She watches out from the jet’s window. There’s a small black dot down below, getting smaller every passing second. Even smaller dot is moving around it. Logan. Rummaging through the car, gathering all the necessities. She turns her back to the window, trying not to think about him anymore. Trying not to think about how far from everything they had gotten. Trying not to miss him. And finds it impossible. She wants to ask the pilot, Scott Summers, to stop and land. There’s still time. Logan hasn’t left the car yet. But she doesn’t do that. She promised to leave with these people. Logan can take care of himself. She can take care of herself, but it will be much easier with these nice people. She squeezes her eyes shut and chokes back a sob. A gentle hand lands on her shoulder.
“Don’t worry, child. Everything will be okay…”
The white-haired woman they called Ororo holds her and lets her cry, rubbing her arms soothingly and whispering soft words of comfort. She thinks she could learn to like her. She seems like a nice person. Right now she just wants to hit her and scream. She doesn’t do that. She promised to Logan to take care of herself.
“How is she doing?”
“Aside from malnutrition and slight infection… She’s in surprisingly good condition.”
“No. He didn’t… I would have sensed if…”
She doesn’t want to see them so she closes her eyes and tries to tune out their voices for the best of her abilities. Jean and Ororo keep discussing about her like she weren’t even there, sitting right beside them. It doesn’t matter. She doesn’t even want them to include her in to their conversation. She’s not in the mood to talk. She keeps her eyes closed, and in the darkness behind her lids she can see his silver eyes, shiny, reflecting pools. She can hear his voice. She can feel his touch. She can hear his heart, beating in the rhythm with hers.
“Rogue? That’s… That’s fine. We’re here.”
Ororo helps her up and walks with her down the isle, making sure that she doesn’t stumble when landing the rickety stairs from the jet to the hangar. She grasps her arm and bites her lip, determined not to cry. This is a good place. These are good people. She’ll be safe in here.
“Welcome to Westchester.”
A bald man in a wheelchair is smiling warmly and extending his hand. She takes it and nods, forcing a brave smile on her face.
“Thank you. You must be professor Xavier. I’m Rogue. Thank you for… For having me here.”
“But of course, my dear. You may ask anything you feel you need, and it’ll be delivered to your room. You should go with Jean first. She’s our doctor, and she’s going to make sure that everything is alright with you.”
“Yes… Yes. And thank you.”
She kind of doubts that they’ll be able to deliver Logan in to her room, no matter how badly she feels that she needs him, but that’s not a reason to start acting like a spoiled brat. She’s a grown woman. She follows Jean through the maze of corridors to a door labeled as ‘infirmary’. One good look at her surroundings has her teetering on the edge. Tables and shelves filled with medical instruments, gleaming chrome and steel, sterile scents floating in the air, a chair with stirrups, several examination tables and beeping machines. She’s ready to scream.
“I’m sorry. It’s not my intention to make you feel uneasy. We’ll get this over with as soon as possible, and then go and find you something to eat. Is that okay?”
“It’s… It’s fine. Just some bad memories…”
“I can assure you that you have nothing to worry about. Just relax. This will be over soon.”
She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Settles in to the chair and lets the doctor take the necessary tests. Lets her probe and prod until she retreats behind her computer and tells that it’s okay to get dressed again.
“Everything seems to be as it should. There’s nothing that a good rest and proper diet wouldn’t correct. I’ll just write you a chart and we’re good to go. I have already informed the kitchen, they should have something for your liking ready when we get there.”
“I’m telepathic. Don’t worry; I haven’t been nosing around in your mind. But I couldn’t help noticing that you’re craving for some chicken. Fried, if I’m not completely mistaken?”
She can only nod in awe. Jean smiles warmly.
“It’s nice to see that you have a healthy appetite. For some women pregnancy causes the loss of appetite. I take it that you haven’t had that problem?”
“Any morning sickness? Fainting? Anything I should be aware of?”
“No… At least I don’t think so. And I’m sure Lo… Wolverine would have noticed if there was a problem. He… I didn’t even know that I was pregnant before he told me.”
“How did he found out?”
“He just knew.”
“The baby… It isn’t his, is it?”
“No! We aren’t… Not like that. I haven’t even known him that long. Little over a week. He was just helping me out.”
“That’s nice of him. Why didn’t he come along? I got the impression that the people that were after you were as much after him?”
“He… He said that this wasn’t his kind of place…”
And she’s unable to hold back the tears any longer. Sitting here, half naked on a chair with stirrups, her mind a million miles away with Logan, in the middle of nowhere, making his way through the snow, and he’s alone. So fucking alone, and there’s nobody to look after him. Nobody to warn him. Nobody to pick up the pieces after they get to him again and he fights his way out of them again and falls again. There’s nobody for him.
“There, there… I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with him. He seemed like a guy who’s more than capable of taking care of himself…”
She wants to scream that it isn’t the point. Wants to make Jean to understand that even if Logan can take care of himself, he shouldn’t have to. But she doesn’t. There’s no strength left to scream. She can only grab Jean's lab coat and cry her eyes out against her shoulder.