The Fool
I walked through the door and wearily sat down at the far corner of the bar. I was surprised at how quickly the bartender noticed me, seeing as I don’t look the drinking age.
“What’ll it be, miss?” He asked as he cleaned a glass. He was fairly tall, oval shaped head, bald but a full beard growing. Must have been mid-40’s, I guessed. Seemed genuinely nice, not hard and mean like some of the other bartenders.
“Whiskey, straight,” I waited patiently while he got me a glass and poured me a drink. “Would you mind leaving the bottle?” I asked. After a pause, I looked up at him. He seemed kind of confused…
“You sure you wanna do that, miss?”
I reached for my glass and smiled a smile that I didn't really feel. “I know I look young, but looks can be deceiving.” I took a sip and gave a chuckle. “I can hold my liquor just fine, thanks. Besides, I didn't drive; a taxi brought me.”
I looked him dead in the eyes, and he stared back at me. Then he placed the bottle next to my glass and walked away, saying, “I ain't responsible if you do something stupid.”
I smiled once more and went back to sipping my drink. As the alcohol coursed through my system, I could feel my body slouching and my mind slowing down. I was finally able to just be, even if it was only for a few hours. As my whole being relaxed, I closed my eyes and focused outward to the steady din of chatter from the other patrons as they drank. I heard laughter, I heard cussing, I heard friends and I heard enemies all enjoying their time in this bar. I even heard the old jukebox add its own two cents to the pleasant white noise.
I smiled as I heard an old Alan Jackson song come on. I listened to “Here in the Real World,” and felt like the song had been picked for me. I smiled a bit and quietly sang along, memories of a time long past in Mississippi and of an unrequited love for a broken man flashing through my mind. I raised my glass silently to the old country singer and took a sip in his name. I continued to let the alcohol work its magic as I sat and enjoyed my drink and song.
The minutes ticked by and the songs were picked and played and I just sat at the bar enjoying my solitude. Oh sure, a few guys would come and chat me up, but I must have been feeling pretty down that they didn't try for long. Good thing, too, because I wasn't up to dealing with drunk, persistent assholes who didn't know the meaning of the no. And the minutes ticked by some more. I was pleasantly buzzed, on my third glass, when she walked in.
It really is hard to notice her, I mean she is a very attractive woman: fiery red hair, gorgeous, big brown eyes, a slender figure and legs miles long packaged with a sharp brain and a kind soul, it’s no wonder Logan was hooked on her. And as much as she was part of the source of my pain, it wasn't her fault either: everyone knew, and could see, just how much she loved Scott. I mean, yeah, she flirts with Logan, but I flirt with Remy… and Bobby… and Johnny… it’s a womanly thing to flirt with other, attractive men… it doesn't necessarily mean it’s going to go anywhere, it’s just fun… so really, I couldn't get mad at her. And I won’t, either. She’s a good person and has been kind and supportive ever since I got to the mansion. When I was first there, she encouraged me to grow, try new things, work around my skin, and become my own person. Now, at the age of 23, she was not only a mentor and friend, but she was almost like the older sister I never had. So really, how could I be honestly, truly mad at her?
It didn't stop me from wishing she hadn't showed up.
Anyway, the men quieted down and I could hear the appreciative mumblings going on. For her sake, I hope she wasn't listening to them because some of those comments were a little… raunchy.
Out of the corner of my eye I watched her scan the room and finally settle on my lonely figure. When she caught sight of me, her shoulders relaxed and she quickly made her way to the bar stool to my left on the other side of the corner.
She put her coat on the back of her chair and sat down, asking: “What are you having?”
I turned the bottle: “‘Four Roses,’ apparently,” I handed her my glass, “Not bad, really… I asked him for the bottle, and this is what I got. Want to try?”
She shrugged and took my glass. Not many people know that Miss Goody-Two-Shoes over here had her own rebellious stage; I was lucky when I was 21 that she was the one who took me out – Logan was still searching for his past on the other side of the world at the time – because, let me tell you: she knows her stuff. So she took a sip, spluttered a bit – whiskey never was her favorite – and handed me my glass back.
