Chapter 6: Deserted Cities of the Heart
X-Institute. A few Wednesdays later
I: Logan
Logan was in the main kitchen, eating a grilled cheese sandwich he had just made.
He was a little hungry, but it was after dinner, and he didn't want to bother Marie to make him a snack, because he knew that she and Jubilee and Kitty were studying for mid-terms.
Jean came in, opened the fridge, and got herself a Diet Coke.
She had her hair in a ponytail, and a pencil in her mouth, a tee shirt, baggy scrubs, and a lab coat on.
She sat down at the table across from Logan, opened the Coke and the folder under her arm and looked down at it.
Logan took a sip of beer.
He didn't look like a man who had been going through untold agonies that rivaled the tortures of the damned in the 9th circle of Hell, a man who felt as though the ground beneath him had shifted and fallen away, and the sky above him had been sheared off, leaving him alone, naked and exposed to the brutal whims of the cold stars.
Since Sabretooth's revelations, Logan had fallen apart.
He couldn't eat, he didn't sleep.
Every moment that he was awake and sober was filled with such torment that he'd been hitting the bottle so hard he was making himself sick.
Grilled cheese sandwiches and chicken soup were about all he could ingest without his stomach rebelling against him; Logan was sin a bad way, make no mistake about it.
But, to Jean, he just looked like he was casually enjoying a snack.
It was a great testament to the force of Logan's will and his rigorous self-discipline that he could put on such a charade.
"What day is it, Jeannie?" he asked.
Airily.
Jean gave him a very dirty look, and glanced at her watch, then looked back at the folder.
"What day is it? It's Fuck You, Logan, That Ship Sailed Day." She replied, tersely.
"Did it? I didn't know. Because, I happen to be the Captain of that ship, and if it had, I would have noticed." Logan chuckled.
Jean had fabulous reflexes.
She had always been one of his best students.
Quicker than a flash of lightening, she grabbed his balls under the table, and not in a friendly fashion.
It hurt.
She looked right at him, with red and orange flames dancing in her catlike green eyes.
"Now you listen to me, you little son of a bitch! You have been gone for five years. Five goddamn fucking years! You didn't call. You didn't write. I thought you were dead, and I died a thousand times every fucking day! For Christ's sake, you ugly, hairy little runt, I fucked you on my wedding night instead of my husband! Because it was Wednesday! All those years I put up with your beer-swilling, and your cigars, and your sad lack of personal fucking hygiene, and your rotten brain and your psychotic fucking nightmares! I moved heaven and earth to find you! And what did you do? You came back with a fawning, dewy-eyed teenager dangling from the end of your big, dumb dick! I have waited, and I have been patient, and I have not mentioned this for four fucking months. Four fucking months! That's twelve consecutive fucking insults! And now, for some reason, you suddenly remember how it has been Wednesday, every third fucking day of the fucking week since nineteen eighty motherfucking five, and I am supposed to leap for fucking joy? God damn you! Double dog goddamn you to the 9th circle of unholy Hell, James John Logan Howlett! I'd get on my knees in broken glass and suck the Devil's dick center field at Yankee Stadium before I ever let you touch me again! I ought to pop one of your balls right out of your sack!" she hissed.
Very calmly, Logan grabbed her wrist and applied steady pressure until Jean let go of him, swallowing a yelp of pain.
"Those are some pretty big words, coming from you, little girl. You think you're all grown up, darlin', but you're still a little girl to me. Tell me, just where do you keep that eraser the size of the Empire State Building you use to rub out the past? You forget, my memory of the last two decades is crystal-fuckin'-clear. I remember the very first Wednesday, just like it was only last week. There I was, asleep in my bed when you came to me. And you were neither Dr. Jean Grey, or Marvel Girl, the Eighth Wonder of the Wolf, as you used to style yourself in those days. You were just a dirty little whiskey-swilling, cock-chugging coke whore of a party girl, who came to my bed with come and cheap booze on her breath and her hair smellin' like some other man's ball sweat. Another man would have fucked you in the ass and then slapped it into your mouth without takin' a breath in-between, then come in your eye. And you were so drunk and coked up you never woulda cared. But I never treated you like the dirty little whore you were, did I? Not even that night. I saved you. Not Cyke, who oughta be sainted by the Pope in Rome on Easter Sunday for puttin' up with your naggin' like a shrew and your whorish ways. And not Tony Stark, hell, he was the one with a coke spoon in one hand and a drink in the other, dancin' around with his dick hangin' out and leadin' you down the path to rack and ruin. God only knows, the poor bastard, you're probably the reason he's still drinkin' like a fish after three or four stints at rehab. Because you do somethin' to a man, Jeannie, somethin' that just makes you stick in his heart like a thorn made of adamantium and wormwood. I could tell that the minute I laid eyes on you. But I didn't care. I saved you. Because I loved you. With the intensity of a million dying suns burning bright in supernova, all at the same time."
Logan paused to take another sip of his beer.
Jean had an expression on her face as if he had punched her square in the mouth.
It would have hurt her less, if he had.
But Victor's words kept echoing on his mind.
He saw her.
With his own eyes.
He swore on their father's life and Victoria O'Hara Creed's grave that it was true.
In his mind's eye, Logan could see it, too.
In fact, all week, it had been hard for him to think of anything else.
"I loved you so much I even asked you to marry me. I meant it, too. You said you needed time. So I waited for you. For eleven years. And you married the boy that Charlie gave the job that was rightfully mine to! And you know what, darlin'? I feel heartily sorry for him. Scott's a good man. And he's a smart man. He lets on he doesn't know about your wicked ways, but I'll bet he does. And he loves you anyway. But that's not the way you see it. Because you really think you are the Eighth Wonder of the World. Certainly Scott should love you, no matter how much of an ass you make of him, or who you cuckold him with. And certainly I should come home with my tail between my legs and my hat in my hand, beggin' you on my knees with my nose in your cooze to take me back into your bed. And how dare I bring a woman with me? I should spend the other six days of the week jackin' off and thinking about Wednesday, shouldn't I? Well, it's like you told me, Jeannie, darlin'. Wake the fuck up and smell the coffee. You are what they used to call a floozy when I was a young man, and you got as much right to look down on a good woman like Marie as a dance hall girl does to look down on a duchess. And at the age of 35, you're gettin' a little long in the tooth to be a dirty little girl. What you are is lucky, darlin'. And you ought to be grateful to the men in your life. You're lucky Tony's a sentimental man, who can take time out of his busy schedule of screwin' sweet young things and bein' Iron Man an' Tony Stark and set aside a few nights here and there for his old girlfriend. You're lucky that Cyke understands you, and that he loves and respects you just the way you are. And you are goddamn lucky, not only that the Wolverine was ever interested in you, but that I'm still interested in you, at all."
Logan finished his beer and crushed the can in one hand.
Somewhere in his mind, something was screaming at him to shut his mouth, but Logan was on a roll.
He couldn't have shut up even if he wanted to.
On one hand, he did want to.
On the other, he wanted to let it all out, not just to get it of his chest, but to wound Jean Grey the way she had wounded him, not once now, but twice.
Let her carry a thorn in her heart, and bleed and bleed and bleed, forever, the way he did.
That is, if anything could pierce her heart at all.
