Scott's ruby-lensed glasses are the only color in the cell. Erik has seen starving men bleed from the eyes, red onto gray uniforms. He puts the memory away.
"How do I live without her?" Scott asks.
The children always went to Charles when they needed hope. To Erik, they brought the griefs hope wouldn't touch.
"I don't know," Erik says, as he said then. "But you must."
"I can't." Scott shakes, hands clenching, but he doesn't cry.
My son, Erik thinks. As Jean was Charles's daughter. He holds Scott in his arms, wishing he could weep, to teach Scott how.