VIII | A Getaway

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THE ILLUSIONIST WOMAN

eight. A Getaway

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XIMENA HAD MEANDERED HER way to the second floor balcony of Professor Xavier's Institution. It had been a day, more precisely -- fourteen hours, since her spontaneous rescue mission into Logan's mind-dream. Four in the morning looked good on the sky, but not on the bag under her eyes. Ximena was distraught, disturbed even.

The last memories of doing such a number on someone's mind left a deep sadness within her. Ximena was still mourning, even after all this time.

Wrapping herself in a quilted blanket, she stared out into the slowly brightening night sky. There was a chill about the air and for the first time in a while, she didn't seem to care.

For the second time in the span of a week, she thought about Daniel. And it hurt like hell.

"What are you doing out here?" The deep voice of Logan unnoticeably sent shivers down her spine. "It's cold." They hadn't formally spoken since she helped him. As soon as she woke them up, Ororo ushered her away to check her airways like the maternal figure she was.

Ximena appreciated, but now she couldn't help but want to be alone. Not that Logan knew her thoughts like Jean would, or even Professor Xavier.

Glancing over her shoulder in the night, she took her time observing his face and taunt muscles as he leaned against the doorway. An air of nonchalance surrounded him, but she could tell by a certain rigidness in his jaw that he was still dumbfounded by what happened.

"You're up late... or early, depending on how you look at it." Ximena bit her bottom lip, looking to her feet before meeting his eyes once more. "You look better," She hopelessly offered.

"Yeah, well. The ability to heal will do that to you," He shrugged, brushing off her compliment.

However, the Doctor tilted her head knowingly. Her voice a soft whisper in the early morning. "I didn't mean physically. I meant --" She tapped her head, lips quirking before melting into neutral just as quickly.

"You didn't answer my question."

Pushing off of the door hinge, he padded to her side. She felt the warmth radiating off of him and suddenly realized she was cold. Tightening the grip on her blanket, she averted her gaze to the night sky. Her rounded brown irises warming like honey in her sorrow. "It would be easier not to... I heard you've been asking for me all day. What's that about?"

Logan arched an eyebrow before stuffing a hand in his pocket to precure a cigarette. He fiddled with it between his thumb and forefinger, taking glances to the quieted woman beside him.

𝐈𝐥𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 | WolverineWhere stories live. Discover now