"I got no illusions left about you, at all, Jeannie, darlin'. For the first time I can see you in the clear, cold light of day. I see that you're a beautiful woman, a brilliant woman, a hell of a doctor and a teacher, not to mention a hell of a mask. I never seen a woman fight like you, you've got brass balls bigger than the ones on the lions outside the Public Library. But I also see that you're a selfish, arrogant, self- important shrew, with the same high moral fiber as a two dollar whore. And, may good and gentle Jesus, help a dumb, sawed-off little Mick like me, I still love you, anyway. With the intensity of a million dying suns burning bright in supernova, all at the same time. And I will die loving you. But I ain't gonna play your little game, anymore. You broke my heart twice. If I let you break it a third time, I believe it'll kill me, adamantium, healin' ability, an' all."
Logan picked up his plate and swept the bread crusts from it into the garbage can, and threw his beer can in the recycling bin that Cyclops had placed prominently in the kitchen.
He went back to the table, and pushed in his chair.
As he passed Jean, who hadn't moved an inch, he leaned over, and very briefly, kissed her on her cheek, which was stained with tears.
"The truth hurt me too, darlin'. More than you can know. But we're both of us too long in the tooth to live on bullshit and lies."
He opened the dishwasher, put his plate in, and walked past Jean, again.
She grabbed his arm.
"What about tonight? And next week?"
"Well, Jeannie, darlin', I been goin' out with Eddie and Cap, Wednesdays, lately. Its' good to spend some time with old friends, and talk about about the good old days. And, as for next week, well, we shouldn't be so formal, anymore. If a spark flies between you and me, sometime, my office is never far away. If it doesn't, well, maybe it's better, that way."
Logan spoke gently.
More gently than he had spoken before.
"I'll see you, tomorrow, Jeannie. This ain't goodbye, you know." He said.
Then, he squared his shoulders, and walked out of the room.
***
Logan kept walking, with his head held back , clear-eyed and resolute, until he was out the front door, and then he couldn't stop the tears from coming.
The dream he had held in his heart for almost twenty years was dead, and Logan was not sure if he was going to die with it, after all.
He made his way to the wood, sat on the ground, raised his head to heaven, and howled.
***
"Kitty, did you hear that?"
Rogue ran to the window.
"No. Hear what?"
"Ah heard it again! It sounds like some kind of animal. Howling in pain."
Jubilee got up, went to the window, and opened it.
"I don't hear anything, chica. I think the lack of sleep is getting to you. C'mon. We've got to get back to work."
Rogue heard the howling, again.
"Okay, this time I heard it too." Kitty added.
The three of them stood by the window, and waited for another howl, but they didn't hear the terrible sound again.
"It's probably some poor old dog. At least he's out of his misery, now." Jubilee commented.
"Poor old dog." Kitty agreed.
Rogue wasn't sure it was just some poor old dog, and she had the feeling that Kitty and Jubilee weren't either, but they all got back to work, not wanting to think of what else it could have been.
II: Jean
Bullshitting yourself is like playing the shell game when you know there's no little red bouncy ball under any of the cups.
You just keep moving the cups faster and faster, until you can convince everyone the ball is there.
The only problem is, eventually, you convince yourself, too.
Until somebody comes along who's faster than you, and shows you otherwise.
What do you do, then?
Well, you can either start shuffling as fast as you can all over again, or you can pack up your game and go home.
Jean went back to her office, which was adjacent to the medical facilities, and made a phone call.
"…no, goddamnit, when I say put it down I don't mean put it in your other hand, Tony, I mean put it down! If you spill that all over the carpet, I am not cleaning it up. I am not your maid? Hello?"
"This is Dr. Grey. Is Mr. Stark free?"
That's good, Jean.
Act like an arrogant, self-important shrew.
"Of course, Jean. Mr. Stark is always free. Phone for you, Tony. It's the only other woman you know who is sane, over the age of 25, and cares if you live or die."
"Thank you, Pepper. Here, take this. Don't spill it. It's over two hundred years old and there's only one other bottle in the world. Well? This is a private call."
Jean heard Pepper Potts curse, and Tony laughing.
"Potts, you're not really mad at me, are you?"
Now Jean heard her slamming the door.
"A lot. You got any blow, Tony?"
He laughed.
"Nope. You know I tooted my last line of coke about ten years ago. It was ruining my social life. Is there anything else you want me to put on my dick for you? You know. Within reason."
Jean laughed.
"Tony, you're such a perv. I can't believe you're making me laugh, the way I feel right now."
"You never call me during the day. Something must be wrong. What happened?"
"Are you just humoring me?"
"Now? Why?"
"No. I mean, generally."
"I'm not going to answer that question."
"Why?"
"Because it's a dangerous question. No matter how I answer it, the answer will piss you off so much that you will never speak to me again. And that would be horrible, because you're the only woman I know that I still see on a regular basis who has any class, intelligence, or common sense. Also, it would take a lot of empty-headed chiclets to full up this gigantic Jean Grey sized hole that would open up right in the middle of my sex life."
Jean smiled, and sniffled.
"That was a good answer."
"Are you crying?"
"A little. I had some words with Logan. He…he said some unpleasant things to me that were all the more unpleasant, because they were true."
"What? He stripped you of your protective coating of carefully crafted lies and bullshit? That's unforgivable."
"I'm serious, Tony."
"So am I! Hell, being a superhero is about 50 percent grandiose lies and incredible bullshit. I couldn't make it through the day without mine. How could I maintain anything resembling moderation if I had to wake up every morning and face the fact the fact that I am a drunk and a degenerate approaching 40 from the business end, and that the only friends I have are my fellow masks, who, as a man, humor and pity me, and that despite the fact that I have balled thousands of women, the only two who give a damn about me are my secretary, who I have never touched, and you? Not to mention that half the reason you stick around is because you feel sorry for the mess than I have made of my personal life, which all the shining Iron Man armor can't hide? No thank you. If I had to think like that, my God, I'd drink myself to death by Monday."
Jean was surprised.
She didn't think that Tony knew himself quite that well.
"It's not that bad, Tony."
"Of course it is. What did he say to you?"
"He said some very nice things. But he also told me I'm arrogant, and self important, and a selfish shrew, and that I have the morals of a two dollar whore."
"Certainly he did! The man was born in 1890. Jean, don't be mad at Logan. He's in a mess. A big mess. He's lost his poet's heart to that little Southern belle, who doubtless reminds him of his poor, tragic, dead mother, and everything he was told a woman should be that no woman ever was, not even in 1890. When she gets control of her powers and leaves him and Sabretooth for, I don't know, Iceman or Gambit when she's about 25, they'll be ripping each other's faces off to try to get their heads into the oven, first."
Jean couldn't help it.
She laughed.
"The point is, he still loves you, and he still needs you, even though something has happened to make him realize that you're a woman of the 1970's and 80's, not the 1870's and 80's. They were his illusions, and had nothing to do with you. You were never anything but honest with him."
"But am I really all of those things?"
"All intelligent people can be arrogant and self-important, sometimes. It goes with the territory. And there isn't a woman alive who doesn't have her shrewish moments. Especially not when dealing with a couple of drunken Micks like me and Logan. And as for you having the morals of a two dollar whore, well, he's talking out of both sides of his mouth. I will readily and cheerfully admit to be a drunken slut who will pretty much fuck any woman who smiles at me and lifts her skirt, as long as she's reasonably attractive and has no visible sores on her face. The same goes for Logan, except he's not too picky about what a woman looks like and unlike the rest of us, if he gets herpes it will go away by the morning."
