Don't Speak, a x-men: the movie fanfic

Don't Speak

Old Fiat

Currently Listening: "Don't Speak" by No Doubt from their album, Tragic Kingdom.

An idea for a fan fiction which came to me last night while I lay awake in bed, really horribly sick. Well, the idea of making it a fanfic came to be last night—the idea of the story itself comes from countless conversations between me and my writing partner.

Please R and R! (By the way, though it's never said, I picture this story being narrated by Rogue.

It looks as though you're letting go,

And if it's real—

Well, I don't want to know.

There's nothing scarier than an adult crying.

Some people find the sounds of children crying more sad and terrifying than anything in the world, but I disagree. Children will cry at anything, adults only cry when the situation really, really merits it. It's twice as scary to realize that the circumstances can cause tears to well in the eyes of those who normally are your shoulder to lean on when you're down.

Maybe that's what was so frightening when Professor Summers burst into tears on the jet. The way the sobs racked his body and his hands bled from his nails digging into the palms. Professor Summers—the most calm and collected teacher at Xavier's Institute—was crying. He was only barely being held back by Logan from running off the jet to save or join the love he'd lost.

Or maybe it was because he almost sounded like a child as he sobbed. His voice popped and wheezed as though he had just lost a favorite toy. He struggled like a baby in Logan's strong arms, desperately trying to reach Jean.

All the students watched in fear as he shouted, tears streaming rapidly down his cheeks. I expected Storm or the Professor to tell him stop it to try and keep the kids calm, but no one was there other than Logan, who was barely keeping himself together as it was.

I had never realized before how much Jean mattered to the whole school. She was just my doctor and Biology teacher—that was it. But despite that I still felt like I was going to either vomit or burst into tears.

Actually, I had never realized how much Jean mattered to Scott before that day. They had been engaged, yes, but I had never cottoned on to the strong connection of love that had existed between them—now severed by the grim reaper's ancient scythe.

"Jean…"

I'd like to think that the world stopped turning as Scott called after Jean, as though he was begging her to return to him, but life continued around the jet and we soared away over the lake to try and console ourselves.

You and me…

I can see us dying…

Are we?

The funeral came only a week later. Fear pounded through me at the thought of Professor Summers crying at the ceremony, but he didn't, and somehow it was worse. I could see his face contort with sadness and pain as the Professor gave a short speech about how much Jean had put into the school, how much she had meant to all of us (but not how most of us had realized this too late), and finally ending with the idea that Jean was in a happier better place and that she was looking down on us all.

When it was Scott's turn to speak, I didn't know what to expect. I hadn't thought he would say anything, even though it was his fiancée's funeral. He stood up behind the podium and looked out over all of us.

"Jean is dead," he said in a cold voice, his face expressionless. "Nothing will ever be the same again."

Everyone stared at him as he stepped down from the platform once more, stunned. I expected his voice to crack at any moment during the two-sentence speech, but it remained cool and even. I watched him sit back down beside Storm and I knew deep-down that he was right. The rest of us may move on, but no smile would ever rest on his lips until he was with his love again.

Hush, hush darling…

Don't tell me 'cause it hurts.