Logan woke from a dead sleep with a start. For a moment, as exhausted eyes struggled to focus in the darkness blanketing the room, all was silent. Then the thrashing and sounds of anguish coming from the body beside him brought him awake with sharpened clarity.
"Kiara. . . " he said loudly, voice still roughened by sleep, as he reached out to shake her shoulder. She flinched away from him, her eyes squeezed tightly shut against whatever demons ran rampant through her nightmares. The bedsheet lay twisted and tangled about her waist and she began to struggle blindly against it. Feeling a surge of desparation and the urgent need to stop whatever was torturing her like this, he reached out again, grabbing her shoulder more firmly. He had a split second to realize that it might not have been the brightest of ideas, before her claws flashed out and buried themselves in his forearm. With instinctual reflexes, he jerked his arm away with a shout, and her claws tore free from his flesh. Cradling his throbbing arm against his chest, hissing against the agonizing pain even as the wounds began to knit closed again, he was struck by an outflung arm across the chest as Kiara tore free from the sheets and threw herself into the corner. Arms held out rigid in front of her, hands warding off some unseen threat. . .
"Don't touch me!!" she screamed, eyes still clenched shut. When her hands continued to wave blindly in front of her, and whimper after whimper issued from her lips, he slowly realized that she was still dreaming. Flexing his now healed arm, he climbed carefully off the bed and approached her, hands held out to his sides.
"Kiara. . . wake up, darlin'. . . it's just a dream. . . " His soft words had no effect on her, as her movements became more frantic.
"No. . . no. . . .don't touch me. . . " His heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise as he watched the utter panic and pain flow across her features. The door to the room suddenly crashed open, and Logan whirled around to see Scott and Jean standing in the doorway in their nightclothes, mouths open in shock. Scott glanced quickly from the blood stains that clung to Logan's bare chest, to the still fresh blood that smeared across Kiara's extended claws.
"Logan, are you alright?" Scott's voice was low, unsteady - as if he weren't quite sure how to handle this. Jean stepped forward, her eyes furrowed in concentration, her voice vague and distant as she stared at Kiara.
"She's trapped in a nightmare. . . " Logan growled at her words - he didn't have to guess just what nightmare that was. As he stalked ominously towards them, both Scott and Jean took a step backwards, surprised at the wild expression on his face.
"Logan. . . " Scott began, before he cut him off.
"Get the fuck out!" Panic threatened to overwhelm him and every sound of terror that Kiara made pushed at his sanity. "I'll deal with this!" Then he was shoving them out of the room and slamming the door in their startled faces.
Turning on numbed legs, he walked slowly towards Kiara again, stopping ten feet away. Crouching down on his haunches, he tried to make himself seem less threatening as he started to speak soothingly to her.
"Kiara. . . . please, darlin', wake up. . . It's just me - Logan. . . I'm not going to hurt you. . . " As before, his words slid past her and she continued to whimper and moan, pressed as far back into the corner as her small body could get.
"No. . . no. . . no. . . .." Her head whipped back and forth with each word, the panic on her face growing to frightening proportions as Logan watched helpless. When her eyes suddenly snapped open, he had a moment of relief - before he realized that she still wasn't seeing him. Then her eyes looked passed him, to the window, and he stopped breathing. "No!" she shrieked, so much anguish and torment in that single word, it felt like Logan was being torn apart from the inside. Then she was moving fast, her body throwing itself at the glass. Only the speed born of desparation made Logan quick enough to intercept her - his body slamming into her in a flying tackle, as he rolled his body beneath her to cushion the impact against the floor.
Pinning her struggling body tightly to his own, words fell from Logan's lips in a torrent, in a frantic effort to get through to her.
"Kiara, wake up. . . it's me. . . you're safe. . . no one's going to hurt you. . . . no one will ever hurt you again. . . please, baby, wake up. . . . please. . . ." After what seemed like an eternity, he could feel her body go limp. Could feel hot tears bathing across his bare skin. . . Even with his enhanced hearing, he had a difficult time making out the words being murmured against his chest like a mantra.
"I'm sorry. . . . I'm so sorry. . . ." Horror burned itself into his soul, as Logan realized that some part of her blamed herself for what was done for her. Some part of her felt the need to apologize to *him*. He kissed her hair desparately, rocking her shaking body in his arms.
"No, baby, don't. . . You don't have anything to be sorry for. . . Oh God, please believe me. . . " In the midst of his panic, in his fierce desire to take away all her pain, to make her whole and unscarred again, tears trickled unnoticed down his own face. Rage and hate surged up anew inside him - hatred for the bastards who had not only seen fit to tear apart and remake his body in their own idealized image, but who had dared, had *dared* to brutalize the one pure thing he loved. It set up a slow, smoldering fire in the pit of his stomach, a fire that would one day demand retribution. For the moment, though, he pushed it away, shoved it down inside, and concentrated on the broken woman in his arms.
Her tears had slowed to a stop, punctuated by the occasional soft sob, as she lay unmoving against him. With slow, careful movements, he brought his hands to her dampened cheeks and raised her face. Her eyes were red and swollen, exhaustion drowning out the pain he could still see lurking there. Bending his head to her, he kissed her forehead with slow, infinite tenderness.
"Sleep, darlin'. . . I'll take care of you. . . " As if acting as some release, her eyes slid shut at his words and her head fell to rest on his chest. Finally, her breathing deepened into sleep and Logan alone remain awake. Awake and staring out the window at the night sky, his arms still wrapped protectively around her.
*Logan. . . * The Professor's soft, diffident voice intruded on the welter of emotions going through his head.
*Leave us alone, Chuck. . . * He was too tired to hide his anger, but managed to keep his words civil enough.
*As you wish. . . I am here when you need me, Logan. . . * Then Xavier's presence in his mind was gone. Unmindful of the cold, hard wood digging into his back, Logan was still staring out the window when dawn brightened the horizon. . .
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