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━━ PICKING UP THE PIECES
ERIK TURNS TOWARDS US, EYES flitting down to where I'm still slouched on the floor, one hand rubbing the bridge of my nose as the shadows finally ease back under my skin.
It's like a thousand bees are running rampant through my body.
"I take it we're best buddies in the future." Erik says slowly. I don't know when the room got so dark, but the dim light of the jet brings out the withheld fury in Erik's eyes. Charles and his fight still shimmers around the jet, like the sun at dusk glinting over a silver lake.
Logan chuckles and lights his cigar. "I spent a lot of years trying to bring you down, bub." I glance up and force myself to move to the seat on the other side of the aisle. My legs shake like a new-born calf, and my stomach lurches as my back hits the soft fabric, head resting against the chair.
"How does that work out for you?" Erik asks.
"You're like me." Logan replies plainly, which makes me look up. My hands ache, bruises pulsing as the dark energy swims through my mutated veins. "You're a survivor."
Survivor.
Such a simple yet strange word. It means to live, to be human and spend your days breathing, walking through life on both feet. But being a survivor also means to fail. To not live, or to just live because you have to. Surviving is not living, it's making sure your heart keeps beating as you're pushed down again and again. It's weathering a storm with only half a heart, one part of you screaming to stay alive, the other shrieking to let the waves wash you away.
A survivor. That's what I am. That's what everyone on this plane is.
Living, fighting, because we must keep ourselves from entering oblivion.
An encouraging thought, and also one that brings a wave of nausea to my stomach. I almost look away, mouth closing shut. Erik looks between us, his face growing dark, but I move my eyes to the floor.
After a beat of silence, Logan gestures with his glass down to the floor littered with the stuff flown from the cupboards in Erik's rage. "You gonna pick all that shit up?" he asks solemnly, and I hide a smile as Erik shoots daggers into Logan's head.
The man from the future stands up after downing the rest of his glass, salutes me, then walks to the back of plane, into another small lounge meant for sleeping. I almost call after him, not wanting him to leave, but it's too late, and the sliding door closes with a snap.
I sigh and turn back around, biting the inside of my cheek as Erik turns away from me and kneels down, beginning to pick up the non-metal items shattered against the carpeted floor. I watch him for a moment, playing with the bandages on my hand, before silently groaning and shakily getting to my feet.
