*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."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~