xp_logs | Ice and Blood...

Tuesday morning @~10am. In which Bobby doesn't deal and Em does and Logan gets a clue by four.

Tuesday morning, Marie’s still worried about Bobby. Around ten she slips off to check on him. He’s lying on his face on his bed.

“Hey. I just wanted to see how you are.”

“Fuck off,” he mumbles through his pillow. “Let me sleep.”

"Okay, that's fine. I just didn't want to seem like I didn't care, because I do."

*muffled noise from pillow*

"I'm leaving in 60 seconds, because you told me to and I don't want to be disrespectful... if you really want me to stay so that you can yell at me or talk or something, you'll have to make up your mind soon. I'm not just going to walk away because you're in a mood and have you thinking you ran me off."

*ignores, head in pillow*

"I still care about you, you know. That hasn't changed."

*tick. tock.*

"Okay. Time's up." A sigh. "I'm assuming by our last conversation and your behaviour right now that our relationship is officially over. Let me know some time if you want to be friends. Take care of yourself, okay? You're a good person, Bobby."

Bobby turns his head slightly. "Em?" he says, softly.

She stops with her hand on the door knob. "Yeah?"

He doesn't know what to say next. He's not slept for more than three hours at a stretch for he can't remember how long. His head sinks back down onto the pillow, a quiet whimper coming from his throat.

"You want me to stay? We don't have to talk. I brought a book."

He doesn't know. He doesn't know anything, any more.

She leaves the door open a little and sits down on the floor near the foot of his bed, opening her book, eyes on him the whole time, ready to leave.

He just lies there, half falling asleep, half wide awake, not sure what he feels. He shrugs mentally, a door opening in his mind. He murmurs quietly, wordless but emotional.

She watches him between paragraphs, looking up to check on him, listening the whole time.

He slips into sleep for a few minutes every now and then, waking with a start as his body flinches each time.

Rogue looks worried, moves over a few feet, reaches out to touch his hand after he wakes next.

Bobby's eyes snap open the next time to see Rogue sitting there, feeling her touch on his hand. His eyes are wild, blue and vastly deep.

Her eyes are calm and clear, her expression slightly worried but patient. She doesn't take her hand away.

His hand disappears in a fog of condensation as he fights for control, to stop his powers from overloading him and spilling cold out into the room -- and over her.

Her voice is very quiet and she won't move until she's in real danger of being frozen. "Bobby... your hand. The cold... if you want me to go... are you doing it on purpose?"

He's shaking with the effort now, trying to keep it in, until suddenly he can't. He snaps his arm up from her hand and flings it outwards, fingers splayed, palm out, away from her and away from him, towards Synch's bed. A maelstrom of flechette-like slivers of ice explodes from his hand, ripping through the air and battering against the wall. He starts to cry out, a rising groan as his body shudders.

Em leaps up as soon as she realizes what’s going on, flinging herself for the safety of the door. She stands there a moment, wide-eyed waiting for it to stop, and then she dashes out, slamming the door behind her, calling for Professor Xavier who is likely the nearest teacher.

“Professor!”

She’s at the railing now, hoping his door is open, hoping he’s there. She jumps to the landing in one leap, catching herself against the far wall.

“Professor!” There’s panic in her voice and she hits the polished floor running, slamming into the door of Xavier’s office with both hands flat on the wood, then fumbling for the handle to open it. She gets it open and looks into meet the stares of Xavier and his assistant. Xavier is already partway around his desk.

“Something’s wrong,” she gasps. “Bobby… in his room.” She turns and tears back up the stairs, taking them three at a time. She ducks into Bobby’s room, closing the door behind her for safety, and tries to secure him before the Professor gets up to the room, fearing for him and any curious child who might follow her in.

"Professor!"

That's all, just "Professor!" and Logan's running for the bedroom door and taking the stairs by the railing. He runs to where the sound came from. It's Marie and she's scared. His acute senses of smell and hearing bring him to one of the boys' dorm rooms, the one Bobby lives in. That takes him by surprise, but he opens the door anyway, rushing in.

