Bryan could only avert his gaze as Reed tried to reassure him. He had failed. He'd failed the mission. He'd failed Laura. He'd even failed his own promises to himself, to find a way out, to somehow signal the Haven, to get Laura out against all odds, not to break down, not to cry, not to give those motherfuckers at the facility the satisfaction of any of those things that all came to pass.
Suddenly, all the rush of the earlier adrenalin and endorphin cocktail coursing through his blood began to die down, and left him with the pain and that indistinct high-distress hangover. A part of him wanted to let go and drift off, telling himself that he was safe now. Reed had gotten him. His big bro was watching over him. He could relax now, and sleep, or pass out or whatever. But he couldn't. Too much pain. Too much leftover fear, for Pete's sake. He was crashing, but he was too tense from his ordeal to permit his body to truly rest.
Bryan decided the only thing to do was to shut his eyes and pretend to be asleep, because it began to dawn on him that he should be so ashamed there was no way in hell he should have the gall to meet his brother's eyes, much less Logan's. Both heroes, so unlike himself. Why had he survived when all those people had died around him? All those mutants like himself, and only a few survivors who had all been executed but for him. How was it possible, or fair, that he be the one to survive? He didn't want to think about it. Hadn't he been so hyped and relieved just minutes ago that his bro had found him and saved him? What was wrong with him? He was crashing. That had to be it. That was all. All he needed was a good night's sleep... and to find Laura... and he'd be as good as new. Yeah. Right as rain. That was it. Right.