[ A change of clothes and fight with a hairbrush later, and Logan arrives with Laura in tow With his instructions in mind -- 'don't touch anything, don't crowd her' -- he lets her little hand go so she can greet Charles first.
[He finally lets out that heavy sigh, now that he's out of the room and not having to hold it all in for Jean's sake. There may be a silver lining in her mind being blocked in that she can't feel all of that pain twice over, but it's hardly an outcome he could have said he wanted. It's accompanied by a quiet shake of his head.]
Awake is the best that can be said for it.
[That heartbreak threatens to burst forth again, and he has to bite it back before continuing.]
She remembers very little of it. She's in pain, her powers are blocked. I--
[He pauses for a beat, and his voice quiets.] Logan, I don't know where to start.
[ He's quiet a moment, taking in all that new info. It doesn't take a psychic to read the pain radiating off Charles, how deeply he feels for Jean. Logan turns a gaze to watch Laura slip into the room.
Is this what will always happen? Is this where the road of Jean's powers will always lead, to the Phoenix, to self-destruction?
He remembers how lifeless she felt in his arms, and chafes one palm with the pad of his thumb, looking back to Charles. ]
And how long has it been since you've slept in your own bed?
[The honest answer is at least a couple of days. He'd spent the first few running back and forth with enough diligence, but eventually worry overtook the rest of his responsibilities, and the "balance" between the two shifted. And he looks it: the only sleep he's caught has been fitful naps in Jean's room to the quiet, persistent hum of medical equipment, only to snap awake every couple of hours, chastizing himself for falling asleep in the first place. The exhaustion shows in subtle ways that slowly show the only seeming signs of his actual age, with the circles under his eyes and the fact that he hasn't shaved in about as long as he's been entirely too distracted to bother with it.
Charles' eyes drag up slowly to meet Logan's, and even the half-hearted smile he offers feels too heavy.]
I don't know. It's not--it hasn't been--
[He takes in a long breath, and with it, he clenches his eyes shut for a moment, splayed fingers pressed hard against his temples. The pain there lingers, but the hand drops to the chair's armrest and all he can offer is a sigh.]
[ There's an assumption he's dealt with for a long time in his life, that Logan is terribly impatient, but it is simply untrue. He can be inhumanly patient when the need arises.
So he waits, while Charles marshals himself and struggles to find the words.
[It's a seemingly simple admission, one that would be innocuous were it coming from anyone but Charles. It's not a confession he makes lightly, however simple it sounds, and not one he would bring up to anyone else. None of the children, certainly, would take it well, and he doesn't trust anyone not to make a point out of this failure.]
[ He's seen this worry before, the confusion and uncertainty. Logan leans down so they're eye to eye, taking the arms of his chair, lowering his voice. ]
Look, you're no good to anyone dead on your feet, alright? She's awake now; that's what matters. Go home. Get some rest.
[She's awake, yes, but at what cost? Charles doesn't break Logan's gaze and shakes his head, unconvinced.]
I'm no good to anyone if I don't know what's going on. You've seen this before, haven't you?
[Maybe it's pointed, the sort of prying in his exhaustion that makes him about as obstinate as a child. Fine. But seeing what he has, that fire behind her consciousness before he was blocked out her mind entirely, he's not entirely sure he'd even be able to sleep regardless of however little sleep he's had to now.
He's not being told a great many things. Charles Xavier, if he is well-versed in nothing else, is well aware of the signs of holding back information for someone else's well-being. He's been accepting enough of this trepidation to now, but no one had ended up in the hospital, there had been no week-long comas, no lost powers, nor a household on the verge of breaking entirely.
Maybe it's the actual urgency, maybe it's the lack of sleep. But he can't let this go.]
[ Charles gets a sigh for that, and a flicker of something at the forefront of Logan's thoughts as he pulls away. Pain, dulled only a little by time; smoke and screams and the rush of water. Alcatraz Island, gleaming like a newly-minted coin in the dark bay. Fire and heat like nothing else, hands on his; an eye on him, the sclera black as a scrying mirror-
Logan sets his jaw, straightening, and has to look aside. ]
Look, you don't want to get into that. Not now, because it ain't gonna help. Please, Charles. I got this watch.
[Charles follows his gaze up until it averts and tilts his head, concerned. He can't shake this nagging concern, and the very little he can glean both from the other man's mind--images in a jumble with no sense or context--and even less from conversation only makes it worse.]
Is she going to be alright?
[The exhaustion has worn at his stability, and even worse, at his temperament, and he punctuates that pause in his response with an audible, shaky breath.]
[ He wants so badly to believe. Shaking his head, he glances in at Laura and Jean, and then looks back to Charles, his jaw set.
All right. ]
I need some air. You coming?
