「 The Professor & I 」VOLUME II

(221) Trauma

Lynn's POV

The historic monument was once again enveloped in darkness and serenity but the breath of respite was far less than temporary.

Contrasting noises and flashy beams haunting its sister island as choppers of various international origins were mobilised to extract their designated owners from the alarming situation soon spread towards the team. With exaggerated lines quickly snaking themselves along the New Jersey bridge, surveillance drastically tightened around the premises of the UN summit as the world leaders made fearful attempts to exit the area.

Sirens wailed, moving in swiftly from the background as harbour patrol began circling the surrounding waters with increasing numbers, rendering it impossible for the X-Men to intercept Erik and Wanda from the crowded sea or Lorna from the suspicious offshore boat, now rapidly approached by coast guard ships, she had been concealed in after being rescued from almost drowning.

Further adding to their woes was Rogue's prevailing unresponsive state in the arms of Logan since she was freed from the hideous device, adamantly persisting even until Jean levitated the pair back to ground level. The veteran X-Men stared in astonishment, as did Charles and I, at the oddly reminiscent partially bleached mane sported by the comatose girl Logan was trying wholeheartedly to revive when Jean suddenly frowned and placed her fingers to her temple.

"Marine police are sending their troops over. We have three minutes, tops. We need to go," Jean ordered in a stern tone and promptly escorted Scott off.

"No, kid! C'mon!" Logan muttered frustratedly as his continuous chest presses proved futile to resuscitate the unconscious girl.

"Logan, stop. We can't afford anymore time. Get her into the jet," Storm egged urgently as she took constant glimpses to her back, vigilantly scanning the vicinity, as Jean assisted her hobbling fiancé back towards their escape mobile docked by the long pier.

"Logan, let's go!" Jean yelled fiercely from halfway across the boardwalk.

"Fuck it," Logan cursed bitterly as he swimmingly hoisted Rogue into his embrace and raced alongside Storm towards their stealthy plane.

White tresses and black silk, though naturally dissimilar, danced elegantly from Storm's lean frame as she sprinted and smoothly hopped into the aircraft after everyone. Securing her seatbelt, Storm readily piloted the group away while Jean attended to Scott's apparently twisted ankle and Logan resumed his attempts to awaken Rogue.

"C'mon, kid!" Logan encouraged frantically as he vigorously shook her body but a lack of reaction was, wretchedly, the only one he received.

Wholly annoyed and desperately pushed to his wits' end, Logan quietly tugged off his glove with his teeth as he hugged Rogue's frail figure dearly in his other arm. He studied her face hesitantly, with a grim expression almost replicating the moment the couple shared back in his room after his horrific nightmare.

No matter that Logan looked to be entirely devoured by the hemorrhage of loneliness erupting on his face, he eventually pushed down his palm to her cheek with certainty and squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the symptoms he envisioned would follow, but even the bare skin contact effected no real treatment for the girl whose body remained vexingly passive. Unconvinced that his methodologies served absolutely no function, Logan determinedly repeated the process again for several cycles, albeit to no avail.

Agonizingly resolved to the predicament, Logan tenderly cradled her head and cuddled her snugly. His face of enormous grief, nearly embellished with a drop of utter regret, however, did not last as his eyes and jaw suddenly widened in pain and a familiar flash flickered across his face. Essentially like his life had been drained out of him, Logan's cheeks paled at an appalling rate, fatally exposing the confounded intertwine of arteries and veins beneath.