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seriousficTitle: Separate Us From Animals
Fandom: X-Men movieverse
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,025
Characters/Pairings: Logan, Victor Creed, Scott Summers, Emma Frost
Author’s Note: Set between X2 and X-Men: The Last Stand
Summary: Rogue remembers the last time the X-Men were a family: Jean Gray’s funeral.
The funeral was the last time Rogue really remembered the X-Men as a family. Before being divided by the Cure, or the Phoenix, or a dozen other daggers through their heart, they were united by grief on the grounds far behind the Mansion, where the first of many graves was dug.
She saw Beast, fresh from Washington, and Scott who’d for the last time worked up the energy to shave, and Logan stuffed in a suit that made him look civilized in his grief. Like it was something artsy and pretty. It wasn’t, for any of them.
***
“I always thought you two would die together, like Bonnie and Clyde in white hats.”
Emma was the only one who would disturb Scott while he stood over Jean’s grave, watching the eternal flame claw futilely at the air. Emma had always known, with everyone but Scott, when to push the limits and when to dance back from them. She wore an understated black dress; the only white in the picture was the buttondown under Scott’s tie and jacket. Emma pondered those colors, the black of grief, the red of Scott’s glasses, and of course the gray of Jean’s headstone. The school didn’t seem nearly as colorful as when they were students.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” Scott said simply, still with his back to Emma.
“Hank invited me. And Jean was a good person. It’s not her fault that I don’t get along with good people.” Emma had circled around the fresh grave, but now she leaned on the headstone like a neighbor gossiping across a fence, the eternal flame painting her red. “I make very few offers twice and even less exceptions. Due to your loss, I’m giving you both. There’s nothing for you here. Join the Club.”
“Start living from orgy to orgy? Give up the dream?”
“There’s a mutant-friendly president in the White House and McCoy in the Cabinet. Xavier has his dream. What’s yours?”
Scott looked down, the flames reflecting in his glasses. “Nothing you can give me.”
***
Logan skipped the wake. It was just one more part of Jean’s life he didn’t belong in, friends he didn’t know sharing memories he hadn’t been a part of. Once he had his monkey suit down to an undershirt and trousers, he left her world of manicured lawns and wrought-iron fences for the first place that smelled like whiskey. Four rounds of Molston later, he was winning the war against his healing factor and Jean was just another mighta-been.
“Ain’t seen ya this upset since Japan, Jimmy.” The familiarly agreeable drawl sobered Logan right the hell up. He stifled a growl. Victor wasn’t a friend, but he’d settle for goading Logan with their shared past if he wasn’t provoked. And for once, Logan wasn’t in the mood to provoke him.
“Hasn’t been anyone worth losing since Japan.”
“What can I tell you? You open yourself up for this. Animals aren’t supposed ta fall in love. They rut, that’s all.”
“Are you coming on to me? It’s not that kind of bar.”
“Nah. Not into incest.” Victor watched surprise bristle Logan’s hair. “Oh yeah. Offer still stands. Rejoin the pack, I’ll tell you all about dear old dad.”
“Rot in hell.”
Victor sat down beside Logan, digging his claws into the bar. “Had to ask.” He signaled the bartender. “I’ll have what he’s having.”
“I’m really not in the mood, Vic. Leave it.”
“I’ve said my piece. All I’m here for now is the fine dining.” He popped a peanut into his mouth. “I know what it’s like to lose someone who means the whole world to you. You think about all the ways you could’ve protected them, all the times you could’ve told them how you felt. It eats at you. And what you’re feeling right now is only gonna get worse. Embrace the animal and all that goes away.”
“Maybe I don’t want it to go away.” Logan tossed a bill onto the counter. “Some things should leave scars. That’s not being civilized. That’s being alive.” He lurched back toward the mansion and its fading scent of Jean.
“Sorry about your girl, little brother,” Victor muttered into his drink.
