It had been a long day. Too long if you ask from me. One would have thought that after the cure was released for the general public, for voluntary use only, it would have made all of us to seek the temporary reprieve it offered. That wasn’t the case. Oh, no. On the contrary, even more mutants, children as well as adults started seeking shelter from us. Arriving alone, in small groups, some parents even bringing their children to us because they didn’t have the heart to force them to take the cure, but were lacking courage to raise them in the mutant hostile environment.
It had been one of those days again, twenty children standing in the grand hall, every one of them needing a place to stay, food, safety and love. Three latter we had in abundance, but former was a problem. Dormitories were already packed to the brim, and our remaining teachers had already given up their rooms, living and sleeping wherever they could find comfortable enough spot to close their eyes and relax. Only one still possession of his own room was Logan, more out of necessity than his will of privacy. He needed the temporary isolation during the nights in order to be able to sleep, and function during the day.
I was walking down the hall, trying to find comfortable couch, or even a chair that I could curl on when I noticed that the door to Logan’s room was cracked open. Just a narrow gap between the door and the frame, but enough to make me curious. He usually kept the door locked. I crept closer. I wasn’t going to spy on him. I wasn’t. But I had to check up on him. At the moment he was irreplaceable, just like rest of our woefully inadequate staff we had managed to scrounge up from different sources.
I wasn’t expecting what I saw when I pushed the door open.
It hadn’t been Logan who had opened the door. He was fast asleep in bed. Windows cracked slightly open, curtains drawn to side to let fresh air and moonlight in. And he wasn’t alone. I could see somebody in the bed with him, curled in to his embrace. Form that was covered by thin sheet was definitely feminine. Long, brown and white hair cascading over the pillow, Logan’s face buried partially in it. When I stood frozen, surprised, Logan shifted a bit. Eye that was visible from under the silky cascade of hair of his bedpartner cracked slightly open. Scanned the room and fixed on to me. He frowned, then he moved again, one hand curling tighter around the girl that was sleeping with him and pulling her even closer against him. Rustle of bedcloth nearly covered silent murmur, and now Logan’s both eyes were zeroing in to me, half hooded. He looked about ready to tear my throat out. He was still asleep. Lights were on, but there was nobody home.
“Logan?” I whispered. He looked like I had zapped him instead, flinched and opened his eyes wide, looking at me like he had just seen me.
“What is it, Storm?” He whispered, moving slightly, mindful of not waking the girl with him.
“Nothing. I just came to say good night. You left your door open.”
“Oh… Good night, Storm. You wouldn’t mind closing it when you go?” He murmured, his hands automatically cradling the girl tighter when she started to stir. I nodded and backed out from the room.
“Logan?” I heard Rogue asking.
“Hush. I’m here. Go back to sleep, kid…”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
My muse took a temporary leave. Tried something from a different point of view. Haven't really written Storm before, so if this is OC, sue me. Just wanted to make her look little less whiny creep than I usually write her.