Logan strode up the stone steps of the X-Mansion, not exactly sure what he would find, or whether he wanted to find it. One thing he knew though, was that if a particular young woman with long brown hair and white streaks framing the side of her face were there, he’d finally be home. His entire being buzzed with anticipation and anxiety. He’d been gone for a long time, and he knew only too well that people changed faster than he could ever comprehend; hence his seeming immortality. But, all he really wanted was, if nothing else, to be remembered and treasured as something more than what he was.
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as her scent drifted down the hall toward him first, then the rapid sound of boots against the marble followed immediately. She hadn’t forgotten him. Despite himself, a sigh of relief escaped from his lips as her face appeared from around the corner, a large grin widening as she half-ran to him.
"Logan!" she shouted, laughing as she circled her arms around his neck. "You’re back!"
Her animated mood couldn’t help but infect him, as he chuckled quietly to himself while holding her close for the first time in what had felt like forever. But, the smile faltered and a shadow passed over his face as he looked over her shoulder and saw a boy standing close behind her, a deep frown on his own icy features.
Logan tried to cover up his instinctive snarl as they pulled away by forcing a small smile on his mouth, and asking breezily, "Did you miss me?"
Rogue’s eyes twinkled mischievously as she cocked her head to one side, as if debating with herself. "Not really," she replied, the smile growing wider to show she was teasing.
"Heh."
Logan’s eyes flickered back toward the boy who was now standing right beside her, quickly grabbing her hand and holding it possessively, as if marking her as his own. Without knowing it, the man’s deep hazel eyes narrowed menacingly, sizing the young man up and noting with an immense satisfaction that, if it had to come to a fight, it would be an easy win.
Suddenly, he checked himself, shifting his gaze away and reprimanding the tangent his thoughts were taking. Hell, of course she would have someone already. The kid was gorgeous, and he should’ve known it wouldn’t be long before someone had snatched her up. Of course, he’d never expected it to happen so soon....
He went numbly through the introductions, falling back behind his mask and only coming out once, grateful to send a warning glare as the punk tried to turn their ‘handshake’ into an icy glacier; he was only too happy to return the favor and crush the boy’s hand with his adamantium skeleton, the wince of pain on his face satisfying him some.
What had he expected? He still didn’t know, but felt that somehow he’d been shot down before he’d even stepped more than a foot into the building. He almost felt foolish for entertaining the few thoughts he had let overtake his mind these past few days as he’d gotten closer and closer to the mansion. Besides, what was he thinking anyway? She was too damn young to begin with...
His shoulders sank considerably, which didn’t go unnoticed by Rogue, who’s mouth was opening to ask him a question when....
"Long time, no see."
He glanced up, suddenly seeing a face he knew could help him forget the effect those brown doe-eyes still gazing at him intently had on him.
Jean...
"Marie...." Scott sounded tried and drained. Through her slitted eyes, she could see the stubble growing profusely from his chin, as a result of weeks of negligence.
"Go away, Scott," she muttered, turning over in bed and pulling the comforter tighter around her. "I’m not getting up today."
A heavy sigh sounded near her ear as the blanket was torn away again. Marie shivered as a blast of cool air created a line of goosebumps on her arms and legs. "I know this is going to be hard," his voice was scratchy and on the verge of exploding with emotion. Marie shut her eyes tighter, tears welling up at the corners. "But, we have to go through with it," he finished.
"No, we don’t." Marie finally opened her eyes, the sight of Scott dressed in a full black tuxedo making her chin start to tremble uncontrollably. "Scott..." The hot, raining tears finally spilled from her eyes, leaving burning trails on her cheeks. "I can’t-" her voice broke, and she turned her head, burying it into the pillow. "I can’t go," she reiterated, her voice small.
Smoothing his trembling hands over his jacket, Scott sat on the corner of the bed, the expression of pain and remorse evident despite his dark ruby sunglasses. "You promised you’d come with me, so we could do this together. Mutual support. Remember? We’ve always been there for each other.... and this is the hardest time for both of us. I need you there, Marie. He needs you there."
"No!" she cried into the pillow, shying away from his hand reaching out to rest on her arm. "He doesn’t need me there, Scott. That’s exactly it. He doesn’t need me at all." Her shuddery breath enveloped her throat, almost choking her. "He only needs her."
There was a long silence as Scott waited patiently as Marie wept into her pillow, soaking the material down to the bottom. Scott had his head turned toward the wall, willing himself not to lose control again. This day was the end of everything he- they- had hoped for. For months, there had been this horrible dread burdening the both of them, haunting their thoughts, shadowing their mind. And, now it was really going to happen. They were going to have lost everything they’d ever truly loved by the end of the day.
The short, jagged sobs had slowed to almost nothing, and Scott tried again. "Marie, please." His hand reached out to her again, and landed softly on her dark brown hair, stroking it tenderly. "It will be over soon."
"That’s what I’m afraid of," she replied hoarsely, but nevertheless lifted her head from the pillow and sat up in the bed. Her dark eyes were clouded over and swollen from crying as well as her nose was a hazy shade of red. White streaks framed the side of her chin, the very memory of them sending a chilly reminder through the room. "Fine," she assented, staring down at her hands now. "I’ll go."
With a consoling, firm hug, Scott whispered his thanks and left the room, giving her time to prepare.
When given the signal, the orchestra struck up the intro, the melody of the wedding march striking fond memories in some spectators, and bitter ones in others. Scott and Marie sat side by side, their eyes glued to the front of the church, blindly concentrating on the wall. But, as soon as he heard the great doors of the church swing open, Scott’s face swerved sharply to take in the bride, covered from head to toe in white silk and lace, a veil of the same frilly material trailing down her back, and hiding her usually vibrant red hair.
Jean had a bouquet of flowers tucked firmly in her hands, and a hint of a smile played about her lips as she performed the tediously rehearsed march down the aisle. Thrills ran through her fingers and down her spine, causing her to shudder suddenly. Scott was gazing at her. His ruby red glasses were burning holes into her eyes, an expression of pleading and love filling them. A sharp twist of guilt pulled in her stomach, but she commanded herself to look away and fix her gray eyes on the man standing at the end of the church- her groom.
Marie froze in her chair, her fingers gripping the edges of it as soon as the music started. Her body became cold and dizzy with nerves, refusing to quiet under any command. She was going to lose the man she loved, and there was nothing she could do about it. Nothing.
A few rows in front of her, Logan stood awkwardly at the alter, his fingers playing idly with the buttons on his tux, his eyes fixed firmly at the church entrance. He wasn’t exactly smiling; but he wasn’t frowning either. His face was as smooth and expressionless as stone. His heart, however, was racing, thumping loudly in his chest until it felt it would explode. Today, a decision would be made, binding his life to anothers, making him hers, and her his.
Squeezing her eyes shut again, Marie reached out for Scott’s hand and squeezed it tightly. "I’m leaving," she whispered, opening her eyes again as Scott turned to look at her.
"No, pl-". But, he stopped when he saw the pain written all over her face. It was killing her to go through this, to see all of this take place. An immense feeling of guilt weighed on him; he shouldn’t have asked her to come. He appreciated and admired the fact that she had even brought herself this far. "All right," he said, squeezing back and letting go. "I’ll come see you when it’s over."
Without another word, Marie rose from her seat and hurried out of the row of people, unconsciously whispering apologies. She tried to be as inconspicuous as possible by sneaking out one of the side doors, but a pair of deep hazel eyes noticed and followed her movements with regret.
Leaning heavily against the outside wall of the church, Marie let her tears flow freely, chest rising and falling spasmodically. "Oh, Logan," she whispered, wringing her hands. "Why Jean? Why? Why? Why not me?"
The pale green dress crinkled as she slid down to the ground, burying her face into the cove of her arms. The music had stopped, which meant that the repeating of the vows had begun. Flashbacks ran through her mind like old videos, buried for long periods of time. Their first meeting....
