Disclaimer: the usual - I don't own them and no money is being made from
this (I wish!) Reviews always welcome so no need to be shy!!
Acknowledgements: a VERY special thank you to John, co-creator and artist extraordinaire for drawing such wonderful pictures of our hero Outlaw. Have you considered working for Marvel Comics?
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Logan moved as silently as a faded phantom through the darkening hallways and rooms of Xavier's School for the Gifted, known among its students as "mutant high". Although he could not see what each of his fellow mutants were doing at present, his heightened senses of hearing and smell told him as clearly as if they had all been arrayed in front of him in broad daylight.
Rogue and Bobby Drake were in the sitting room just off the main hall, huddled close together for comfort. They had been talking quietly a few minutes previously, but they had lapsed into silence and neither seemed inclined to start chatting again. Their quiet seemed more in keeping with the sombre pall that had been cast over the mansion ever since the disaster at Alkali Lake.
Logan truly thought of it as a disaster - how could anyone think otherwise? They had saved mutant kind from the twisted plans of General Stryker, sure enough; they had saved mankind from the vengeance of Magneto - but their loss felt greater than both of these combined.
Storm was sitting out in the garden, just under the window to his left, watching darkness flood the sky like the high tide on the seashore. Logan knew there would be tears in her eyes as she watched the glimmering stars appear one by one and realise that Jean would never see them again. Their newly appointed German teacher, Kurt Wagner, lurked in the shadows nearby, golden glowing eyes fixed on Storm's every motion, every nuance of her expressions, longing to comfort her but fearing to impose himself upon her, rosary sliding through his fingers and lips moving as he prayed for Jean and Storm and all at the mansion.
Logan wondered whether or not he ever featured in Kurt's prayers, then decided it didn't matter. He didn't believe in Kurt's God.
Professor Xavier was working in his office, studying books Logan had never even heard of, much less read, face sad and thoughtful as his telepathic abilities found gaps amongst his students, his children, gaping holes that used to be filled to bursting with life and knowledge and memory. The loss of Jean, one of his first students, almost a daughter to him, had shaken him to his very core, though he bore up bravely for the sake of Scott and Storm and the others. Almost as crushing was John's decision to go with Magneto, his choice of hatred over understanding. The Professor knew John's decision was his own - but that didn't assuage the guilt.
Logan shook his head - he knew about guilt. He knew that it could tear you to pieces if you allowed it to. The "ifs" were enough to drive anyone up the wall, across the ceiling and down the other side. He moved on once again.
And then there was Cyclops, Scott Summers, four-eyes. Logan could barely begin to imagine what he was feeling right now - he himself had known Jean for only a comparatively short time, but he was devastated by her loss. For Scott it must be like having half his soul ripped away from him brutally, cruelly, finally.
Give the guy a break, why don't ya? I mean, I don't like him but he doesn't deserve this, of all things.
Turning a corner, Logan paused as he saw a tall figure up ahead, clothed entirely in black, visor in place as usual, but his usual proud bearing completely broken down. Shoulders slumped, head hanging, feet dragging, skin pale and he was beginning to loose weight as well. Physically and mentally he was turning into a walking shadow of his former self.
Logan sighed deeply and leaned against the wall, wondering what the hell he was supposed to say to the guy. He had no experience with all this emotional crap - if somebody needed an ass-kicking, he was your clawed, one mutant demolition squad, but the touchy-feely stuff? Nah!
But then again, the Professor had specifically asked Logan to try and help Scott through this god awful time. "I know how you felt about Jean, Logan. You of all people should understand what he's going through right now. You might be able to reach him where no one else can."
Logan had already tried - Jean had chosen Scott, no question about that. Not exactly ego massaging stuff for him, but Scott hadn't taken a blind bit of notice. Logan couldn't really blame the guy.
So, no sobbing heart-to-heart was going to help Scott. What would then?
Logan could think of only one thing. It was by no means permanent, but maybe it was a start.
Squaring his shoulders, he marched straight up to Scott and stood waiting for him to speak. Scott ignored him for some minutes, lost in a bittersweet memory, before Logan's bristling presence finally became too much for him to disregard. "What do you want?" he snapped angrily, as the images of a fair summer day spent with Jean in the mountains faded from his mind.
"Grab your jacket, visor boy." Logan advised. Scot snorted indelicately.
"And why the hell should I do that?"
"Because," Logan informed him, as though speaking to a very young child, "you and I are gonna go find a decent bar, get drunk and maybe start a fight or two. At least we'll break a few glasses."
If looks could maim, Logan wouldn't have needed any beer to make him legless that evening. "You are unbelievable," Scott informed him, voice shaky with barely repressed rage. "Go away."
Logan rolled his eyes. "No. Come on, anything will be better than hanging round here for a second longer."
Scott turned to look out of the window. "I'm not going to get soused with you. Some of us have classes to teach tomorrow. So just leave me alone!"
Logan absorbed this in silence, allowing Scott to simmer with rage at anything and everything before he spoke again, this time with unaccustomed gentleness. "I know that in the long run it doesn't solve anything," he said, facing into the gloom - only his enhanced vision meant that he could see perfectly well. "But every now and then you just need to cut loose, go wild - you know. Cause you've been burying a lot of stuff ever since we got back here, and if you don't let it all hang out soon it'll come right back up to get ya. So what do you say to a boy's night out?"
Scott was so still after his lame attempt at counselling that Logan thought for a crazy second he'd fallen asleep at the window. But then suddenly he turned to face Logan properly for the first time in days. "Professor Xavier will be mad," he remarked blandly, sounding just like a kid before a bout of rule breaking.
Logan smiled ever so slightly. "Tell him it was my fault."
