Work Text:
Scott gasped awake, not sitting up wide-eyed like in a horror movie, but with his eyes screwed tightly shut and fists painfully twisted in the bedsheets. Because even though seeing her face--sometimes resigned, sometimes screaming, sometimes dead and bloated--was bad, there was one thing that was worse.
Not seeing her.
And if he kept his eyes closed for just a little bit longer, maybe he could reach out, touch her, convince her not to sacrifice herself for this cause that seemed endlessly hopeless, bound to create pain for everyone involved.
It wouldn`t be so bad if he could occupy himself filling the gaping hole of her absence with work, or alcohol. But he couldn`t. Her presence lingered in his mind, refusing to leave. At first he`d gone crazy, thinking she had survived the flood, insisting they go back to look for her. The Professor had heeded his demands, hoping to put his mind at rest. Jean was gone. Physically, mentally.
After that he`d assumed it was denial. He just couldn`t cope with her loss. So he kept imagining he could still feel her, that warm tingle that always tickled his senses whenever she was near, making them both wonder if he had some latent psychic abilities of his own. Then, when she`d call him using her mind a warm flush would spread down the back of his neck. Sometimes he felt it at random times of the day--stepping out of the shower, eating lunch, grading papers.
Most often he felt it in the moments between waking and sleeping, the gentle caress of her mind against his. Those were the nights that he really wondered if he was crazy, staying awake, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Usually he fell asleep. And then he dreamed.
Finally opening his eyes to the dark ruby red haze of his room, Scott tossed back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the small bed. He`d given up his old room--couldn`t stand to be surrounded by such intense memories of her--her clothes, her books, her research, her perfume, their bed. Now he lived on the other side of the mansion in one of the dorm style rooms. Far enough away from the students that they didn`t bother him. Far enough away from everyone else that . . .
He sensed more than heard movement outside his door. Only a few people he knew could move that quietly. Though he didn`t want company--never wanted company now--he felt a strange pull toward the other person. The only man who had loved Jean almost as much as he had. Still did.
"I`m up," he said softly, hoarsely, knowing Logan could hear him.
The door swung open slowly. "I know."
Logan didn`t speak in the way he once would have: condescending, arrogant. Scott didn`t react in the way he once would have: defensively. If possible, his shoulders slumped even more. With Logan he didn`t have to try to pretend. The irony wasn`t lost on him--the man he had considered a real threat to his relationship with Jean was now the only person he felt comfortable with. And that stung in its own special way.
"You had another nightmare," Logan said gruffly. Not a question. Scott raised an eyebrow, the only way he could communicate the question in his eyes. Logan tapped his nose in response and Scott sighed. Hell.
"Bad one," Logan added. He took a couple steps into the room and stopped, glancing around like he`d just landed on an alien planet. He looked like he wanted to say more but was wondering if he`d get a laser blast through the gut.
"What is it, Wolverine?"
Logan clenched his jaw, crossed his arms over his chest, then let them fall to his sides. "Look, I just wanted--I thought . . . hell," he muttered. "I`m not good at this. But you`re obviously not okay, and everyone else seems to think that leaving you alone is the best thing to do and that`s bullshit."
The rush of words left Scott a little surprised. He just sat there, staring at an increasingly uncomfortable Logan. Finally he said, "And you think you know what`s best for me?"
Logan shrugged.
"I suppose--" Scott started again, dropping his eyes so he could voice the words he`d been thinking for weeks but never had the courage to say. "I suppose you`d know because you lost her too."
Silence.
Scott imagined the look on Logan`s face--smug, triumphant. But when he met Logan`s gaze, the other man was staring at him evenly, obviously waiting for him to look up.
"I never had her. Not really."
~*~*~*~*~
They`d been sitting in silence for the better part of an hour, passing back the increasingly empty bottle of bourbon that Scott had stashed away in the back of his closet.
He`d expected to feel elation after Logan`s confession, but instead all he`d felt was an aching sadness as the meaning of the words sunk in. I never had her. Scott felt that way sometimes. Second to her research, her crusade for mutant rights, her work with the professor. Second to something elusive, something he didn`t understand. Something Jean herself probably didn`t even understand.
So he`d pulled out the liquor and sat back down on the bed, making room for Logan and silently offering a drink.
"I feel her sometimes," Scott said, sudden in the stillness.
Logan paused with the bottle in midair to glance at him sharply.
"In my head."
Logan lowered the bottle. "Maybe you`ve had enough to drink."
Scott snorted. "I`m not drunk. I`m not crazy either."
"What does it feel like?"
Scott glanced over to see if Logan was just humoring him, but the look on his face was one of honest curiousity. He shook his head.
"It just--she`s just here. I don`t know how to describe it. The Professor says he can`t feel her at all, not even with Cerebro. He can`t explain what`s happenning, unless . . ."
"Unless you`ve gone around the bend."
"I haven`t."
"Wouldn`t blame you, after all that`s happenned."
"I haven`t."
"I believe you."
There was a long silence while they both absorbed the implications of those words.
"Is it good?" Logan asked. "Feeling her, I mean. In your mind."
"It`s like living in a nightmare," Scott answered automatically. "Sensing her presence, but knowing she`s not there. She can`t be there. Not anywhere. We both saw it, Logan. She couldn`t have survived it."
Logan grunted noncommitally.
"And now every time I feel her, it`s like a reminder of everything. What I had, what I don`t have, what I could have had. I love her. More than anything. But I don`t know if I can take this for much longer."
"You`d rather forget?"
For the first time Scott sensed something other than curiosity in Logan`s voice. A little bit of anger. It made him hesitant to answer.
"I`d just like to be numb for awhile."
Logan got up from the bed, squeezing the bottle of bourbon tightly in his fist. "And what if you`re right? What if she`s out there somewhere, trying to contact you? What if she isn`t dead? I know I`m not the only one who noticed something strange was going on with her. She`s calling out, Summers, and she`s calling out to you. What are you going to do about it?"
Logan slammed the bottle down on the table and stalked out, leaving Scott stunned once again. She`s calling out to you. Fuck. When had Logan gotten so damn perceptive?
He collapsed on top of the bed, wanting another drink but unable to find the will to move. He hadn`t had that much to drink, really, but his body felt strange. Like floating.
Scott, a soft voice whispered. I miss you.
His eyes shut just as the words washed over him.
I miss you too. I love you.
I lo--