"The mind is its own place,
and in itself, can make a Heaven of Hell,
a Hell of Heaven."
-John Milton, Paradise Lost Book I
We were fucking.
I slammed into her roughly, my lips marking every piece of nearby flesh. She groaned underneath me, as her nails sliced down my back.
She'd never been fucked before.
Had never been pounded into until she was begging for mercy.
Her climax came, and she clenched around me. I followed moments later.
The room smelled of sweat, sex, and another man.
Her husband.
She was lying there, a satisfied smile on her face, and I smirked.
It hadn't taken much to convince her.
I rolled over, and she lay on my chest, tracing circles around my already aching nipples.
I had forgotten about everything but her, pure lust taking over my system.
He was forgotten, everyone forgotten.
She had just climbed atop me once more, when I smelled it.
Through the cloying scents wafting around the room.
Blood.
Marie's blood.
I jumped up, pulled on a pair of sweats, and ran out the door.
Jean was left in a heap on the floor.
Her room was across the hall. I clawed the door open when I realized it was locked.
Marie was on the floor, glass strewn around the room.
She was laying in a puddle of blood, her own blood.
Eyes closed, and a contented smile on her face.
I howled.
It bounced off the walls, shaking the room, and echoed into the hall.
Jean came running up behind me, stopping short at the sight. A scream of terror erupted from her throat.
She had the sense to call the Professor, while I cradled Marie in my arms.
I felt tears slide down my face as I checked for a pulse.
I didn't feel one.
Marie was dead.
She died silently and alone.
She killed herself.
While I was busy fucking Jean.
We were crying.
Big, mutant tears ran down each and every face.
Scott looked stunned, anguished, betrayed. The girl he had come to known as his a friend, a confidant--was no more. His wife had been screwing another man while she died.
Ororo was no better, sorrow filled her eyes, her body. She had lost a best friend, a sister. The skies outside were eerily black, no clouds formed overhead, no lightning, no rain.
That silent mourning was louder than any thunderstorm, and much more terrifying.
Charles was stone-faced. His eyes closed off to all, blindingly dull. One of his children had been lost, and there was no greater defeat than that.
Jean looked horrified. Her face forming lines filled with fatigue and guilt, she seemed to have aged overnight. She sat in a dark corner comforting herself alone. This was perhaps her punishment, the isolation from her husband her lover, and her family.
Logan.
His mind was empty, his demeanor calm. His face had lost the tortured look, the rage draining from his body. His claws retracted, his hands unclenched, the tears stopped flowing.
Logan....
He looked up, and started laughing.
Four pairs of eyes turned to him in shock.
He laughed harder, tears now pouring down his face.
"Marie's not dead."
His laughter fell into chuckles as they stared.
"She's not, it's a trick."
Scott stood up, red plastic blazing.
"Listen you asshole, Rogue is dead, you killed her!"
"She isn't dead!" He yelled, his laughter finally dying.
Logan, please! He calmed down, and smiled.
"Then where is she?" Scott screamed. "Why's her dead body laying in the medlab?"
Ororo stood, clasping Scott's arm. She tugged, pulling him out the door.
Jean left quietly.
Only Logan and the Professor were in the room.
"I know this is hard for you..." he sighed, tired all of a sudden. "Let's all try to get some sleep, and we'll talk in the morning." He wheeled out of the room, leaving Logan sitting alone.
He stared down at his hands, rubbing the skin covering his knuckles.
"She's not dead--she's not." He told himself.
He heard soft footsteps on the floor.
A hand was on his back, rubbing soothingly. She leaned over, her chin resting on his shoulder as she ran her other hand soothingly through his hair. Gently playing with the coarse strands.
"Mmmm, that feels good." He turned, embracing her. He felt someone enter the room once more.
"What the hell are you doing?" Scott face held shock at the sight in front of him.
"Get the hell out, One-Eye!" Angered at the interruption, he propelled Scott towards the door. "We wanna be alone!"
"You wanna be alone?!" Disbelief colored his voice. "What the hell does that mean?"
He doesn't understand, he'll never accept us together.
Logan growled finally shoving him out the door, and turned around. Embracing her once again.
"I love you, darlin." He leaned down, taking possession of her mouth.
Scott pounded on the door, his anguished voice somewhat muffled. "Why are you doing this?"
"Go away!"
He dropped his fists, sighing in defeat, and screamed through the door one last time.
"Fine, I'll leave you all alone, with no one to talk to but your own damn self." His feet thudded as he walked away.
Logan leaned down, repeating his earlier words. "I love you."
She reached her hand up, and stroked his cheek.
I love you too, Sugah.
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Story Notes:
Thanks to everyone who sent me such great feedback! You have inspired me in my moment of insecurity, to continue on with this series.