It’s weird, you know. Walking into a room and finding yourself already there.

And, fucking Logan at that. Now that really came as a surprise.

The first thing I notice is how nice Logan’s ass looks. Not that I haven’t noticed before, but seeing him butt-naked, so to speak, that’s a first. I know what you’re thinking, how could she know it was Logan by looking at his ass? Well, that’s not what gave him away, of course. He’s wearing the leather jacket I gave him for Christmas.

The woman he’s, um, with is holding onto the toilet stall with one hand, making it rattle. God, his ears must hurt from that. For a second there I’m confused. Why is she brunette? Wouldn’t he go for someone with red hair?

But then she raises her head and looks at me and my heart skips a beat. The woman is me. She winks at me and twists her gloved fingers into his hair, her white streak falling into her eyes.

I know I should keep the fuck quiet, turn around and leave. But I can’t. This image will remain burned into my brain for the rest of my life, and before I can stop myself, his name tumbles from my lips.

“Logan!”

He darts back so fast he falls flat on his ass, and oh, I should not look there. Eyes averted, check. Not that I don’t know what he looks like down there, but seeing it from inside his head and actually seeing it are two completely different things.

The woman laughs throatily, and I recognise her voice, know who she is before she changes back into Mystique, yellow eyes blazing. “Oh, this is going to be just great!”

I stare at her, buying Logan some time to get dressed. But before I can turn to him, speak to him, he’s swept past me, leaving me and Mystique behind.

She grins, then dons a disappointed face. “I could give you my number. Would you let me know what he tells you?”

I just stare at her for a second more, then follow Logan. He’s gone.

And only when Mystique brushes past me, now wearing someone else’s face, do I realise what just happened.

Logan went to Mystique for sex.

He went to her so he could fuck me.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Scott and Ororo are seated on either side of me, Ororo staring down at the table in disbelief and Scott running a nervous hand through his hair.

“We should tell the professor.”

I choke on a laugh. “What exactly would we tell him? That Logan ‘fraternises’ with the enemy, or that he fucked a student?”

Scott flinches at the harsh language but recovers quickly. “He didn’t. It wasn’t you.”

“Oh yeah, that makes me feel so much better.” My eyes are sore, red-rimmed after an hour of crying. I still can’t believe he’d do that to me...

“I knew he was no good from the second he...”

“You know what, Scott? Fuck you. You don’t know shit about Logan, so save your Fearless Leader crap for someone who actually gives a damn. And if anybody has the right to bitch about him, it’s me, not you.” I slam the glass I was holding down on the table, pointing a finger at Scott. “I didn’t see him fucking you against that wall.” And here we go again with the tears.

Storm pats my back, and I’m surprised that she seems to be a little awkward about it. If I expected anyone to be calm and controlled about this, my bet would’ve been with ‘Ro.

I wipe my eyes, staring into my glass. “I need to talk to him. Sort it out. There must be some sort of explanation for this.”

“Maybe it’s because he’s an asshole.”

“Scott, leave it. I need to talk to him, now.” I get up, but Scott grabs my arm.

“Rogue, you’re not thinking clearly now.”

“Like hell I am! The one man I thought would never intentionally hurt me has been fucking Mystique on a regular basis because he couldn’t fuck me. What the hell am I supposed to do about that?”

Scott just shrugs lamely, then says, “How about listening to me for once?”

“Oh Scott, don’t. I know you like to think that Logan always is the one to blame, but that’s just not true. You wanna live in your little fantasy world where Jean stood passively and Logan was the only one doing anything wrong? Well, here’s your wake up call – Jean was just as responsible for all that shit as Logan was. But no one ever dares talk about it because it’s Jean and she was so perfect and never could do any wrong and now she’s fuckin’ dead and no one is ever gonna speak about it. Shit, Scott, if anybody knows how much of an asshole Logan can be, it’s me.” I tap my temple with two fingers. “I have him in here. You just don’t like him because he’s everything you aren’t.”

