04. anyone can find the same white pills; it takes my pain away

Notes: I was thinking about the five stages of grief and, well, Dani's my girl so I tossed her in. (I've been trying to do FanFic100 with her. *shrug*) Continuity is vague in so far as it's set pre-Secret Invasion but obviously AU as to what's really happened. Things may seem vague but it should all be explained by story's end. Umm... I guess that's about it.
Disclaimer: Do not own the X-Men or any of their off-shoots. All rights are solely those of Marvel Entertainment, Inc. Please do not sue.

Five Stages

I. Denial

"I don't believe you." The words spilled out of her mouth before she could stop them in an angry hiss.

She didn't miss the hurt flash across his face but she ignored it. She didn't have a choice. She loved him, she did—he was like a brother to her!—but this… there was no way. It wasn't possible. It wasn't allowed.

She loved him but she could never, ever believe him.

His expression was set but there was sadness in his dark eyes. They were so different from his cornflower blue. "It's true, Dani," he said sternly. "Sam—"

"Shut up!" she yelled, interrupting. "You are so full of it Roberto Da Costa and I—I refuse to play this game with you any more! It's not funny, 'Berto! It's not!"

There was sympathy in his gaze now as he put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed gently. "I know," he insisted in a gentle tone, continence betraying an unusual amount of patience. "But—"

Again, she didn't let him finish. "But nothing," she said harshly, pulling out of his grip. "I don't believe you." There was not even a hint of question in her voice.

"Dani—"

"No!" she shouted suddenly, slapping him across the face. Then she turned and ran. He probably could've caught her if he'd tried—he was taller and fit, after all—but he didn't chase her. Apparently she needed time on her own to digest. And he… well, he didn't need a set of red handprints on his cheeks.


II. Anger

"Uhn!" she grunted, giving Viper a roundhouse kick to the chest. The green haired woman stumbled back for a moment before leaping toward her. Dani managed to duck aside in time to avoid the attack aimed at her face and had rounded again when the villain suddenly flickered out of existence.

Growling, she looked toward the control booth. "What the fuck?" she shouted in what might generously be called an unfriendly tone. When there was no answer, she proceeded to seethe. "Ooh, someone is just asking for a fight…"

"Yeah?" a familiar voice prompted from behind her. To his credit, she hadn't even heard the doors open, let alone his entrance. "That someone you?"

With an inelegant snort, she turned to face the intruder. "Sounds more like you, don't you think, Logan?" she sneered. "What're you doing here—I have the Danger Room reserved for another half hour."

One eyebrow rose at her tone. "Just thought you might like a real fight," he offered casually, as if they were discussing the weather or something equally mundane. "From someone who can handle it, that is."

Her arms were crossed now as she eyed him up and down. "You that someone?" she asked with an ugly look of contempt on her face. "I'm not stupid, Wolverine, I know you can kick my ass five ways from Sunday."

"And I know that you want someone to feel the pain you're feeling," he countered in that same neutral tone. "Might as well be me seein' as I can actually take the heat you dish out."

For whatever reason, that only served to make her angrier. "Well sor-ry," she snapped, dragging the second syllable of her questionable apology out. "Not all of us can heal our wounds as easily as you."

He just smiled in a slightly disconcerting but mostly kind way. "Can't rile me up, darlin'. This is about your anger. So how 'bout you get it out before it destroys everything you care about?"

She was stiff for a moment, considering, then nodded. "Fine." And the next second she was in the air, lashing out angrily toward him. She hated admitting it but it felt good. Anger was safe like that. She knew she'd have to let it go eventually, but for the moment she was happy to revel in it.


III. Bargaining

It was weird, being in a church. She wasn't Catholic or even Christian but there was something so peaceful about the space. She felt like if the gods were going to live somewhere, it'd be places like that.

Her face was lifted toward the sky, specks of color dancing over her closed eyes as she tried to find something resembling peace. "Isn't there something I can do?" she asked softly, startled by the sound of her voice in her ears.

"Ah but that it were that easy, lieb," a gentle German accented voice responded. It didn't surprise her, exactly—she knew this was his sanctuary more than most—but she also hadn't heard or seen him since her entrance.

Opening her eyes, she saw he was standing not too far from her, straightening up. "Kurt," she said quietly after a long moment of watching him, "why would God—any God—let this happen?"

There was something decidedly sad in his smile. "That's not how it works, Dani," he answered slowly. "You know that."

"I don't know anything!" she burst out suddenly, only slightly mortified by the loudness of her voice. "I would give anything—everything—to fix this. To take his place. Something. Please, there has to be something. It's just—it's not fair that we're all so helpless!"

There were tears running down her cheeks and he was hugging her but she didn't notice either of those things just then. "What can I do?" she asked. "What can I do to make this better? How can I—" here, her voice cracked, "how can I save him? Please, there has to be something…"

He knew she wasn't asking him, so he only held her and whispered comforting words in German. It wasn't much but it was all he could do for her just then. This was something she had to face on her own.

Eventually, she sniffled and pushed away slightly. Now, she looked at him with wide brown eyes, red-rimmed and glistening with still more unshed tears. "Why can't I do anything?"

"All I can think," he said slowly, "is that there is some plan out there." He took her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. "And remember, lieb, it may be his fight but there are things you can do. There are always things we can do."

She sniffled and wiped her eyes. "Yeah," she agreed half-heartedly and he wondered if she truly believed his words at all.


IV. Depression

She was sitting, pouring over a box of pictures when he found her. There were tear tracks on her face and tissues littering the floor around her. He didn't say anything until he was crouched beside her. Turning the photo in her hand so he could see it, he smiled a little at the image. It was him and Sam horsing around with a guilty-looking Doug and innocently mischievous Warlock—classic.