“‘Not bad’ is right… that might be better than Jack.” She said as I raised my hand for a second glass for her.
We’d gotten a few sips in before she started the questioning. I knew why she was here, and to be honest, I’m glad it was her… I don’t know if I could have handled Logan.
“So… is there a special occasion we’re drinking for?” She asked, taking another sip.
“Not really,” I said, staring ahead, taking a sip of my own glass.
“Mm-hmm…” She looked down at the bar counter and then back at me. “You know, Logan’s a bit worried about you… said you left in a hurry and that was a few hours ago.”
I kept staring ahead. “Is that so?” Another sip.
“Mm-hmm… you want to tell me what’s going on in that sharp little brain of yours?”
And I swear to god that that jukebox is magical or cursed or something because right then and there my ears focused on the opening chords to Lee Ann Womack's “The Fool.” And being the drunk-country-song-loving-connoisseur that I am, I sang along… at least the first few lines, anyway:
You don't know me but I know who you are
Mind if I sit down
Do I look familiar if I don't well I should
I'm sure you've seen me around
I know you've probably heard my name
Though we've not been introduced
I'm the fool in love with the fool
Who's still in love with you
Jean looked at me, finally understanding what the problem was. Her expression was one of empathy and shared hurt; like I said, she was the older sister I never had. She knew how Logan acted towards the both of us and how his flirtations with her affected me. She also knew that to get me to speak, she had to be patient; so she sat there quietly as I tried to gather my thoughts to elaborate.
I took a sip and looked into my glass. “I want to start off by saying I’m not upset with you at all. You've been there for me so much in the past that I value you as a true friend and even if I didn't, an idiot would be blind to not see how much you love Scott.” I lifted my glass and bitterly chuckled, “I guess Logan’s a blind idiot…” I took a sip and went back to staring at the bottom of my glass. “We were just sitting there, watching the hockey game, when, of all commercials, a Victoria’s Secret commercial came on and, oh geez, he said ‘I’d like to see Jeannie in one of them,’ real quiet-like, you know? So that maybe I wouldn't hear? But I got so damn much of his god-flipping mutation of course I heard him…” I took a sip again. “I got out of there like a bat out of hell, claiming I was late for a nail appointment or some shit like that… I don’t even remember.” And then I sat there, waiting to hear what she was going to say.
She took a sip of her own glass, pondering her response, when she finally replied. “That ‘crush’ you had? It’s not just a crush… is it?”
When I looked at her, she was looking at me like she already knew the answer. A sad smile crossed my face.
“It might have started out that way, Jean, but I don’t think a ‘crush’ would hurt this much… not hero worship or a father-daughter thing, or any other relationship that might fit Logan and I… It’s not like I've told him, either, but he’s so stuck on you being amazing and me being a kid, that he can’t see a goddamn thing.” I stared at her. “I have him in my head… both him and Wolverine… and both of them tell me that we belong together… Well, Logan says the real one is being an idiot and the Wolverine wants to tear him apart for harming their mate…”
Her eyebrows rose at this. “Mate? The Wolverine said you were his mate?”
I blushed and looked through my glass to the counter. “You know, in my head it doesn't sound so weird, but when you say it like that… yeah. Wolverine knew the moment I stepped into that bar in Laughlin…”
“Uh-huh…” She said and took another sip. Then she asked, “And what do you think about that?”
I couldn't help it, but I really smiled then. “It makes me happy and warm inside to think that we should be together… that he completes me and that I… am supposed to complete him. I mean, it’s hard to take care of the guy at all because he’s so friggin’ independent… but when he lets me calm him down from a nightmare, or a bad run in with Magneto, or even when his favorite hockey team loses, I feel like I am finally useful for something… like I am where I belong... and I can’t tell you how good it feels to just sit and watch hockey with him…” I snickered then. “There are a few times, very few, that I have turned on the TV to ‘Say Yes to the Dress.’ I don’t automatically change it to a more ‘manly’ show, figuring he’ll just take the remote or something. But guess what he does: he complains about that show being ‘prissy’ and ‘too dramatic,’ but when I say I like that show, you know, just teasing and all, he huffs, sits down with his beer and actually watches it with me!” I frowned then. “But then he goes and pulls a stunt like this… I feel like it’s one step forward and twenty steps back with him…” I finished the glass and poured another.