By this time, Jean was laughing so hard that she almost dropped the phone.
"I see you're not crying, anymore."
"You're the greatest, Tony."
"I know. It's in the genes. And, I take it that, considering this latest development, we're still on for Wednesdays?"
"Yes. But not tonight."
"I can understand that. Call me, anytime, Jean."
"Thanks."
III: Scott
One thing Scott Summers didn't gave a shit about was people's personal opinions about him.
The only thing that was anyone else's business was how well he did his job, as Cyclops, battle leader of the X-Men, and if they wanted to speculate about anything else, let them.
Most of the speculation had to do with his wife.
Scott heard lots of rumors.
The general idea was that he was either frigid or impotent and that under her cool exterior, Dr. Jean Grey was a rabid nymphomaniac who cuckolded him with everything in a mask and tights.
With Wolverine being the most commonly mentioned culprit.
He never addressed them.
What was he going to do?
Set up a webcam, record himself making love to his wife and stream it live to the X-Men's website?
Scott didn't care what people said, he let them talk.
And he didn't.
Scott Summers was the strong, silent type, and he refused to address ridiculous rumors that he was something less than a man.
Or that he was an idiot who had no idea that the woman he had been with since she was 14 had another man in her life.
He had first figured it out when he was just a teenager, 17 or 18, and at the time, it almost killed him.
Scott put himself through the tortures of the damned, picking himself apart.
Am I doing something wrong?
Am I too tall?
Too short?
Not big enough?
Too big?
Too square?
He had thought about breaking up with Jean, or at least, confronting her, but them, just like he always did, he got himself calmed down and took a reasonable second look at the situation.
It was all a matter of biology.
Scott had what he considered to be the normal sex-drive of any red-blooded American man.
He and Jean usually made love three nights a week.
Sometimes more, and if he was swamped with work, sometimes less.
But Jean, she had the sex drive of a rabbit in springtime.
She couldn't help it, that was just the way she was.
It wasn't as if she was promiscuous; she'd had the same other lover since she was 17.
Wolverine.
The way Scott saw it, Jean was his, all the time, for most of his life, except for eight hours on a Wednesday.
For Logan, whose life was a tragedy, sometimes that time with Jean seemed like it was the only happiness he had.
As for Jean, she didn't know that he knew, and that was how she justified it to herself, funny, considering he was supposed to be the prude.
If he ever told her that he knew, she'd probably give up which would be bad for her, and worse for Logan.
But.
But, when Logan left, and stayed away for five years, Scott raised that he was doing it because Logan pretty much had the same old-fashioned sense of morals and values that Scott did.
Not touching another man's wife, especially another man that you worked with, was pretty high up on that list.
So, Scott wasn't really surprised when Logan came knocking on the door of his office on a Wednesday night, as he was grading his papers.
Scott was prepared to tell him not to worry about it.
He was not prepared for what Logan had to say.
"You got a minute, Cyke? You and me, we hafta talk."
Scott put his red pen down.
He noticed that Logan looked horrible.
He'd been looking horrible, lately, worse every day, and Scott had been trying to think of a reason to talk to him about it.
"Sure. Anything to get away from these papers for a minute. Sit down, Logan. What's on your mind?"
"Well, for starters, I'm gonna go ahead and assume you know…about Wednesdays."
"I do."
Logan waited for him to say something else, but Scott didn't.
"At least I didn't have to break that to you, too. I don't really know how to tell you this, Cyke. It broke my heart. But I don't feel right, not telling you."
Scott began to feel a little sick.
She did something to him.
No, to both of us.
Oh shit, here we go again.
"About what, Logan?"
"Jeanie's been two-timin' us. With Tony Stark. Pretty much all along, I would expect, but I only know for sure about the last ten years or so. And she's been telling him that we both know, and we're alright with it."
Scott put his head down on his desk, for a moment.
No wonder Logan looked so bad.
"I can't say I never heard the rumour before. But how do you know it's true?"
He had not picked his head up, yet.
"Creed told me. Emma Frost told him. Seems him an' Shellhead are both on her dance card. And before you say I can't trust him, Victor swore on his dead mother and our father that it was true. He didn't believe Emma. So he went to find out for himself. He saw them, Cyke. With his own eyes."
Oh, great.
Even better.
Now even the bad guys know that my wife is the whore of humanity.
I think I need a drink.
Scott allowed himself to pound on his desk a few times.
He felt tears rolling down his face from under his glasses, and wiped them away before he sat up.
"I think I know her. I think she can't pull the rug out from under me ever again. But she always manages to do it. Sometimes I think Jean lives to torture me."
"I know what ya mean, Cyke. But she loves you. Prob'ly a lot more'n she loves me, if she ever did. And she's a good doctor, a good teacher, and a fine mask. She's just, well, arrogant. And self-important. An, yunno, kinda…well…loose. Hell, everybody's got faults. I drink too much, and I get moody, sometimes, an' I got me a hell of a temper. An' you, well sometimes you can be just like a little Hitler. And Jean, well, she's…a little bit loose. That's all."
"You forgot to mention the nagging."
"Well, I figure you of all people know all about that."
Scott laughed a little.
"I should have known she was trouble when she seduced me in Stryker's jail. We were just kids. But I loved her, even then."
"I know, Cyke. I love her too. And it ain't so much I can't forgive her. It's just, I see her for the way she really is. An' I got Marie, now, and a chance at somethin' you and Jeannie have had for years that I only ever got eight hours a week of. So, I figure I'm pretty much takin' my hat outa the ring. Maybe I shoulda kept my mouth shut, I dunno. But, I figured tellin' you was the only decent thing to do."
"It was, Logan."
Scott was calm, again.
He stacked his papers, and cleaned off the front of his glasses with a tissue.
"Ya know, Cyke, you'te takin' this a lot better than I did. Since I found out, a few weeks ago, I been goin' down the tubes. I can't eat. I don't sleep. I drink so much just to keep from goin' outa my mind, I'm sick all the time. After I talked to Jeannie, today. I felt like I wanted to die. I was out there all goddamn day, in the woods, rollin' around on the ground like a poisoned dog. I went out with Cap an' Eddie, t'night, and drank myself stupid, and it's only now, I'm startin' to sober up an' feel like maybe I can go on with my life without stickin' my claws through my head, jumpin' in front of the A-train, leaping off the top of this place, or tearin' my own eyes out. What's your secret?"
"Me secret? I've been through that, Logan. Jean told me about you and her almost immediately. And her and Tony Stark. Although I was under the impression that, as of now, there hadn't been anything between her and Tony for years. I was 19, then, and she was 17. She said it like it was no big deal. Announced to me that we were having an open relationship, and that was it. I stood in front of my mirror for hours, thinking about the exact right angle to blast it so the beam would refract perfectly and kill me."
Scott searched for words, nice words, kind words, to say what he wanted to say, but there weren't any.
"Look, Logan, you can't go to pieces every time Jean pulls a dirty trick on you. She's the all-time queen of dirty tricks like this. You have to stop beating yourself up over it. I know Jean a lot better than you do. I met her in Stryker's' jail when she was 12 and I was 14. I was locked up with her for a cellmate for six months. More maybe. We all lost track of time, in that place. She turned 13, and I turned 15, and she traded six packs of cigarettes to a guard for a box of Trojans and seduced me. You were there during our escape, maybe you don't remember, but the minute whatever Stryker had set up to retard our powers was lifted, she calmly killed every guard on the block. By making their heads pop like the pumpkins a kid drops off a porch on Halloween. Jean can be a real two tone son of a bitch, Logan. She really can. And she's harder than the adamantium coating on your bones. I haven't had her up on a pedestal since 1983. Do you know what I mean?"
