He lights up when she walks in a room.

They both do. Soon as Logan sees her now he all but wags his tail at her; Soon as Steve realises she’s arrived it’s a toss-up whether he’ll drool or trip over his jaw on the way to the door. It’d be sickening if Rogue weren’t so damn oblivious to it-

Turns out however the scrawny, bratty little girl I met may have blossomed into a goddess but nobody told her about it.

And if not knowing means that she doesn’t realise just how bad my newly-returned fiancé has it for her, then I certainly am not prepared to be the one to point it out.

Hear a soft sigh then, and slide a look at Ororo. She’s staring at me in that pointed, slightly disappointed way that used to work so well on Scott, Lord rest him. Her blue eyes narrowed as they meet my green ones, everything about her body language telling me that she’s less than pleased with her team medic, let alone her best friend. It’s the same look she’s been throwing me ever since Logan and I returned from our month in Mexico and I try to ignore it; She wasn’t exactly supportive when we first started dating and she was even less encouraging when we moved in together. In fact, she flat out told me that she thought it was a bad idea. Too many unpredictable elements, too much possibility for disaster. Not to mention this ridiculous notion she has that I don’t really know Wolverine. At least, not as well as Marie. For someone known as the conciliatory one in the team she can be really damn judgemental at times-

But then I suppose Her Serene ’Roness saw this coming before the others did, and she therefore feels that I brought my current troubles upon myself. It must have never occurred to her that I just loved Logan so much I was prepared to risk it, prepared to take a chance on him never figuring out the way he felt about Rogue. What can I say? I spent my entire life being the perfect, unflappable Doctor Jean Grey. I spent every waking moment trying to be faultless for the X-Men, for Charles, for Scott. For everyone. I never even knew who I was really until Alcatraz, and by then it was clearly too late-

So can you blame me for wanting a second chance with the man I adore? Can you?

Because until you’ve walked a mile in my shoes, boys and girls, you really don’t have the right to judge.

I hear Logan mutter something under his breath then that would have done a dock full of sailors proud. His big, heavy arm coming to rest on my shoulders, his hand snaking down to stroke my thigh, fingers rough but warm through my skirt. His eyes come to rest on the engagement ring he gave me in Acapulco, the one which still doesn’t feel right on my finger no matter how long I wear it and I squeeze his fingers between mine, earning a little affectionate grunt in response- Though I can’t help but feel that he’s staring at the ring because he’s trying not to stare at something else. My suspicions are confirmed when I hear an uncomfortably sharp little huff of breath taken to my right and my eye is drawn to Rogue, standing by the TV room doorway in a forest green, forties-style tea dress. She has her hair swept up and she’s wearing period makeup, which just happens to make her look like Rita Hayworth. I’m secure enough in myself to allow that she looks really good. Jubes and her girlfriend Laura are standing behind her, grinning: They found a club in the city that plays live swing as a gift for Rogue being named team-leader after her re-trial last week. And judging by her outfit she’s going all out the look the part for the one man in the Mansion who would know if she gets even the tiniest detail wrong. And speaking of-

Steve Rogers is standing in the hallway behind her, staring at her so hard I’m surprised her dress hasn’t burst into flames already. He looks like he thinks every Christmas of his has come at once and then some- Which doesn’t exactly seem to be calming my Wolverine. Jubes making some sarcastic comment and suddenly the younger man blinks, apparently remembering where he is. Handing her a single white rose- her favourite- as he helps her with her coat. Rogue blushes as he offers her his arm but takes it, murmuring a thanks to Jubes and Laura before wishing us a goodnight. Her eyes resolutely skip over Logan as she speaks but the attempt at tact is unnecessary. I can tell she flinched when she saw him put his arm around me; I know she did because she always does. I don’t like that I like making her feel that way, but I suppose I have to be honest, I do like it-

I can feel Her Serene ’Roness staring at me from across the room and I force myself to smile.

Silence descends then, after they close the door behind themselves. The scent of arousal, I suspect, making my man even more tetchy than usual. The way Rogue was looking at Rogers as she left- and the fact that they can touch now- leaving no doubt about how taken she was with her date. Logan manages to restrain himself for about five minutes before he gets up and grunts something about needing some air; He sends me a telepathic image of the Danger Room, the message a clear indication that he wants to be alone. It’s another thing that I find so addictive about Logan, the fact that I can only see what he shows me. Scott and I were in one another’s minds from practically the moment we got together and the closeness which that brought was suffocating, no matter how useful it was in the field. But with Logan- I can’t know, I have to ask him. It’s something about the way the feral mind works. And since he hates talking almost as much as I do now, it’s just good times all the way. We don’t go in for all that touchy-feely stuff I had to sit through with Scott. I see a picture in his mind of a row of Sentinels, practically smell the anticipation he feels at the thought of fighting them. So I wave him off with a nod and a smile, trying to look calm for him. The fact that I’m relieved Rogers finally got around to making some progress with Rogue definitely improving my mood. Because this thing, with Logan and Rogue, this jealousy? It’s harmless.

And once Steve and Marie get on with things myself and Logan will go back to the way we were and everything will be fine again.

“You’re an idiot,” I hear Storm murmur then, and I’m so surprised she actually said it out loud that I blink up at her. With the departure of Logan it’s only her and me in the TV room and I’m surprised she’s looking for a fight. It’s not usually her style.