He’s staring at me, speechless. God, I know that was harsh. But he had it coming.

“And now let go of my arm before I have to hurt you.”

Never have I seen him move that fast, not even in a combat situation. Must have really freaked him out.

Logan’s not in his room. The door to the Danger Room has been locked. I could sit here and wait till he comes out. I don’t.

*~*~*~*~*~*

I know I said I wanted to talk to him, but somehow I didn’t dare seek him out. Yes, I was scared of what would happen.

How it would change what’s between us.

So I sit in the rec room later that night, swathed in darkness, waiting for him. I half expected him to run. Surprises me that it took him so long to sneak out, really.

I watch from my place in the shadows as he listens at the top of the stairs, hoists his duffel bag over his shoulder and silently walks down. He’s halfway at the door when I speak.

“You running again?”

He freezes. Doesn’t turn around. Doesn’t even move an inch.

“I thought more of you than that.”

Still no response, and I get up slowly. He flinches as he hears me move but doesn’t move away. I cross the distance between us on bare feet, the thick carpet of the rec room replaced by the cold wooden floor of the lobby. I lean against the wall next to him, arms behind my back.

My hands are naked.

“Why?”

He looks away, moves the strap of his bag on his shoulder. He’d rather be anywhere else right now, it’s clear as daylight.

“Logan.”

Now he looks at me, his face blank. “You’re hot. It was... just sex.” He’s lying, and we both know it.

I reach out, slipping my hand into his.

The connection is open long enough before he even realises what happens, and we both sink to the floor, panting harshly. Tears come to my eyes at the confusion now filling my head.

~ You fucking bastard... I’m so sorry, kid... love you... let me go... should’ve... gotta leave... God, I’m sorry... can’t leave... forgive me... love you... don’t look at me... let me stay... Marie, I’m sorry... make me leave... I love you... ~

“God, Logan!” My nails dig into the wood as I try to make sense of all that’s going on in my head. One thing goes through my mind again and again.

I love you.

“Marie...”

“Don’t!” He reaches for me, but I move away. “Get the fuck away from me.” A growl builds deep inside me but I force it back.

He rises, picks up his bag. “Do you... d’you want me to go?”

I glare at his boots for a while. Then, “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” Tears fall from my face and pool on the cold floor.

He hesitates, but then he leaves, quietly.

I wipe the tears from my face and rise. Somewhere a TV is on, and I can hear Jubes and Kitty giggling upstairs in their room.

I need a beer.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Time passes.

Six months. I date Remy for a while. He’s too much like Logan – too wild, too unpredictable. I break it off.

A year. I learn to control my mutation. Scott poses as guinea pig, as his can be controlled rather easily if you expect it.

Scott has always been like an older brother. We also shared the envy for those who could control their mutations, so I fear things might change between us if I learn to control mine. But Scott gives me that reassuring smile of his, takes my arm and pulls my glove off.

I guess that is the starting point. Our relationship changes then. We move from friendship to not-quite-lovers-yet. It scares me a little.

But then - Scott is as far from Logan as you can get.

We go on a date after that. I still have to wear his spare visor, and it’s a little running gag, us going out in partner look.

18 months. We move in together. I feel safe. My inner Logan hasn’t spoken up for months. Scott is sweet and caring.

He’s not Logan.

Two years, three months. Scott proposes. I accept.

Two years, three months, one week. Logan returns.

*~*~*~*~*~*

I’m in the shower, and yet I can hear the hum of the motorcycle, the crunch of gravel as he comes up to the mansion. Suddenly the water is freezing, and I turn it off, leaning my head against the cool tiles.

Scott’s in bed, reading, as I come out of the bathroom. He looks up and smiles. “Hey.”

I smile lamely. “Hey.” The urge to call him Scooter surfaces, and I bite my tongue. “I, um, I’ll get something from the kitchen, I’m a little hungry. Want anything?”