"I do now."
"That's good. You see, I love Jean, but I'm not her fool. I haven't been her fool, or had any illusions about her since I was 19. Maybe that means she had to go find a new fool, and that luck devil was you. But you can't be her fool, either. Nobody can. It'll kill you. Because you're not as hard as she is. As cold. Jeans' a real, well, an Ice Queen, sometimes. I know her for who she really is. It's a truth that hurts, but when the pain fades, you'll know if it was Jean you loved, or the illusion you had of her. You know. The illusion she gave you. Put it right in your mind, without you knowing. Maybe without knowing, herself. But that's how I've been able to go on loving her. That's how I'll be able to go on loving her, now. If you still feel the same way about her, after you've got past this, I have no objections to Wednesday. This Tony Stark thing, I'm not sure how I feel about that. But Jean' s going to be upset about you confronting her. She needs me. I'd better go find her. "
Logan gave him a fishy-eyed look, and gently eased Scott back into his chair.
"Wait a minute, Cyke. There you go, just like me, wating to be Jeannie' s fool, again. That was some good advice you gave me. Why don't you take it? Me. I sure as fuck ain't gonna have any illusions about Jeannie from now on. Hell, I'm not sure of is if the illusion was all I had. Time will tell, I guess. But, whether or not you been through this before, it's gotta hurt you."
Logan was right.
It still felt like a knife in the guts, even after all these years, and so many dirty, dirty tricks.
"It does, Logan. It's really twisting my guts. I thought that since Jean and I were married, and with you gone….and with you being so decent and honorable when you came back. But, I should have known. I'll…find a way to get past it."
"What? No you won't, Scott. That's your wife. It's one thing to fuck around when you're a teenager, or a kid in your twenties, but it's a whole other thing to be a married woman and a doctor, over the age of thirty acting like a dirty little girl. I ain't having a regular date with the wife of a man who used to be my student, who is my boss, and who is also my friend. That's not right. She made you a fuckin' promise when she said "I do. I'm gonna do my best to hold her to it. So should you. At least let her know how bad she hurt you. I did. It made me feel better. And Jeannie feel worse. When somebody betrays you, that's how its' supposed to be. Look at you. You're ready to go and hold her hand while she cries, and meanwhile, you feel like cryin', yourself. You been betrayed. By your wife. You gave her an inch, she took a fuckin' mile. You gave her too much rope and she hung you with it, not herself. You got a right to be angry, an' a right to be hurt, an' you got a right to put your foot down and demand she grow the fuck up and start actin' like a married woman who's a doctor and a professor and an X-Man, instead of a dirty little girl. You're a good man. A real saint. Jeannie's lucky to have you. It's about time she realizes that."
Logan got up.
"Now, I gotta go and talk to Marie. Try to explain myself, the way I've been actin'. I hope she understands. Because I finally got me a good, decent woman. I'm gonna hang onto her with everything I got."
"No room for Wednesdays in that?"
"Like I said, Cyke, after you and Jean said "I do", Wednesdays became "I don't." Jeannie's your wife. Not mine."
"Never say, never, Logan."
"I can try, can't I?"
"I guess you have to. Well, I'm going to go have a talk with her." Scott decided.
***
After Logan left, Scott sat at his desk, for awhile, thinking.
Who told Logan the bad news he didn't want to hear?
His brother.
His older brother.
Sabretooth and Wolverine either overtly hated each other, or at least had half a century of bad blood between them so that you would think that tie would be obliterated.
But, it wasn't.
Victor called Logan to help him when he was dying, and Logan helped him, and while Logan was off doing Christ knows what for five years, Victor had one eye on him and one eye on things at the X-Mansion, and he told his brother some bad news that no one else could have, or wanted to.
That made Scott think about his baby brother, Alex.
Havok.
Stryker did something Scott couldn't do for six years in the Alaska foster care system.
He found Alex.
Scott hadn't seen his little brother in four years, that was as many years as there was, between them.
He had always looked after his brother, whether they were in another lousy foster home, or in a state home, or even on the occasions where they were briefly on the street.
He thought nothing of going without food, or adequate clothes, or taking a beating for Alex's sake; he was the big brother; that was his job.
Alex was always the one who got them kicked out of a nice foster home, and after they all came to the X-Institute, well, if Scott was hanging around the sweaters and National Honor Society crowd, then Alex was wearing a black leather jacket in detention.
He was no less smart than his brother, he was just a little wild.
As a man, Havok was closer to Wolverine and Nightcrawler and Colossus, than he was to Squeaky-Clean Scott, and they had the occasional big fight, but they were still brothers.
Then, after Logan left, his relationship with his brother went right down the drain.
Alex left the X-Men, he left the country, taking Polaris with him, and they went to complete their graduate studies with Dr. Moira MacTaggart on Muir Island, off the coast of Scotland.
Scott had never really asked him why.
He knew that Lorna wanted to come back to New York, but the thing Scott couldn't figure out was why Alex didn't.
He wasn't the kind of man who liked quiet, or solitude.
He had always thought that things could never get as bad between him and Alex as they had between Logan and Victor.
But hadn't Logan told him that his first major estrangement from his brother began because Victor and his wife wanted to live in Tokyo and Logan and his wife preferred their little hamlet in the countryside, and they quit speaking to each other for two years over it?
Two years in which their wives were murdered and they blamed each other.
That was the beginning of the end.
Scott picked up his telephone.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Alex. It's me."
"Scott? It's what, two in the morning in New York? And you sound like you've been crying. What did she do now?"
"Alex, we haven't spoken in six months, I don't want to talk about Jean. I just wanted to call you and tell you that Logan's home. He's been home for about four months."
"Logan's back? Is he alright?"
"He's better than alright. He met a very nice girl, and he's falling in love with her. She's only 18, and his brother's in love with her, too, and vice versa, but Logan tells me that he and his brother share everything they have, for good or ill. But, Rogue loves Logan, too. She's very devoted to him, and she's a sober and intelligent young woman."
"So he's much better off. What about you? I'll say it again. What did Jean to do you, this time?"
Scott sighed, heavily.
"Why me, Alex? Why me? I love her. I've given her everything but my blood, every day of my life, since I was 14. And I know she loves me. Why does she do these things to me? Not to mention poor Logan. She's almost killed him. And nothing can kill him. Maybe Eddie Blake is right. Maybe it is all a big fucking joke."
"What? You agreeing with Eddie Blake? That's it. I'm coming home."
"But Alex, you're on the other side of the world!"
"I know. But we do have certain amenities here, on Muir Island. Like the Blackbird's twin brother."
"You shouldn't go to all this trouble for me, Alex. It's late. I'm tired. I've got papers to grade. I'll be over it in the morning, I should have known about Tony. It only makes sense."
"Tony? You mean Tony Stark?"
"It's not his fault. She's told him that she has an open marriage. I wish she would have told me. But I'm alright. Really."
"You are not alright, Scott. And it's not okay. You know one of the reasons I left the X-Men? Because I couldn't stand to see what Jean did to you. And after she drove Logan away from the only home he had, after everything that's happened to him? That was the last straw. I couldn't take it."
