Notes: short drabble of Wolverine/Jean Grey.
Wolverine was looking at Jean Grey; he couldn't help it, the schmuck. She was a desirable woman with hidden passion and when she had turned into the Phoenix, she was the embodiment of everything chaotic.
She stood there with her long flowing red hair; looking alien yet of this world – ancient and yet fresh. There was an element about her that he had always admired. He loved her beyond distinction, even when she chose another man over him.
He clamped down fiercely on his cigar; it was time to move on with his life. It didn't mean that his betrayed heart would follow. Closing his eyes, he could still recall the fresh taste of her lips on his. Logan was never a gentleman, nor was he ever less than callous about things. It was his nature. He'd remain forever a beast and she would be his goddess.
Yes, he would never forget her.
He watched as her hair flowed freely along the slim of her back, and the way she smiled at him and raised her hand. She was waving goodbye now.
He didn't like to cry. It wasn't manly, or masculine, or fitting for a beast like him. That was a crock of shit. Life had a way of challenging him and he'd seen many deaths. Deaths of those he loved and cared for.
"Good bye, Jean."
In another moment she was gone.
A great sigh escaped his lips; he was done and over with this. "Danger room end."