-What kind of a name is Rogue?
-What kind of name is Wolverine?
..........
-The name’s Logan.
-Marie.
Their first vows to each other....
-Whaddya say we give these geeks one more try?
...Come on, I’ll take care of you.
-You promise?
-Yea, I promise.
And, so recently Logan had come to her only a few days ago, asking her an important question.
-Hey, kid.
-Hey, Logan.
-Hey, umm....
-What is it?
-Do you believe in love and all that soul mate stuff?
-...I don’t know. I-I guess I do, but I can’t say definitely because I’ve never had someone like that. I mean- really had someone.
-Oh.
-Do you?
-What?
-Do you believe in that? With Jean?
-I uh... The first time I saw her I felt something, and... yea, I guess I do.
-Oh.
-But, Rogue-
-Hmm?
-No matter what, I’ll always be here for you. Remember: we found each
other first. You mean more to me than.... well, you mean a lot to me.
-I know, Logan. You mean a lot to me too. I love you.
-Me too, kid.
Marie lifted her head, the tears dry, but the ache in her stomach still biting into her. She loved Logan, and he was marrying someone else. He would be lost to her now. There was no chance between them. She’d spent years waiting- hoping, subtly showing him how she felt, but it must have not been enough... or he must have not cared to pay enough attention. His heart belonged wholly to Jean, and she was nothing more than a friend. Nothing more. Nothing.
The fanfare of the wedding music swelled again, making the statement that the deed was done, and the newly forged couple would now be together for the rest of their lives. Jean and Logan. Logan and Jean. Married. Starting a family. Together.
Marie shuddered, goosebumps forming down her arms, leaving a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. Logan was the only one for her; she knew it. But, he’d taken someone else and left her standing outside in the cold alone. Who did she have now? Who could she ever love besides him? She knew in her heart that she could never love anyone as completely or passionately as she still did Logan.
Now, he was marked off from her. The thin gold band around his finger set him apart and forged a wall between them. Rogue could still go on being with him and keeping the distance she needed to stay sane, but Marie inside would be dying bit by bit. How could she bear living on after this? Without Logan...
She jumped as a large, firm hand grasped her shoulder.
"Marie, everyone’s going to the reception."
So, they’d gone through with it. Despite herself, she’d hoped that it was just one horrible facade, and Logan would emerge from the church unmarried and save himself from a grave mistake. For a moment, she had hoped it had been Logan’s hand reaching out to her, telling her how sorry he was for being so blind and not realizing that the person he should be marrying wasn’t Jean, but her. Reaching up toward Scott’s hand, Marie clasped it in her own and used it to pull herself up from the ground.
"Okay." Her voice was cold and hard, and her body numb. There was no time for crying or thinking. Her mind was coping with the shock by pretending it was an alternate universe. "Let’s go."
Swallowing his comment of reproach, Scott only turned his head and gazed around the restaurant with a lost look in his eyes. Already, the bride and groom were dancing, and couples all around were joining in, laughing and congratulating the newlyweds. Marie sat across from him, downing her fifth margarita, and carelessly clinking glasses with other strangers at surrounding tables.
"Do you want to dance?" Scott asked, when she’d finally resumed her seat and taken to blinking contemplatively around the room.
Marie shrugged, already rising from the table. "Sure, but I make no guarantees that I won’t step on your feet."
Scott merely laughed and led her onto the dance floor, as far away from the newly hitched couple as was possible. Keeping her eyes glued to her feet as they glided across the dance floor, Marie didn’t seem up to much conversation.
"So..." clearing his throat, and dipping her quickly just to get her to glance at him, Scott winked and an expression of concern was written on his face. "How are you holding up?" He was answered with another shrug when he felt a light tap on his shoulder.
"Hey," Logan grinned at them, holding out his hand. "May I cut in?"
Scott swallowed, realizing that if he switched partners he would end up dancing with Jean, who stood with her fingers looped through Logan’s other hand. "Hey, man, it’s your reception. You can do whatever you want." He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.
Without another word, Logan clasped Marie’s hands as Jean let go of him, her arms circling around Scott’s neck while her stomach churned with nerves.
Marie, meanwhile, merely stared at Logan as they danced, as if not really taking him in. "I saw you leave during the ceremony," Logan began, his deep hazel eyes boring into her dark brown glassy ones. "Are you okay?" His eyebrows etched together in genuine concern, and the grip his hand had on hers loosened as if he was afraid of breaking her.
"I’m-", Marie cleared her throat, and attempted a small smile. "I was just feeling a little dizzy. I think it was because there were so many people around. I never could get used to crowds."
He seemed to accept her answer, but nevertheless he continued worrying. "So, you’re all right now?"
Swaying around the room, gazing into Logan’s deep eyes, holding his hands, and seeing the alien gold wedding band encircling the ring finger of his left hand began to make her feel truly dizzy- not to mention the fact that she had five drinks worth of margaritas in her system.
"Whoa," she stopped dancing, and lifted her palm to her forehead. "You know what?" she breathed quietly, letting go of her partner’s hand and fanning her face with it. "I was wrong. I- I think I need to sit down somewhere." She blindly stepped away from him, making her way through the crowd and feeling sick to her stomach. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a sign hanging up for the restrooms.
"Are you okay, now?" Ororo asked quietly, pressing a dampened paper towel to the girl’s forehead.
Rogue lay on the floor of the bathroom, the putrid scent of vomit lingering in one of the stalls. Wiping her mouth suddenly, she then placed both her hands on the ground and tried to stand up. "I’m fine, ‘Ro. Thank you." The coolness of the bathroom walls kept her feeling somewhat real, so she pressed her back up against it, thankful the dress was made of thin material. "I just had too much to drink."
"Are you sure that’s all it is, sweetie?" The weather goddess knew how attached Marie and Logan were, and supposed it would be a shock to the young girl’s system at the thought of him getting married.
"Yes, I’m fine," she repeated, turning her head away from the woman, pressing her burning cheek against the cool bathroom tile.
"I’ll stay here until you’re feeling well enough," she said warily, standing beside her.
Rogue shook her head and moved away from the wall, making her way toward the door. "No, I’m all right, Ororo. Don’t worry about it." Then she turned her back and reentered the noisy restaurant, her dark brown eyes searching for a familiar friend with brown hair and ruby red glasses. Scott was the only one who could understand her and relate to what she feeling. Scott had become her closest confidant ever since he and Jean had split up. But, it was hard discerning him through the mass crowd full of men in black tuxes and white shirts.
"Marie," she felt pressure on her elbow, and her breath caught in her throat when Logan turned her around to face him. "Are you all right?" His eyes were searching her face now, his senses smelling the vomit and the fever.
"I think I must have caught something." She avoided his eyes, and instead searched for an exit. "I’m going to drive back to the mansion, okay?"
His grip on her arm tightened protectively. "Are you sure you can make it all right? Because I can drive you if you need me to."
Despite herself, Rogue laughed, feeling her eyes well up with tears again. "No, you can’t," she said, her nose suddenly becoming congested. "It’s your reception, Logan. You can’t leave." He stared at her in surprise.
"If you’re sick, Marie, I can take you home. It doesn’t matter what’s going on. I’ll always take care of you, remember?"
Her heart broke in two at his words. He used their promise too easily, as if it was an unquestioned understanding between a brother and his younger sister. But, it was more than that to her. "I’m not going to hold you to that anymore. Your first priority is your wife now. You have to take care of her first."
Logan opened his mouth to protest, but she slid her arm out of his grip and half-ran away from him, heading toward the exit.
She felt lost, empty, and hollow. A piece of her was missing, exposing her to the cold, frigid wind, causing her to shiver and rub her hands over her arms. Of all days of the past year and a half of owning it, her jeep had decided to die on the middle of the road, halfway between the mansion and the restaurant. Since dark gray clouds were gathering ominously in the sky, it would make more sense to go back to the restaurant and tell someone about her predicament. But, it was just so much more easier to keep walking forward, and not have to face anyone at all.