"Soon there'll only be you left," she whispered, bypassing the usual pleasantries. Fresh tears sprang from her eyes and it hurt to see her so very broken. "The other two are already gone…"

His heart constricted as he released the picture and put his hand on her back instead, rubbing circles gently. "Dani, you shouldn't think like that. The doctors—they say he has a sixty percent chance of finding a match."

She was silent for a moment, leaning into his touch. "You know it's a bunch of bullshit," she said quietly, no malice in her tone. There was only heartbreaking sadness to be found there. "He's going to die. Everyone we love does—Illyana, Doug, Warlock, Kitty, Jean…"

"On multiple occasions," he tried to joke.

"'Berto!" she admonished, though there was a watery smile on her face. It dimmed almost as soon as it appeared, though, and she covered her face with her hands. "Everybody dies and there's never anything we can do to stop it."

He pulled her into a hug then and she curled against him, body shaking with silent sobs. "We can be there for them," he whispered into her hair, holding her tightly. "We can let them know we care for them."

She let him pet her hair comfortingly for a minute before shaking her head. "It's not enough. Nothing can ever be enough. And I just—I can't…" she trailed off into hiccupping sobs.

Murmuring words of comfort in both English and Portuguese, he rocked her gently back and forth. "Just be honest with him. Tell him how you feel." He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead as he extracted himself from her. "It will be enough. For him, that's always been enough."

Unfortunately, the truth of his statement only served to draw her deeper into her despair. Whether it was because of how it spoke volumes about Sam's kindness or guiltily reminded her that she'd rarely been able to give him that, even after all these years, she wasn't certain. In the end, she decided it probably didn't matter. In her state, little felt as if it did.


V. Acceptance

The first thing she noticed about the building was how white it was. Floors, walls, ceiling—even the curtains were white. They tried to break it up with touches of color here and there, a peaceful and utterly non-offensive painting in each room, things like that. She knew they were meant to calm the patients and visitors but it had little effect on her. Mostly, the mediocre art just served to irritate her.

She let herself into his room—number six-one-three, quietly closing the door behind her. If he was asleep, she could just come back. Yeah. That's what she told herself. And she'd make sure she didn't wake him, if that were the case. Out of respect. Uh-huh. Not because of any sort of guilty feelings because she hadn't visited him at all since he'd been admitted. No, no. That wasn't it at all.

"Hello?" his voice called, a bit horse but still distinctively Southern. "Someone there?"

The curtain (white, of course) was hiding her. It took all of her courage to push away from the (also white) door and walk fully into the room. Somehow she managed, though, the small bouquet of lavender in her hand feeling woefully inadequate.

It could've been her imagination but he looked tired to her. His blond hair was a bit stringy, as if it hadn't been washed for a few days, and there were wrinkles around his blue eyes she'd never seen before. She stopped a good distance from his bed and waved bashfully with her free hand, a light blush covering her cheeks. "Um, hi."

His face instantly softened, and he smiled. "Hey there, Chief," he said kindly. He eyed her for a long moment, then waved for her to come closer. "Whatchu doin' all the way over there, girl? Get over here!"

That was all the prompting she needed. She dropped the flowers on the foot of his bed and all but flew to his side, hugging him tightly (but carefully). "Oh, Sam, I'm sorry," she breathed as she pulled away. "I know I should've been here, but I just didn't want to believe it because—because, well, you're Sam and this isn't supposed to be happening. You were gonna outlive us all. And I—I just…" Tears were racing down her face but she paid them no mind. "I'm so sorry. You deserve better."

"Hey now," he replied softly, reaching up to grab her hand in his and pull her closer again, "don't say that. You're one of my best friends, Dani. Who cares if it took ya a while to come? You're here now, ain'tcha?" His free hand wiped away some of the tears on her cheek. "That's what counts."

Sniffling and swallowing hard, she shook her head. "You're too nice to me, Sam. You've always been too nice." That was why women walked all over him and how he was patient enough to be best friends with the likes of Roberto Da Costa. "I just couldn't take it, you know? I didn't want to admit…"

Here's where she drew on her last reserves of strength, hoping beyond hope that she could find it in her to be brave. It was easy to face things she could fight; things she might fear but could still beat. Facing her feelings, though? That was a whole other ball game.

She sat beside him and took both his hands into hers. "I love you, Sam. You always believe in me and are such a good friend… I hate to think of my life without you. Even when we were apart, I always knew that if I needed you, you'd be there. That's what brought me back. That's what keeps me fighting." She gave his hands a gentle squeeze. "Not the other New Mutants, not Xavier's dream, not the next generation—you. And I just don't know where I'll be if I lose that. If I lose you."

And there it was. Her deep, dark secret. The truth of how she felt about him—the truth she'd never shared. The real reason she didn't want to accept his diagnosis and the finality of what it could bring. She just hoped it was enough. Because that was really and truly all she had left to give him. The only help she could think offer.

He nodded once and then his face broke out in a smile. "Thank you." Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, he pulled her close so their foreheads were practically touching. "But you know I'm gonna live to a ripe old age, just to tease ya 'bout your big emotional display." Impulsively, he gave her a wet smack of a kiss on the cheek.

"Ugh, Sa-am!" she cried, rubbing the spit off as best she could. "I swear, even after all these years, Roberto still hasn't managed to get any manners into that thick skull of yours." She shook her head, then snuggled against him a little. "Guess I'll just have to whip you both into shape once you get outta here."

Pulling her shoulder tightly, he reached up to give her a noogie. Still, there was nothing but warmth in his tone as he agreed, "Guess so."