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5263A Time To Heal PG (Scott, Logan)

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  • Lamashtar@aol.com
    Aug 5, 2003
    • 0 Attachment
      A Time To Heal
      Author: Lamashtar
      Feedback: Feel free to criticize, it's not done.
      Rated: Er, PG? Nothing happens, but people think about it.
      Disclaimer: Not mine, Marvel's.
      Archive: If Peja wants movieverse, she can have it.
      Summary: Another dead Jean -Scott/Logan fic. With undertones of Jean/Logan.
      Note: Peja's first sentence and five minutes of writing challenge. It was
      supposed to be Ultimateverse, but I forgot and meandered into Movieverse.
      ::sigh:: It's part of a longer fic I was thinking of and will probably be
      incorporated later.

      There was something in those eyes that told the story of a broken soul....

      Maybe it was all the silence around at night in his room. It woke him up,
      loud in its (her) absence of tiny movements. 

      He stared at the ceiling a lot. Went over the last moments of Alkali so many
      times he made himself and everyone else sick with it. And when the immediate
      shock had ebbed, he couldn't help feeling....not alone.

      In the half reality between sleep and dream, he felt certain, he *knew* that
      she was still him. Somehow.

      He was comforted by that warmth, and left with a feeling of...expectation.
      He couldn't explain it, didn't even want to speak it out loud for fear the
      others would feel the need to 'talk' to him again. It dulled the pain and made
      him feel still close to her and that was worth the occasional unfocused sense
      that seemed to go with it.

      But part of him (a large part) missed the physical Jean. The sharpness of
      her glance. The velvet claw of her voice. The sounds she made sleeping. The
      heat of her body. And (yes) the sex.

      So he ended up wakeful in the small hours. Listening to the unaccustomed
      silence. Hearing what he wasn't supposed to.

      The ones left behind who didn't have what he did.

      Unsure why, Scott rose and put a robe on over his pajamas. He missed Jean's
      slippers when his bare feet hit the cold hardwood hallway. It made him pick
      up his feet a little quicker.

      He paused when he reached the door, hand flat against it. Knock and make
      sure he didn't get skewered? Or just do what the urge inside him wanted and beg
      forgiveness later?

      The door opened softer than a tardy student's tiptoe into class. Logan's
      room was dark, but with the covers thrown back by the restless sleeper, Scott
      could see the faint outline of the man's body.

      The whimpers were louder in here.

      Scott closed the door behind him, staying well away from the bed. No one
      needed a repeat of what had happened to Rogue. Not knowing what to do with
      himself, Scott slid carefully down to sit cross-legged on the floor.

      A moment of panic hit him as he began to really realize what he was doing.
      What *was* he doing here!?

      "Please...don't..." The tortured begging was followed by a low animal
      keening. It was the sound of something so hurt that mercy meant euthanasia.

      Scott took a deep breath and tried to forget his own doubts. Some things
      weren't about him.

      "Logan...." He raised his voice. "Logan."

      The blur of motion was astounding. Scott only had time to think he should be
      frightened before three gleaming admantium claws were at his throat and the
      combat cool took over his mind.

      Logan sounded amazed. "Scott...?"

      The claws were immediately withdrawn with the sound of a soft 'shuckt'.
      Logan sighed heavily as he stood back. "Scott, what're you doing here?"

      "You...I.." Scott's brain floundered with embarrassment, trying to explain
      his own inexplicable actions. His mouth came up with something reasonable.
      "You were making a lot of noise. I wanted to wake you before you woke the kids

      "Yeah...I guess you're right." Logan sounded a little embarrassed himself.
      Not good to remind him of the 'incident' with Rogue.

      "It's okay. I was already up anyway," Scott said.

      He could tell by the cock of Logan's head that he was being looked at.
      Evidently, deciding that another 'Jean' conversation was more than he wanted to go
      into, Logan said ruefully, "Funny, I must be losing my touch. Should've heard
      you coming in."

      Something surged inside Scott, making him say, "Maybe you wanted me here."

      Then he snapped his mouth shut, unable to believe himself. He was SO dead.
      Logan had actually frozen with his mouth open, staring at Scott.

