*1*
Raia had never been good at keeping her cool.
It wasn't even a case of having a bad attitude, at least she didn't think it was. But whenever she got in a bad situation
it seemed to feel like the world was squashing down on her, cramping and squeezing and pushing around her brain until she
thought she'd go mad. Then she'd do whatever she could to try and press it all back away from herself. It was too
close, it was too claustrophobic, too intimate for someone who had spent far too long a time ensuring that nothing could
get close to her. But she wasn't a tender vulnerable little bunny rabbit either. She was cold and capable, strong and
brave. Aidan had called her a warrior, their leader. Somewhere deep inside the tight binding of ice, her heart swelled
whenever he said that. But it was only a slight feeling that never lasted, and was felt almost from a great distance.
It also always felt like an emotion she had no right to feel.
The only fierce emotions she had inside her were loyalty and anger. Loyalty for those friends who, bless them, had never
questioned, never demanded to see, had merely accepted and *known* what she was. Who had taken the walk with her through
their private bitter hells but had never demanded that she show them hers. Had shared more challenges with her. And
anger, that was the glue that kept her shattered heart bound up so tightly inside that ice. If she ever even thought
about it she could feel the ice trembling, and she knew with horrible clarity that if she allowed the anger out her
entire heart would burst and reams of hate and sorrow and loss would pour out of her mouth and guts into the world.
And she couldn't allow that. So even when the cool was lost only the smallest piece of the anger was even touched upon.
With this small piece of anger she found herself ransacking the club she was supposed to be meeting the others in.
They never should have left her on her own, they knew what she was like. It had all seemed so simple, wait for them to
arrive, have a drink, have a dance, do whatever. Then a drunken man had started pawing at her and she had been stupid.
She had roundhouse kicked him in the stomach and thrown him across the room with a punch. Idiotic displays of strength.
Stupid stupid stupid. Then they had all gotten scared but who could blame them? But oh God the fear had just made it
all the more worse. The anger inside her had almost glowed with the power that fear gave her. It fuelled the anger.
Because all they could do was hate her.
There were broken tables everywhere. There were broken people strewn around, men who had tried to stop her, restrain
her, had clearly seen her for what she was. But otherwise the place was empty save for herself, the carnage, and the
terrified bartender who she knew was hiding under the bar, afraid to come out. She sank down on the glass-strewn floor
and permitted a few tears to squeeze themselves out. "Just one or two, I can't... Get it together man." she mumbled to
herself before rising and removing her bag from underneath the seat by the backdoor. She threw some money across to the
bar, hearing a whimper as it hit the bartender's head. "Sorry." she said in a weary, almost bored tone before grabbing
some beers and exiting out of the back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Logan looked up as Scott entered the kitchen with mussed up hair and a tired walk.
"Hey."
Scott did a double take at seeing him there before continuing to the fridge, mumbling a similar greeting. "How you
holding up?" Logan asked cautiously after an awkward silence. He never knew whether it was appropriate to talk to Scott
about what they were going through after the history they had both had with Jean. Even though the mourning had brought
them arguably closer, there were some things Logan still didn't have a clue about tackling with a guy so different to
himself. "I'm ok. Couldn't sleep." said Scott, his short responses making it apparent that he didn't want to discuss it.
Logan accepted this and continued to stare out of the window as Scott rummaged through the fridge. He grinned at Scott's
bowed head with something close to affection. He was a total pain in the ass with how responsible and uptight he was,
but he was a good guy all the same. Jean had gone for the right guy... Logan cleared his throat and swiftly banished
thoughts of her from his head. The last thing he needed was that hot pain that shot through his heart to happen around
Scott. No matter how much the loss hurt him, he had never felt entitled to the grief he felt over Jean. If the rights
to grief could be given away, all of it should have belonged to Scott. He was the one she had loved, he had got to feel
her, to be with her in all the ways Logan had only got the chance to wonder about. Any resentment he felt over that,
the knowledge that Jean would never have been his, was submerged in sorrow for Scott. He hoped Jean would have been
proud of them. They weren't enemies anymore, even if they weren't quite yet friends.
