Control: An X-Men Adventure and Wolverine Romance

Company

I had a shaky few days and became more reclusive again. I didn't want to be around people for fear of having another one of the attacks which happened every couple of days now. The professor was doing his best to help, and we were making some progress in our sessions, but he couldn't exactly rewire my brain for me - that would be extremely dangerous. The trauma was linked to memory, so if he tried to erase what was causing me pain, i'd likely end up with amnesia, and how long that would last, he could not say. It was pretty demoralising knowing that I was stuck with a damaged brain for the forseeable, but he reassured me I was under no pressure and no judgement under his roof. He only expected me to take part when I felt able. I was so immensely grateful that he was providing so many of us with a safe place to stay, a place to heal from the myriad traumas of a world in which it was a daily struggle to be a mutant.

I was sat on my widowsill, looking out over the grounds and its numerous inhabitants as they moved between classes, played tag on the lawn, and sat under the old trees to eat their lunches. I was spending a lot of the days reading and listening to music in my room again, and although I didn't enjoy the solitude, it was safer that way - at least for the time being. I had been too ashamed to tell the professor that I had broken the mirror, so it sat there still in its kalaedescopic glory. It was hard not to see it as proof of why I needed to stay away from people.

Despite my best attempts, there were times people came looking for me. Kurt would sometimes come and gingerly knock on my door during twilight hours to see if I wanted to shoot some basketball hoops with him. Who could refuse that? He was far too kind a soul for me to comfortably reject, and so I would go with him onto the court. Once or twice, some of the others would join in - Jean and Scott usually. I also caught Rogue more than once bringing me up some of whatever she had baked. She would leave a plate outside my door with a note. It was very sweet of her to make sure I didn't miss out and she was a really talented baker. Her notes of encouragement were as sweet as her bakes.

The one person I hadn't seen for a while now, or even heard much from given that we inhabited the same floor, was Logan. I figured he must be out on a mission somewhere but equally wondered if he had backed off after my latest outburst. Had I been too rude when i'd shut him out like that? I felt terrible and kept replaying the events in my head. One evening, when I finally heard his door open and close, I decided to apologise. The only problem was what to say, and how to say it. I anxiously laid awake until about one in the morning, stewing over how to approach the issue with him, when my ears suddenly pricked up. I heard a muffled groan, and then a few words. I couldn't make out what they were, but they were coming from down the hall.

Tugging on a baggy t shirt over my tank top and pajama shorts, I slipped out of my room. As I tip-toed down the hall, I could hear the noise more clearly. It sounded as though Logan was in distress - through the grunts and frantic mumbling, I was sure I could make out the word no. Over and over. When I reached his door, I hesitated, unsure what to do. My hand closed gently around the handle and found the door unlocked. Being as quiet as I could, I pushed it open. Logan was tossing and turning on the bed, one fist clutching at the sheets. His face was taught as though under immense strain, and he was almost shouting now. He seemed to be having more of a night terror than a nightmare - something I was all too familiar with myself these days. I knew it was a risk, but I wanted so badly to wake him so that he could realise he was safe. I crossed over to the side of the bed and gently called his name a couple of times. He didn't respond.

I very tentatively reached out a hand to touch his shoulder. As soon as my fingers brushed against his skin he sat bolt upright, lunging forward in my direction too fast for me to jump back fully out of his reach. His claws, which had shot out the moment I'd touched him, sliced into my forearm and my cheek - as I'd thrown up my own arms in defence. His eyes were far away for a moment, as though he was still dreaming with them open, but then they met my own, and the light returned to them as he began to take in the scene in front of him.

"Fuck," I muttered, feeling the sting of my open cuts as they began to close up.
He had startled me so badly that my own claws had come out too and a panicked expression washed over his face as he recognised me.

"Fuck," I cursed again under my breath, the stinging sensation still fresh and my heart rate pounding.
"Cass, I'm so sorry-" he began, but I cut him off.
"No Logan, this is not your fault. I should've known better than to come in here univited like that, I was just... worried about you."
He withdrew his claws and I sank into a seated position on the edge of his bed.
"Are you alright?" He urged.
"You really did a number on me there, serves me right though."

He raised a hand to my cheek, which had thankfully almost fully healed over now. His thumb gently brushed against my jawbone as he let it fall back to his side. He looked relieved and wiped the sweat from his brow.

"Hey you missed my clothing actually, so that's a bonus!" I laughed after checking myself over, my own claws withdrawing.
He shook his head incredulously before making eye contact again. I felt compelled to speak.
"I actually, uh, wanted to apologise for being rude to you last week. I'm just not used to letting people see me struggle with anything... but I'm working on it."
"You're all good, pretty sure I've acted worse," he waved me off, "I'm not always the best team player. What was it Scott said? 'abrasive', I think," he grinned.

We were so close now that I could feel the heat radiating from his shirtless torso. My mind began to race with all kinds of dirty thoughts that I tried to shake off. The moon outside was so bright that it threw strange shadows across the floor. I again thought privately about how nice the smell of Logan's cologne was.

Absent mindedly, I trailed a finger from his elbow to his wrist, trying to visualise his dormant claws. I wondered what it was like to be walking around with blades that large inside your forearms, and how much it must hurt every time they sprang out. I took his hand into my own and examined his knuckles, still in quiet wonder.

"You gonna read my palm like a gypsy woman?" He smirked.
I rolled my eyes as I moved to get up, but he reached out a hand to stop me.
"Stay," he murmured and it seemed to be a plea rather than a command.
"And if I do, what does that entail?" I asked wearily.
"I'm not expecting anything, just... wouldn't mind the company..."

I got up, closed his door, and crossed over to the unoccupied side of his bed. I clambered under the sheets next to him and laid down. He also laid back, staring up at the ceiling.
"You're not afraid to share the bed after that?" he mused aloud.
I snorted a little with laughter.
"Well, I would prefer it if I don't wake up looking like Swiss cheese, but it's a risk i'm willing to take... besides, it's mutually assured destruction, what if I stab you?" I teased in reply.

I scooted a little closer to him, until my head was resting on his chest, and he placed an arm around me lazily. I don't know who fell asleep first but feeling the rhythm of his chest rising and falling with each breath, and feeling much safer than I had in months, I finally slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.