The sun was behind her, and would be barely visible even if she turned around. The sky was hazed over with dark grays and amethyst swirls intertwining and overlapping above. Rogue shivered again, cursing under her breath. Overall, she felt drained and old, as if her purpose had suddenly disappeared, and she was lost trying to find it. As she walked, life became an endless, meaningless monotony. Nothing could be felt by her anymore. The road before her was a blur while the road behind her was a mere memory, and her legs plodding forward on the uphill pavement was nothing more to her than a daydream. Nothing more than a daydream.
Caught up in a half-stupor, she didn’t even realize that a dark blue car toyota had slowed on the road to match her pace. When the driver called out to her, she almost screamed.
"Hey, hey, Ah’m sorry- didn’t mean to startle ye." The man, seemingly in his early thirties, dark brown hair and bright green eyes peered at her curiously, taking in her exhausted features. "Ah was just going to ask for directions," he began, just as she’d began walking away at a fast pace and pressing the pedal to keep up with her, "but Ah was wondering if you needed a ride too? Ah’m lost- and late, for that matter, but Ah don’t think being late by another twenty minutes or so will make much of a difference."
Rogue turned to look at him, about to decline politely when the wind blew an icy blast against her skin again, as if deeming her insane if she did refuse. Glancing ahead of her, her mind measured from experience that it would probably take another good two hours before she even reached the mansion, and the gray clouds hovering right over her head didn’t seem to want to give her that much time.
With a heavy sigh, she nodded and came closer to the driver’s window to get a better look at him. "You’re lost, you say?" He nodded, his green eyes transfixed on her white streaks, then lowering down to her dress. Rogue shifted under his gaze, not exactly uncomfortable, but just aware that he was trying to piece together a story about her in his mind. He had a dreamer’s eyes; fanciful and unrealistic, but harmless.
"Yea, Ah musta taken a wrong turn somewhere around here, seeing as this is mah first time in these parts." For the first time, she noticed he had a slight southern accent- not too thick, but it was there nonetheless. That fact alone made her feel more apt to accept the car ride. "I’ma lookin for the Turnkey Village."
Rogue chuckled, and jerked her thumb back where he had come from. "That’s about two miles back there. There’s quite a bit of country here, so I could understand how you’d get lost. Just take a left when you hit the dairy farm, and keep going straight. Turnkey Village is on that road, but a lot further down."
The man whistled, shaking his head in disbelief. "That simple, huh? Boy, Ah got myself all screwed up here just by following this fool map. But Ah was never able to understand them that well." Then he leaned out the window again, and pointed to the passenger door. "So, you still want that ride?"
Rogue glanced at the door, and as if to push her, a few cold drops of rain splattered on her head and nose. "Fine," she said, more to the sky than to the stranger. "Thanks a lot, mister."
As soon as she slid into the passenger seat and shut the door, thunder rumbled dangerously from above, the vibrations sending chills all around. Rogue smiled gratefully at the man and held out her hand as he turned the key in the ignition. "Thank you again; I barely missed that."
A grin spread out across his mouth, as if smiling came very easily to him. "Mah pleasure," he replied, shaking her hand. "By the way, mah name is Christian."
"Rogue."
They drove mostly in silence, except for the few occasions where Rogue had to tell him where to turn. Christian whistled again as he drove up the long, winding driveway to the mansion. "You live here?" he asked.
Smiling to herself, Rogue nodded in assent. "Yes, but it’s also a school. So, I don’t own it or anything."
"Oh, is that right?" His eyes glittered in curiosity as he took in the school, parking right across from the entrance. By now, the rain was beating down on the ground relentlessly at full force, not giving way an inch. "Be careful out there," he advised as she opened the door, and stepped out.
"I will. And, thanks again for the ride."
Christian waved his hand away in dismissal. "Ah was happy to help," he shouted through the window as he pulled away.
She stood there for more than a minute, looking after him as the red rear lights disappeared down the driveway. That man had seemed so happy for some reason - carefree. It made her feel so separated from the rest of the world to be outside in the rain, feeling as if there was nothing to look forward to because the love of her life had married someone else.
Lightning split across the sky, making her forget her musings and brought her to the realization that she was still outside and soaking wet. Digging in her purse for the key, she dragged it out and slipped it into the lock, thankful to be back inside of a warm, dry place.
For a split second, she’d almost forgotten what the empty house meant, momentarily confused as to why she was alone. Then, she remembered that the school was at the reception, celebrating Jean and Logan’s wedding.
Logan’s wedding.
Rogue raced up the stairs, her soaked shoes leaving wet prints on the carpet.
Logan kept his fingers tightly on the wheel, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. For the first time that day, he and Jean were alone.
"Logan," she cooed from the passenger seat, her fingers trailing from his chin down to his chest, "My dear husband," she giggled at the words, a bright smile on her face, "What do you have planned for us tonight?"
"Uhhh," Logan knew she was subtly asking him where the hell they were going. For their honeymoon, he’d booked a weekend at a ritzy hotel in New York City, but now he was driving in the other direction, toward the mansion. "We’re still going to the hotel, but I have to check on Rogue first."
Jean suddenly stopped the movement of her fingers and withdrew them slowly from his shirt. "Why?" she asked, the laughter gone from her voice. "What’s wrong with Rogue that you have to take time out of our honeymoon to go and check up on her?" Logan felt the corners of his mouth curl up involuntarily into a snarl. When mentioning Rogue, Jean’s tone had turned bitter and icy, making Logan almost wish he could give her a long, menacing glare. But, he didn’t.
For some reason, Jean didn’t seem to understand the deep connection between the two; she didn’t understand why Logan constantly worried about whether or not she was all right, or happy, or was angry if she was ever left stranded or alone. It annoyed Logan that Jean didn’t know by now that he would always be there for Rogue no matter what. Even through this marriage.
Logan ground his teeth together when he remembered Rogue telling him she wouldn’t hold him to his promise anymore, that his job was to take care of Jean now. The day Logan would stop taking care of Rogue would be the day he dies and the world perishes.
Speaking of Rogue, her jeep sat pathetically by the side of the road, stationary and drenched. "What the-?" he cursed as he pulled the car over, jumping out of the driver’s seat before Jean could even utter one word. Logan rushed to the car, the fleeting thought that she could be freezing to death in there making him panic and practically rip the door open. Nothing. The inside of the car was dark and abandoned, not a hint of human life. Now, the real uneasiness began to set in. It was at least four miles to the mansion, and it was pouring rain outside. He felt a stab of guilt in his stomach as her face, pale and feverish, loomed up before his eyes. She was sick enough without having to walk miles by herself in the rain! He should have taken her home himself.
Sliding back into the driver’s seat, he didn’t notice Jean pouting in the seat next to him. "She wasn’t there?" she asked indifferently. Logan grimaced, slicking his wet hair back out of his eyes.
"Obviously not," he retorted, turning the ignition back on and peeling down the road, his eyes scanning the sides for any doe-eyed wanderers.
Rogue sighed, wrapping the towel firmly around her and stepping out of the shower. The bathroom was absolutely fogged up with steam from the warm shower. The good thing was that she felt clean and somewhat refreshed. The bad thing was that she felt only too well what she had lost that day, and it all came rushing back to her. Her chin began to tremble again, and she gave freely in to the tears, sitting herself in the corner of the bathroom crying, wrapping her arms around her bent knees, and burying her head inside them.
A loud knock sounded on her door, and her head shot up, hands furiously wiping away at her face.
"Rogue?" Scott’s voice echoed through her empty room, but could feel the steam steeping from underneath the bathroom door, as well as see the light. "Are you okay?" he asked, stepping closer to the bathroom door and knocking.
"Scott?" Her voice sounded muffled and tired, but it thankfully lacked the heart-stricken tone it had held earlier on in the day. Rogue opened the door for him, and stood in front of him, tears shining down her face. "Scott," her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. Now, she just needed someone to hold on to.