"I'm taking Kurt out to a bar tommorow. Seems our little elf friend has never had a drink before. Want to help me
corrupt him?" he asked as Scott stood, laden with ingredients for what looked like it would be a very large sandwich.
Scott chuckled slightly "No thanks, I don't want to get involved in the destruction of an innocent man." "What's wrong
'Cyclops', can't take your drink?" Logan countered, appealing to the strong rivalry that was still present
between them. "Nope, I'm just worried I'd have to carry you home." Scott replied, quirking an eyebrow. Logan laughed in
surprise. The little bastard was getting sharp. The sun was starting to rise outside and Scott nodded towards it "Looks
like tommorow is today..." They both heard the television go on in the other room and,curious, both wandered in. They
found Professer Xavier flicking to a News channel. "Morning gentleman." he said without turning round, his gaze fixed
upon the screen. "Are you ok Professer?" asked Scott with a slight frown of concern on his face, not used to seeing
Xavier up so early. "I'm fine Scott, something just... alerted me in my sleep." he said softly, giving him a reassuring
smile. "Anything serious?" Scott continued, sitting down next to him. Logan rolled his eyes and slouched down in a seat
nearby. Chuck and Scott, what a pair. All business when it was 5 in the goddamn morning. He groped in his pockets,
looking for a cigar...
"No you don't Logan."
He shot a glance at Xavier. He still hadn't looked away from the screen, but had a knowing smile on his face. Grunting
in resignation, Logan left his cigars where they were.
"... The suspect caused great damages to the club and left twenty seven club-goers with numerous injuries. It is
reported by witnesses that the girl, aged between 18 and 25, appeared to have an unusual amount of strength, leading them
to believe she was a mutant. The description given by witnesses fits a girl seen outside (...) prison facility shortly
before the mutant prison break, which is believed to have been initiated by a Mutants Rights group known as Gagged..."
Xavier's attention was positively locked on the television screen. A slow smile spread across his face before he
whispered "What a poor, lost little girl."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Raia had never been good at keeping her cool.
It wasn't even a case of having a bad attitude, at least she didn't think it was. But whenever she got in a bad situation
it seemed to feel like the world was squashing down on her, cramping and squeezing and pushing around her brain until she
thought she'd go mad. Then she'd do whatever she could to try and press it all back away from herself. It was too
close, it was too claustrophobic, too intimate for someone who had spent far too long a time ensuring that nothing could
get close to her. But she wasn't a tender vulnerable little bunny rabbit either. She was cold and capable, strong and
brave. Aidan had called her a warrior, their leader. Somewhere deep inside the tight binding of ice, her heart swelled
whenever he said that. But it was only a slight feeling that never lasted, and was felt almost from a great distance.
It also always felt like an emotion she had no right to feel.
The only fierce emotions she had inside her were loyalty and anger. Loyalty for those friends who, bless them, had never
questioned, never demanded to see, had merely accepted and *known* what she was. Who had taken the walk with her through
their private bitter hells but had never demanded that she show them hers. Had shared more challenges with her. And
anger, that was the glue that kept her shattered heart bound up so tightly inside that ice. If she ever even thought
about it she could feel the ice trembling, and she knew with horrible clarity that if she allowed the anger out her
entire heart would burst and reams of hate and sorrow and loss would pour out of her mouth and guts into the world.
And she couldn't allow that. So even when the cool was lost only the smallest piece of the anger was even touched upon.
With this small piece of anger she found herself ransacking the club she was supposed to be meeting the others in.
They never should have left her on her own, they knew what she was like. It had all seemed so simple, wait for them to
arrive, have a drink, have a dance, do whatever. Then a drunken man had started pawing at her and she had been stupid.
She had roundhouse kicked him in the stomach and thrown him across the room with a punch. Idiotic displays of strength.
Stupid stupid stupid. Then they had all gotten scared but who could blame them? But oh God the fear had just made it
all the more worse. The anger inside her had almost glowed with the power that fear gave her. It fuelled the anger.
