Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men (wish I did) or any of the related characters (even if some live in my closet). Don't touch Ana, she's mine. Besides, she just finished moving into my head; I don't think she wants to move again. Lyrics at the bottom belong to U2, from the song "Two Shots of Happy, One Shot of Sad". Author's note at the bottom; Enjoy!


Second Sunrise (Warning)
Red in morning, sailor's warning. So the old saying goes, and it's true. The most beautiful sunrise is also the most deadly, and a wary traveler would do well to tread carefully under the blood red sky, for it speaks of dark clouds on the horizon.

Two Shots of Happy, One Shot of Sad
But aren't they the same?

How could he tell her? The twittering bird on his arm had once been his fondest desire, and now all he could think of was someone else. His tail lashed behind him, hitting Katzchen's leg. She made a noise of protest.

"What's, like, with you?" He looked down at her, at eyes that radiated annoyance. She was too thin. He told her once after maneuvers that he could see her hipbones through her jumpsuit and she took it as a compliment. When he elaborated and said that he didn't have anything to hold on to when he hugged her, she'd stopped talking to him for a day. That was, of course, after she spitefully told him that here in America being fat was a bad thing. He sighed and shrugged.

"I'm a little tired," he replied, an old excuse. His tail lashed again; damn that cursed appendage. It always gave him away; lying was practically impossible with it twitching every time he tried to.

"You've been tired a lot, lately, you know." Katzchen's eyes held some concern now. He shrugged again.

"It's nothing."

Katzchen, the stupid girl, wouldn't give up. "You should, like, tell someone." Yes, but who to tell? The Professor would subject him to a mental scan, Ororo would put him to bed and baby him like the son she didn't have, Logan would simply assign him extra time in the Danger Room. Scott would try to be sympathetic, Jean would read his mind whether he agreed to it or not, and Rogue would care but pretend not to.

"How about Ana?"

His tail lashed furiously at the mention of her name. Yes, Katzchen, talk to Ana. What could he tell her? That he was slowly tiring of having the pretty Katzchen hanging off his arm like a trophy? That he couldn't help thinking about breaking it all off and finding someone else, someone more intelligent, more mature, more down to earth than the shallow freshman? That what he really really wanted was three lockers down from his and wouldn't even look at him?

His eyes flicked towards Ana's locker, where she was struggling to carry three heavy books and several binders without dropping them. His sensitive eyes picked up a slight sheen of sweat on her forehead as she shoved her things into her locker; her breath short and slightly painful. There were deep circles under her eyes, and her skin was much paler than usual. No cloud of ambient emotions surrounded her, either; instead, the very air burned with non-existent heat. She was skittish, nervous, and jumped when someone touched her. She looked sick. Very, very sick. It troubled him.

Raising a gloved hand to her forehead (for the gloves had re-emerged after almost three months without them), she sighed. It too was a painful sound. He tried to remember the last time she had been like this; completely shut in and without feeling. Painfully shy. Afraid to feel. He turned away. It hurt too much to see her like this. She was starting to regress back to the girl in a shell, the girl she had been six months ago, before she came to them.

He started to say something to Katzchen, wanting to leave the hallway quickly. Katzchen, however, was dashing to Ana's side, saying something. Stupid Katzchen, stupid girl!

"…help him a little, please? He's so depressed all the time!" He pretended not to notice the snatches of conversation drifting towards him. His locker was suddenly very interesting.

"I don't know, Kitty…" His sensitive ears picked up her soft voice even in the noisy hallway. "What could I do?"

"I don't know…Make him happy, or something. Use those shot things you do." Ah, shots; those little thrills of emotion that she would throw at people when they touched her, thrills that he loved so much. When he had first met her, she didn't have the control over her abilities that she had now. She was very shy then; she didn't talk much and never let people touch her if she could help it. But slowly, she opened up, in the process gaining more control and learning how to project compact emotions in little touches, affectionately called 'shots' by anyone who came in contact with her.

But no more shots now. Only stillness from her skin.

"Oh, Kitty…" She was looking away, a hand on her forehead. "I…I want to, but I'm not…"

"Oh, come on, please? He's, like, unbearable like this!" This was too much. He closed his locker with a metallic bang and stalked over to them.

"Homeroom, Leibe?" His voice was stony and sarcastic. Katzchen glared up at him.

"See? He's, like, dead inside, or something." Stupid girl. Stupid. A low growl escaped his throat as he leaned against the lockers, looking away. When would this be over? "Do something!"

This was foolish. He was going to be late for class. He made to move away from the lockers when a whisper of concern suddenly caressed his cheek. His head shot up, looking around, craving more.

