A/N: I was in a sad, kind of angry place and this is what came out of it.
No Tears
She stood smiling, as if she couldn't be happier watching someone do something that made them so happy, something that she'd never be able to do. She stood in her summery dress, for once her bare skin feeling the slight, cool breeze against somewhere other than her face. The feel of moisture evaporating from her arms and legs felt almost erotic. She took the bride's bouquet as the vows were being exchanged then returned it to her at the announcement.
"Introducing, Mr. And Mrs. Piotr Rasputin!" There was clapping and some laughter as the bride leapt into her new husbands' arms to be carried down the aisle. The attendants met their counterparts and walked side by side down the aisle behind the bride and groom, most linking arms.
As she passed the last row of chairs she felt eyes on her and she turned her head. The figure stood half in shadow in the trees but there was no mistaking the shape, or the eyes. She didn't incline her head, hesitate in her step, nod or blink, but he knew she'd been seen, and seen through.
The guests drifted out of the chairs as the bridal party went off for photos. She was on edge, being crammed in so close to everyone else, no barrier between her skin and her friends was torture. Her smile was forced, but for Kitty, she kept it genuine. Finally the torture was over and Rogue bolted. She slipped her shoes and left them with her bouquet on one of the chairs, she'd be needed again before long but for now she needed some space.
She walked along the tree line, knowing she'd eventually catch up to him, but being in no hurry. She shook herself as if chilled and settled into her emotions. She was truly happy for Kitty but the actual wedding day had found her a little worse than melancholy. She'd once wanted a family, a husband, children, not with the same passion Kitty had, but with the comfortable assertion that it would happen someday.
She'd had a momentary reprieve when she'd taken the cure, but when her mutation reasserted itself, she'd been panicked, then angry. She'd hoped multiple doses over time would suppress it enough for her to lead a relatively normal life but she'd built up an immunity, now the only way she was truly safe was to sit next to Jimmy. This she tried to avoid doing, too many others were proximity-friends with him. Only friends when he was suppressing their mutations, or only when he was far enough away not to do so.
She closed her eyes and walked slowly, letting the texture of the grass and her own senses tell her if she was veering off course, letting the sun bathe her face. She smelled his cigar as she approached and eventually opened her eyes to see she was only ten feet or so from where he stood, leaning against a tree, watching the milling group of people in the distance. "It was a nice ceremony." She remarked as a greeting.
"But you're not smiling." He turned and met her eyes. She didn't tear up, or even blink but he read her just the same. He tried to touch her bare shoulder but she jerked back.
"Logan don't." Her voice was sharp and his arm stopped in mid-air, he snorted and dropped it, turning away. Despite the summer heat he was in a t-shirt under a long-sleeved shirt, the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms. She could see the sudden rigid-ness of rejection even through both layers.
She touched his shoulder in apology and he twitched slightly. She put her other hand on his other shoulder, then slid her hands around him, under his arms to grip him around the waist, her hands on his sternum, feeling his heart beat in his chest. When she laid her head against his broad back he felt prickling under his eyelids. He gripped her hands through his shirt and blinked away the burning in his throat. If she didn't cry, neither would he.