Sapphire Blue
Epilogue
by
Lady-T
Disclaimer: Not mine, especially the Aerosmith lyrics scattered around. I'm not Steven Tyler and I can't fit a whole grapefruit in my mouth like he can, so don't sue me. Virtually everything belongs to someone else.
Dedicated to all those people I've accidentally plagiarized in some way, shape or form. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. No, really it is. . .
And set all others in their stead. (Job 34:21-24)
His healing factor. . . she didn't know. She just didn't know. . .
Logan had awoken several hours later.
He had found her body slumped by his in the bitter night time air, her icy fingers twined through his and one hand still clutched around the hilt of the knife embedded in her chest. He had run his fingers across her frozen lips and caressed her cheek one last time, choking back everything he could feel until there was nothing left any more. He shed no tears even though his eyes burned and his heart had slowly been pulled in two.
Now he felt sick, swallowing his emotion like so much bile, trying to bury it along with her memory and her body. It hadn't worked and it still clanged around his head making him ache to his very soul.
~Is it over?
Is it over?
'Cause I'm blowin' out the flame. . . ~
He had trudged back to his van from the grave he had made for her, his face cast of stone.
He had driven to the nearest town and lost himself in cheap beer and cheaper whiskey. Now his head ached and he lay in his bed, unable to rid it of the smell of her. The smell of something he couldn't quite trace.
Somewhere outside someone was playing their stereo too loudly. He rolled over, burying his head in the pillows, trying to block out the sound but the smell of her filled his head once again and he roared in anger and pain, throwing the pillow against the far wall.
~There's a hole in my soul that's been killing me forever
It's a place where a garden never grows
There's a hole in my soul, yeah I should have known better
'Cause your love's like a thorn without a rose~
But the rage had slipped from his grasp and he slumped down to the floor, his fingers sliding through his hair as if trying to pull the memory and the pain right out of his head.
He had found her only to lose her again. It had all been too fast. . .
He didn't want to feel like this, it hurt too much. But there was no way to escape from it. He could curse and rave and swear on every religious text known to man that no one would ever make him feel like this again, but he knew it would be a lie. It didn't work like that. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind he knew that there would be another. Someone who could make him feel so good it would be unmatched by anything else on this earth, but they could also hurt him so much that he'd wish he'd died out there in the snow.
And they would never know what they did to him. Like she had never known.
He felt the heat of grief pushing against his eyes and he cursed himself.
He didn't want to feel this, so he didn't. He pushed back the pain and the hurt and the loss, pressing it so far back into the corners of his mind that he almost lost it.
Almost.
~I know there's been all kinds of shoes underneath your bed
Now I sleep with my boots on but you're still in my head~
And so he pressed it further, and drowned it deeper in more drink until it became another dream he didn't want to endure, and it filled another night with the pain of something he could no longer quite remember.
Weeks passed and so did he, gliding from one bar to the next, trying to shake off all the things that trailed him.
Now in the flickering half-light he sighed slightly and rolled over to blow out the candle flame. He'd be in Laughlin City tomorrow. He could do good there. He could do good without her.
A look of the weariest sadness flashed over his face as he closed his eyes, surrendering himself to the darkness.
Surrendered to the dark and to the nightmares. . .
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