Alex sort of just blurted that out, and Scott immediately got up on his high horse.
He couldn't help it.
It was his job; he was the big brother.
"You left because of that? That's pretty damn stupid! You should have talked to me. We could have worked something out! Jesus, you mean the team's been without Havok and Polaris and I've been without my brother for five years because of Jean being the same Jean she's been since we met her in Bill Stryker's jail? What were you thinking?" Scott demanded.
"When you say it like that, it does sound stupid."
"You bet your butt it is! Look, if you've got something you need to say to me, little brother, say it. If blood can't wipe away the ties between Logan and Victor, then words can't make us stop being brothers, either."
Scott heard Alex take a deep breath.
"All right, Scott I'll say it. You made the biggest mistake of your life marrying Jean. She may be a good doctor and a good teacher and a good fighter, but as a woman, she's a train wreck. I don't have anything against Jean, personally. We grew up together. I still consider her my friend. But she's bad news to any man she's involved with. I'm glad to hear Logan met another girl and he's done with Jean, and I'd be glad to hear if you were, too. She's poison, Scott. She almost drove Logan to death or derangement. She'll turn you into a quivering milquetoast of a man who's dick is a little thing the size of a stack of dimes good only to piss with! Hell, I'll bet she's half the reason Tony's been to rehab six times. This is your chance. Don't walk away, Scott. Run. Screaming."
Scott figured that Alex was surprised he just laughed.
"I know that, too, Alex. I've been with Jean since she was 13. I know she's poison. And you probably are right about Tony and Logan. But every time she bites me, I get a little more immunity to her venom. Maybe it's the same with them, too. Nobody's marriage is perfect. And considering that I'm married to two women, and the one we thankfully don't see much of could destroy the universe in the blink of an eye, I think we do alright."
"Are you just going to let her get away with this?"
"Not unless I want to end up becoming her cringing, impotent, whining slave. But that's my business, little brother. Not yours. Take your time. Pack. Talk to Moira, tell her you're taking a sabbatical. Give Lorna some time to get herself together. Take a commercial flight. Nobody here is going anywhere. Besides, I want to talk to Jean, tonight, and Logan's going to talk to Rogue. Trust me, you won't want to be anywhere near this place for about a week. The whole shithouse is going to go up in flames, as Logan would say. But, thanks for wanting to drop everything and coming to see me."
"You don't have to thank me, Scott. You're the guy who used to go hungry when we were kids living in shithole foster homes so I could eat, remember? You're my brother. This is the least I can do for you."
Scott and Alex said goodbye, and then he went upstairs.
Jean wasn't in their bedroom.
So, he headed to her office, instead.
IV: Logan
When Logan finally ended up in his rooms, feeling, drunk, sick, tired and every bit of his 110 years, he was hoping that Rogue would be asleep.
She wasn't.
She was in her PJ's, but she was sitting up with a book, waiting for him.
He tried to get pats her, and just go to bed.
"Logan?"
"I'm alright, darlin'. Just drunk. I overdid it, tonight. I'll be alright in the morning."
Rogue grabbed his arm as he walked by.
He wasn't getting off the hook, this time.
"Alright, mah ass! Kitty an' Jubes and Ah heard some poor creature out there in the woods, howlin' in pain like it was just fixin' to die! We had work to do, so we managed to convince ourselves it was just some poor old dog? Was it?"
"It sure was, darlin'. Just a poor old dog, hurtin' so bad he sure was fixin' to die." Logan admitted.
"Ah thought so. Logan, we have been living here for three months. Nearly four. And nearly every Wednesday, you tear off on your bike at dusk, and come back at two in the morning, blind, stinking drunk. Last week, Mr. Summers brought you in here. He found you unconscious on the landing. When you're not giving yourself alcohol poisoning, you're all the sudden Hertz Rent-A –Mask. You've been out on the job with the Avengers four times, and four other times you were just out with Tony Stark getting hammered. I have always wanted to meet Captain America, but I was hoping it would be under different circumstances than him dragging your insensate carcass in the front door, explaining he was the designated driver and he had to deposit Mr. Stark's remains with Pepper Potts, next. Why is it that every Wednesday night you have to be as far away from here as it's humanly possible until just before dawn even if you have to go fight other teams battles for them?"
"I been asked to join the Avengers. They need some new blood."
"What about the rest of the Wednesdays?"
Logan finally pulled his hand away.
"Goddammit, woman, it doesn't fuckin' matter!"
Rogue stood up and shoved him so he fell onto the couch.
He wasn't sure if she was getting stronger as she settled into being a feral, if she was stronger because she was getting red hot mad at him, or if he was really that fucking wasted.
"The hell it doesn't! You're not yourself, Logan. Ever since Victor was here, in the infirmary, you're a changed man. You won't eat, you don't sleep, you're drunk all the time. And you haven't touched me. Hell, you haven't been in this room enough to touch me. You're down there in your office every night, drinking yourself into a stupor, until, if you're lucky, you pass out on that dirty old Murphy bed."
"How do you know that?' Logan asked.
"Because Ah set mah alarm to wake up around three, and Ah go and check on you. If you're on your back, Ah turn you over on your side so you don't pass out and throw up and choke to what could be a permanent death. And somebody has to clean you up if you've pissed yourself. You have. Twice. But you never woke up at all. Last Wednesday night Ah was so sure you were dead, ah woke Hank up to come and check on you. Now, how about you just up and tell me what it is you been tryin' to tell me since we were in Howlett, before it eats you up, alive! Ah got all night. And so do you." Rogue insisted.
She sat down beside him.
"I made one of the worst mistakes of my life on a Wednesday. Then, just to show was a smart man I really am, I made it on every Wednesday after that for a damn long time. I got no wish to start fuckin' makin' that some mistake, again. So on Wednesday nights, I just get clear of this place. Okay?"
"Fine. But, for your own sake, why don't you just go to the Avengers Tower on Wednesday and do whatever you're going to do, whether it's saving the world or hanging out with Captain America and Iron Man, without giving yourself alcohol poisoning? It has to be bad, even for you."
"That's prob'ly good advice, Marie. I think, starting next week, I'll try and take it."
He went to get up and she pulled him back down, again.
Shunk!
Fangs, too.
"Logan, sugah, we are going to do this the easy way, or the hard way. This is all indoor-outdoor carpeting and Ah had all the furniture treated with Scotch Guard, and made sure Ah bought stain resistant upholstery. Blood will come out of everything quite nicely. Ah heal as well as you do, and you are just about drunk enough for me to get the best of you. You haven't told me anything I hadn't already heard throughthe grapevine. And you haven't told me what you've been such a wreck since you and Victor went to meet with Colonel Blake. Ah never imagined any creature could make a sound like that if it wasn't dying. So, you can tell me the truth while you are in once piece, or you can tell me while you're in pieces."
Logan took a good look at her, and realized she was 100 per cent serious.
He sat back down.
"Back when she was your age, and I was her combat teacher, me and Jeannie had an affair. Well, I had an affair. She was just really impressed with me, an' havin' a good time. She was pretty wild in those days. I did it partly because she seduced me, partly because I thought if she was busy with me, she wouldn't be out gettin' drunk an' high an' in trouble. But, mostly, because I really did love her. I still do. I don't think that's gonna change."
Rogue knew that.
Everybody knew that, or at least had head rumors.
But she had the feeling the other shoe had not yet dropped.
"Go on, Logan. Ah am still listening."
