When The Fog Clears

I'll admit it, maybe I am a little jealous. I'd never say that out loud. But it's not just anything I'm jealous of; in fact, the very person I'm jealous of is probably common for a lot of women. I'm jealous of my best friend. She doesn't have everything (though sometimes it feels like it,) and she's pretty much on par with me in terms of career, looks and possessions. I forged a close relationship with Jean Grey soon after she arrived at Xavier's School for the Gifted, but I wasn't the only one, Scott did too. Jean's admiration for the X-Men leader was noted in our conversations, and when Scott started returning the affections, it was then that I felt the first pang of envy for my flame-haired companion. It was brief, and nothing too dramatic. But it made me aware of despite how I was surrounded by allies in Xavier's school, there was one thing I didn't have, and hadn't had for a long time. But I didn't wish to be dependent on a male; everyone knows that Ororo Munroe is a proud woman.

In my time at the mansion, there was only ever one occasion in which someone of the opposite gender took an interest in me. But with his feelings unrequited, Beast accepted the fact we would only ever be close friends. He was so many things I wasn't, and I don't mean blue and hairy, but he was so political, so factually straightforward. He enjoyed his science, something I've never been too close to. He often had many in-depth conversations with Jean, perhaps their discussions, which were ones I couldn't get intelligently involved in, caused another ache of jealously.

Then, something happened. Logan happened. Logan and Jean happened, despite her engagement with Scott. I never saw anything explicit, but I caught the looks they fleetingly shared in the corridors, which didn't point to anything heavy, but it did indicate a deep, but controlled lust for each other. I think Scott caught those looks too, for he became increasingly bitter towards Logan, and never liked the two of them being alone together. But, oh, how I envied Jean once more, not only was she settling down, engaged to Scott, but she was receiving smouldering, penetrating looks from the tall, dark and handsome stranger who had recently stepped into our school.

Oh, yes. Logan ticked all the boxes of the romantic cliché. Too bad he was also a brute, crude and reckless at the same time.

And yet.. sometimes he had a side to him that shone out so beautifully and I couldn't help but respect Logan, even after our initial disagreements, for we sometimes struggled to get along.

But as soon as Logan began fitting in as a team member, Jean died. I lost my best friend, and my envy fled in guilt as I cried over the loss. I had taken her unwavering friendship for granted, her reliable presence always around. And then so soon, she was gone. It affected Scott badly too, naturally. But Logan.. I think we were all curious as to how he would react. I had my hunches, and they were proven right, as a silent Logan spent much of his time in his room, and only left for meals. Sadly enough, Scott soon imitated this grieving method, and both the Professor and I agreed that this was bad.

I tried to help both of them, but Scott was filled with a hopelessness that even I couldn't clean away, and Logan? He told me I didn't understand, which flicked a switch in my head and he received the full abuse of my shouts that must have carried throughout the mansion. I was angry at his words, because not only did I understand, but also he seemed to think it wasn't possible for me to manage such a thing. "Jean was my best friend!" I had yelled several times, shaking my head fiercely as I soothed my urge to test just how well adamantium conducted electricity. His time with Jean was marginal compared to mine and after my outburst, he seemed to look at me differently. Initially, he had been shocked at my tearful rant, but it earned me an apology, and I could tell it was sincere. And it was since that day that I noticed Logan holding a greater respect for me.

And I didn't complain one bit.

But our affable working relationship suffered a blow when Jean returned from her watery grave, with the news she had killed her fiancé. Complete destruction followed, affecting us all when she took the life of our dear Professor and disappeared without a trace. When I had looked at her, I knew she was drastically different; I didn't need to read her mind to figure out that there was a serious problem. But Logan was in denial, he still is now, as he stands in his room, packing his bag to go and find her, and bring her back.

Jealously peaked once more. Jean still had a hold on him? What made men gravitate towards her so?

"Where are you going?" I asked as I stepped over the threshold of his bedroom, my hands on my hips as I watched him pack many items into his bag. This was a man who had no intention of returning.

"Where do you think?" he muttered, not stopping with the packing, but he did hurry up.

I didn't enjoy his sharp tone. "She's gone, Logan," I swiftly reminded him, "She's not coming back."

"You don't know that," he replied, words still short and sharp. It was clear he did not like my lack of optimism.

I wondered just how on earth could Logan see past all the terrible things she had done. "She killed the Professor," I said, aware of the waver of tears in my voice.

He heard it too, for he eventually paused, heaving a great sigh as he explained to me with patience in his tone which almost sounded pleading, as though he was trying to convince himself as well as me. "It wasn't Jean. The Jean I know is still in there."

Logan had had enough; he turned, with the clear intention to leave. I wanted to order him to stay, use my authority, and even use my powers. But I knew I had no right, that's why I had to try and pry more out of him. I blocked the doorway with my body, which was noticeably small in comparison to his large, muscular frame. "Listen, why can't you see the truth, huh?" For the first time, he looked at me, and I noticed the desperation in his eyes. "Why can't you just let her go?" Maybe I was pleading now, as I continued to move my body to stop his attempts to stride past me.

