iv.
Cecily sat by the window in her room, her gaze distant and unfocused. Her fingers idly picked at her skin, a nervous habit she couldn't seem to shake. "He’s yet to see victory," she whispered to herself, the phrase looping endlessly in her mind for months now. She couldn’t grasp its meaning, but the words haunted her.
The soft creak of the door pulled Cecily from her thoughts, and for a brief moment, she had forgotten she wasn’t alone. Still simmering with anger, the last thing she wanted was to deal with Logan and the tension between them. She got up, intending to walk away, but before she could leave, Logan caught her arm.
“Cecily,” he said softly.
She glanced down at his hand gripping her arm and then back up at him. “Let go,” she demanded.
“You can’t keep avoiding me, Cecily. We share a room,” he replied.
“I’m not avoiding you. I just want to be alone,” she said, her voice edged with frustration.
“No, you’re not okay. And I’m not leaving you alone,” he insisted.
“Let me go,” she repeated, her tone more forceful this time.
“No,” he said firmly. “You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to, but I’m not leaving you alone.”
“You’re angry,” he observed quietly.
Cecily let out a bitter laugh. “Of course I’m angry. I’m angry at you, at Scott, at Jean, at the Professor… I’m angry at all of it! But most of all, I am so angry at you.”
Logan’s grip on Cecily’s arm loosened, his eyes searching hers for a hint of the emotions she was struggling to contain. “I know you are,” he said softly, his voice tinged with regret. “And I’m sorry, Cecily. For everything.”
Cecily pulled her arm free and took a step back, crossing her arms as if to shield herself from the torrent of emotions threatening to spill over. “Sorry isn’t enough, Logan,” she replied, her voice trembling. “You don’t get to just say ‘sorry’ and make everything better. Not after everything that’s happened.”
He took a step closer, his expression earnest. “I know it won’t fix anything. But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. We’ve both lost so much, but I don’t want to lose you too.”
Cecily shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. “I don’t even know who I am anymore. The Professor’s gone, Scott’s gone, Jean... And all I’m left with are these whispers in my head that I can’t silence, no matter how hard I try.”
She turned away, trying to fight back the tears that were threatening to spill over. “I don’t know if I can trust you,” she admitted, her voice barely audible. “Or anyone.”
Logan stepped closer, hesitating for a moment before gently placing his hand on her shoulder. “I won’t ask you to trust me right now. But I’m asking you to let me be here for you. To help you through this.”
Cecily stood still for a moment, the turmoil inside her raging like a storm. Part of her wanted to push him away, to shut out the world entirely. But another part, the part that still remembered what it felt like to be cared for, to be loved, wanted to hold on to something, anything, that could ground her.
For a moment, she seemed conflicted, her emotions warring within her. Then, as if a dam had burst, she took a few hesitant steps toward him before collapsing into his arms. Her sobs broke free, raw and unrestrained, echoing painfully throughout the room.
Logan held her tightly, his own emotions tightly controlled, but his grip on her was firm, steady—anchoring. He didn’t say anything; there was nothing to say that could ease the weight of her grief. Instead, he just let her cry, his heart breaking for her as she released the pain she’d been holding back for so long.
The sound of her sobs filled the room, a cathartic release of all the anger, sorrow, and fear she had been carrying. Logan simply held her, his hand gently stroking her back, silently promising that he would be there for her, no matter what.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
After a few hours, Cecily’s sobs had finally subsided. She sat by the window again, staring out into the distance, lost in thought. She barely registered Logan getting up and making his way to the door until she heard him speak.
“You need a lift, kid?” Logan asked, his voice breaking through the quiet.
Curious, Cecily got up and walked toward the door to see who he was talking to. She found Rogue standing there, her expression conflicted.
“No,” Rogue replied, her voice heavy with determination.
Cecily stood quietly by the door, watching the conversation unfold.
“Where’re you going?” Logan asked, concern evident in his tone.
“You don’t know what it’s like to be afraid of your powers, to be afraid to get close to anybody,” Rogue said, her voice trembling with emotion.
“Yeah, I do,” Logan responded, his voice steady but filled with empathy.
“I want to be able to touch people, Logan,” Rogue continued, her eyes pleading. “A hug, a handshake, a kiss.”
“I hope you’re not doing this for some boy,” Logan told her, his brow furrowing.
“Look, if you wanna go, then go,” he said, his tone softening. “Just be sure it’s what you want.”
“Shouldn’t you be telling me to stay, to go upstairs and unpack?” Rogue asked, searching his face for an answer.
“I’m not your father. I’m your friend,” Logan said gently.
Rogue turned to Cecily, looking for her input. Cecily met her gaze and, after a moment, shrugged her shoulders with a small, understanding smile.
“If this is what you want to do, I can’t stop you,” Cecily said softly.
Logan nodded, acknowledging her words. “Think about what i said Rouge.”
“Marie,” she corrected him, her voice softening.
“Marie,” Logan repeated, a hint of a smile on his lips as he turned to head back into the room. Cecily followed close behind, her thoughts still lingering on the conversation.