"It’s all right," he whispered into her damp hair, inhaling the enticing scent of her shampoo. His hand automatically went to the small of her back, and pressed her closer, holding her tighter. He’d spent all of last night crying, and she’d been there to help him, finally waiting until he’d fallen asleep before she’d gone back to her own room to crash. Now, it was his turn to help her through this.
"No, it’s not all right," she said into his shoulder, shuddering. "I love him," she cried, "I can never love anyone else and it hurts... it hurts so bad." Scott nodded in understanding, his face grave and sad.
"Come on," he whispered, leading her to the bed. "Let’s sit down."
She followed him, one arm still lingering on his neck, the other running through her hair. They both settled on the bed, facing each other for a moment, and then Rogue buried her face in his shoulder again, now wrapping her arms around his waist. "How are you?" she asked gently.
Scott sighed heavily, his hands resting on her head and her waist. "I don’t know," he replied honestly. "I danced with her tonight, and it was the best feeling in the world. But," he swallowed, and Rogue could feel his adams apple bob against her cheek. "she..." he stopped with uncertainty. "I dunno, Rogue. I’m just a mess." What he didn’t tell her was that Jean had flirted with him as if she were still free, as if she didn’t have a ring around her finger, as if she expected Scott to show up at her door that very night. He didn’t understand it. Even though he’d felt blissfully happy at the time, he’d also felt like he was being played for a fool.
Rogue snorted. "We’re both messes, Scott," she said with a short laugh, pulling her face from his shoulder to look him the eyes (or glasses), a small pitiful smile playing on her lips. "We are both hopeless messes."
"I know. But what can we do about it?"
Sighing, she shrugged and began to play with his collar. "I don’t know," she replied softly, gazing at him. Suddenly, a strong vulnerability struck her, and more than anything she wanted to be closer to him, to kiss him, to hold him, to forget. "Scott," she whispered, her voice low, her head leaning closer as his was.
Her heart beat furiously in her chest, and while it was happening, she knew she didn’t want to do it. But, Logan was married. Scott was in front of her, so close... so close. Comfort was their need right now. Being together for the past few days had been their only consolance. They were... so close right now.
Their lips touched gently at first, hesitantly adjusting to the unfamiliar territory. But, soon all uncertainty melted away as the two clung to each other, discovering one another everywhere along with their mouths. The kiss was warm and invigorating, the touches thrilling and distracting. And, for the first time that day, they felt good, so good. Rogue felt Scott twist on the bed, taking her with him, and lie her gently on her back, conforming with the sheets. She didn’t protest, only pulled him closer, enjoying the heat on top of her, the warmth that let her feel as if she wasn’t alone anymore. Their legs intertwined, and their movements of exploration became more heated and urgent. Rogue’s lips throbbed and her stomach flip-flopped from new experiences and emotions she hadn’t acted on in so long.
They were lost in each other, and oblivious to the fact that Scott had left the door open, and the doorway had become shadowed.
Logan stood, paralyzed, in front of her bedroom door. This was not what he’d expected. He’d expected to find Marie sitting on her bed, reading, or typing away at her computer, or even cooped up in the library downstairs, complaining about her fever while sipping milk and devouring a classic novel. Never in a million years had he expected to walk into her room, and find her lying on the bed, partially covered in a towel, wet hair matted to the sheets, while Scott was on top of her, kissing her, touching her, diving his hands under the towel, caressing her. The smell of their shared arousal made him sick with horror.
Jean wasn’t there, but he wasn’t sure whether that was good or bad. Expecting to find Rogue alone in her room, he’d wanted to be alone so that he could talk to her. But...but....
He didn’t know what to do with himself now. He only knew that Scott had his hands on Marie’s bare skin, touching places he himself had never seen, and it had to stop. Animal instinct easily overpowered his failing human logic, and he tore into the room, snarling with rage and pain, grabbing Scott by the back of his shirt and hurling him onto the ground, his claws popping out with a fierce *sing*.
"Logan!" Rogue cried, sitting up on the bed and leaning over to make sure Scott wasn’t hurt.
He turned his back on her, unable to see her in that state just yet or confront her. Instead, he focused on Scott. Claws swinging through the air, he grabbed the man by the shoulders again and tossed him against the wall, leaving an indent. Then he picked him up again, threw him into the hallway and shut the door, panting heavily. He tried to concentrate again and regain control, but his claws stayed firmly exposed, stubbornly refusing to retreat. Sweat broke out across his face, and he turned toward the wall, slashing at the wallpaper with his claws, leaving deep gashes as the image of Scott and Rogue together stayed forged in his mind, unable to go away. With every gash that appeared in the wall, came a growl so menacing and heartbroken that the two emotions were almost indistinguishable. Sobs exploded in his chest, choking him as acid tears formed at the corner of his eyes, but none fell.
Rogue stared in amazement, her own tears already slipping down her cheeks as she pulled her towel tighter around her, watching as Logan tore her wall to pieces. If they had ever been together, it would have made more sense. If he had ever shown the slightest interest in her as other than a little sister, it would have made sense. But he never had. But, the sight of her with someone else sent him into a blind rage, sent him crying and howling of betrayal, yet she could understand why.
Rising slowly from the bed as his shredding became less and less, she slowly made her way toward him. "Logan," she said hoarsely, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. Logan didn’t move away, but merely stopped, and broke down. Her chin trembled to see him in this state, to see what her actions had caused. But, she also wasn’t stupid. His reaction was completely irrational from the logical viewpoint, though she still understood why.
"Marie," he whispered, his voice breaking. He turned toward her and hugged her tightly, wrapping his arms protectively around her waist, crying softly into her hair. "I’m so sorry."
She stood there, hugging him back, wholly despondent and hopeless. "Logan, you-" she bit her lip, not knowing what to say. "Tell me why." The words slipped out before she could stop them. "Please, Logan, tell me why you did it." Of course, in her mind, she meant the marriage and not what he had just done. His reaction to seeing her with Scott made solid sense; she could understand that. But, what she couldn’t understand was why he had stood at an alter this morning, and pledged his love for Jean-
"I-I lost control," he said softly, tightening his grip on her waist. "I don’t know why, I just-," Logan shut his eyes, concentrating only on what he had right in front of him. "I’m sorry."
Rogue’s fingers slipped from him, and she pulled firmly out of his grasp. It was for shredding her walls to pieces that he was sorry. It was for reacting in a way he didn’t understand that he was sorry. He wasn’t sorry for his marriage. "Look, Logan," she said, wiping her face of tears, gazing at him with wide, soulful eyes. "You better go. Jean is probably downstairs waiting for you."
His arms hung limply at his sides, while his eyes were raw and pained. "Rogue, I-" he fell silent as she lifted her finger in the air, gesturing for him to stop.
"You’re married, Logan. Congratulations. It’s what’s you’ve always wanted, right? Now, it’s my turn to find out what I really want." Even as she said the words, she knew she’d never find it. At least, not while Logan was gone.
"Scott?" he asked bitterly, stepping closer to her again.
Biting hard on her bottom lip, Rogue swallowed over the lump forming in her throat. "Anyone, or anything," she replied quietly. She didn’t feel anything more than a fraternal affection with Scott. She didn’t feel anything anymore, except for loss and betrayal. "Logan, you should go now."
He shook his wet and matted hair, moving one step closer to her. "I don’t want-" as he had spoken, his hand had reached out to her, and on skin contact, without warning, he felt the deadly pull of her mutation. He stood, shocked, for a minute, unable to comprehend an action that he hadn’t felt in years since she’d been able to control it. But, she was willingly keeping him away.