"Well, when she graduated from here, in 1985, I asked her to marry me. I knew she was with Cyke. I didn't care. At least she had given up Tony Stark for me, right? Yeah. Right. Well, long story short, she told me that she was too young to know what she wanted. And I would have to wait. So, I waited. Eleven years. In that time, me and Jeannie became the best of friends. I found out, she was lying. She loved me right from the start. Just like I loved her. At least, I think she did. Now? I'm not sure. But she loved Scooter just as much. When it came time for her to pick who she wanted to be with, well, she picked him. And the reason I get the hell out of here on Wednesdays is, every Wednesday, during those eleven years, between eleven at night and 7 in the morning, she was mine. I thought that meant somethin'. I know it meant somethin' to me. There was a time when it meant everything to me. But, the day we went to see Eddie, Vic took his dumb-ass baby brother out for a beer, and he told me that not only didn't it take Jeannie less than a month to slide Tony Stark into my time slot, but she had been screwin' him six ways from Sunday, all along. The whole time. She told Tony she had an open relationship, and then an open marriage, but she forgot to tell me. And Scott. Now I do love you darlin'. I hope you believe me. But, when I heard that, it broke my heart. I went all to pieces. I'm just a man, Marie. And I can't help what's in my heart. Jeannie was there for a long time. She still is. But things won't ever be the same. I've been lied to, darlin'. I've been betrayed. For years. I left my home, and my responsibilities and I almost died a shanty Irish drunk out on the trail. A disgrace to my family, my uniform, the X-Men and both the countries I call home. And for nothin'? That's hard to shrug off."
Rogue remembered how Logan had reacted with grace and understanding when she told him that she still loved his brother.
She opened her arms to Logan, and he put his head on her shoulder.
"Oh Logan, sugah, that's horrible! You didn't have to keep all that from me! Even if you were going to continue to see Dr. Grey, if things were right between you! What do Ah have to say about things that happened in your life with women when Ah was just a little girl or before Ah was even born? And considering me and Victor, what right would ah have to say anything to you about Dr. Grey? Although, knowin' what Ah do now, Ah'd say you'd have to be a damn fool and a glutton for punishment to go crawling back to the likes of her!"
Rogue thought about him, stumbling out into the wood, blinded by tears, holding his aching guts in as surely as if he had been eviscerated, to lie on the ground and howl at heaven like a wounded animal, begging the God that made him to kill him, and end his suffering.
She thought about how he had suffered the past few weeks, about how he had suffered for years before she met him.
She growled, and her claws shot out.
"Now take it easy, darlin'. I sure don't plan on makin' a habit of it. You'd better quit thinkin' on what you're thinkin' an put those claws away."
Rogue forced her anger down, and her weapons away.
"Ah hope you're not! That was downright cruel of her, keeping you on the string all those years! Making you think that you had a chance when she just didn't want to give up a good time with her good friend! And it's not a very nice thing to do to Mr. Stark, either. The man's a drunk. He probably depends on her. I imagine he'd feel awful if he knew that you and Mr. Summers had no idea about the two of them. And you did the right thing, stopping all that hanky panky after Dr. Grey married. Does the woman think she has a mortgage on your body and a lien on your soul?"
"She did. Now she doesn't."
"Well, count yourself fortunate that you're no longer involved! Or, no longer as involved. When she said "I Do" to Mr. Summers, that was the end of the two of you being anything more than good friends. Nobody gets to eat their cake, and have it, too. Poor Logan. I hope this is the last time that woman breaks your heart! What in hell is the matter with her? And don't give me that two-people-in-one bullshit. I'm a feral now. All ferals are two people in one. Man and beast. And most of us don't go around acting like animals. Not even Victor. Not all the time. If we can control ourselves, the world's most powerful telepath should be able to control herself, too!" Rogue exclaimed.
"Rogue, when Jeannie was 12 years old, Victor kidnapped her from her home, and sold her to Bill Stryker for 28 hundred bucks. That was the bounty he got, per mutant. Stryker kept her in his jail for almost a year, doin' experiments on her. And most of the rest of the present-day X-Men. He didn't starve the kids he captured, or torture them. There was no beating or rape from the guards. The experiments weren't painful, there were three meals a day, the cells were clean and they all lived an orderly life. Three meals and two showers a day, one hour of exercise outside every day after lunch and after dinner. They got paid sixteen dollars a week, and there was a commissary in their cafeteria, where they could buy magazines and comic books and gum and candy bars and smokes and Life Savers. It was kind of like being in the Army, that's the way Jean talks about it. But, the fact remains that when she was a little girl she was kidnapped and jailed and treated like a lab rat by a man who was a mutant-hating lunatic, living with the constant fear that she would be terminated as casually as a lab rat at any time. Jeannie learned some unpleasant lessons in that place. Stryker's jail taught her that everything else she'd ever been told was lies and bullshit. There's only two kinds of people in the world. The hammer and the nail. You had better not be the nail, if you can help it. She also learned that the world belongs to ruthless, driven people who have the balls to take it, and everybody else gets ground under the iron heel. Jeanie figures Scott was in the same jail she was, he shouldn't be such a romantic fool. And she figures I've had it harder than her, I should be able to take it, too. And if we can't, well, fuck us, that's life. Harden up, fellas, you're muties, grow some balls. Of course she's got a heart to break, too, but she keeps it to herself, and when she is hurt, it's only for a little while. It doesn't take her long to harden her heart and roll right along. And if she continues hurtin' someplace deep inside, well nobody's ever gonna know about it."
Logan could tell from the look on Rogue's face that he had hit a nerve, and not just because of what he had said about Jean.
Jeannie and Marie weren't too far apart on the way they looked at life, and for pretty much the same reasons.
"I feel sorry for Jeannie. I can't imagine what kind of hell that is. To be walled up alive inside yourself so that no matter how loud you yell to get out nobody, not even you, can ever really hear you scream."
Rogue bit her lip.
"Logan, is there something wrong with us? Why can't we live a normal life?"
"There ain't no normal life, darlin'. There's just life. And everybody does the best they can with the one they've got."
Postscript: Veni, Vedi, Victor
New York City: A few weeks later
I: Victor
Victor was in his apartment, laying out his clothes for the next day and getting ready to hit the sack when the little digital box Erik had given him began to beep.
Sabretooth looked at his watch.
It was two in the morning.
"Stripe, what the fuck are you doing out in the city by yourself at two in the morning?" he asked, as he began to get dressed, again.
When Magneto discovered that Rogue was driving Logan's truck to and from Westchester when she wanted to go to the city, he became appalled that his little girl was relying on such dodgy transportation, and bought her a new car, a Subaru Forrester, taking into account the road conditions in the winter around the X-Mansion.
It was loaded with many different features, one of which was something Magneto had specially added.
A tracking device.
He wanted to give his daughter some freedom, so it was only designed to activate the remote which he entrusted to Victor Creed when she was in the city, by herself.
Sabretooth had convinced Magneto that he was a double agent, and he passed on enough complex but ultimately unimportant information pre-approved by the Sarge that Erik believed him, or at least appeared to, for his own purposes.
At any rate, whatever he had up his sleeve, the wily old man charged Victor with watching over Stripe when she was in the city.
The devil you know is better than the devil you don't.
Victor called Erik's number.
"Hello? Do you know how late it is?"
"I know, Raven. I just wanted to tell you that your little girl's out, alone, in the goddamn Bowery right now."
