Summary: A single act brings hurt and grief.
Author's Note: I've revised this story and added a time line so that it would be easier to understand.
Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men
Rating: T
BETRAYAL
Prologue
Westchester, New York: Two Weeks Earlier
Logan took a long, hot shower.
Drenched head to toe he thrust his head back and allowed the steamy water to stream down his face in rivers. A guttural growl rumbled deep in his chest, seeped out his lips, as a grim reality urged him to make a clean getaway. His conscious striking, gnawing at the base of his humanity. Whatever that was left.
He'd made a terrible mistake.
Turning off the tap, he pushed the condensed coated shower glass door open, a cryptic cold strangling his body as he stepped out. He wrenched a towel off the rack and dried, before tossing it cleanly into the nearest hamper. His scent was imprinted on the cotton fabric, but he didn't care. No one else at the mansion possessed his unique senses, heightened to the pinnacle of clarity. No one except Rogue. Their encounter on the Statue of Liberty had imprinted the kid with his profound abilities.
He walked out into Scott and Jean's bedroom. It was clean, neat, and, adorned with sentiments and touches that made it a private and romantic haven for the pair. Logan felt a tightening in his chest as he glanced around the bedroom; took in the few homey touches only a woman could give, before settling his eyes on a sleeping figure nestled beneath white linen sheets
His eyes drifted, taking in the fullness of Jean's beauty as she lay cloaked in a veil of sleep. He brushed the soft contours of her elegant face, skimmed his fingers down shapely legs, which earlier in the evening had wrapped his waist like a blanket in intense passion.
An urge basic, animal swelled within him.
Logan stifled the furious need to claim Jean once again. Mark her as his own. He had no idea where the intense desire had come from. He'd always managed to channel that part of himself, unleashing its fury in seedy bars, cage fights…places where the lowest of humanity gathered. Weakness took its hold when Jean asked him…no…begged him to stay. Tears filling her mesmerizing eyes, she wept on his shoulder, babbling inanely about Scott.
Something about Scott. It was always about Scott. And it grated his nerves.
What could he do but to give into to her tearful plea? What could he do but hold her tightly, before a single kiss dissolved any sense of integrity and the true reason he was with her for that night.
Logan watched quietly as she let out an exultant sigh, tossed under sheet, and laid her head on the pillow. He collected his few belongings; tugged on his jeans and white tank shirt, pulled on his heavy boot, and dipped out of her and Scott's room. He didn't give a damn if he bumped right into the one-eyed prick. It was probably what he deserved. He was the one detaching himself from her, sleeping in his office. Jean even mention without so much as declaring he was seeing another woman. It was a surprise to Logan, especially since he found Cyclops to a humorless ass wipe.
He walked the short distance to his room.
Dawn was on approach.
Rays of sunlight slipped through the thin gossamer curtains adorning large windows. The yellow light enriching the cedar, oak hallway. Very soon the entire mansion would be awake, active…students hurrying to their morning classes. He turned a corner, stopping a moment by Ororo's door before pushing on. He wasn't sure if he should feel the heavy guilt some men felt when they'd cheated on someone they loved.
Loved?
No. He cared about Ororo, admired her; his attraction was purely based on a congenial respect for the dark skinned beauty. There was nothing left in him to give to the opposite sex except pleasure. Tasteless woman often cornered him in bars, after cage fights, because they saw he had that edge to boost their crumbling sex life. He gave them what they wanted and he received a good time while it lasted.
Logan thought he could make a go with Ororo, but Jean dangled before him like a ripe apple waiting to be plucked. How could he resist? She taunted him with her green eyes, curvaceous body, and sob story about her and Scott's ailing relationship. Besides, he'd been crazy about the red head the moment her soft hands skimmed his chest in the lab a year ago. Since then, she haunted him, even in his dreams.
He looked at Ororo's door, disgusted by the ill-reputable state he'd sunk. If she ever found out about him and Jean, she would never forgive. The good doctor was her best friend and he wasn't hoping she would. It didn't matter. He was leaving, the road was beckoning. He didn't belong in this cherry atmosphere. Despite the Professor's attempts, all clues to his past led to dead ends. His only fate in life was cage matches and one night stands.
As he headed to his room, a scent attacked his senses. His nostrils flared and crinkled as he breathed deeply. He knew one quite well; the other was indistinct, mutated by all the cheap after shaves the teenage boys bathed themselves in. He followed the pheromones kicking up the atmosphere, growing stronger. He neared Rogue's room the smell chocking him, the scent of a man in her dwelling. Not a boy. It was definitely a man.
Logan growled. His razor sharp claws pinching his freshly healed skin. Eyes rolling into the back of his head, he charged into Rogue's room without hesitation or fear. "What the fuck is going on here?"
Screams and outburst filled the four walled room as two bodies scrambled under a quilt. A frightened, pale Rogue sought to give a true and genuine explanation. Logan heard nothing. His eyes were focused on Scott.