"Go!" she shouted, turning her face away, pulling her skin away from his hand. "Just go." She hadn’t lost control over her mutation like that in 2 years, and it hadn’t been totally accidental. Her mind was in hysterics, and for a second she had wished she could absorb him just once before he left, before he entered this new life set out for him - a life without her. She needed to know what he was thinking, feeling, right at this moment. She needed a piece of him. Yes, she had robbed his mind purposely of his privacy, but she’d needed to know. And, she knew well enough now what was going through his mind.
He was still there, the heat radiating from his shadow hovering behind her. Luckily, the touch had been too brief to render any damage, but had only left him short of breath.
"Please, Logan, I’m sorry. Really I am. I don’t know what happened, but- please go."
Her heartbeat quickened, and with her newly obtained heightened senses, she could smell the sadness on him- could smell the sweat dripping from his forehead, and hear the tears crashing to the ground.
"I’ll see you," he whispered, choking on the words.
"Good-bye, Logan."
His footsteps echoing in the hall outside of the room sounded like crashing thunder in her ears, and the sound of his hands swishing against his tux made her close her eyes, savoring the woodsy, wild scent he’d left behind, lingering in the room.
Downstairs in the corridor, she could still hear him, joining hands with Jean. "Is she all right?" she asked quietly, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor.
There was a pause, and she could hear Logan exhaling one last shuddery breath. "Yea, she’s fine," he replied. Then the doors shut behind them, the rain and wood drowning out the rest of their movements.
After two days, Logan and Jean returned to their now shared rooming quarters at the mansion. But, while the rest of the school welcomed them back, Marie and Scott were nowhere to be found.
They weren’t together, as Logan had assumed, stomping up the stairs and caging himself in his bathroom, while Jean packed all of their clothes in the bedroom. In fact, Rogue was hidden in the depths of the woods right outside of the mansion, clinging desperately to a bottle of whiskey she’d gotten from a liquor store; cashiers hardly even bothered to check for i.d.’s anymore in this area. With every swallow of the burning liquid, she felt even more calmer, less pained. But, no matter what, she couldn’t get rid of Logan’s face, joined by Jean’s as they held hands, their wedding bands glinting in spite.
Scott wasn’t so alone. Even though he was old enough to drink, and thoroughly entitled to have his full, he ordered nothing more than one beer. He wasn’t looking to forget, he was looking to get even. To fill in the gaping hole that had been left by the woman now bonded to his competitor. And, he tried to fill that hole with brazen women he met at the bar, who wanted nothing more than one night of excitement- and possibly, payment.
Logan, fighting the images of what Scott and Rogue could be doing together, left his room in a brooding state, and made his way down to the basement, where he knew Hank collected wines and liquors as a hobby. He lived there, emptying bottle after bottle, for more than six hours. Only because of his healing factor did he manage to haul himself back to his room, and sink into the soft sheets of the bed, barely taking notice that there was someone sleeping beside him. Jean only smiled in her sleep, and wrapped her arms over him, falling back to sleep.
Rogue was careful to avoid Logan’s path as much as she could. All she had to do was detect the scent of cigars, and turn around, heading off into the opposite direction. Logan caught on; he could hear her heartbeat quicken and her footsteps retreat quickly down the hall whenever he was near. It killed him; he’d gone so long without seeing her face or hearing her voice, and she was avoiding him. The sinking feeling that he’d lost everything good in his life came back to him, because he knew she was repulsed by him now; his behavior the night before he’d left had been nothing short of irrational and downright savage.
He’d almost hoped that Marie would forgive him, as she always seemed to do so easily, but he’d been hoping too much. She despised him now, running in the other direction whenever he was near. He would beg, if he had to. But, Logan tried to tell himself it was no surprise she hated him now. He always screwed up. Always hurt the ones he loved. She was better off without him. So, he gave her what she wanted. Whenever he picked up her scent yards away, even before she knew he was there, he would turn the other way. It came to the point where they went weeks without crossing each other’s path. But, that didn’t mean Logan didn’t watch her when she wasn’t looking, wishing she were standing next to him, whispering to him whatever it was she was whispering to Storm. More than anything, he wanted her near him again.
But with his deep feeling of rejection, came an even deeper need to be loved. Every night- and as often as he could, he and Jean made love. Jean was caught up in a euphoric daydream. She was in the arms of her husband every single night, and she knew that most women couldn’t say the same. But, little did she know, she wasn’t the person he thought of right before he went to sleep. Despite this, Jean was content with the constant lovemaking, and the idea of finally having Logan as her husband. But, that was before.
This is now....
Jean pursed her lips, sniffing angrily as Logan came through the door, the strong scent of liquor raw and potent on his breath. He didn’t acknowledge her as he settled on the bed and rolled over, pulling the covers over his head without even bothering to undress. Scarlet red nails pierced flesh as Jean tried to control her frustration.
"Logan," she said shakily, straining to keep her voice calm since she afraid it would explode with anger. He should be given a chance before she broke out her wrath.
No response.
"Logan!" she shouted through gritted teeth, hovering over him and tugging at the blanket.
One bloodshot eye opened, and his clouded hazel eye looked to take her in for the first time. "What?" he growled, kinking up an eyebrow.
"You’ve been drinking again, haven’t you?" Logan didn’t even bother to reply, just shifted over to his side and turned his head away. In a matter of seconds, he was dead to the world.
Screaming silently in her throat, Jean turned away in disgust, folding her arms. She had just noticed that he came home drunk every night only a week ago. And, now she could barely find him in a sober mood to confront him or even talk to him about it. He was always drunk.
And he hadn’t touched her in longer. It was probably one month and a half since they’d last made love, and Jean was pissed as hell. He barely even noticed she was there half of the time, and spent most of the day locked up someplace in the mansion. She had chosen not to invade his thoughts only as a rule, but if he kept this up, she felt she would have to.
She had no idea what had gone wrong. But, she was determined to find out, or get rid of him altogether.
Marie stood outside in the woods, shuddering. This was where she spent most of her time, but somehow it didn’t seem as safe anymore. For the first time in months, she’d spoken to Logan only a few weeks ago. She’d been sitting in the middle of a small clearing, taking a break from the whiskey, and simply staring dreamily at the night sky. During that moment, she’d felt so detached from the world, she’d almost felt good. Almost. That was, until the Erik inside of her head, usually subdued up until that moment, had told her she was being watched.
Her dizzy senses had been alerted then, but nothing out of the ordinary caught her attention until she smelled it: cigar smoke. Instead of running, as had become her habit, she’d simply frozen there, intrigued and nervous at the same time. If Logan was really there, watching her, then that meant he was cheating at this horrible game they played. She hadn’t seen his face, or heard his voice, ever since he’d come back- but, that’d had been by choice. It was for her sanity that she avoided him, but little did she know that very thing was what was driving her closer to the edge....
Anyway, the intoxicated young woman decided to teach him a lesson about sneaking up on people.
Rogue sighed, propping herself up on her elbows, and checking further off in the woods to make sure her stash of whiskey was still there and undisturbed. Satisfied that it was safe, she stretched lazily, arching her back, and leaned her head casually up toward the sky.
"I know you’re there, Logan."
The shout of surprise he gave made her half-smile, as a delicious shiver ran down her back. She knew it was only a matter of seconds before he would stand right beside her and mutter curses under his breath.
But, he hadn’t come. There’d been a long moment of silence, until Rogue had finally turned around in curiosity. He was nowhere to be seen. The excitement she had felt before at having an opportunity to talk to him again dwindled, and she felt empty again. He’d left.
Swallowing down a sob making its way into her throat, she rose from the ground and dusted off the back of her jeans and shirt. Then, she went over to her stash and pulled out another bottle of whiskey.
Scott paced his room, a feeling of excitement and nervous anticipation wafting over him. He knew it was wrong; knew it would only end in heartbreak and humiliation. But, he didn’t care. He needed this- even if it was only for one night, to wash away someone else’s, and his, pain.