      There didn't seem to be any way to ameliorate his words. He could run (and
      Logan could catch him), or just sit and let Logan decide what to do. So Scott
      stayed quiet and played with the sash of his robe.

      "I'm not sure what you're getting at, Scott," Logan finally said, stepping
      through his words as carefully as if they were mines.

      "I'm saying...I think both of us could use the company," Scott's mouth said.
      Scott's brain checked out at this point. Obviously, he was possessed.

      This was evidently his night to surprise Logan. If only he'd brought a
      videocamera. Logan actually shook himself as if thinking he was in a dream.

      "That's...nice of you, Scott," Logan said. Strangely, he didn't really seem
      displeased. "Wanna get a beer?"

      "Sure," Scott said, relieved. It could've been worse...

      They sat outside, drinking the beers Logan now kept in the refrigerator,
      waiting for the sun. Somehow, Scott seemed driven to draw Logan out, asking him
      how he was, how he liked the school, what his goals were. Though still a
      little puzzled, Logan seemed to accept it as proper oh-dark-thirty beerdrinking
      behavior. He talked more than he had in all the short time Scott had known

      A sneaky little thought drifted through Scott's mind about how easy it was
      to get a man talking about himself. Scott squelched it.

      Logan was talking: "...But the worst thing was what Stryker told me. He
      said I volunteered. And Xavier confirmed it. But he still can't tell me
      who--or what--I was, before."

      "All I can think about is how could I do that to myself? The most horrible
      things--you can't imagine the things I see at night--and I did that to
      myself? How could I? What kind of person--what kind of *man*--volunteers to be
      turned into some kind of killing machine?"

      It begged an answer, and Scott tried to provide one that made sense to him.
      "A patriot...maybe? Stryker wasn't always the enemy. Do you remember the
      super-soldier agent in World War II? The one they called Captain America?"

      "Yeah." Logan frowned.

      "He was supposed to have been a normal human before the super-soldier
      trials. They came up with some kind of super steroid formula, killed most of the
      test subjects who tried it, but it worked on this guy. He actually grew bone
      mass and got taller, along with a whole lot of muscle tissue. His body would
      be registered as inhuman nowadays, as mutated as any of us. He was willing to
      be experimented on for his country. Maybe you were, too."

      "How do you know about all that?" Logan asked.

      "It...Jean studied it," Scott said awkwardly. He didn't remember ever
      talking about it, but she must've mentioned it in passing.

      "Oh. Yeah, I guess that'd be required reading for mutant doctors," Logan
      said, looking off in the distance.

      A lull fell between them, as thoughts of the red-headed woman intruded.
      Scott found himself watching Logan, gauging the tightness of the sudden closed

      "Did you love her?"

      Logan turned to him then, and the rage and loss and bitter anguish made
      Scott wish he could bite his tongue off.

      "If I *did*, it wouldn't've mattered to her, would it? She had you." Logan
      seemed to choke on his words.

      Scott didn't know what to say. He couldn't say he wasn't glad that was so.
      But neither could he deny Logan's own pain. (And when had that changed?)
      So he let that part of his brain that wanted to say stupid things free.

      He said, "She did love you--in a way. She wasn't interested in--she liked
      what she saw in you."

      "She said I was the bad guy," Logan said softly.

      "No. She saw what was noble in you and could've been better."

      Logan didn't answer and they sat quietly together, beers forgotten for the
      moment, watching the dawn color the sky.

      Then Logan stood up and Scott knew their time was over. Logan gave him a
      small grin, and said, with a flash of his old growl, "You know, Scooter, you
      ain't as uptight as you seem. Did it hurt to take the broom out?"

      "Watch it, Logan, I'll start thinking you like me."

      "Whatever works to get you drunk enough to fall on your ass in this
      morning's Danger Room exercise, Scotty."

      Danger Room? He was going to be late!

      Scott took off at a run as he heard Logan laughing behind him. But that was
      okay. Those sad eyes would no longer haunt his nights. And maybe, just
      maybe, he would sleep a little bit better, too.

      [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]