[ Logan nods at the waiting area at the end of the corridor, where an arrangement of empty sofas sit under a high ceiling. A half-circle window takes up the wall, giving a gorgeous view of Kauto and her sister, before a backdrop of that churning storm. C'mon, Charles, hurry up. ]
[It doesn't take any convincing to get Charles to follow, concerned as he is. Even if he were to acquiesce and go home, would he even be able to sleep, not knowing?
This is a new area for him; he's barely seen outside of Jean's room in the last week. Even the commute home and back is a blur he barely remembers, the details of it too fuzzy to recall, only existing in a quantity that reminds him that he had managed the trip at some point. It's a gorgeous view; the kind of thing that might be awe-inspiring if his mind weren't wrapped up in too many other things and other places.
The motorized chair gives a soft hum as Charles follows Logan's lead, the sort of continued noise that's finally started to grate--like the scratch of rocks together--now that his patience has worn dangerously thin.]
I'm not so old as to be put out to pasture just yet, Logan. [If he only knew.] What is going on?
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no subject
He gets right to the point: ]
How is she?
no subject
Awake is the best that can be said for it.
[That heartbreak threatens to burst forth again, and he has to bite it back before continuing.]
She remembers very little of it. She's in pain, her powers are blocked. I--
[He pauses for a beat, and his voice quiets.] Logan, I don't know where to start.
no subject
Is this what will always happen? Is this where the road of Jean's powers will always lead, to the Phoenix, to self-destruction?
He remembers how lifeless she felt in his arms, and chafes one palm with the pad of his thumb, looking back to Charles. ]
And how long has it been since you've slept in your own bed?
no subject
Charles' eyes drag up slowly to meet Logan's, and even the half-hearted smile he offers feels too heavy.]
I don't know. It's not--it hasn't been--
[He takes in a long breath, and with it, he clenches his eyes shut for a moment, splayed fingers pressed hard against his temples. The pain there lingers, but the hand drops to the chair's armrest and all he can offer is a sigh.]
I couldn't leave. Not--not like this.
no subject
So he waits, while Charles marshals himself and struggles to find the words.
Logan blows a breath out. ]
I understand.
no subject
[It's a seemingly simple admission, one that would be innocuous were it coming from anyone but Charles. It's not a confession he makes lightly, however simple it sounds, and not one he would bring up to anyone else. None of the children, certainly, would take it well, and he doesn't trust anyone not to make a point out of this failure.]
I don't--I don't know what to do for her.
no subject
[ He's seen this worry before, the confusion and uncertainty. Logan leans down so they're eye to eye, taking the arms of his chair, lowering his voice. ]
Look, you're no good to anyone dead on your feet, alright? She's awake now; that's what matters. Go home. Get some rest.
no subject
I'm no good to anyone if I don't know what's going on. You've seen this before, haven't you?
[Maybe it's pointed, the sort of prying in his exhaustion that makes him about as obstinate as a child. Fine. But seeing what he has, that fire behind her consciousness before he was blocked out her mind entirely, he's not entirely sure he'd even be able to sleep regardless of however little sleep he's had to now.
He's not being told a great many things. Charles Xavier, if he is well-versed in nothing else, is well aware of the signs of holding back information for someone else's well-being. He's been accepting enough of this trepidation to now, but no one had ended up in the hospital, there had been no week-long comas, no lost powers, nor a household on the verge of breaking entirely.
Maybe it's the actual urgency, maybe it's the lack of sleep. But he can't let this go.]
no subject
Logan sets his jaw, straightening, and has to look aside. ]
Look, you don't want to get into that. Not now, because it ain't gonna help. Please, Charles. I got this watch.
son u r doing him a frighten
Is she going to be alright?
[The exhaustion has worn at his stability, and even worse, at his temperament, and he punctuates that pause in his response with an audible, shaky breath.]
Logan.
he ain't ur son, boy
All right. ]
I need some air. You coming?
[ Logan nods at the waiting area at the end of the corridor, where an arrangement of empty sofas sit under a high ceiling. A half-circle window takes up the wall, giving a gorgeous view of Kauto and her sister, before a backdrop of that churning storm. C'mon, Charles, hurry up. ]
he ain't your boy, buddy
This is a new area for him; he's barely seen outside of Jean's room in the last week. Even the commute home and back is a blur he barely remembers, the details of it too fuzzy to recall, only existing in a quantity that reminds him that he had managed the trip at some point. It's a gorgeous view; the kind of thing that might be awe-inspiring if his mind weren't wrapped up in too many other things and other places.
The motorized chair gives a soft hum as Charles follows Logan's lead, the sort of continued noise that's finally started to grate--like the scratch of rocks together--now that his patience has worn dangerously thin.]
I'm not so old as to be put out to pasture just yet, Logan. [
If he only knew.] What is going on?