He puts down his book and grins, reaching for me and pulling me onto the bed. “Aside from you?”

I roll my eyes. “Later, honey.” I kiss the top of his head.

Once outside, I have to lean against the wall, taking a deep breath. This should not affect me this strongly. It’s just Logan. Just Logan.

I hesitate at the top of the stairs. I don’t know if I want to see him, what I’ll do when I see him. But the decision is taken from me when the door to Charles’ study opens and Logan steps out.

He looks just like he did that night. He wears the same jacket, the same bag slung over his shoulder. His hair is a little longer. He looks tired.

I’m suddenly very conscious of my near-naked state, only dressed in a bathrobe, a towel slung around my wet hair.

His hand rests on the doorknob as his eyes travel up the stairs, up my body, and then he meets my eyes. I swallow around the lump in my throat.

“Hey kid.”

I want to turn around and run, back to Scott, into his warm, soft, safe embrace. Away from this fierce, wild man in front of me. My legs don’t obey me.

“I’m not a kid anymore, Logan. You should know that better than anyone.”

He winces a little and gives me crooked smile. “Had that coming, don’t I.”

I walk down the stairs slowly, pulling the towel from my hair along the way. The damp locks fall down, into my face. I stop in front of him, look up to meet his eyes. “Yes.” Then I turn around and walk to the kitchen.

Don’t follow me. Please don’t.

He follows me. I try to ignore him as I open the fridge and rummage inside. The I freeze as he reaches into the fridge, coming closer than he should, and takes out a beer.

“Never pegged you for a Molson girl.”

“Must be your bad influence.”

He chuckles and sits at the counter, opening his beer. He drinks silently for a while as I continue to rummage in the fridge, then, “Chuck told me you and Scooter got engaged.”

My breath catches in my throat. Thanks, Charles. Thank you so much. Why should I want to tell him myself.

I pick some fruit and juice and put it on the counter, looking up at him. “We did. Last week.”

He nods once. “How long’ve you been together?”

“A little over a year.” I take a bowl and glass from the cupboard. “Since I learned to control my mutation.”

He raises his eyebrow at that. “You... You can control it?”

I roll my eyes. This is so typical of Charles. Leave out the good part. “Yeah.” My voice is softer than I expected, and I close my eyes against the tears.

He puts down his beer and walks over to me, reaching out to touch me, but he stops. His arm falls to his side. “I’m so sorry, Marie.”

“I know.” Wiping at my eyes, I smile crookedly. “Got you up there, haven’t I.”

“Do you hate it?”

His voice is so gentle, so soothing, and I almost forget what happened in the last two years. I want to sink into his arms and never let him go. But I can’t.

“Sometimes. But... you’re not speaking to me anymore.” I fumble with my spoon for a second. “Not since I... since I started dating Scott.”

He moves away from me suddenly, and I look up to see Scott standing in the doorway. He looks about ready to blast Logan into oblivion, and I move between them without noticing.

“You’re back.” His voice is hard, and I pass a soothing hand over his arm.

“Well spotted.” Logan picks up his beer again and leans against the counter, toasting to us. “You’re a lucky one, Scooter. Get all the good girls.”

Scott trembles, and I squeeze his hand. “Why don’t you take the food and I’ll be upstairs in a minute?” I smile at him, gently pushing him towards the door.

He looks at me, his eyes serious behind his glasses. “Be careful.” Then he leaves.

Logan puts his now empty beer bottle in the sink, not looking at me. “Got him just as whipped as Jeannie did.”

I sigh. “Why did you come here, Logan?”

“Chuck had some info for me he didn’t want to send via mail. I came to pick it up.” Now he looks at me. “Are you happy?”

I give him a sad smile. “Yes.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“I guess that would be better for all of us.”

He nods and picks up his bag. When he’s at the door he stops. “I still love you.”

Tears drip onto my robe, and I don’t speak again until I hear the front door closing. “I love you, Logan.”

The END