It was three hours after he left that Logan allowed himself to feel it, feel the anger that rose in him, the fury at having left her there the first time, the anger at Jean for her self involved nativity, anger at the professor for his ethical stance of see it don't intervene. Most of all he felt anger at himself.
He'd failed her, failed to protect her like he'd promised and it ate at him, rotting his soul that he had, by action or inaction, hurt her. That she would believe she was not good enough for him, god the irony of it was unthinkable, that his precious Marie, the women who epitomized all that was good and honest and loving would think that she was not good enough for him because she couldn't touch, was too young, too inexperienced. He knew that's what she thought, knew that's why she'd been avoiding him when he had first arrived, why she would have avoided him if he'd stayed.
It humbled him that she loved him enough to stand by and let him have Jean if that had been his desire, Oh she knew it was only sex but she wasn't angry, just resided to the idea that he had some kind of right to get it where he could, that she couldn't begrudge him something she couldn't give him.
He hated her acceptance. Hated that he had left her without clearing up the misunderstanding, without telling her he loved her, needed her like the air he breathed, was whole only when he was with her, wanted no-one but her, could be with no-one but her.
He hated that he couldn't tell her, hated that to do so would make him wonder if she had chosen him for him and not just for an escape, just so she could feel like she alone was enough. His pride wanted her to chose him for him, his heart wanted her anyway he could get her, his head told him that she had a future that was so much more than just him, one that he could help her achieve and one he could share. For the first time in his life he was going to settle down.
When the fury left him he found himself in the middle of the forest, Scott's bike on its side, his claws embedded in a tree. His anger was there but so was a hope, hope for a future.
On the third day he called her, his hands itching in anticipation. On the third ring she answered, her voice breathless as if she'd run.
It was as it had been before, she talked, he listened, grunting now and again and when the phone beeped signaling his calling card was running out she whispered be careful, I miss you and this time he replied, "I miss you too kid."
Connecticut wasn't that far from New York but it took him three weeks to get there. He stopped along the way to fight he'd needed the money. When he entered the university district of the town he slowed the bike and began taking in the sights. He'd already arranged with Charles to make sure Marie's acceptance was finalized even if she didn't do it. Knowing that she didn't have the money he was pretty sure she'd flag the Ivy League for a less expensive option, probably staying at the mansion. He didn't want that for her and was going to do all he could to make sure this part of her future was secure.
He had it all planned out, he'd set up here in a nice apartment, close to the school so she didn't have to go through the explaining that would come from dorm living and communal showers; he had the money for a down payment and would stay in it and get a job, he'd support her while she studied and if he had it already set up it would be easier to get her to accept that he was going to do this for her, that he wanted to do this for her.
If he gave her this then she didn't have to choose between him and something better, she could have both and he could learn to live with staying in one place if she was there.
After four weeks in Connecticut he was still living in the local YMCA, it was cheap and he needed to save all the money he earned at a local garage, a job Scott had set up. He'd given up hope in ever finding an apartment everything he saw was too small, too large, not secure, too far from campus or just too bloody ugly. The last was a concern left over from the Marie in his head and while he didn't have a shit show in hell of knowing what was pretty and what wasn't he knew that the usual dive he lived in wasn't enough; he needed a home.
It was the thirty-third place he'd seen, research was important to him or else he was just really picky he hadn't decided but three was becoming his lucky number as it was the thirty-third place he'd seen, it was on the top floor, the third floor, at 103 Newgate street and it was about thirteen minutes walk from the main campus, five if you biked.
He said he'd take it as soon as he walked in the door and the real estate agent was partly relieved and partly afraid at having to tell the landlord that a hairy, gruff man was gonna be moving in but he didn't care, he'd been polite and kind, sickeningly so after all Marie was going to live here so he needed to make a good impression. It was perfect, well secured, quiet neighborhood, filled with young couples, it had plenty of light, an small outdoor garden on the roof and it was two bedrooms. One was really no bigger than a closet but he'd be able to handle it, maybe he wouldn't need it at all and it could be made into a study for Marie. He shut that line of thought out, he wasn't going to push her into that kind of relationship, he wanted her to have choice that was why he was doing this, he'd survive in the shoe box the agent had called a 'corner bedroom' after all he was holding down two jobs now, the garage and a bouncer at night, he'd hardly be in it at all.
He'd called Marie that night and came close to telling her what he'd done but knew it wasn't the time. He listened instead as she recounted the newest addition to the x-men, a French guy with a peculiar habit of talking about himself in the third person. He'd put his claws through the glass window of the phone booth when she'd told him that he'd asked her out, bit his tongue when she said she'd considered it and might go, the jealously so harsh it burnt like acid but he had to give her this if it's what she wanted, had to give her the choice to live her life to the fullest.
She'd bought up college that night and he'd questioned her about her decision to go to Boston U, asking whether she'd prefer one of the Ivy League she'd gotten into. She'd gotten real quite and said that of course she'd wanted to go to Yale, a dream since she was a child to see the autumn of Connecticut, but it just wasn't possible so she choose the next best thing.
He'd signed in relief and questioned her more about Remy before making an excuse to hang up before he plunged his claws into the phone like he wanted to do to the boy who dared to come within ten feet of his Marie.
He missed her and was resided to that fact, he no longer ran from it but much to his dismay had placed a calendar in the barely furnished apartment he'd share with Marie with a big read circle around the date he'd leave to pick her up. It was all arranged, four more weeks and he'd be back with her.
It was the missing that made him venture out into the neighborhood. He went to the local music shop and purchased a CD of violin music, he'd held it to his chest as he hurried home, hiding it like it was a coke habit and listening to it all night until the neighbor, a nice young women kindly asked him to turn it off so she could sleep. He'd apologized and she'd smiled at him and patted his arm telling him Marie would be with him soon.
That's what scared him the most, not the staying in one place but the friends he'd made. It had started out innocently enough, Marie was going to live here so he had to play nice, before he knew it he'd told them about Marie, the young lady Carrie and the couple downstairs, Mark and Amy, thinking it best they knew about her.
Unfortunately for him they got the impression they were already together but the optimist in him couldn't tell them otherwise. He'd never been optimistic before her, never been anything really.
He'd taken to going to the local bookshop a block from the apartment, taken to sitting in the comfortable chairs their and browsing, enjoying the smell of the books because like the violin they reminded him of Marie. He'd even read some. The twenty third day he'd been in there he left with three books and a promise from the owner Cherry that Marie would get an interview for a part-time job when she got there. He knew she'd insist at working and something close to home, minimal hours and something she loved, books, would be best.
On the ninety-third day he packed up a bag and set back home, back to his Marie. He broke his habit of living in threes and got there in two.
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Story Notes:
I have never been to Connecticut or Yale so please forgive any geographical impossibility in this story.