Logan finds himself walking towards the mirror. He lifts a hand and puts it against the mirror's surface, near where her hand is, wondering if she's still able to sense things on this side or if her powers are so far gone that she won't be able to see it at all. It's strangely warm under his skin, a feeling like his palm is sinking into soft clay.

He knows what she's talking about. Has been there himself, more than once. Sat with his knuckles pressing into his jaw. Woke up with his head ringing and memories reforming around damaged brain tissue, spitting out bullets and bile.

Broken. Yeah, he knows what that feels like.

Words push at him but he closes his teeth on them, just stands there, head hanging, feeling the not-mirror and every ache in his bones.