Title: a secret place Author: DCE aka ViciousGurl Email: geek-tastic AT gmx DOT com Web Page: http://www.dlc.fi/~dce/fic/index.html Rating: PG? Archive: Nowhere without my written permission. Disclaimers: X-Men belong to Marvel and the movieverse versions owe a little something to Bryan Singer & co. I'm just borrowing them for a little while and no infringement is intended. This story and all original characters, however, belong to me. Summary: Jean POV. Sequel to 'the gods are laughing'. (This may not make much sense if you haven't read that one first.) Jean, Logan, OFC, movieverse Notes: I began writing this pretty soon after I'd finished 'the gods are laughing' in 2001 but I never actually completed this. Then, a few days ago, I was going through my unfinished fics, and I re-discovered this little vignette. Since it seemed to me that this was only missing a couple of sentences to connect the different parts, I thought I'd polish this off and, truly at long last, post it. Feedback: That's a rhetorical question, right? A SECRET PLACE by DCE aka ViciousGurl (c)2001-2007 "It is such a secret place, the land of tears." The quote from The Little Prince comes to me, seemingly from out of the blue. In truth, although I have been busy working at the lab, my mind has been wandering, thoughts of grief and hidden emotions slipping through the DNA sequence I'm supposed to be concentrating on. And it is true, that quote. As adults our tears are, more often than not, shed in secret, alone, in the dark. I should know. There are times when being a telepath feels more a curse than a gift. I do know how to shield my mind from the thoughts of others but sometimes particularly strong emotions can still slip through, and it is not always easy to pretend that I do not know when one of my friends is hurting, no matter how much they pretend otherwise. Not that Logan has been crying, in the dark or in the light of day. Well, not to my knowledge, at any rate, but I have been known to be wrong on occasion. But, there is such a thing as bleeding inwardly. And no matter how fast his bruises usually heal, I fear there is nothing even his powers can do to heal the hidden wounds of his heart and mind. Time. I know it's such a cliche, but time *is* a great healer. Time and patience. The thought makes me smile despite myself. Patience isn't something I often associate with Logan, though I know that he is capable of it. Still, time and patience are probably the only things that can heal him. And Leda. Logan is a loner, a wanderer, and he's never attempted to pretend otherwise. Leda, by necessity, has been the same. I suspect she would be even if she did have a choice. They are astonishingly alike, in some respects, Logan and Leda. If it weren't for that one genetic obstacle, I believe they would have made a good match. She came back to the mansion yesterday. Logan's found the grave of her friend, Jimmy the fish she'd called him, she was looking for, and they'll be leaving for Boston early tomorrow morning. She's been busy getting re-acquainted with everyone, but things appear to have calmed down eventually. I know Logan and Storm were the only ones she'd kept in touch with, and in Storm's case at least that had only meant a few postcards sent from different parts of the country. Logan, I suspect, has been a different story, although I'm fairly certain even their correspondence has been few and far between. Open wounds do, after all, take a while to begin to heal and scab over. I've been down at the lab for most of the day, and I am famished. Heading towards the kitchen after a quick shower, I pass Logan's room. I swear, I wasn't eavesdropping or probing anyone's mind, but suddenly, out of the blue, an image flashes through my mind, both unexpected and startlingly clear. Standing in his room by the window, Logan, resting his hands on Leda's shoulders, settles his chin lightly atop of her crown as they both look silently out to the garden. Then, as soon as the image has appeared, it is gone, leaving me oddly unsettled. I know without a doubt that he is in his room with Leda. A fact which most certainly is none of my business. But the image, or rather the emotions which I received with it, won't leave me. The two of them have been painstakingly careful not to touch each other beyond offering the occasional helping hand. One could say, they have almost been avoiding each other altogether. But all that has evidently been merely for public consumption. The emotions I felt from Logan just now were far from the collected coolness his outward image typically projects. A tad of sadness, a jolt of joy, a hint of guilt. Love. None of them feelings one would normally immediately associate with Logan. And yet, there they are. He's feeling both, slightly awkward and oddly peaceful. As if being out of sight and scrutiny has at last allowed him to simply be himself. I remember the first time Leda arrived. Logan was forever following after her, keeping an eye on her. Not much has changed. They aren't obvious about it, but he's still watching her, and vice versa. Most of the people in the mansion don't know why Leda left all those months ago. Logan has never been what one would call a 'blabber mouth'. His feelings for Leda were, and still are, extremely private. I did offer him my help, making clear that if he ever wanted to talk, I'd be there for him. He nearly bit my head off, telling me to 'stay the hell out of his mind'. I wasn't reading his mind. I didn't have to. I already knew what was bothering him. My offer still stands, though. He's a friend, and it has been painful to watch him go through this, alone. In truth, I was a little surprised he didn't leave. I know some of the mansion's occupants wished he would. The truth is, he wasn't very pleasant to be around with during those first few months. His temper was... Well, let's just say he definitely was less than charming. Whenever it got truly bad he disappeared for a few days, but he always came back. He has gotten a little better, lately. He doesn't seek solitude quite so frequently anymore, and his tongue, while still wickedly sharp, has lost some of its deadly venom - towards his friends, at least. When Leda left I thought that given enough time, they might come to accept the way things are. And, they have. To a degree. But, having seen them together again, after all this time, I believe I was wrong. I don't think they'll ever be able to view each other as simply brother and sister. Intellectually, they may know it to be the truth, but in their hearts... I only hope, for their sake, that they'll find a balance with which they will be able to live. Perhaps they already have. I must've gotten something into my eye since suddenly, I feel tears prickling. Love is hard enough to find as it is, but to have found it, and then be forced to ignore it, *deny* it, must be... What's that quaint little phrase Logan is so very fond of? 'Life's a bitch'? I never used to believe it, but as I remember the image I got of the two of them, standing by the window, I think it must be true. - fin -