the sides, claws extended, ready to fight. His eyes are open, but I know he’s not seeing any of this…the bed, me, our room. He’s seeing another time, another place, where I don’t exist and where fear, not love, controls his heart. Not a nightmare, exactly, more like being lost in a memory, forced to endure the worst even of your life all over again. I know what it feels like. Logan’s not the only one with demons.
I know how to deal with him when he’s like this. You have to approach him carefully. Don’t make any sudden moves. Let him know you’re not a threat. With Logan, aggression and fear are irrevocably linked. When he’s afraid, he lashes out unthinkingly. In that way, we’re complete opposites. I can’t fight my memories. I run. I hide. In the face of them, I’m five years old again, running scared, vulnerable and terrified. Logan’s different. He acts on instinct. He fights like a cornered animal. Our ultimate goal is the same: survival. Only our methods differ.
Carefully sliding out from under his arm, I scoot over to sit in front of him, keeping my movements slow, non-threatening. He doesn’t see me; I know that vacant look in his eyes. Slowly reaching out a hand, I lay it on his outstretched arm. He flinches slightly under the light touch, but he doesn’t pull away. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but I swear I can see some recognition starting to show in his eyes.
I know my fear isn’t helping matters any. My fear feeds his and as long as he’s afraid, I will be, too...unless I get myself under control. As long as he’s afraid, I will be, too, unless I get myself under control. I’m around Logan so often and trust him so completely that he’s become an extension of me. My shields don’t block him out. His emotions are mine and mine are his. I have to calm myself before I can calm him.
Forcing myself to take deep breaths, I move to sit at his side, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him close. He’s still tense, but he’s not fighting me, which is good. It scares me when he’s like this. I know he’s only human like the rest of us, but it scares me. He’s the strongest, bravest person I know. He’s the one who protects me, the one who makes all the hurt go away. It scares me to know that he’s capable of being hurt like this. I want to protect him. I want to save him from the pain. I want to do for him what he does for me.
Wrapping my arms tighter around him, I pull him close, carefully rocking him back and forth like Poppa used to do when I’d wake up screaming in the middle of the night, overwrought and terrified. I don’t know what he’s dreaming about, what he’s seeing, but I know it must be ten times worse than anything I’ve ever been faced with. I don’t know what to say to make it better. I don’t know what to say to chase away the monsters. All I know is that I love him. All I can do is hope that that’s enough to bring him back to me.
Slowly, slowly, he comes back to me. I’m startled out of a near-doze by the sound of his claws retracting. He doesn’t move, but I can feel how wary he is. I know the feeling. I know what it’s like to be between worlds, between times. “Logan?” A soft whisper. I don’t want to startle him, but he tenses all the same. “You wit’ me now, cher? …Please, Logan, talk t’ me.”
“So real,” he finally whispers, tense muscles relaxing. The faint feel of fear is still there, but it’s fading, replaced with bone-deep exhaustion.
“I know, cher.” I wish I could say I didn’t, but I do. I know all too well.
END