I give her a shot of my best Conciliatory Counsellor. “Sorry, ’Ro,” I say. “What was that again?”

Her look is hard. Unamused. “You know damn well what I mean.”

Nope, I don’t. And if she wants to have this conversation she’s going to have to say it. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to be a little bit less cryptic,” I tell her. “I know I’m telepathic but I try to keep out of other people’s heads-”

She actually snorts at me. “Only because you know you won’t like what you see.” And she stands, towering over me, every inch the weather goddess. She seems to forget that I remember what she was like when she first arrived at Xavier’s, back when she was still half convinced that she really was a tribal goddess. Suffice it to say the adjustment period was not easy for young miss Monroe. “How long are you going to keep this up, Jeannie?” she asks me. “How long are you going to keep hoping that how he feels about Marie will go away? Or are you actually under the impression that Rogers will do your dirty work for you and seduce her? Because we need her on the team-”

I shrug, deciding that if she wants to lay her cards on the table like that I can be equally blunt. “Rogue’s not going to leave the team, she hasn’t the spine for it- Even if we need her, which we don’t.” And I nod to myself, telling myself it’s the truth. That little girl, that scrawny teenager I remember cannot have grown into the glue which held this team together all these years; That’s my job. “As for Logan- You don’t approve. You’ve never approved. I don’t know whether it’s jealousy or those controlling tendencies Charles used to warn you about-”

Lightning suddenly and inexplicably splits the summer sky outside and I realise I’ve hit a nerve. I seem to be good at that. “If anyone needs to look at their controlling tendencies, Jean, it’s you,” she hisses. “I’m not the reason the Golden Gate Bridge is now considered a memorial to the defeat of mutant terrorists.” And she crosses her arms tightly, eyes turning white for a moment. There’s a clap of thunder far away but nothing else to indicate she’s lost control. For a moment I think she’ll start to hover- another nervous habit she had when she first came to us- but her feet never leave the ground. She’s tightening her fists though.

She sends me a mental image of her decking me and despite the shock I know she wants me to feel my face breaks into a smile.

’Ro sags then, the fight going out of her. I’m surprised: If she folded that easily on the battlefield the Brotherhood would have over-run us years ago. “You never really came back to us, did you Jeannie?” she says softly. “The girl I knew, the woman I grew up with- She died at Alkali Lake, didn’t she?” And she shakes her platinum head mournfully, her blue eyes sorrowing as they look into mine. For a moment I feel like the biggest bitch in the world. For a moment I miss Scott so much I think I’ll cry. For a moment. But then-

“No,” I tell her, “I’m still your friend ’Ro. I’m still Jeannie, it’s just now I’m honest about what I want. And I want Logan.”

“But Logan doesn’t want you. I don’t know how I can make you see that.”

And she shakes her head again, her voice as soft as if she’s bestowing a curse. ’Ro was always more…tender than I was, for all the worldly-wise toughness she seems to project. No wonder Charles was so crazy about her. No wonder that deep down her trusted her more than me. “I need some air,” she says eventually, “I’m going into town now. You and Logan spend tonight however you want but tomorrow I want you gone, out to the boat house at least.” I blink, surprised at the order. It’s a long time since she’s given me one- or had to. She shrugs. “Tonight’s the night for Rogue and Steve, I’m guessing,” she tells me. “I saw the way he was looking at her, and I certainly saw the way she was looking at him. I don’t want Logan in the house for that any more than you do- Rogers might not survive it, and I won’t do that to Rogue. So get him gone.”

And with a curt nod she turns to pull the door open. About to melt into the darkness like the thief she once was. But before she can do it we hear a bellow of rage, loud and echoing through the mansion. The voice as recognisable to me as my own, for all its feral gruffness and growl. But there’s something else in it, something haunting. Something I can’t say I’ve ever heard from Logan before. It makes the hair stand up on the back of my neck; Storm and I exchange looks and without hesitation we head towards the Danger Room. My bare feet slipping and sliding on the polished marble floors, some dread I have neither name nor explanation for curling like a snake inside my head. We skid to a halt at the door, Storm hastily pressing in her security cold with shaking fingers. When the doors open we see Logan rocking on his heels, covered in simulated blood and viscera, his gaze feral and dark and mean. He’s surrounded by body parts, bits and pieces of what it might once have been Steve Rogers-

And in his arms he’s cradling a body.

One so cut and maimed and bleeding that it seems impossible to recognise.

A sim’ of Marie is in the corner, crying. He keeps looking at her as if trying to convince himself she’s real, as if he feels bad about her seeing this- Which, judging how protective he normally is of her is more than likely the case. I move to comfort him, suppressing a flash of jealousy that there’s no simulated me here. Try to check his wounds though the healing factor’s already taking care of them, wanting him to lean into me and ask for me as I do so. As I take care of this man I gave up so much of myself to want. And as I do I glance down to see that he’s cradling a sim’ of his own corpse, its flesh mutilated and still and bleeding. His face gauged and claws and ripped open, adamantium glinting through the flesh in the dim light. Dark eyes stare up at me: “The tank didn’t do to Rogers what it did to me,” he mutters. He starts rocking again. “The tank made him whole, fer Rogue, fer everyone-”

I try to hold him but he moves away from me.

I don’t know what else to do so I settle down beside him and watch.