A soft rapping on his door stopped him, and he barely hesitated before opening it. "Hey, Jean," he whispered breathlessly, gazing at her flowing red hair flung over one side of her shoulder, and the white nightgown she was covered in. Shaking her head at him with wide eyes, she hurried in the room and shut the door, locking it and listening. When she was sure there was no one in the halls, she turned to Scott and smiled.
"Hello, Scott," she purred, locking her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his.
Logan staggered over the threshold of his room, panting heavily. She’d known he was there. How, he had no idea. But, she’d known.
His heart raced, as if he were a young boy caught putting his hand in the cookie jar while his mother had her back turned.
This had been his first time finding her in the woods, gazing up at the sky. And, he couldn’t help but wonder if that was what she did all day, and if that was why she was never around - and why she was alone. Not that it bothered him. The last thing he wanted was for Rogue to have some ‘secret hideout’ with Scott, but still, it bothered him. He’d come to believe so strongly that the two had become a couple that it’d taken him a while to look past his anger to realize they hardly ever spent any time together. Surprisingly, that thought only enraged him more. What he had walked in on all those months ago, had just been... a cheap thing. Marie was so much better than a cheap moment, and he felt like spilling Scott’s blood for treating her like one. It still didn’t atone for his reaction to it, but it made him feel slightly better knowing that Marie hadn’t become involved with that one-eyed bastard.
Speaking of the latter, a loud thump sounded a few doors down from Logan’s room. His eyebrows kinked together as he caught the strong and familiar scent of semen and sex. As soon as an insulting comment made its way into his slightly fuzzy mind, Logan froze in his movements. That scent was too familiar.
A low rumble began in the pit of his belly as he raced from his room, following the scent hurriedly. Scott’s door was shut and locked firmly, but it became nothing more than a shelf on the ground as Logan barged through it, his nostrils flaring and a mad fire glinting in his eyes.
There they were; Jean and Scott tangled together, partially hidden by covers and stunned into silence as guilt-ridden expressions looked up at him.
It was as if someone had literally punched him into the stomach, and he was gasping for air.
"Logan," Jean said warily, detangling herself from Scott and creeping as far away from him on the bed as was possible. Tears filled her eyes as he only shook his head, speechless. Slowly, he turned on the heel of his boot and left the room, virtually no harm done.
Sobs filled the air as he disappeared, and Jean wrapped herself tightly in the sheets, suddenly feeling dirty and perverse. Scott tried to draw his arms around her, but she pushed him away, shuddering uncontrollably. There was no way to reverse this. If he had yelled, if he had screamed or shouted, or torn something apart, then there wouldn’t be the dead silence that hung heavily in the air, coating them with the transgression they had recently committed. And for that loss, Jean mourned. He had simply turned away, the defined movements of his exit clearly showing that there was no more. Ever.
Logan numbly padded down the staircase to the cellar, moving past rows and rows of empty shelves, until he reached a partially filled one. He told himself that this was just the end with Jean, and the beginning of something - someone - else. But, he still clung to the whiskey bottle, fighting back whatever emotion it was working its way up from hidden depths.
Rogue sighed heavily, placing her head somberly on the cool kitchen table. Her body trembled from the lack of what had become a part of herself, but she fought it down. Two days ago, she had sworn to quit, had sworn to herself she would never gulp down or even sip another drop of whiskey or anything similar to it. And, so far, with much inner conflict and torment, she had managed to do it. Why? What had been her reason?
Simply because she knew Logan would need her. He would need 'her', Rogue, not a drunken woman that had almost become an unrecognizable stranger. He would need her.
It had been almost a full week since Logan and Jean’s separation, followed by the file for a divorce. Rumor had spread around the school like wildfire; some students had heard Jean sobbing in Scott’s bedroom right after Logan disappeared... they also knew that at the time, she hadn’t been wearing any clothing. And the fact that Jean had recently began avoiding everyone as much as she could possibly get away with confirmed all suspicion. No one could look at her the same again. Not for a long time.
Logan himself was almost a ghost. Merely a whisper passing through the halls at night, but hardly anyone caught a long enough look at him. Most thought he only wanted to be alone and respected that, and very few others knew better.
Rogue had been searching for him, waiting for him, earnestly wanting to help him through this, to show that she still loved him. Now, in a sober state she cursed herself for avoiding him all these months. Despite the emptiness corroding inside of herself, she should have at least done something to make him realize that she didn’t hate him or blame him. She’d only been unable to cope, unable to see him every day while knowing he would so detached from her. It was because of her own weakness and inability to be around him that she stayed away. Maybe if she had made a little more effort and swallowed it down, he wouldn’t be so hard to find now. In fact, barely anyone knew where he spent his time.
After a few more days, impatience began to wear on her and she finally picked her head up from the table and went looking for him. She searched every room, opening doors she’d never even seen in her entire time at the mansion. She became disheartened after every door revealed to an empty room full of chairs and dust, or full of other residents at the mansion whom she never really knew. And she almost gave up, her resolve to never touch another drop of whiskey almost breaking away as she planned another overnight sojourn in the woods.
At last, she came across the entrance to the cellar, and with some difficulty opening the door which had been shut tightly against the frame, she finally managed and stopped at the head of the stairs. It was the smell of cigars and the confused shuffling of boots against the pavement that gave her hope. With an increasing excitement she stepped lightly down the stairs, holding her breath.
And, there he was. Logan. Slumped up against the wall, with a nearly empty bottle of hard whiskey clutched in his hands. Rogue’s heart pounded in shock at the irony, seeing him in a position she was almost constantly in. His eyes were red and blotchy, gazing into a faraway world beyond anything she could imagine as he lifted the bottle to his lips, and sucked down another tumblefull of liquor.
Rogue stood frozen, just looking at him. Her already scarred heart bled again at the sight of the utter hopelessness he had been left in. A feeling of rage and indignance ignited within her as she thought of what Jean had done to him, and she hated the woman, more than she ever had before. Jean, with her incapacity of staying faithful, had done this to him.
Logan’s senses, increasingly delayed at the intense quantities of alcohol running through his veins, finally picked up her scent, but it still took a minute for him to register who it was. He swallowed hard, letting the bottle drop from his mouth and then he only stared dumbly at it.
It figured, that after all of these months of not seeing her, she would find him here, drinking his life away. He felt weak in front of her; exposed and vulnerable. He, who should have been the strong one, who should have taken care of her, instead of avoiding her and spying on her from a distance, was found hidden away in the cellar basement, his fingers wrapped tightly around the neck of a whiskey bottle. A feeling of degradation and failure filled him, and finally he stood up, knowing he had hit rock bottom.
"Marie," he said hoarsely, taking her in and trying to catch his breath. He looked at her everywhere but her eyes; he couldn’t bring himself to look there yet. But, she was still so beautiful. Marie had always been beautiful.... His Marie.
The sight of her standing in front of him, the white streaks falling lightly down her shoulders while the rest of the dark brown hair followed suit, made him realize just how much he had missed having her near him all that time. The large, gaping hole in the pit of his belly had never seemed so apparent to him until now, until it was partially eased.
She merely gazed at him, and when he finally brought his clouded hazel eyes up to her chocolate brown ones, he saw tears glistening there, ready to spill at the slightest provocation. At the look of sadness on her face, Logan felt his body begin to tremble. Not once in his present life had he ever felt more shame than this.
"Lo-," the words were inaudible as she realized that her throat had become choked with emotion and she could barely make a word out. More than anything, she wanted to hold him in her arms and tell him everything was fine. More than anything, she wanted him to feel good again....
The silence was making him uncomfortable, and Logan could only imagine what thoughts were running through her mind. He was despicable. He knew it; felt it everywhere on him that he had somehow become the lowest there was, and he felt like he was being passed judgment by the one person in the world he had ever wanted to love him.
He needed to say something, as if in explanation for what he had done, and why he had forged himself away. But, his mind went blank. A low rumbling sounded in his throat, as the need to break the thick silence turned desperate. He couldn’t stand the thought of those thoughts running through her head, condemning him and seeing him for the weak man that he was.
