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FIC: Dead and Dreaming (1/1) PG13 [Jean POV], pre-X2

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  • Catlin O'Connor
    Title: Dead and Dreaming Author: Catlin Email: catlinoconnor (at) yahoo (dot) com Disclaimer: The X-Men belong to Marvel and Fox Summary: Jean s already
    Message 1 of 2 , Jun 26, 2004
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      Title: Dead and Dreaming
      Author: Catlin
      Email: catlinoconnor (at) yahoo (dot) com
      Disclaimer: The X-Men belong to Marvel and Fox
      Summary: Jean's already drowning.
      Rating: PG13
      Notes: Jean POV, set pre-X2. Thanks to Caroline and
      Helena for previewing.

      ~*~

      Sometimes it hurts.

      The blue of it blinds you and surrounds you, fills
      your mouth and weighs down your lungs. It's like
      drowning in density and sinking in fog. It's like
      gasping for air and inhaling nitrogen. It's like the
      tiniest of molecules freezing and turning your blood
      to frost-bitten strawberries, pulpy and iced over.

      It's a direct hit, a stab to the brain and a slice at
      the heart. It's a scream that skitters along your soul
      and holds you hostage in dreams that bleed. It's
      waking up with the sheets wrapped around your body as
      though they'd been painted on because your skin is so
      damp they adhere and become transparent and sticky.

      It's the realization that you could cut yourself open
      and let your insides spill out and they wouldn't
      notice a thing. It's the knowledge that everything
      you see is invisible to them, because they don't want
      to see it. Because they don't want to know that you
      know.

      It's a tangle, really, a twist of emotions and a blue
      so bright you lose focus, lose sight of everything
      near to you. The center, your focal point, dissolves
      like sugar in water, and when the sugar-silt lies at
      the bottom, it begins to reassemble, and it re-forms
      into something you'd never thought possible. Or maybe
      you did, and it's merely that you'd been told it
      wasn't supposed to be that way, that you could change
      it, defend yourself against it. Maybe you'd known all
      along, and managed to delude yourself that you were
      stronger.

      It's losing beauty in slow, acid drops and not even
      knowing there was anything to lose, because it'd
      always been there and it wasn't something you thought
      could actually *be* lost. And it's opening your eyes
      and not feeling the slightest spark when you encounter
      greys, white on black where there should've been...

      And it's nothing. It's a grey so dark and vivid, so
      painful that it feels like a hook hacking into your
      chest, digging in and twisting things around so your
      heart is in your stomach. It's knowing that the grey
      had been something else before, something so awesome
      it hurt to look at it.

      It's forgetting what had come before and seeing only
      the dark, only the slashes of black on the canvas.

      It's that niggling feeling that something is wrong,
      that there had been *something* once, something you'd
      known and yet...

      There's nothing. Just black on white and grey on
      black. It's drab and stark, so stark it's almost,
      almost-

      But then you see an argument, a raised hand and a
      wineglass, and shards of white that glitter dully on
      the floor, and then there's a raised hand and a
      wineglass, a tinkle as it falls and breaks and the
      shards are white on the floor.

      They gleam like polished plastic, and when you reach
      down to pick up the pieces, you cut yourself and you
      notice, as the others flutter and fold like wingless
      butterflies, that you don't bleed.

      Or maybe you do, and you don't see it, because you're
      just so busy trying to save yourself.


      ~end~


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    • sarafimm8868
      Wow! Wonderful and sad imagery. Thank you. L S
      Message 2 of 2 , Jun 27, 2004
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        Wow! Wonderful and sad imagery.

        Thank you.

        L S
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