Comatose-Book 1

Part 2

Waking up the following morning is like ascending from a year in ice. Your heart is cold and numb, eyes crusted together with sleep and dried tears, your lips are cracked and voice scratchy from screaming your pain at the four walled prison you had made for yourself.

You contemplate calling Bucky, going so far as to pickup your phone, ignoring the 80+ missed calls you have from various Avengers. Finger hovering over the call button on the screen, the images of his betrayal replay inside your head. Stifling a sob, it lodges in your throat, and you dial another number instead, a number you haven't called in over 3 years, and pray that he will answer. You didn't leave on the best of terms, after all.

Ring... Ring... Ring...

"What?" comes the gruff voice over the phone.

"Lo-Logan?" you croak, only to have silence greet you.

When the curt reply of, "(y/n)" finally comes, your heart plummets into your stomach. "I'm sorry," you sob. "I shouldn't have called."

"No, wait, (y/n). What's goin on?" You begin to cry in earnest and then, "I'll be there in four hours," comes over the line before it goes dead. You stare at your phone in horror. No... oh fuck..

Scrambling out of bed, you fly into the shower, scrubbing every inch of your skin, shampooing your hair and rinsing in record time. Rushing to your closet, you pick out black, skinny ripped jeans, combat boots, and a studded, capped sleeve, loose fitting t-shirt. You run a brush through your damp hair, pulling it into a tight ponytail before brushing a light dusting of blush across your cheeks and applying a coat of mascara to your eyelashes.

Feeling armed enough to face the onslaught of questions the arrival of Logan will bring, you step into your living area, taking in the shattered glass on the floor. Well fuck, this is a mess, you think as you float the pieces of glass in the air. With a twitch of your fingers, you disintegrate them before turning your focus to the rest of the apartment. You straighten the hot mess your frazzled nerves made last night with a flick of your wrist, and satisfied with your progress, you sit yourself on the couch. Staring patiently at the door, you await Logan's arrival.

Three hours and thirty minutes later, you hear a knock on the door, which sends a weird sense of panic and relief washing over you. Opening the door, you take in Logan's features The man hasn't aged a day. Strong muscular frame, hair styled just so, and a white wife beater under a leather jacket. Same old Logan.

"(Y/N)" he says in greeting.

"Logan," you reply as you step aside to let him in. Gesturing toward the couch, you fidget as you ask, "Want something to drink?"

"Nah," he replies. "What I want is for you to tell me why you called me out of nowhere, sounding like hell," he states plainly, causing you to sigh as you take a seat next to him.

"I don't know why I called..." you trail off. "I guess, I needed to hear a friendly voice..I.." You start crying as you try to get the words out. "The man I loved, my boyfriend of two years, thought it a fucking great idea to sleep with my best friend! And then he tells me he's in love with both of us!" you exclaim shakily. "I'm such a fool to think it could have happened any other way, I mean, you left me for another woman." You laugh mirthlessly as Logan growls. "Why the hell would it be any different this time? Why would anyone see me as anything else but a pit stop to someone better?" Pulling your knees to your chest, your breath hitches as you ask, "What's wrong with me, Logan? Why can't anyone love me enough to stay?"

Crying in earnest now, great heaving sobs shaking your delicate frame, you go willingly when he pulls you into his side. "There ain't nuthin' wrong with you, sweetheart. I loved Jean, and I loved you. I just... loved her a lil' more, and I wound up killin' her." He snorts out a self-deprecating laugh. "She broke me, more than once, but you, you saved me. From the nightmares, from the darkness, and I treated ya like shit. I'm sorry for that." He sighs loudly before continuing. "He's an idiot, this man of yours, and I'm sorry he hurt ya," Logan says gruffly

"I love him, Logan. More than I loved you, and a part of me wants to run back there and forgive him for everything." Licking your dry lips you carry on, "And I need to go back, because it's my job. People count on me. I'm gonna have to face them both, and deal with this, and all I really want to do is go home," you say as you cling to his shirt.

"You wanna come home?" he asks tentatively.

"Yeah. I really just want to go home, Logan" you reply truthfully. "I wanna feel anything but this... numbness."

He scrutinizes you for a full minute before he takes out his phone and dials a number.

"Professor," he says, causing your head to snap up. "We have a problem." He listens to the voice for a full thirty seconds before he says, "That's the lay of the land, yeah. What can we do about it?" Silence again filled the space between you. "Alright. I'll let her know. See you in a couple of days, Professor." He presses the end call button and looks down at your shocked face. "Don't look at me like that. You said you wanted to come home," he says while quirking an eyebrow.

"I didn't mean for you to call my brother!" you shriek, scrambling frantically upright. "We haven't spoken in more than four years, Logan!" Pacing the length of your apartment, you glare at his smirking face. "There's a reason I haven't been home to visit!"

"Well, suck it up, Bub. He's makin' the calls as we speak. You're being transferred back to the X-Men."