"I-," he cleared his throat, shifting his eyes to hers for the first time. Her expression was unreadable, and her eyes held an unmistakable mark of sorrow. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Logan felt something shift in his stomach, while a sudden elation struck him. He was looking into her eyes, and she wasn’t hating him - yet. It gave off a small chance of hope.
"I’m sorry I didn’t keep my promise." He was sorry for giving in, for not being stronger and holding fast onto their friendship. For letting everything fall down the drain while he watched it slip away from sight.
Rogue’s chin trembled as a sob rose up from her throat. "Oh, god." Without warning, she closed the gap between them and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. This stupid man. No matter what, he always tried to blame himself, always tried to apologize for something he hadn’t done directly. Always tried to goddamn protect her, and berated himself when he felt like he’d failed. "No, Logan," she breathed, clinging tighter to him and loving the feel of him. Too long had she gone without him -without her best friend. "Don’t- don’t-...."
He buried his face into her neck, his arms wrapping tightly around her waist and holding her close to him, needing to feel her everywhere. This woman - he needed her. And, he had her again - and no one knew how long it would last.
He hoped it’d last forever.
He felt his body begin to shake again, and pulled her closer to him again. She was solid, she was real, she was something he could hold on to. Marie had always been his rock; his everything. She was the only one he needed. The only one.
More than anything, she wanted to tell him she loved him. Wanted to tell him everything she’d done these last few months- hell, she even wanted to tell him about the whiskey, about how she was breaking without him, about how she needed him, and about how he should never ever blame himself for what he didn’t have control over. It wasn’t his fault. Nothing. He had tried being happy with Jean, and she had avoided him because of it. She had left him when she knew for a fact that he needed her more than anyone. And she needed him.
"Logan, I-" she managed between sobs, inclining her head backwards a bit in order to be able to look in his eyes. "It’s not your fault," she whispered, cupping his cheek with her hands. He looked away, but she gently pulled his face back toward her, so he was gazing directly at her. "It’s not-" The sound of children playing outside close to the cellar windows stopped her, and she felt as if the moment was slipping from her. Unconsciously, her fingers around his chin slinked toward the back of his neck, gently stroking the skin.
The touch of her fingers sent a thrill down his spine, and he felt bombarded with so many emotions, constantly suppressed ever since that night he first opened the bottle... He could feel himself breaking already, could feel his body screaming that this was too much, that this was too much at a moment where his mind was not even the slightest bit sober.
But, he needed her. Needed her near him - needed to have her love him, and to tell him so.
"I-" He ran his hands through her hair, caught up in a feeling of bliss. Never had he felt this happy, and never had he wanted her so much. "I love you, Marie," he whispered into her hair, closing his eyes and hoping to memorize the scent of her and keep it with him always.
He had spoken the words so softly, but without regret and with an absolute forthright honesty. Rogue had to strain her ears to catch the whisper, and when the words registered, her heart stopped - then began beating again, faster and faster until she felt her chest would burst.
"I love you, too, Logan," she whispered back, a tear sliding shamelessly down her cheek. "Always." She knew he meant it when he said he loved her. Because he had loved her still, on the day he’d left with Jean for their honeymoon. At the time he’d been confused by the fact that she was no longer just ‘kid’, and angry at himself that the realization had come too late. He also hadn’t want to hurt her. Because somehow, everything he touched in this world turned to ash - it was destroyed. More than anything, he hadn’t wanted to destroy her.
They stayed in their embrace for a long time, just holding each other, breathing as one and feeling comforted and content just by the other’s presence. That was one of those moments were you wish time could freeze, because it was perfect. Whatever the future held, and whatever had happened in the past didn’t matter anymore because you had found one moment where everything was perfect.
If only time could freeze.
Even though Logan was elated and exhilarated beyond words, the liquor in his bloodstream was taking a toll on him. Emotions he hadn’t felt in too long of a time now catapulted him like boulders, and he found himself short of breath, not exactly knowing how to deal with the sudden influx.
The grip his arms had on Marie’s back lessened, and he found himself stepping away from her. His fingers were shaking, and the cold whipped against his warmed skin like ice. If only he could reverse everything or go back in time. If only he could erase what he had done. Erase what he had missed out on. If he could, he’d go all the way back, back to the first he’d ever laid his eyes on Jean, and wished he could have just turned the other way. All those years he had fought with himself, trying to convince his heart that it was wrong and monstrous to feel that way about the young girl with white streaks. She had been so young....
But, he could have waited. And now the word ‘wrong’ wasn’t even apart of his vocabulary. Now, there was only Marie.
"Logan...?"Her hand reached out to him, and he didn’t pull away as her fingertips rested on his shoulder.
"I’m sorry," he said hoarsely, avoiding her eyes. He was sorry for the mess he had created, for what he hadn’t fixed.. for the way things were so screwed up now.
Marie swallowed. The expression of remorse knocked her in the stomach. He hadn’t meant it. Maybe he had once - a long time ago. But, now....
A thought suddenly struck her with absolute horror. She was taking advantage of his vulnerability. She had almost forgotten, that just earlier that week he had caught his wife in the arms of another man. Marie backed up, hugging her arms to herself guiltily as she suddenly felt like a monster. She had come looking for him to comfort him, not to take advantage and ease her own need to be wanted and loved by him.
Maybe he had only said ‘I love you’ because he needed to love someone, and have them love him, just for the sake of his sanity. She was the only one who had given him the chance.
She loved him. And, for a moment, she had believed that he loved her back. But, it was all an illusion. It was the same thing she had done with Scott the night Logan had gotten married. She looked for comfort in someone’s arms. And, then she had forgotten about him ever since.
"I’m sorry," she whispered, turning her head. "Logan, I- I’ll be here for you, it’s just that-" she stuttered, a sudden need burning inside of her, trying to cover up what she really needed and wanted. What her mind focused on at that moment was the tiny ditch she had dug in the earth of the woods, and what lay in it.
He didn’t love her. She was like Scott - someone there to hold on to. But, it meant nothing.
Biting back a sob, she whispered another apology and dashed up the stairs, blind and deaf to anything but what was in her mind, coaxing her with promises to numb the heartbreak.
He hardly had time to register that she had left, and when he opened his mouth to call out to her, to scream her name, the door shut with a resonating bang.
She was gone.
He didn’t know why, but he felt the blame lying on himself without explanation. He always screwed up. That’s why Jean had left him for someone else. And that’s why Marie had left him just now.
He did nothing but screw up.
Jean tensed as she heard his languid footsteps echoing on the hardwood floor. Even before he made his appearance, she could smell the liquor on his breath, drifting down the hallway like thick smoke.
He stopped at seeing her there, sitting apprehensively on the edge of the bed. After that, he didn’t move at all - only stared, his heavy breathing becoming the only sound in the room.
Smoothing her hand nervously over her red hair, Jean cleared her throat and stood up, her heart thundering in her chest. "I - I never got the chance to say I was sorry." There was no shift of movement on his part, not even the flutter of an eye. The awkwardness filled the room until she felt even more detached from her purpose; she felt like an intruder. "I know it doesn’t make much of a difference now, but for what it’s worth..." she trailed off as his eyes closed and he turned his head away, leaning his back up against the doorframe.
"Save it. We’re getting divorced and that’s the end of it."
His voice was hard and cold as stone, and the expression on his face even more so. Jean ducked her head in shame. She had spent months married to this man standing in front of her, yet she still didn’t know him -or understand him for that matter. He had been everything she’d always imagine the first few months, and now....
Jean glanced up at him, curiosity biting at her more than she could ever admit. She needed to know what had happened. She needed to know why, when everything had seemed so wonderful, he had suddenly given up....