The room is in disarray, the wall and bed opposite Bobby are decimated, there is ice everywhere from melting needles to intact shards like knifeblades. Rogue has one arm around Bobby's chest, her other hand is clamped around his right wrist, directing the flow of iceblades into the mattress where they are not deflected around the room. "Bobby, it's Em. You gotta cut this out," she's saying in a firm voice.

"What the fuck?" is Logan's first reaction. He steps into the room carefully, his bare feet slipping against the ice. "Marie?" He can smell her blood. It's all over the place, but he can't see any wounds. Yet. That last word bounces around in his mind and he walks forward. "Marie?" he asks, more carefully. "What's going on?" His hands are out, ready to grab Bobby if he needs to. His nose is filled with the scent of her blood and it makes it hard for him to think.

Grab him, Logan," she says flatly. "I can't hold him much longer. Please. Bobby, you have to cut this out before someone gets hurt."

He takes hold of Bobby's right arm, holding it in the direction Marie has it aimed. He tugs Bobby from her arms, catching his left arm and holding on easily. He shakes him, growling. "Bobby. Stop!"

The boy looks at him blankly, then his eyes clear. And then he collapses, the icestorm ceasing as he bursts into a flood of tears. Logan turns him in his arms, holding him tightly so that he can't move, and looks up at Marie, finally seeing her face, just as Charles appears in the doorway.

Marie looks at Bobby, at the blood all over his shirt. "He's hurt!" She reaches out for him, to find the source of the blood. Her left cheek is open to the bone in a long slice, her left shoulder is torn open, even deeper. She's unaware of the blood running down her face and arm, the smaller blooms of blood seeping through the fabric of her pierced shirt at random points.

"He's /not/," Logan growls, tossing Bobby toward the bed and reaching for her. His hand brushes over her hair. "You're hurt, Marie. Hold still, let me look."

Charles watches the scene worriedly, then turns to his companion and directs him to fetch one of the nurses from the basement clinic to sedate Bobby for at least a few hours and to care for Marie's wounds. "Logan," he says, clearly, stopping him in the process of reaching out to touch Marie's face. "A nurse will be here soon; don't eat her. Marie, perhaps she will tend to your wounds, while she's here."

"Me?" She's confused and puts her hand to her face, touching the blood and wound. "Oh... god... I'm bleeding all over..." she says shakily, looking at her arm and shoulder. "I'm sorry." It's automatic. She presses her hand over her cheek.

Charles nods, surveying the damage to the room, while Logan focuses on Marie. After a moment, Charles speaks up, "The nurse will be here shortly. Marie, please come to my office when you're well again; I think we should talk."

Logan watches Charles' wheelchair begin to turn. "Wheels. You're not /leaving/? When she's been hurt and he's gone nuts?"

Charles turns back to Logan. "Everything seems to be under control now," he says, as if Logan should be able to see that for himself, then rolls away.

Logan turns back to Marie. "What happened?" His hand is, again, hovering over her cheek, the other hand slowly rising toward the wound on her shoulder.

"I just..." her voice breaks and she composes herself. "I came to see how he was. He was upset, so I told him I'd stay and read while he slept. He kept waking and once, I touched his hand, just so he would know I was there... and... he just..." She hugs herself so she won't tremble, wincing when her shoulder moves. "Started with the cloud, started shaking, and I leaned in, and his hand came up and just... exploded. Knives everywhere. So I went to get the Professor... and came back. Did I screw up?" Suddenly she's very, very pale.

He shakes his head. "No. /No/. You did exactly what you should have." He looks at her pale face and shakes his head. "You need to sit down." He drops one hand to grasp hers, tugging her toward him. "C'mere."

She slips on the ice a little stepping forward, her hand tight on his. "Okay." Her breathing is measured, deliberately steady. She looks over at Bobby. "He's... is he okay? I didn't know what to do. I was afraid he'd hurt someone."

"He /did/ hurt someone," Logan growls. The wounds on her face and shoulder are deep and will leave large scars. This thought stops Logan short. She shouldn't have to deal with that. And she's bleeding badly. And he's /already in her head/. He lifts a hand toward her face again. "Marie?"