Because all they could do was hate her.
There were broken tables everywhere. There were broken people strewn around, men who had tried to stop her, restrain
her, had clearly seen her for what she was. But otherwise the place was empty save for herself, the carnage, and the
terrified bartender who she knew was hiding under the bar, afraid to come out. She sank down on the glass-strewn floor
and permitted a few tears to squeeze themselves out. "Just one or two, I can't... Get it together man." she mumbled to
herself before rising and removing her bag from underneath the seat by the backdoor. She threw some money across to the
bar, hearing a whimper as it hit the bartender's head. "Sorry." she said in a weary, almost bored tone before grabbing
some beers and exiting out of the back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Logan looked up as Scott entered the kitchen with mussed up hair and a tired walk.
"Hey."
Scott did a double take at seeing him there before continuing to the fridge, mumbling a similar greeting. "How you
holding up?" Logan asked cautiously after an awkward silence. He never knew whether it was appropriate to talk to Scott
about what they were going through after the history they had both had with Jean. Even though the mourning had brought
them arguably closer, there were some things Logan still didn't have a clue about tackling with a guy so different to
himself. "I'm ok. Couldn't sleep." said Scott, his short responses making it apparent that he didn't want to discuss it.
Logan accepted this and continued to stare out of the window as Scott rummaged through the fridge. He grinned at Scott's
bowed head with something close to affection. He was a total pain in the ass with how responsible and uptight he was,
but he was a good guy all the same. Jean had gone for the right guy... Logan cleared his throat and swiftly banished
thoughts of her from his head. The last thing he needed was that hot pain that shot through his heart to happen around
Scott. No matter how much the loss hurt him, he had never felt entitled to the grief he felt over Jean. If the rights
to grief could be given away, all of it should have belonged to Scott. He was the one she had loved, he had got to feel
her, to be with her in all the ways Logan had only got the chance to wonder about. Any resentment he felt over that,
the knowledge that Jean would never have been his, was submerged in sorrow for Scott. He hoped Jean would have been
proud of them. They weren't enemies anymore, even if they weren't quite yet friends.
"I'm taking Kurt out to a bar tommorow. Seems our little elf friend has never had a drink before. Want to help me
corrupt him?" he asked as Scott stood, laden with ingredients for what looked like it would be a very large sandwich.
Scott chuckled slightly "No thanks, I don't want to get involved in the destruction of an innocent man." "What's wrong
'Cyclops', can't take your drink?" Logan countered, appealing to the strong rivalry that was still present
between them. "Nope, I'm just worried I'd have to carry you home." Scott replied, quirking an eyebrow. Logan laughed in
surprise. The little bastard was getting sharp. The sun was starting to rise outside and Scott nodded towards it "Looks
like tommorow is today..." They both heard the television go on in the other room and,curious, both wandered in. They
found Professer Xavier flicking to a News channel. "Morning gentleman." he said without turning round, his gaze fixed
upon the screen. "Are you ok Professer?" asked Scott with a slight frown of concern on his face, not used to seeing
Xavier up so early. "I'm fine Scott, something just... alerted me in my sleep." he said softly, giving him a reassuring
smile. "Anything serious?" Scott continued, sitting down next to him. Logan rolled his eyes and slouched down in a seat
nearby. Chuck and Scott, what a pair. All business when it was 5 in the goddamn morning. He groped in his pockets,
looking for a cigar...
"No you don't Logan."
He shot a glance at Xavier. He still hadn't looked away from the screen, but had a knowing smile on his face. Grunting
in resignation, Logan left his cigars where they were.
"... The suspect caused great damages to the club and left twenty seven club-goers with numerous injuries. It is
reported by witnesses that the girl, aged between 18 and 25, appeared to have an unusual amount of strength, leading them
to believe she was a mutant. The description given by witnesses fits a girl seen outside (...) prison facility shortly
before the mutant prison break, which is believed to have been initiated by a Mutants Rights group known as Gagged..."
Xavier's attention was positively locked on the television screen. A slow smile spread across his face before he
whispered "What a poor, lost little girl."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~