Bracing herself quickly, Jean closed her eyes for a moment, searching. Logan’s thoughts were in a jumble, tied up into a complex knot of pain and bottled up emotion. An incredible wave of sadness rushed through her, and it took all of her self-control not to shout in pain and lose the grip she had on his mind. There- memories flashed in front of her mind’s eyes, and she saw the moment with Rogue. Saw them embrace while they cried into each others arms, and the whiskey bottle crashed to the ground. She saw him whisper ‘I love you’ into the woman’s dark hair, and heard her return the words, filled with so much honesty and meaning that Jean couldn’t hold on anymore. She let go of his memory and broke down, sobbing. Her arms flew up to her face as tears slipped down her cheeks, leaving burning trails.
Logan glanced over at her almost guiltily. He had felt her inside of mind, and knew exactly what had made her break down. No words were exchanged between them, and the only noise in the room was Jean trying to stifle her tears. During her whole entire marriage with him, she had never witnessed or even felt anything slightly close to the overwhelmingly pure love he had felt for Rogue. Never.... never...
She raced from the room, brushing past him as she disappeared down into the hallway, unsure of where she would go. Unsure of herself, and everything she had believed in. Suddenly, she had understood him. Finally, she knew who he had truly loved all these years... and it wasn’t her.
A cold wind whipped through the room. Logan turned and shut the door behind him, the decisive sound of the door shutting echoing hauntingly throughout the empty room. His thoughts now were incoherent.... He was only aware of how he felt, and of how he had hurt so many people in his life, and how hopeless this had all come to be...
Hope had somehow deserted him on what had seemed like the longest walk of his life as he’d made his way from the cellar to his room. A dark, black hollowness filled him, encroaching every thought that flittered to his mind. Logic wasn’t a apart of his mind anymore - logic had been what had told him to forget about Marie because she was too young. Logic had told him marrying Jean was the right choice, and the safest choice. Logic had told him to let Marie have her own way when he realized she was avoiding him, and in doing so he’d lost her. No. There was nothing for him anymore. His life was as empty as the room he stood in. And, he was alone.
He’d started out on this life already turned on the path of destruction, and he had dealt with his pain by fighting in cages and generally just hating every god-damned person that walked into his midst. But, that had changed when he’d met Marie. Then his life had somersaulted into something that was a little lighter, softer, and safe- Marie’s arms. Now, he’d even lost that.
She’d left him again. Left him alone in that cellar. He didn’t understand why completely, but he understood that fate would never let him be at peace. By nature, he wasn’t a man meant to be loved - he was a beast. Marie must have realized that - she must have realized who, or what, it was she was saying ‘I love you’ to, and realized her mistake.
Animals were designed to roam free in the wild without ever laying permanent claim to one spot. They always kept moving, kept changing - never stayed.
He could never have her.
The thought revolved through his mind, causing a boiling self-loathing to churn inside of himself. Any second, his claws should break loose -the very product that made him animal and isolated should have come out in confirmation, the light reflecting off of the deadly blades, glorifying their menace. But, there was nothing. His abilities had been suppressed, along with his emotions, by the intense amount of alcohol in his system.
He’d even lost what had made him so alone.
His shoulders sagged as if a heavy weight were pressed on them. Logan shut his eyes tightly, his teeth bared and his mouth curled into a snarl as he felt the pain of hopelessness. His feet softly padded across the room to the bedside table.
The whiskey could never take this back. He could never get over this -what he had come to depend on so much had destroyed him, had made him repulsive in the eyes of the one he loved, and there was no way to fix it. He saw no way out of this.
A pad of paper and a pen lay exposed innocently in the drawer. His fingers picks up the pen gingerly, scribbling his whole life away into a few simple words that he felt was all she had know. His last words.
Deeper inside the drawer, was a fully loaded revolver. His mind went blank as his fingers brushed against the cool metal, and fit neatly into the crook of the trigger. Without a further thought, he aimed the gun toward his left temple and pulled.
Hank was the one who had found him lying face down on the bed, his hair sprawled across the pillows. At first, he had thought Logan to be sleeping, and had almost turned around until the glimmer of metal on the pillow caught his attention-- and the rapidly spreading blood stain soaking the white material. His shouts rang through the mansion, and soon the team had crowded into the room, shutting the door quickly on the noses of curious and frightened students.
They started to bring him to the medlab, practically in hysterics as they lifted him onto a gurney. Rogue appeared minutes later, the strong scent of liquor on her breath as they were carrying his body down the stairs. She’d stopped breathing, trying to understand why as she raced to his side, clutching his cold, dead hands. Hank had tried to calm her as soon as she’d began screaming hysterically, tearing her hair out and digging her nails into his blue skin. Jean had finally come to the rescue, pulling her away as the girl collapsed onto the ground, bawling into the carpet.
Only when she’d felt something being shoved into her hands did she look up to see Jean hurrying away again. What she had was a crisp piece of paper, with the fresh scent of ink still lingering on it. As she turned the paper over, she’d broken into a new fit of sobs as she’d recognized Logan’s familiar handwriting, and the jagged lines it had from the grooves of the wood. Her tears soaked the material, and as she read it, an infant-like wail escaped her lips.
A student found her later on that day, curled up into a ball and forged away in a darkened corner of the mansion. Tears stained her cheeks, and her eyelids were red and swollen from crying. In her hands, was a piece of paper, held firmly in her grip.
In the note, it read -
I’ll love her ‘til I die.
Weeks passed by in a blur, and it was decided that Logan be buried on the property of the mansion. Right over his grave stood a weeping willow, which seemed to tell his story better than any headstone could.
Things at the mansion were strained, and the effect his death had on the entire team, as well as the few students that had become accustomed to him, was evident. Oddly enough, no one really thought much about Rogue, except for Jean, who often saw the young girl running into the woods at daybreak, and not returning for days.
It wasn’t long though, before another round of screams were heard throughout the mansion, and Rogue was found facedown on her bed, her fingers wrapped tightly around Logan’s dog-tags. A gun lay beside her, making its mark with the smell of gunpowder and fresh blood. The look on her face was one of firm resolution, and her fingers were tangled in such a way around the chains of the dog-tags that they never slipped from her fingers, even while they were carrying her in the coffin, at Jean’s request, to the same burial spot of Logan’s...
Side by side they lay, underground, lifeless, heartbroken, and forever bound to each other. During the funeral service, the wind picked up and whirled around them, whistling through the leaves of the willow, as if singing them both to sleep with a lullaby.
Whiskey Lullaby
Brad Paisley & Alison Krauss
She put him out,
like the burnin' end of a midnight cigarette
She broke his heart,
he spent his whole life tryin' to forget
We watched him drink his pain away a little at a time
But he never could get drunk enough to get her off his mind
Until the night........
He put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger
And finally drank away her memory
Life is short but this time it was bigger
Than the strength he had to get up off his knees
We found him with his face down in the pillow
With a note that said I'll love her 'til I die
And when we buried him beneath the willow
The angels sang a whiskey lullaby.
La la la la la la la
La la la la la la la.
La la la la la la la
La la la la la la la.
The rumors flew, but nobody knew how much she blamed herself
For years and years she tried to hide the whiskey on her breath
She finally drank her pain away a little at a time
But she never could get drunk enough to get him off her mind,
Until the night.
She put that bottle to her head and pulled the trigger
And finally drank away his memory
Life is short but this time it was bigger
Than the strength she had to get up off her knees
We found her with her face down in the pillow
Clinging to his picture for dear life
We laid her next to him beneath the willow
While the angels sang a whiskey lullaby.
La la la la la la la
La la la la la la la.
La la la la la la la
La la la la la la la.
La la la la la la la
La la la la la la la.
La la la la la la la
La la la la la la la...
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Author's Chapter Notes:
First, I want to give some credit to Tracey from WRFA for making the amazing music video based on this song. It can be found here: http://www.angelfire.com/film/loganrogueshipper. When I first saw it, I cried and decided I would just have to write a story about it. After I wrote this, I swore to myself I would, from now on, only write happy stories.