She looks at him, confused, and then realization dawns. "Oh... no... you don't have to... what if..." She's trembling but doesn't pull back. Trust. "I won't hurt you," she promises. Her eyes are locked on his and she stands still. It's his choice.

His gaze doesn't waver as he draws her gloved hand up to his wrist, waiting for her to wrap her fingers around it before he moves closer. His hand hovers just over her cheek and he nods, finally responding to her promise. "I know."

He touches her cheek, and the world goes dim.

One hand on his waist, the other on his wrist, she holds him steady as wounds bloom on his skin. Her mind is a morass of his thoughts and emotions and she has to fight to focus on his face. When the blood is starting to flow down his cheek and the pain has faded from her, she pulls his hand from her face and pulls him into her arms, holding him up.

It's a long few minutes before he finally comes to, the world fading back in, from black to shades of grey to colour and he groans, blinking at her and standing up again under his own power. He focuses -- when he can focus -- on her face and shoulder, his own shoulders drooping with relief when he sees that she's healed.

"You okay?" She strokes his rapidly healing skin with her gloved fingers, his blood mingling with hers in the fabric, her other arm still around him. "I think we're getting better at that."

"Yeah. I'll live." He grins at her through the last vestiges of the fog left on his mind and murmurs, "Practice makes perfect."

The nurse walks in, then, and stops short at the rapidly-healing wounds on Logan's body and the distinct lack of wounds on Marie's. "I thought..." And then she shakes her head and heads for the bed to tend Bobby.

Marie gives Logan a squeeze with the arm still around his waist. "Can we talk... somewhere a little more private?" she asks in a low voice.

He nods, hearing tension in her voice. "Yeah." He glances over at Bobby and the nurse, then shrugs. "In the hall?"

"Sure," she says lightly. "Hall's fine." She doesn't disengage herself as they leave the room. When they're out in the hall, she turns toward him and looks up at him with wide, soft eyes. "You know I love you, right?" she asks seriously.

Logan nods again. "Of course I do."

"Good, because I do," she says softly, and then punches him in the stomach as hard as she can, her fist coming up under his ribs, right below the sternum.

"/Guh/." The wind is forced from his lungs and Logan stumbles back. He looks at her first with confusion, then understanding, in his eyes. "I'll remember, next time, to be more careful about handing you my strength on a silver platter," he says, groaning as he straightens. "Especially if I'm handing you a reason to beat the shit out of me, along with it."

"What the fuck were you NOT thinking?" she hisses at him. "God, Logan... where do I start with all the things in the sequence of events leading here," she points at the ground between them, "that are just WRONG?" Her eyes are wide with disbelief. "Are the two of you trying to kill me?"

He shakes his head quickly, then more slowly. "It...wasn't like that at all. I..." He takes a breath. "I'm not sure I can explain how it happened so that it will make sense. It doesn't make sense to /me/." His face clearly shows that he feels guilty for hurting her. And, perhaps she can tell that he feels guilty for having sex with Bobby at all.

She takes a deep breath and steps back. "I am really trying to be rational about this, about all this, Logan. I know what I saw in his head. And I know what I saw in yours. And I know," she points to the door of Bobby's room with a shaking hand. "What went on in there. And I know it's got nothing to do with me... but I can't help knowing." She swallows hard. "If you want to talk, I'll listen. You don't owe me, though... I just wanted you to know how fucking pissed I am... and how much that hurt."

Logan nods slowly, meeting her eyes. "I'm sorry it hurt you. It wasn't meant to. It wasn't meant to /happen at all/." He glances away. "I think you might know more about the situation than I do."

She's obviously trying not to cry or get upset. "No one means to hurt me. Well, except for John, and I commend him for his honesty at least." She looks at herself. "Could I clean up? And maybe after we could talk? I hate this so much, no one talking to me and so many people in my head." Her voice wavers a little.

"Yeah," he agrees. "I think that might be good for both of us." He waves toward the door to her room, across the hall from Bobby's. "I'll be upstairs?"

"Okay." She steps across the space between them and hugs him fiercely before stepping back. "I'll be up in a little while."