***
It didn’t take much. Logan showed up in Scott’s room with a bottle and no glasses. They passed it between them, sitting on the bed.
“Did you have someone?” Scott asked, just holding the bottle.
Logan got the impression that Scott wouldn’t give the bottle back if he didn’t say something. He grunted. Didn’t remember.
“I wish I could have that. Just…” he prodded at his own head. “Tabula rasa.”
“Go talk to the Professor. I’m sure he’ll hook you up.”
“He’d just lecture me. Or tell me how sorry he is. Or say how wonderful Jean was. I know how she was! I married her!”
Fed up, Logan pulled the bottle away. “You smell like blonde.”
“And you smell like you bathed in an ashtray. Don’t see me complaining.”
“You just did.”
“Fuck you, I’m bereaved.”
They passed the bottle around til it was empty, then sat there a while.
“So what’d she want?” Logan asked.
“Her name’s Emma. She’s an old classmate.”
“Not what I asked.”
“She wants me on her staff.”
“Likewise, I’m sure.”
Scott made a half-hearted ‘fuck you’ noise.
“You gonna take her up on it?”
“Haven’t decided.”
“Yes you have. You’re not going to because Jean wouldn’t have wanted you to.”
Scott didn’t turn to him, but Logan could feel his eyes on him. “So we’re just going to live the rest of our lives based on what Jean might’ve wanted?”
Something about being included in that ‘we’ brought it all home for Logan. He closed his eyes. “Haven’t decided.”
“Wake me when you do.” Scott got up, walked to the sofa, crashed.
“I’m going. You can have the bed.”
“No. Jean slept there.” Scott crossed his arms, let his head drift back. “Too big for one person.”
Logan got up, feeling older than the dirt. Before he left, he tugged off Scott’s shoes and threw a blanket his way. It was what Jean would’ve wanted.
Fandom: X-Men movieverse
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,025
Characters/Pairings: Logan, Victor Creed, Scott Summers, Emma Frost
Author’s Note: Set between X2 and X-Men: The Last Stand
Summary: Rogue remembers the last time the X-Men were a family: Jean Gray’s funeral.
The funeral was the last time Rogue really remembered the X-Men as a family. Before being divided by the Cure, or the Phoenix, or a dozen other daggers through their heart, they were united by grief on the grounds far behind the Mansion, where the first of many graves was dug.
She saw Beast, fresh from Washington, and Scott who’d for the last time worked up the energy to shave, and Logan stuffed in a suit that made him look civilized in his grief. Like it was something artsy and pretty. It wasn’t, for any of them.
***
“I always thought you two would die together, like Bonnie and Clyde in white hats.”
Emma was the only one who would disturb Scott while he stood over Jean’s grave, watching the eternal flame claw futilely at the air. Emma had always known, with everyone but Scott, when to push the limits and when to dance back from them. She wore an understated black dress; the only white in the picture was the buttondown under Scott’s tie and jacket. Emma pondered those colors, the black of grief, the red of Scott’s glasses, and of course the gray of Jean’s headstone. The school didn’t seem nearly as colorful as when they were students.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” Scott said simply, still with his back to Emma.
“Hank invited me. And Jean was a good person. It’s not her fault that I don’t get along with good people.” Emma had circled around the fresh grave, but now she leaned on the headstone like a neighbor gossiping across a fence, the eternal flame painting her red. “I make very few offers twice and even less exceptions. Due to your loss, I’m giving you both. There’s nothing for you here. Join the Club.”
“Start living from orgy to orgy? Give up the dream?”
“There’s a mutant-friendly president in the White House and McCoy in the Cabinet. Xavier has his dream. What’s yours?”
Scott looked down, the flames reflecting in his glasses. “Nothing you can give me.”
***
Logan skipped the wake. It was just one more part of Jean’s life he didn’t belong in, friends he didn’t know sharing memories he hadn’t been a part of. Once he had his monkey suit down to an undershirt and trousers, he left her world of manicured lawns and wrought-iron fences for the first place that smelled like whiskey. Four rounds of Molston later, he was winning the war against his healing factor and Jean was just another mighta-been.
