AUTHOR: shoneaugen
EMAIL: cparkerho@hotmail.com
DISTRIBUTION: Ask and recieve.
FEEDBACK: Pretty please?
DISCLAIMER: Don't own 'em. Just bring 'em out to play.
SUMMARY: Logan and Scott are still different. [vague X2 spoilers]
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Logan doesn't cry.
His eyes burn and sting; his knuckles itch with the ubiquitous desire to unsheath bone and metal, rip tear kill and drown his raging sorrow in someone else's blood. He has never felt anything like this, worse than the punch and burn of his own claws tearing through his chest in the heart of a statue, and if he felt it once upon more than fifteen years ago, he still doesn't remember.
He blinks hard, once, and stares into the empty space outside his window until his eyes dry.
Science is right.
Animals, it seems, are capable of feeling grief.
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Scott is used to the sense of heat behind his eyes. The comforting hum of energy behind ruby quartz settles like an unsung lullaby to his body, and he feels safe in it as long as he can keep it contained, keep it his. His powers, among other things.
He used to wake up at night with the bedroom shaking, and her tossing in fitful dreams beside him on the bed.
But now when he wakes, all he sees is a dull red haze, ruby quartz clouded and stained with the salt of tears old and new.