Well, damn!! My mood has been totally blown! Here I was so excited about all this stuff I found for Logan, and the Professor has to be a killjoy. I return to my room and flop out on my bed. I know that staring at the ceiling isn’t going to cause the mysteries of the universe to be revealed to me. But right now, I can’t think of any better plan.
I guess I could go with the old standby; make a list of pros and cons. The good reasons for telling Logan and the bad. I grab a pad and pencil from the chest at the foot of my bed. Long line down the center of the page, ‘PRO’ on one side and ‘CON’ on the other. Ok, now for the brain power…Logan would no doubt be surprised. Ok, maybe that’s neither here nor there. Pro or Con, he’d be surprised, that’s a given; so we won’t even put that down.
Um…Logan would know where he came from! That’s a Pro if ever I heard one. He’d have a starting point. He was born in Alabama and his parents were Lawrence and Margaret. Definitely three things he wouldn’t know otherwise. Ok, uh, finding out he was born in 1895 and is over a hundred years old? Yeah, I suppose that would be a Con. He’s always been touchy about the age thing.
I’m staring at the ceiling again. It feels like I started this list over an hour ago but it’s only been maybe fifteen minutes!! I’ve not gotten any farther than the one Pro point and the one Con. There’s got to be more points!! There’s just got to be. Let’s see, finding out he’s really a Johnny Reb and not an ‘ayuh’ Canuck? Probably not such a great point, but we’ll put it down in the Con column just because I’m so desperate to put something down!
AW!! Hell bells!! I’m not looking for the damn mysteries of the universe anyway! I just came back from dinner and my brain child of an idea isn’t any better looking than before I went downstairs. I just want some help with what the heck to do here! Up until my little talk with the Professor, I was so damn sure. I was positive about everything I did and was going to do. I never once thought there would be any reason not to tell Logan what I found.
NOW, however, I’ve doubt to spare. Professor Xavier’s talk about Logan’s memory blocks has really freaked me out. The Professor is the world’s most powerful psychic, and the fact that even he doesn’t know or understand the blocks is something to take darn seriously. The idea that they’re there to protect Logan from himself is very, very strange. I can’t fathom anything that would ‘scare’ Logan, or the Wolverine for that matter, to that extreme. The stuff that he already knows is horrendous enough, that there might be something worse is completely unbelievable.
It’s a horrible comparison to make I know, but I suppose it’s kind of like a rape victim, distancing themselves from the attack to the extent that they don’t even recall it. Logan knows what happened to him in that lab, at least to the extent of what the nightmares show him. He’s almost consumed in the desire to find his past.
But, you know, now that I really think about it, I wonder what exactly he’s looking for? What is the motivation for this all consuming hunt? Is he looking for the kind of stuff I’ve already found? Is he wanting to know if there’s family out there he’s forgotten about? Is he just wanting to find the men who are responsible for what happened to him at the lab? Maybe I could chat him up and try to find out just what it is he’s looking for, and then I may get a better feel about what to do with the stuff I’ve found.
Finally feeling like I’ve got at least a hint of a plan, I putter around my room for just a little while until I decide to go to bed. All this mental exertion is almost as physically tiring as a go ‘round in the DR! I’ll have to ask the Professor tomorrow if he knows when Logan’ll be back. Like I said, now that I’ve got at least a half-assed plan, I want to get to work on it.
“Marie! Marie! Wake up!”
Rogue wondered sleepily who the heck was talking to her and yelling for her to wake up. She squinted one eye partially open and was blinded by a ray of sunlight. Raising a hand to block it, she tries to see beyond the yellow burst of blinding sunshine. Rising to a sitting position, she realizes she’s laying in the grass. Letting both of her eyes adjust, she begins to make out a form leaning toward her. Getting her feet under her, she tries to stand up but, finds herself falling. Something has tugged at her waist and she’s landed in the arms of someone.
Strong, firm arms, she notes absent-mindedly. Looking up, she find herself captivated by soft hazel eyes. She is in the arms of a very good looking young man. He is somehow familiar, but she can’t figure out how or why.
“Marie! Are you alright?” He’s helping her get her footing again, and she notices what made her falter, she’s gotten her feet caught up in her many layers of skirts.
~SKIRTS?!?~ she thinks, and once again this feeling of strange unease, of something being not quite right. She’s watching the ground, and the way the skirts just barely sweep it. There’s a funny feeling of disconnectedness, not being able to see her feet as she walks, but it’s just out of reach, so she lets it go.
“Marie? Say something!” She realizes the nice looking young man wants an answer.
“Yes, yes, I’m fine, thank you.”
She hears a bell ringing from someplace, and the young man is talking again.
“I’m so sorry if my chatting bored you, Marie. I was quite shocked to see that you’d fallen asleep,” he has such a sheepish look on his face, Rogue blushed lightly in embarrassment. ~Oh no! I fell asleep on him?~
“I should be apologizing to you, that was such bad manners of me.”
“No need for apologies, Marie, I understand that you more than likely would not be overly interested in the twin colts my father and I delivered over the weekend.”
“Oh, but I am! I’ve always loved horses. I just mustn’t have slept well last night, please, if it’s not too much trouble, would you tell me about it, again?”
The young man is even more handsome when he smiles and Rogue feels herself warm from being on the receiving end of such a look. He glances up at the building they’re approaching and she notices that not only is a large bell being rung from the steepled point, but another bell is ringing in the hand of an older woman who is standing at the top of the stairway leading into the building.
“If you would allow me to escort you home following the afternoon classes, I would be delighted to entertain you with the story.”
Still enthralled by the handsome face and soft hazel eyes, Rogue answers that she would be pleased for him to accompany her home, not quite giving a conscious thought to where home is, or what the name of her attractive escort might be.