Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the Marvel Universe, nor any of the characters contained herein. Written neither for profit nor gain.

Author's Note: This was intended as a one-shot deal, but there could be room for expansion.

Chapter 1: A Shoulder to Cry On

The door slammed behind Jean as she stormed out of the bedroom. Had she done that? Or had he? It didn't matter. She and Scott had been fighting so much lately that she barely gave it a second thought.

She tried to walk calmly down the stairs, but anyone who saw her would have called it stalking. She stalked outside, and just kept walking, deeper into the woods. Anyone observant would know that her midnight strolls were no longer an uncommon occurrence.

She came to her favorite clearing and laid down, ignoring the fact that the grass was still slightly damp from the afternoon's rain. The sky was surprisingly clear as she gazed up at the stars. Enjoying the relative peace of nature, and the fact that she had less need to shield her mind from stray thoughts this far away from others, she tried to clear her head.

Jean couldn't even remember what she and Scott had been fighting about. It was never anything significant, but it seemed like they were always fighting. It hadn't always been like this, she thought, trying to remember when their relationship had been happy. Before they got married? No. It got worse after they were married, but it started before that. Around the time he showed up.

Her thoughts were suddenly broken by a short, unmistakable figure hovering over her, staring down at her, as though thinking of him had made him appear. She wasn't surprised that she hadn't heard him coming, she almost never did. But she was so wrapped up in thought that she hadn't even sensed his presence.

"Evenin' Red." Wolverine said.
She blinked up at him blankly.
"Everything alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she said, as she sat up and turned away, not wanting him to see the lie plain on her face.
"You know I don't believe you, Jeanie," he said, squatting down next to her.
She smiled slightly, turning to face him.
"Oh yeah? And what do you know?" she said, trying to lighten the mood, playfully knocking him over.

They both laughed.
He regained his composure, sitting up next to her, but not looking directly at her.
"I know you come out here when you've been fighting with Scott, and I know that—" he sniffed the air for emphasis, "—you smell upset," he said.

She sighed.
"Never could get anything past you, old friend," she said.
For a split second, she thought she saw him wince at that last word, but then it was gone. Logan never was big on expressing his feelings.

"Do you wanna be alone?" he asked, making to get up.
"No, it's ok," she stopped him with a hand on his arm.
"If you don't want to talk about it, I understand, but you know I'm here for you," he said.
"I know, and thank you," she said.
"Yup," he said as he pulled a crinkled cigar out of his pocket, and lit it unceremoniously.

They sat there for a few minutes, in relative silence, save the chirp of crickets and the occasional crackle of burning paper as he puffed on his cigar.

"We had another fight," she said.
"What about?"
"I don't remember. Does it even matter?"
"Nope."

More silence.

"I don't know what I'm going to do," Jean sighed. "We fight, all the time."
"You're gonna go back in there, and work things out. You always do," he said with one final puff, as he tamped the cigar out on the wet grass.
"I guess we do," she said, giving him a forced half-smile. "You're right. Thank you, Logan," she said as she stood. She leaned over and kissed him gently on the forehead.

She pulled away slowly, and the look on her face let him know exactly what she was considering.
"Yer gonna get yerself in trouble, you keep lookin' at me like that, darlin,'" he teased, only half-joking.

"I…" she started to say, her face unchanging.
"I have too much respect for you, Jeanie. Scott too, even if he is a whiny little boy scout," he said with a chuckle. "You're married now."
He stood, putting one hand on each of her shoulders, and kissed her on the forehead in return. It stretched the limits of his self-restraint not to miss her forehead.

"It's late, we should both get some sleep."
"But—" she stammered, almost helplessly.
"No. I can't. We can't, and you know it," he said, a little more harshly than he'd probably intended. "Goodnight, Jeanie."

He walked back toward the mansion, without a sound, leaving her to stare at his dwindling silhouette.

She sat down, hard, and bade the welling tears to go away.
"Good night, Logan," she said to the emptiness.