I had hit a raw nerve, and I gave a shocked gasp as he dropped his bag and made a forceful grab with his large hands. Holding on tightly to my upper arms, he pushed me against the open door. My heart was suddenly ramming away, sending the thunderous pump of rushing blood into my ears as my adrenaline shot up at the unexpectedly aggressive behaviour. "Because.." he said, sounding strained, "because.." he was having difficulty saying what he meant, but his painful grip against my shoulders seemed to drive the silent message home.

I said it without thinking, staring up at him. "Because you love her.."

He faltered. He hadn't expected me to say it. His gaze scanned mine anxiously, considering my words. It was then Logan seemed to realise the harsh grip he had on me, as well as the close proximity, and he pushed away in silence. What he tried to communicate in response could only come out in a helpless wave of his hands.

I was right.

Anger crept into my voice as I glared at the back of his head. "She's made her choice. Now it's time we make ours. So if you're with us, then be with us." I was fully aware they were the kind of words that could make or break his alliance with the mansion and with me. I didn't stay long enough for a response, but he didn't give one anyway, as I quickly exited his room, going over our conversation.

I didn't want to lose Logan, he was a valuable member of the X-Men, and admittedly, over the time he'd spent here I'd grown closer to him. But sometimes, the things he did, his old reckless ways creeping back in made me realise what made it so difficult for me to get along with him in the first place.

So wrapped in my thoughts, I was only aware Logan had followed me down the corridor when I heard his rough voice speak. "Storm." It was firm, to grab my attention, trying to force me to accept his invite to conversation. But I had nothing more I wanted to say to him, nor did I want to hear anything from his lips. "Ororo.." he then tried gently, attempting to appeal to my softer side. I wondered what he had to say that made him need to use my real name, and with the tone of voice I had never expected him to use when saying my name. It was deliberately careful; it was asking something.

I turned, with a look on my face that showed the displeasure I had with the whole conversation we had previously shared. "What?" I asked, firmness in my voice.

Logan didn't return it. "You know I'm with you," he replied, keeping his tone soft. "But this is just something I have to do."

"Why can't you just accept what's happened?"

"Would you want me to accept it if it was you?" he asked, sharpness creeping in just a little as his short patience waned. "If it was you who had turned against us, and then us against you in return.. " He closed his distance, but I didn't move. "If you wanted our help, if you wanted me to save you.. if you.. if you called for me, and I refused to come.."

I watched him carefully, my eyes studying his from the close proximity. "I'd want you to do what's best for the – "

"Bullshit!" he interrupted me brusquely, glowering down at me from his domineering height. "You'd want my help."

"And like you'd give it me!" I replied quickly, "This isn't about loyalty and doing what's right. This is about Jean, and not me. You wouldn't be so quick to come to my rescue if I had killed Scott and the Professor."

And it was what I believed, until he grabbed me by the upper arms once more, the force pressing my back against the wall - trying to drive in his message that I clearly wasn't receiving. "I would," he said with sincerity, watching me. That was when I realised why he sounded so torn, why his eyes looked so lost.

With denial I shook my head, but at the same time pushing him to go further. I wanted him to explain himself, so my thoughts could be chided and keep my foolishness hidden. But he didn't explain himself. Not in words. And for the second time that day he took me by surprise as I felt the rough, hard kiss as his hot lips collided against mine. The unexpected passion he forced against me was alive with electricity, and I'm not sure if that was to be taken literally or not.

Either way, he drank it in deeply, leaning up against me as one of the hands at my shoulder drifted upwards to stroke his rough fingers against the supple texture of my neck, linking his grip through my short, ivory hair. I didn't know what to do. I had remained motionless against his heavy affections, still stunned and stupefied by the response. Tentatively, my hands crept against his waist, his body heat caressing my fingertips as I closed my grip on the material of his shirt. But my touch was brief before he pulled back from the kiss, panting softly and staring at me intently.

I still didn't know what to do. I gazed up at him, breathless and speechless. "This is just something I need to do," he repeated, his low voice now husky to my ears. His fingers carefully stroked through my hair with a touch I would have never have expected him to give me.

"But I thought.. you.. - Jean?" I said, unable to string my words into a comprehensible sentence.

"We both know how this is going to end," he said quietly, revealing that he hadn't been totally blind to the warped change in Jean, and the consequences that followed. "But, I need to try."

The fog had cleared, and now I understood him. "Will you be back?" I asked.

"One day," he whispered vaguely, scratching my cheek with his muttonchops as he kissed me briefly, but tenderly. His hands drifted out of my hair as he turned, striding down the corridor with his backpack slung over a shoulder.

As I watched him leave, I knew that I no longer had anything to be jealous of.

I don't often use first person narrative, so this was quite an experiment. Please review and comment!