a/n: can we talk about their dark phoenix suits for a bit? if evil, why sexy? (we all know scott would be drooling over lyla's if he wasn't getting traumatized)
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"SCOTT!"
"They're awake!" I yelled, rushing down the stairs with everyone trailing behind. "Professor, are they-"
"We had to restrain Lyla with adamantium cuffs," Hank said, grimacing as he wrapped gauze around a deep gash on his arm. Four angry slash marks, fresh and bleeding. "Her atavism is kicking in. It's... accelerated."
I skidded into the med bay, nearly slamming into the doorframe, and then I saw her.
Lyla. Eyes burning gold. Skin flaring with a low ember of phoenix fire. Veins lit like constellations beneath her skin. She thrashed against the reinforced table, arms bound in adamantium cuffs that sparked under the force of her struggle. Her expression was wild, unrecognizing, more instinct than reason.
"Let me go!" she screamed, voice layered with something not entirely hers. "Where is he?! Where's Alex?!"
"Lyla," I said carefully, my voice a cracked whisper. "I'm right here."
Her head snapped toward me. Gold eyes locked onto mine, and for a split second, something flickered in them... recognition, fear, love. Then it was gone, drowned under the fire in her blood.
"You're not him!" she growled, yanking at the cuffs so hard the entire table groaned. "Where's my son?! WHERE IS HE?!"
"He's safe, sweetheart. With Jubilee. He's okay." Kayla stepped in behind me, her face pale but determined.
But Lyla wasn't listening. Her back arched, fire licking up her arms, her screams turning guttural. The room trembled. The lights flickered. Her pulse had become a drumbeat in the air, echoing like thunder.
"Her instincts are practically primal," Hank called out, gripping his injured arm. "The Phoenix is using her atavism to its advantage... She sees us as threats."
"And Jean?" Ororo asked, glancing at the bed next to Lyla's.
"She's awake too," Hank said, his voice tight. "But sedated. Her vitals are unstable. I think whatever connection she had to the Phoenix it's... splintered. They're barely hanging on."
"Can't we sedate Lyla? The baby-"
"Sedatives don't work on us." Logan interrupted, not tearing his eyes from his daughter. "You either put an adamantium bullet in her heart or you rip her head off."
"Logan-"
"I'm not saying we do it. But it's the only way to stop her if she becomes a threat to everyone here," Logan finished, his voice gruff but heavy with the unspoken pain of having to even consider it. His gaze didn't leave Lyla, even though every muscle in his body was tight, as if the very idea of hurting her was tearing him apart.
