(Table of Contents)

Printer Chapter or Story

- Text Size +


Story Notes:
The title of this story is from the song by Kane.

Not beta read (if anyone volunteers, you are very welcome!) so all mistakes are mine.

This will be continued.

Disclaimer: Sweet dreams... But no, they're not mine. Yet. (Pretty please, Santa? No? Damn it!)
Author's Chapter Notes:
The lyrics are from Heartbreak Warfare by John Mayer.

The story was inspired by A Change To Color from jenn. One of the most angsty and beautiful stories I've ever read. (http://www.wolverineandrogue.com/wrfa/viewstory.php?sid=2068&chapter=1)

I am a true Jean hater, I love some Jean bashing. However, for this story I had to ignore that.

I know Logan loves Rogue but keep in mind this is angst, ok?
"Drop her name
Push it in and twist the knife again
Watch my face
As I pretend to feel no pain"
Heartbreak Warfare - John Mayer

He came to me the night she died. That's what he always did. When he was upset and needed someone to talk to without that person judging him. He came to me. Like the day Scott and Jean celebrated their two-year anniversary. Like that night.

When Jean confided in a newly engaged Ororo and told her that she and Scott had been trying to conceive. He sat on the other side of the room but I could see him stiffen when Jean whispered that sentence. With his excellent hearing, she could have been sitting next to him.

No one noticed the change in his behaviour. Except me. No one noticed that he spent the rest of the meal twirling his foot around his plate. Except me. No one saw him clenching his jaw when Scott kissed his wife and pulled her upstairs. Except me. And no one saw him mount his claimed bike and take off. Except me. I could see the front lights of his bike as he followed me out of the Mansion. He was a considerable distance behind me. Enough for me not to notice him. But I did.

He didn't came straight to me. From all the liquor I could smell of him, he had probably paid a few visits to some bars. That was his ritual. Get drunk and talk. He would start drinking somewhere else and then finish off at my place. And talk. Talk about how stupid she was trying to get a child with Scooter. Talk about how Scott probably wasn't able to conceive because of the stick rammed up his butt. Talk about all the reasons she should dump Scott and take him. And I listened.

He never asked for confirmation or advice and I never gave him that. He didn't needed it. He just needed someone he could talk to. And that person was me.

But that night was different.

Different from the night he came to after Scott and Jean finally had their fairytale wedding. Different from the night he came to me after Scott and Jean had a party to celebrate their two-year anniversary. Different from any other night he came to me.

When I took him to my bed so he could sleep his liquor off, he didn't just fall asleep. That night, he touched me.

He buried his face in my neck after I had finally managed to drag him to my bedroom. I always let him take the bed. I slept on the couch on the nights he came. Before I knew what happened, he had his arms around me and his face buried in my neck. When I tried to put my arms around his waist, he growled. I dropped my arms and stared over his shoulder at the lights outside my window. Suddenly I was on the bed, looking at the ceiling. He stood at the food of my bed and stared at me. I shifted my gaze from the ceiling and looked at him. He growled and I averted my eyes back to the ceiling. He moved onto my bed and began pulling at my shirt. I tried to seek his eyes but he just growled at me and I went back to staring at the ceiling once again. He cupped my braless breast through my shirt with one hand while the other had started to pull my sweats down. I peeked at his face. His eyes were closed and I knew he tried to picture my skin a little less pale, my breasts a little bit fuller and my legs a little bit longer. That was the point I stopped trying to look at him. I didn't look at him when he pushed him inside me. I didn't look at him when he started moving. I didn't look at him when he climaxed deep inside me. I didn't look at him when he said her name when he came.

After he was finished, he rolled of me and fell asleep with his back towards me. I kept staring at the ceiling until I heard him softly snoring. I stood up and walked into the adjoining bathroom. With a wet washcloth, I removed the fluids between my thighs, never noticing the red that smeared the towel. I pulled on some fresh sweats and a different shirt and went to the living room to sleep on my couch. I never went to sleep.

I was still awake when I heard Logan getting up in the morning. I was still awake when he took a shower. I was still awake when he gathered his things and left. He knew I was awake. I knew he knew.

The next morning I got a call from Ororo. Scott was dead. I knew Logan wouldn't be coming that night. I also knew who would be coming to him that night.

The next time I saw Logan was at Scott's funeral. Jean sat in the front, openly crying. Supported by Ororo and Hank. Logan stood in the back, keeping his distance. But after the funeral, he was the first at Jean's side. Taking over from Hank and Ororo, Logan held Jean in his arms while she cried on his shirt. His eyes briefly catched mine as I walked past them. And then he looked away, murmuring soothing words in Jean's ear. I didn't know if he was too busy with Jean to greet me or if he simply was too ashamed.

After that day, he didn't came anymore.

I visited the Mansion regularly even though I didn't live there any more. I did see Logan. And Jean. Never together but never far apart either. And though they never said anything, I knew Jean wasn't sleeping alone at night. As did everybody else. No one saw but everybody knew.

The night she died was the first time he talked to me since the other night. No one told me what happened but I knew the minute I opened the door and saw him standing there. He never greeted me but simply walked past me and sat at my kitchen table. I closed the door, took out the alcohol, poured both of us a drink and waited. Waited for him to start talking. And he did. He told me everything about her. How she smelled, how sweet the valley between her breasts tasted, how she ticklish she was behind her ear. Everything. And I listened. And wondered how he could have spent four months not talking to me. But I knew the answer. He had someone else to talk to.

He drank four of my finest bottles of booze before he collapsed. I helped him into my bed and pulled the cover over him. I cleaned up the kitchen. My glass was still full. It was only for pretence.

I took out the spare pillows and blanket I used whenever Logan was over and curled up on the couch. And while I tried to fall asleep, I wondered if he noticed four months had passed since that night. I wondered if he noticed I had cut my hair. I wondered if he had noticed the small swell of my belly. I wondered if he had noticed the heartbeat of our child.

I never went to sleep.
Chapter End Notes:
This story will be continued with at least another chapter!

Expect a new chapter in a week!
[Report This]
You must login (register) to review.