Ana murmured something, and another wave of concern kissed his skin. His eyes shot to hers - she was removing her gloves, her eyes locked on his. They looked so tired, so gem-like…Another step and she was right in front of him, reaching up to touch his cheek. The air around her wavered and dissipated - she had let down her shield. Cool hands cupped his cheeks.

Happiness was suddenly there, mixed with comfort and love. It flowed from her bare fingertips straight to his heart, drawing a shaky moan from his lips. His tail lashed and then quieted, and the knots in his muscles slowly began to unwind. This was heaven. This was the best thing he'd ever felt. This was life. He sighed as another gentle shot floated through him. Oh, if she would never let go…Don't let go…

And then the happiness was gone, replaced by a cold emptiness. His eyes flew open as a shiver ran down his spine - her hands were still on his cheeks, but there were tears in her eyes. Sadness, rejection, hurt…She withdrew her hands quickly, choking back a cry.

"Sorry," she said in a whisper, her eyes full of fear. The air around her was burning; the damn girl had put her shield up again. Katzchen's hand was on his arm.

"Better?" Not much. But he offered her a shadow of his normal grin. She smiled back at him. Ironic; he had chased that smile in hopes she would show it to him. Now she did, and he didn't want to see it. A small clatter at his side drew his attention - Ana had dropped something.

Their fingers reached it at the same time, brushing against each other; Ana drew back like she had been burnt, and his hand closed around a pen.

"Sorry." There were those words again, in a small voice. She was almost scared of him. Yes, of course. Why wouldn't she be? It was all the same; no matter how much they hid it, they all feared him. All of them. Monster.

Katzchen tugged him away as the first bell rang, signaling the mass migration to homeroom. "Thanks, Ana!" she called as they made their way down the hall, away from her. Ana didn't look up; she just nodded. Her hair hid her face - he couldn't see her eyes. Such beautiful eyes…Diamond and sapphire, set in gold…So beautiful.

"…listening to me? Hello? Earth to Kurt?" He shook his head and looked down at Katzchen. She wasn't smiling anymore. "Jeez, what'd she do to you? You were staring at her like she was me or something."

Maybe that's what I wish you were.

The feel of plastic in his hand was smooth and cool. He looked down at the pen; it was dark blue marble, shot through with gold streaks that reminded him of her hair. He glanced back towards her one last time, hoping to see more than her retreating figure.

"Walk you to class, Dora dear?" Pietro. Pietro, bastard, damn him! The silver-haired boy was leaning casually against the locker beside Ana's, an easy grin on his handsome features. Damn it all, get away from her!

"Pietro, no," she said in a soft voice that carried to his ears nonetheless. "I have things to do now…"

As he watched, a flash of concern blew across Pietro's face. "You look paler than usual, Dora. The badger been working you too hard?" To an untrained ear it would have sounded like an insult, but there was definite concern laced between the sarcasm. "I'll get rid of him for you, ya know. It would only take a second."

"I'm fine, Pietro, thank you." Ana shut her door and turned away from him, her hands clasped at her side. "Logan hasn't been letting me train lately." There was a note of sadness in her voice for a moment, and he could have sworn he saw Pietro shudder slightly. Even from halfway down the hall, he could see the leather of her gloves stretched tight over her knuckles.

"Come on, I'll walk to you class." He gritted his teeth, feeling his fangs dig into his lower lip as Pietro took her arm and began leading her away down the hall, away from him. She protested futily, but as he watched her she gave up, leaning a little more heavily on his arm. He could almost make out a grateful smile as they turned the corner, Pietro as animated as ever and waving his free arm around and she was smiling…

A trickle of blood seeped unseen from his lip, and he held a hand up, knowing that his hologram protected him from attention. There was no blood on his hands, but he could feel the stickiness congealing on his fur. Unseen, but still there. What a metaphor for his life. He absently licked his lips, wincing slightly and tasting the salty metal of his blood. And he wondered.

What have I done wrong?

Two shots of happy, one shot of sad,
You think I'm no good, well I know I've been bad,
Don't try to figure out what we might have had,
Two shots of happy, one shot of sad…


And Part Two of Three Sunrises is now complete! I'm so proud of myself for *gasp* actually finishing what I started. *nod*.

Full of angst, I know. I don't know why, it's just what was begging to be written. I think I'm most proud of the last two paragraphs, just for the pure angst-content. It makes me happy to make people miserable, I think. I'm such a sadist :)

Part three is done except for a few editing things, and then it's done. So hooray. I hope you enjoyed it!