My Lie to Keep – by Darlin
A/N – I wrote this at work on the spur of the moment as a birthday one shot for Tiger who put up a song fic challenge at her Written_Stars Yahoo group. I don't do song fics because I don't really like them but I did incorporate the song "What can I tell my heart", once sung by the great Ella Fitzgerald, and it worked to my satisfaction but since this site is now removing stories with songs due to copyright issues (as of 2013) I had to remove the song and redo the story a bit. I hope it works as well.
Disclaimer – All Marvel's creations, not mine and thus no profit made.
-xox-
Chapter One – What can I Tell My Heart?
She remembered his lips, his breath, rushed, hot, kisses that consumed. She remembered his hands around her waist pulling her close and closer. She remembered seeing nothing, her eyes closed tight, but feeling even the tiniest of touches, just wanting to melt into him and always stay that way. One.
"I love you," she'd whispered, smiling into his kisses, and in that moment everything she'd desired and hoped for was broken.
He'd chuckled, dropped his hands, said he had to check on some things, that he'd see her later. He'd looked at her for a long moment before he touched her cheek briefly then left her. She, still high on hope, tried to convince herself that he did have business to attend to, that he would be back.
She could hardly sleep afterwards and rose early hoping to catch him before he left for his morning run. He never showed. Nor did he come down for breakfast. Or lunch. Or dinner.
-xox-
It was pouring outside. It had rained all week. Ever since Logan had disappeared without a word. No one remarked on the weather. Ororo didn't notice it herself. Her smile was sunshine bright.
"We should all go to Harry's, they're having a live band tonight," she'd said after dinner and easily coerced her friends into going along.
"I thought everything was going fine for them," Rogue whispered to Remy on the ride into town, having taken her convertible instead of his Harley.
"It's for de best," Remy commented.
At Harry's with Jean and Scott, Remy and Rogue and Kurt, Ororo acted as if nothing had changed for her. She was moving to the beat of the music as soon as they entered the familiar bar.
"Is everything all right, Ororo?" Jean asked when they were in the restroom touching up their makeup and hair.
"I just feel like dancing," Ororo laughed in reply.
When she came out, her shoulders moving to the rhythm as she sashayed in front of their table, she beckoned for Kurt to join her.
"I'm not very good with this kind of dancing," Kurt said in his thick German accent while sliding over to let her sit down.
"I'm not either, Kurt but who cares?" But she sat; smile still wide on her face. "Rogue, remember when you and Betsy tried to talk me into going out with Davis and we all went dancing?"
Rogue laughed. "Ah haven't thought about that in ages."
"I didn't want to go but you talked me into it and we had so much fun."
"For a while," Rogue murmured while looking at Ororo oddly.
"Oh, Kurt let's just try one dance," Ororo said, changing the subject.
"The next slow dance, okay?"
"Oh, all right," Ororo replied, her head bopping to the beat, fingers tapping on the table., smile ever bright.
Remy and Rogue watched her while Scott and Jean exchanged glances. Ororo pretended not to notice that she was being scrutinized. She laughed and pulled Kurt onto the dance floor when a softer tune played. Ella Fitzgerald's beautiful voice crooned on about lovers who were apart, the ache she felt, smiling to hide the tears, lying to one's heart.
Ororo didn't know the song but the words nearly broke her. She tried to shut them out. If she listened she wouldn't be able to pretend any longer. She twirled on the floor in Kurt's arms smiling, laughing. No one would have thought there was anything wrong with her but the unexpected storm outside, lightning cracking so loudly it could be heard even above the loud dim of music and voices inside, made her friends watch her worriedly.
During the drive home the weather changed. It hailed. Ororo didn't stop talking. She joked about her skill in getting Kurt to try the Electric slide – everyone should know that dance, she said – and tried not to remember how Jubilee had taught her and Logan one dull day. She joked about how Kurt had looked like a duck trying the dance steps. She laughed even harder at her own attempts and insisted they all go out tomorrow night saying, "I had so much fun! I can't remember when I've had this much fun," and hoping desperately that they believed her.
When the others were going to their rooms Jean pulled Ororo aside. She hesitated for the briefest of moments then forced herself to speak. "Is everything all right, hon?"
"Everything's fine . . . why?"
"You – you've just been so . . . cheerful."
Ororo laughed. "What's wrong with being cheerful?"
"I just mean you're a little too cheerful . . . now that Logan's gone."
"What does Logan have to do with my happiness?" Ororo said, her mask falling away for only an instant but Jean had seen.
