I held her there, in my arms, wind whipping around me unnaturally, dust blowing into my eyes, my ears, every crevasse and pore of my body. I held her there, in my arms, my eyes stinging from the tears I would not allow to fall. Not in her presence. Not when she could see. I held her there, in my arms, as she whimpered, "Save me," her body under her own control for the final time.
I held her there, in my arms, as she won the for control of her body, her self, her person, but only for a mere moment. I held her there, in my arms, unable to save her body, yet able to redeem her soul.
I held her there, in my arms, and watched her die, knowing that in the end, she left a good person, and without a hint of the darkness that had hounded her mind. She died right beside me, and in the end, it was the only thing I could do to ease her pain.
I held her there, in my arms, as she died, killed by my own hand. I tried to rationalize it later, but in the end, the only reason why I took her life was because of one simple thing: I love her.
[One shot Wolverine/Dr. Jean story. I watched All the X-Men movies today, and, I don't know.. I felt as if this was something I needed to write. (:]
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