Cyclops nodded composedly. "I'm driving."
Acknowledgements: a VERY special thank you to John, co-creator and artist extraordinaire for drawing such wonderful pictures of our hero Outlaw. Have you considered working for Marvel Comics?
******************************************************
Logan moved as silently as a faded phantom through the darkening hallways and rooms of Xavier's School for the Gifted, known among its students as "mutant high". Although he could not see what each of his fellow mutants were doing at present, his heightened senses of hearing and smell told him as clearly as if they had all been arrayed in front of him in broad daylight.
Rogue and Bobby Drake were in the sitting room just off the main hall, huddled close together for comfort. They had been talking quietly a few minutes previously, but they had lapsed into silence and neither seemed inclined to start chatting again. Their quiet seemed more in keeping with the sombre pall that had been cast over the mansion ever since the disaster at Alkali Lake.
Logan truly thought of it as a disaster - how could anyone think otherwise? They had saved mutant kind from the twisted plans of General Stryker, sure enough; they had saved mankind from the vengeance of Magneto - but their loss felt greater than both of these combined.
Storm was sitting out in the garden, just under the window to his left, watching darkness flood the sky like the high tide on the seashore. Logan knew there would be tears in her eyes as she watched the glimmering stars appear one by one and realise that Jean would never see them again. Their newly appointed German teacher, Kurt Wagner, lurked in the shadows nearby, golden glowing eyes fixed on Storm's every motion, every nuance of her expressions, longing to comfort her but fearing to impose himself upon her, rosary sliding through his fingers and lips moving as he prayed for Jean and Storm and all at the mansion.
Logan wondered whether or not he ever featured in Kurt's prayers, then decided it didn't matter. He didn't believe in Kurt's God.
Professor Xavier was working in his office, studying books Logan had never even heard of, much less read, face sad and thoughtful as his telepathic abilities found gaps amongst his students, his children, gaping holes that used to be filled to bursting with life and knowledge and memory. The loss of Jean, one of his first students, almost a daughter to him, had shaken him to his very core, though he bore up bravely for the sake of Scott and Storm and the others. Almost as crushing was John's decision to go with Magneto, his choice of hatred over understanding. The Professor knew John's decision was his own - but that didn't assuage the guilt.
Logan shook his head - he knew about guilt. He knew that it could tear you to pieces if you allowed it to. The "ifs" were enough to drive anyone up the wall, across the ceiling and down the other side. He moved on once again.
And then there was Cyclops, Scott Summers, four-eyes. Logan could barely begin to imagine what he was feeling right now - he himself had known Jean for only a comparatively short time, but he was devastated by her loss. For Scott it must be like having half his soul ripped away from him brutally, cruelly, finally.
Give the guy a break, why don't ya? I mean, I don't like him but he doesn't deserve this, of all things.
Turning a corner, Logan paused as he saw a tall figure up ahead, clothed entirely in black, visor in place as usual, but his usual proud bearing completely broken down. Shoulders slumped, head hanging, feet dragging, skin pale and he was beginning to loose weight as well. Physically and mentally he was turning into a walking shadow of his former self.
Logan sighed deeply and leaned against the wall, wondering what the hell he was supposed to say to the guy. He had no experience with all this emotional crap - if somebody needed an ass-kicking, he was your clawed, one mutant demolition squad, but the touchy-feely stuff? Nah!
But then again, the Professor had specifically asked Logan to try and help Scott through this god awful time. "I know how you felt about Jean, Logan. You of all people should understand what he's going through right now. You might be able to reach him where no one else can."
Logan had already tried - Jean had chosen Scott, no question about that. Not exactly ego massaging stuff for him, but Scott hadn't taken a blind bit of notice. Logan couldn't really blame the guy.
So, no sobbing heart-to-heart was going to help Scott. What would then?
Logan could think of only one thing. It was by no means permanent, but maybe it was a start.
Squaring his shoulders, he marched straight up to Scott and stood waiting for him to speak. Scott ignored him for some minutes, lost in a bittersweet memory, before Logan's bristling presence finally became too much for him to disregard. "What do you want?" he snapped angrily, as the images of a fair summer day spent with Jean in the mountains faded from his mind.
"Grab your jacket, visor boy." Logan advised. Scot snorted indelicately.
"And why the hell should I do that?"
"Because," Logan informed him, as though speaking to a very young child, "you and I are gonna go find a decent bar, get drunk and maybe start a fight or two. At least we'll break a few glasses."
If looks could maim, Logan wouldn't have needed any beer to make him legless that evening. "You are unbelievable," Scott informed him, voice shaky with barely repressed rage. "Go away."
Logan rolled his eyes. "No. Come on, anything will be better than hanging round here for a second longer."
Scott turned to look out of the window. "I'm not going to get soused with you. Some of us have classes to teach tomorrow. So just leave me alone!"
Logan absorbed this in silence, allowing Scott to simmer with rage at anything and everything before he spoke again, this time with unaccustomed gentleness. "I know that in the long run it doesn't solve anything," he said, facing into the gloom - only his enhanced vision meant that he could see perfectly well. "But every now and then you just need to cut loose, go wild - you know. Cause you've been burying a lot of stuff ever since we got back here, and if you don't let it all hang out soon it'll come right back up to get ya. So what do you say to a boy's night out?"
Scott was so still after his lame attempt at counselling that Logan thought for a crazy second he'd fallen asleep at the window. But then suddenly he turned to face Logan properly for the first time in days. "Professor Xavier will be mad," he remarked blandly, sounding just like a kid before a bout of rule breaking.
Logan smiled ever so slightly. "Tell him it was my fault."
Cyclops nodded composedly. "I'm driving."