“Ain’t seen ya this upset since Japan, Jimmy.” The familiarly agreeable drawl sobered Logan right the hell up. He stifled a growl. Victor wasn’t a friend, but he’d settle for goading Logan with their shared past if he wasn’t provoked. And for once, Logan wasn’t in the mood to provoke him.
“Hasn’t been anyone worth losing since Japan.”
“What can I tell you? You open yourself up for this. Animals aren’t supposed ta fall in love. They rut, that’s all.”
“Are you coming on to me? It’s not that kind of bar.”
“Nah. Not into incest.” Victor watched surprise bristle Logan’s hair. “Oh yeah. Offer still stands. Rejoin the pack, I’ll tell you all about dear old dad.”
“Rot in hell.”
Victor sat down beside Logan, digging his claws into the bar. “Had to ask.” He signaled the bartender. “I’ll have what he’s having.”
“I’m really not in the mood, Vic. Leave it.”
“I’ve said my piece. All I’m here for now is the fine dining.” He popped a peanut into his mouth. “I know what it’s like to lose someone who means the whole world to you. You think about all the ways you could’ve protected them, all the times you could’ve told them how you felt. It eats at you. And what you’re feeling right now is only gonna get worse. Embrace the animal and all that goes away.”
“Maybe I don’t want it to go away.” Logan tossed a bill onto the counter. “Some things should leave scars. That’s not being civilized. That’s being alive.” He lurched back toward the mansion and its fading scent of Jean.
“Sorry about your girl, little brother,” Victor muttered into his drink.
***
It didn’t take much. Logan showed up in Scott’s room with a bottle and no glasses. They passed it between them, sitting on the bed.
“Did you have someone?” Scott asked, just holding the bottle.
Logan got the impression that Scott wouldn’t give the bottle back if he didn’t say something. He grunted. Didn’t remember.
“I wish I could have that. Just…” he prodded at his own head. “Tabula rasa.”
“Go talk to the Professor. I’m sure he’ll hook you up.”
“He’d just lecture me. Or tell me how sorry he is. Or say how wonderful Jean was. I know how she was! I married her!”
Fed up, Logan pulled the bottle away. “You smell like blonde.”
“And you smell like you bathed in an ashtray. Don’t see me complaining.”
“You just did.”
“Fuck you, I’m bereaved.”
They passed the bottle around til it was empty, then sat there a while.
“So what’d she want?” Logan asked.
“Her name’s Emma. She’s an old classmate.”
“Not what I asked.”
“She wants me on her staff.”
“Likewise, I’m sure.”
Scott made a half-hearted ‘fuck you’ noise.
“You gonna take her up on it?”
“Haven’t decided.”
“Yes you have. You’re not going to because Jean wouldn’t have wanted you to.”
Scott didn’t turn to him, but Logan could feel his eyes on him. “So we’re just going to live the rest of our lives based on what Jean might’ve wanted?”
Something about being included in that ‘we’ brought it all home for Logan. He closed his eyes. “Haven’t decided.”
“Wake me when you do.” Scott got up, walked to the sofa, crashed.
“I’m going. You can have the bed.”
“No. Jean slept there.” Scott crossed his arms, let his head drift back. “Too big for one person.”
Logan got up, feeling older than the dirt. Before he left, he tugged off Scott’s shoes and threw a blanket his way. It was what Jean would’ve wanted.
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Date: 2009-05-21 09:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-22 02:03 pm (UTC)gamecanon.no subject
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Date: 2009-05-21 09:34 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2009-05-22 02:40 am (UTC)“No. Jean slept there.” Scott crossed his arms, let his head drift back. “Too big for one person.”
fwuh.
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Date: 2009-06-11 01:32 am (UTC)