She was silent again, and then she said: “For the record, Logan is an idiot; a class ‘A,’ contender for ‘The Daily Dumbass,’ bona-fide idiot. And I’m sorry that it’s me he thinks he’s so fixed on, but he’s really not my type… too hairy.” She looked across the bar into space before she continued, “But in my experience, when Wolverine has his mind set on something, hell’s going to have to freeze over before he gives up.” She looked back to me. “If Wolverine says you are his mate, then I'd believe it. If what Wolverine says is true, then Logan will come to his senses at some point… all you need is time.” She placed her hand on mine and squeezed. “And I’m thinking a lot of time because even Scott can tell you’re not a kid anymore - and he can be really oblivious sometimes.” She squeezed again and smiled my way. “Be patient; it’ll happen.”
I squeezed her hand back and gave her a true smile; a small one, but true one nonetheless: “Thanks Jean.”
We sat for a bit and she finished her glass. She rose up, reaching into her pockets for cash, but I waved her off.
“Leave it,” I said, “I’m staying for a while, anyway. Night is still young and I don’t feel much like going back quite yet.”
She looked at me uncertainly, “You sure? Are you even safe to drive?”
I smiled at her, “I had a cab bring me here, Jean, I’ll call one to take me home, even if I end up stone-cold sober.”
She chuckled and put on her coat. “Smart thinking.” She got up and hugged me. “If you need anything just call me; or stop by, my door’s always open.” I hugged her back, understanding the meaning behind both options.
“Thanks Jean. Thanks for checking in on me; I really appreciate it.”
She pulled away and smiled. “I kind of figured that. I've known you for a while, Rogue, and when you disappear for a couple of hours, that’s when I know you need a friend, even if you don’t want it sometimes.”
I laughed at that, thinking of some of the worse emotional-situations I've had. “Yeah, I’m still sorry about that desk.”
She smiled, “It’s ok. Just be safe, Rogue, I’ll see you in the morning.” Then she left.
And I sat there at the bar, listening to that old jukebox and drinking my whiskey. As I was about to leave, Alan Jackson’s voice graced my ears once again with “Once in a Lifetime Love.” I walked out with a little bit of hope, though I still felt like ‘the fool.’
I'm the fool in love with the fool
Who's still in love with you
The Fool
You don't know me but I know who you are
Mind if I sit down
Do I look familiar if I don't well I should
I'm sure you've seen me around
I know you've probably heard my name
Though we've not been introduced
I'm the fool in love with the fool
Who's still in love with you
If you've got a minute I'll buy you a drink
I've got something to say
It might sound crazy but last night in his sleep
I heard him call out your name
This ain't the first time he's done it before
And it's hard to face the truth
I'm the fool in love with the fool
Who's still in love with you
I know love is a fragile thing
And I'm trying hard to make it last
But it ain't easy holding on to my dream
When he's holding on to the past
Just one more thing before I go
I'm not here to put you down
You don't love him and that's a fact
Girl I've seen you around
But you hold his heart in the palm of your hand
And it's breaking mine in two
'Cause I'm the fool in love with the fool
Who's still in love with you
I'm the fool in love with the fool
Who's still in love with you
The Wolverine & Rogue Fanfiction Archive
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Story Notes:
Second fic... Sadder than what I usually like to write, but I really like this song and I think it fits the two idjits... Also has an appearance of two Alan Jackson songs... couldn't help it, I thought they fit... I'm also thinking about making this into a series about songs from the old jukebox at this particular bar... let me know your thoughts!!
P.S. Something didn't sit quite right with me on this one... if you have any suggestions of small edits that could be made to this story, I'd greatly appreciate it.
P.S. Something didn't sit quite right with me on this one... if you have any suggestions of small edits that could be made to this story, I'd greatly appreciate it.
Chapter End Notes:
So... What do you think? any changes you think should be made? I'd REALLY appreciate a review for this one! :-)