"What? Don't they have rules at that school?"
"They do. But it looks like Stripe's breakin' them. I'm gonna go get her."
"Call me when you find her, Victor. What the hell is she doing out there? Where's Logan?"
"Wednesday nights he goes out. Maybe she's following him. I'm gonna go find out."
Victor tracked Rogue's Subaru down to a parking garage, and from there he tracked her by scent, and found her in a crowded, smoky jazz club, taking in a Chick Corea performance.
The show was ending as he found her.
If she was surprised to see him, she didn't act like it.
"Hello, Victor."
"It's a little late for you to be out and about by yourself in the Bowery, ain't it?"
"They call this the East Village, now, Victor."
"Uh-huh. It's still the Bowery. And it's still dangerous. So you're coming with me."
"What about my car?"
"I paid for it to be there for the rest of the night. I'm driving you back. You're already in a shitload of trouble with your Mama and Papa. And I imagine you're gonna be in a shitload of trouble with Chuck X."
"What about you, Victor? Are you mad at me?"
"Yeah. This was a real stupid stunt to pull. Not like you at all, Stripe"
"Maybe Ah had a reason?"
A little smile crawled across Stripe's face, a sly little smile, full of animal guile and low cunning.
Things she'd had, in spades, even before she became feral.
Victor grinned back.
"What kind of reason would that be?
"Maybe Ah knew there was a homing device in my car. Maybe Ah knew Papa had you on the other end of it. Maybe Ah figured this would give me a legitimate excuse to see you. Because Ah have been thinking about something, for the last two weeks. And Ah know that what I'm thinking is what Charles would call bad. And Logan, too. But, it's probably what Papa would call justice. And you too, Victor. I'm sure Papa and you can't always be wrong, and Charles and Logan always be right. Life is not that absolute."
Victor just looked at Rogue like he had never seen her before.
She smiled at him.
"Ah think we need to go and discuss this in private."
II: Rogue
Rogue was unusually quiet on the way to Victor's apartment; there was a weird, disturbing serenity about her manner that Sabretooth didn't like.
Once they were inside, with the door locked, she sat quietly at the table in his kitchen.
Rogue looked around; nothing seemed different.
And Victor didn't seem overtly changed, either.
He went into his bedroom to hang up the Armani jacket he was wearing over his black tee shirt and black Levis; when he came back into the kitchen he was also barefoot.
Victor didn't like walking around in his boots and tracking dirt all over the place.
He got a beer and a Coke from the fridge and put the coke in front of her.
Then he sat down opposite her.
"I can tell by the look on your face, baby, whatever you got on your mind is wicked."
"It's not wicked. Victor. It's just. Were you aware that within herself, Jean Grey harbors a force strong enough, if not to destroy the universe, then, at the very least, to make it sufficiently rough for every living creature on this planet?"
"That's what I hear, but I never put much stock in it. Sounds like some bullshit story Chuck X told her so she'd keep her light under a bushel."
"Well, I believe it."
Victor leaned across the table, grinning atavistically.
"No you don't. You've got yourself convinced you do, because you want to dress up the fact you've decided to kill the bitch in a fancy suit of shining armor. Don't bullshit yourself, baby. You want her dead because she hurt Jimmy, bad, and she, not me, might just be the one thing on God's Green Earth that could kill him."
"Is that a good enough reason, Victor?"
"For me? Hell yes! But listen. We'd have to do this right. No cowboy shit. We'd need to get official permission to grease Dr. Grey."
"From who?"
"The Sarge, probably. Nobody else would have the balls to give an order like that. Or the power. If I could sell him on her being a credible threat because of her powers, not to mention the possibility of her being able to take out one of his best agents and oldest friends, he'd put the finger on her. Now you listen to me, Stripe. I don't want you to so much as get into a shouting match with the bitch. Once I get the go-ahead, we'll plan it out. Make it look like something else got to her. Some supervillian. Because nobody can ever know it was you and me behind it. Especially Jimmy."
"I can see Ahm not the only one who's thought of this."
"He's my brother. It's my job."
"But do you think it's right, Victor? Do you think it's just?"
"You're askin' me? Sabretooth?"
"No. I'm asking you, Major Victor Creed. I'm asking you, Logan's brother."
"I think Chuck X is dreaming. Him and Erik should have put two in back of that girl's head when she was 12. If she has a quarter of the power they say she has, they were drinkin' Drano, thinkin' either one of them could use it for their own ends. It's not theirs. It's hers. And when she wants to use it, against them, against all of us, she will. Besides, I remember all of Jimmy's life that's he's forgotten. Most of it has been a fuckin' tragedy. I seen him beaten, I seen him broken, but I never seen anything cut him to the bone like the bitch Jean Grey can. She's got him where she wants him, and she won't let him go until she brings him to heel, the way she's done to Scooter. But you can't tame Jimmy. You can kill him, but not tame him. She doesn't realize that. She'll be sorry when he's dead, but that won't change the fact he's gone. I promised Pa, years ago, when I thought he was dying, with my brother's claws in him, that I would take care of Jimmy, no matter what, that I would protect him with my life. So, you bet your ass I think it's just."
Rogue let out a long sigh.
"What if you can't get clearance?"
"Then we wait for an opportunity. Bein' an X-Man is dangerous work. Anything can happen to you." Victor said, meaningfully.
It took a little while for what he meant to sink in.
Sabotage.
"And Ah would be in a better position to see that opportunity that you would, right, Victor?"
"That's right. I'll let you know if it comes to that."
Rogue nodded, grimly.
She stood up, grabbing her purse in both her hands.
"Well, I suppose you had better take me back to the mansion, now, Victor."
Victor laughed his low, rumbling chuckle, and the hairs on the back of Rogue's neck stood up.
"You're not going anywhere, baby."
He stood up, slowly and deliberately, and with great menace, drawing himself gradually up to his full height.
Rogue could see the muscles in his massive chest rippling underneath the black cotton of his t- shirt.
Her legs felt weak, and her heart began to hammer in her chest.
For days after she visited him in the infirmary, Rogue lay awake, pretending to sleep, while Logan lay awake beside her, doing the same.
She understood the torment that he was suffering through.
She was suffering through it, too.
The sound of Victor's voice, his smile, his laugh, the way he smelled, the twinkle in his amber eyes when he called her "Stripe"; they tortured her and haunted her the same way that the same things about Dr. Grey haunted Logan.
Talking to him on the phone could fill the deep Victor-sized hole in her heart just a little, but it wasn't enough to make the hurt, the deep pain of losing him, go away.
Rogue had tried to imagine how it would feel if Victor betrayed her, if he made her feel like all her love was in vain, and just thinking about how much that would hurt was what made her decide that, with or without help, she would kill Dr. Jean Grey.
Logan was her great love, the brother of her great love; she would not suffer to see him hurt.
But, Victor was also her great love, the brother of her great love.
"Don't, Victor. Please, don't. You tried to kill yourself because you couldn't live without me. Well, Ah haven't been doing so well mahself, without you. Ah could barely keep mah composure when all Ah did was see you. Ah want you, sugar. Ah want you so bad, Ah'm startin' to feel an ache inside me. But Ah can't. It would kill me to walk out of here and know it was going to be years before we were together, again."
Victor laughed, again.