"I thought you two were seeing each other and . . . well, he kind of did his disappearing act."
"We were just having fun, it wasn't anything serious, Jean. You know how Logan is."
"So then you're okay?"
Ororo laughed again. "Why wouldn't I be? I had a wonderful time tonight."
"It's just you're not one to go out much."
"You know, Jean I think going out with Logan made me appreciate having fun. He always knew how to have a good time." Her smile didn't falter though flashes of memories with Logan pained her.
"Do you have any idea why he left so suddenly and without saying anything?" Jean asked.
Ororo's mask did not crack this time. She smiled, shook her head. "You know how Logan is; he'll be back when he's ready." The words broke her heart. Would he ever come back – come back to her?
"Well I'm glad you're okay, hon," Jean said but Ororo was hurrying up the stairs and didn't hear her.
Thunder rattled the windowpanes as Ororo jammed a pillow over her head hoping to drone out the lyrics of the song she'd dance to earlier. For all she'd tried not to listen to the words, as sometimes songs do, the words were stuck in her head.
What could she tell her heart about a lover that would never be? And how true that she smiled to keep from crying from the ache within her. It was as if the lyrics had been written for her alone. The incessant tune in her head, the words seared into her brain. It took everything she had to keep from screaming. And she wouldn't cry. She refused to cry. He didn't deserve her tears. He – they – must never have an inkling of her heartbreak. It was so easy to lie to Jean, to put on a happy face for the others, but in the darkness of her room, the emptiness of her heart so deep, she could no longer keep up the pretense. Her heart bled.
She did not go out again that week. She needed a night in she told them when she backed out of the plans she'd foolishly made after dancing all night at Harry's. She stayed in her room, tried to read but couldn't. She paced, watched the rain fall, watered her plants, anything to keep her from seeking out her cell phone resting on the nightstand. Futilely. Every few seconds her eyes darted toward that instrument of life or death. To no avail. He hadn't called before, what made her think he'd call now? She'd scared him away. Those three words spoken from her heart had terrified him. Those three words had broken her heart.
-xox-
It was raining in Hell's Kitchen; it had been since the night he'd arrived. Logan didn't care one way or the other. He'd gone nowhere and didn't want to go anywhere. No, that wasn't true. He wanted to go back. He wanted to go back home. But he wouldn't.
Eyes closed tight he could hear the rain beating against the windowpanes. Rain always made him think of Ororo. But now he tried hard not to think of her, of how he'd held her so close, closer still, pulling her to him, into him as if they were joined – one. He could feel her lips on his, so soft, breath rushed, as urgent as his own, her eyes full of things unsaid that had made him want her so badly he'd almost lost himself to her, almost said three words that would have done him in. He could see her now in his mind's eye, tall, beautiful, proud – his. He wanted her, even now. He wanted more than what he had a right to.
A sharp ringing startled him. He'd been trying to forget the phone in his apartment, now wished he'd thought to turn it off. He wouldn't answer it. He wanted to ignore it just as he was trying to ignore the dive his stomach took when it rang. The answering machine picked up. A beep and then a woman's voice – Ororo? His heart leapt. But no. Not Ororo.
"Logan, it's me – Jean – is everything okay?"
Hope died. He'd longed to hear Ororo's voice.
"You didn't say when you'd be back. I hope everything's okay. You shouldn't go off without saying something." A short pause. "We miss you you know."
"Hey, Jeanie," he said, picking up.
"Logan! I didn't . . . well how are you?"
"Good."
"Are you sure?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"It's just that you left so suddenly. I thought . . ."
"How's 'Ro?" He didn't care what she thought but he wanted to be sure Ororo was okay after the way he'd left.
"She's great actually. We went to Harry's and she danced all night."
There was a long silence on the line and Jean didn't dare break it.
"Well, good. Good," Logan finally forced himself to say and then, "I gotta go, Jean I got stuff ta take care. Good talkin' to you."
Jean thought perhaps she'd imagined it but it seemed as if the Logan she knew was gone, something vital missing in the man.
Logan put the phone down but didn't move from the chair he'd sunk into when he'd heard Jean's news. He felt completely empty. He had nothing to do, nowhere to go. He'd given Ororo up when it was the last thing he'd wanted to do. He had not ached like this since he'd been forced to kill the woman he loved. It was that undying memory of the tragic act that had driven him away. He wasn't good for Ororo. With him would come hell. She deserved better.
He chuckled. She'd gone dancing. Probably with Kurt. She might as well be dancing on his grave. Well, as long as Ororo was fine so was he. He would keep telling himself that long after the rain passed.