knock on wood | howlett

xxii. there

lose it ; oh wonder

friday

"i don't think it would be wise for you to go to the old school."

someone shook her arm, jolting her awake. 'get up, run.' she ran, without a question. barefoot with muddy feet, she ran. her feet smacked the ground with each step, and she was almost at the tree line.

almost.

"you've just had a lot more psychological episodes lately. you haven't opened up to us about your mentality, and therefore you're unpredictable. even the scans from two months ago say you shouldn't leave. i can't imagine what they say now..."

bulky arms threw her into the bed of a truck. a truck that tore her from the institute. she had thought the institute was hell, but boy was she wrong.

"beck? are you listening to me?"

"yeah," she mumbled. she took a sip from her glass of water and set it back on the bed tray. xavier was three feet from the foot of her bed, but she saw him clearly.

she sat up, setting the tray on her bedside table.

"i'm perfectly fine, xavier. my physical body is the only thing wearing down now."

keep it together. you're doing so well.

"the memories are intact, the voices have subsided."

have we though?

"i'm really okay." she looked at him. she begged for her words and her facial expressions to be enough. she had to settle the memories and the voices, and the only way to do so was to return to their source.

"no."

"xavier, please-"

"no, you're not going." he began to back his chair up and he turned to leave. "take your medication."

she held those damned pills in her palm. they were surely the only things keeping her here. she faked her strength in the conversation, but in all honesty, she was breaking. her shoulders couldn't bare their weight anymore.

•••

logan sat in the armchair beside her bed. only two days later, and he regained most of his color. he was also strong enough to be off the IV and his last day on the serum was tomorrow.

he was reading the paper as she ate her lunch.

she finished her last bite, took her medication, and finished her drink. she watched him silently for some time.

he was still caught in the stories printed on the paper. it occurred to her that he was probably the last person in the world who still read printed press.

she loved that about him.

she also loved how his brow tightened when he read something distasteful and how he would lick his thumb to turn a sticky page... and how his thumb was stained with ink due to this habit.

she loved how he didn't know she was watching him, or maybe he did and he just didn't say anything. either way, it allowed her to appreciate him and his existence.

he left you.

he helped you and he cared for you, but he left. he ran away, maybe he ran away from you. you drove him away.

he left you because you weren't enough of what he wanted and you were too much of what he hated.

he left you.

stop.

"beck? did you hear me?"

"no, sorry." she blinked and licked her dry lips.

he smiled encouragingly, "i asked if you'd like to have tea on the grass."

"i thought i wasn't allowed outside..."

"we can make an exception. besides, you just took your medication," he stood and folded his paper. he pushed the chair to its corner and handed her her IV bag.

he helped her up and out of the bed. she leaned on him as he helped her walk.

"i'm sorry i'm so dependent on you," she tripped on her words. he was helping her down the stairs.

"don't be. i don't mind, in fact, there's no one else i'd rather be with right now." they reached the main floor and she glanced at the wall they put up.

they destroyed that wall because you drew them here. they couldn't find you, so they took him. they hurt him because you were a coward. they hurt him because they couldn't hurt you. you have no idea what he goes through because of you.

because of you.

"not even colossus?" she laughed, then coughed. he chuckled after her coughing fit subsided. they reached the back door and he helped her out. she looked out on the grounds.

most of the closer areas were covered in lavish paving and gorgeous flowers. the farther away from the mansion, the more unruly it got.

that's exactly where he took her.

they reached an area in the meadow with wildflowers all around.

it reminded her of a time in her art and culture class. they had spilled oil paints all over the floor. the teacher was furious with them, but the colors were so beautiful and so sporadically artistic.

you're an ungrateful mess. you can't even keep paint from getting everywhere. everything you touch is ruined. look at the paint. look at logan.

she looked at logan.

he had a blanket already set on the ground. it was blue and white checkered, and it had tea and teacups laid out for two.

"i had some of the kids help out." he offered a hand to help her sit. she did. he sat across from her and offered her some tea.

she took it and sipped it gingerly.

it smelled like jasmine.

they talked about the little things. she asked about his favorite cases over the years, his favorite destinations, his favorite cars... he asked about her favorite art styles, her favorite meals they served at the mansion, her favorite teas...

they simply talked about nothingness.

and for the first time in a long time, nothingness filled a void.