"Years, Stripe? Who said anything about years? You set up this little sting to get to see me, once. You can do it again. Oh sure, maybe not every Wednesday, while Jimmy's out painting the town red. But you sure won't hafta wait for years. Think. We got a perfect setup here. And even if Erik figures it out, or Jimmy does, neither one of them are going to say shit to you over it. And Chuck X will never figure it out. His mind doesn't work like that. Besides it doesn't always have to be here."
Victor stepped closer to her; he pulled her into his arms.
Rogue moved towards him like a sleeper in a dream.
"That would get predictable. We could always do it in the car. You always liked that. Or maybe in, that dorm room of yours. Huh?"
He whispered those last few suggestions close to her ear, kissing her neck and nipping her earlobe.
Rogue moaned his name.
Her head fell back, and her fangs descended.
"An' I thought you were beautiful before. Did you miss me, baby? Tell me?"
He took off his shirt.
Rogue willed her claws to stay in her hands, and ran his fingers through the thick mat of honey colored hair on Victor's chest.
"Ah missed you, Victor. Terribly."
This time she could feel his laugh.
He extended one talon, and cut through her shirt, her bra, and the waistband of her long skirt and her panties.
First on one side, then on the other.
The remains of Rogue's clothes fell around her feet, and she was naked.
"Victor!"
"Missed me terribly, huh? Did you miss my cock? Because I missed every luscious inch of you, baby. Oh I'll take you home. But only after I'm all done with you. I'm gonna kiss you all over. I'm gonna lick your hot little pussy until you scream and beg for mercy. But I'm not gonna show you mercy. Then, I'm gonna fuck you good and hard within an inch of your pretty little life. I'm gonna get balls deep in your sweet little pussy I know's so fuckin' hungry for my cock, and I'm gonna come in you two or three times. Then I'm gonna have a smoke and do it to you all over again. Doggy style."
He drew her as close as he could, and kissed her, his powerful hands moving all over her body.
"Ah did miss it, Victor. Do you want me to show you how much?"
Rogue panted those words, shamelessly, as she unbuckled Victor's belt, and started unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans.
"Show me, baby. Show me." Victor moaned.
Rogue dropped to her knees on the linoleum.
He had thought about it; he had even dreamed about it, but there was nothing like it in the whole fucked- up, bullshit world.
Nothing like the look of misty-eyed pleasure on her face while she was sucking his cock, looking at him with an expression of gratitude and lust shining in her big green eyes.
"Ohhh, Stripe, damn me to Hell, you're the best little cocksucker on God's Green fuckin' Earth!" he gasped.
The cork popped out of the world when he busted his nut, but Victor's dominoes did not go down.
He stepped out of his pants and his shorts in a bunch on the floor, picked Rogue up and carried her into his bedroom.
"I love you, Stripe. Until the undead end of time."
He wanted to drink in every whimper, every twitch, ever moan that Stripe made, beautiful and naked and squirming in his arms, kissing him and trying to put her frantic little hands all over him at once.
Victor kissed her eyes, he kissed her lips, he kissed her round titties and her round belly and sucked her plump pink nipples until she was holding his head against her chest, moaning and gasping.
He threw her legs over his shoulders and breathed in her clean, sweet, musky scent before he made good on his promise to lick her until she screamed for mercy
She didn't scream for mercy, but she came as hard as the A-train he had caught right between the eyes.
Victor sat back on his heels and looked down at his Stripe, all naked and flushed and tumbled across the bed, swooning in deep satisfaction.
He made good on his other threat, to fuck his girl, his girl, hard, to get balls deep in her.
Her little pussy was hungry for him, hungry for his cock, all of it, and fuck Jimmy, he was every bit as big as that runt, had an inch or so on him and Jimmy had been mad at that for the last 80 years.
Stripe had her arms locked around him, and her legs, and she was pistoning her hips up as he drove into her; she was laughing and sobbing and cursing a blue streak all at once.
"Oooo, baby, I love your dirty little mouth. Come for Daddy now, you sweet, dirty little whore!"
"Oh, Victor! Victor, you evil son of a bitch! Don't stop, don't stop, or ah will rip your fucking lungs out!"
The tightness in his balls shot all the way up into his chest, and at the same time that Victor moved his hands away from Stripe's body, threw his head back and roared as he shot into her, once, maybe twice, all his claws curling out of his fingers, she threw her arms out and turned her hands towards the bed, roaring like a tiny lion, six long, thin, bony-white talons erupting from both her hands.
When she roared, he saw she had fangs, just like his, but after, when they were lying amongst the pillow together and Victor was having a smoke he saw that they were gone.
"I think what you got there, is a little bit of me, and a little bit of Jimmy, and a little bit that's you. Like my Ma used to tell me, ferals are like falling snow. Each of us is different."
"Are you telling me I'm like a snowflake. Victor?" Rogue asked, lazily.
"That's right, baby. Snow and sugar both melt."
That struck Victor as funny, and he laughed, harder than he had in a long time.
***
In all the excitement, which was considerable , Victor forgot to call Raven back, and when his phone at his apartment began to ring, around four in the morning, he was dozing.
"Hello?"
"Did you find her?"
Victor looked down at Stripe, asleep in his arms.
"I found her. She just went to see a jazz show. It wrapped up pretty late, and then she was telling me she was hungry, so we went to an all night deli. The poor kid's tired as hell. She's too tired to drive, so I let her sleep here. She's out like a light."
"I see."
"In the morning, I'll drive her back home."
"Well, you had better call the X-Mansion. I've got five calls from Logan in the last hour."
***
Victor got up and went into the living room to talk to Jimmy.
Jimmy sounded drunk and worried, and whether he believed that Victor took the couch and let Rogue have the bed, he was relieved to hear she was alright.
"I guess she figures if I'm gonna have a night out, so should she."
"Probably. I mean, you can't blame her. Why would she want to stay home, starin' at the walls while you go out an' paint the town red? Especially with Shellhead or the Sarge. She knows that means broads, broads, broads. So, she figured what's good for the gander is good for the goose. But she shouldn't have gone out alone. Stripe thinks just because of her skin and her bein' feral there's nothing in the city that can hurt her."
"That's bullshit."
"I know. Look, if she decides to go out on Wednesdays, I'll keep an eye on her. Make sure she stays out of trouble."
Jimmy paused, for awhile.
"That might be a good idea. I gotta get some sleep. I'm annihilated."
"Hey, Jimmy? I hear you were in a bad way, for awahile. Over that Grey broad. You doin' better, now?"
"A little. Better'n I was."
"That's good, Jimmy. I'll bring her back to ya, safe an sound, inna morning. I promise."
"You better. Because I'll come get her."
"Yeah. I know."
***
After talking to his brother, Victor went back to bed.
"Am I in trouble?"
"Nope. I smoothed everything over for ya. Just go back to sleep, baby. When's your first class, tomorrow?"
"Ten."
"You'll be there."
"Victor?"
"Yeah?"
"Are we doing the right thing? the just thing? Are you sure?"
"I'm sure, Stripe. But if you're not, you let me know, and I'll leave you out of it."
"I'm already in it. No matter what happens now, mah hands will not be clean."
"Nobody's hands are clean, baby. That's just the way it is."
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
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Author's Chapter Notes:
In which Logan fires the first shot across the bow,Jean's battleship might just get sunk, and Rogue decides, damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead.
Chapter End Notes:
Whew! Sorry about the time between updates, but it took awhile to formulate what went into this chapter and what didn't. Reviews are always appreciated, and I will try to make the next update a little more timely. Thanks!