I can't sleep without thinking of her. Everyone's pretty supportive when I wake up screaming, but even then that's why I've taken to the garage when I get tired enough. It's easy to hide an air mattress out here. Besides, the air, it helps clear my head. I can see the stars here on some nights. The night is cool and I can crane my neck out, imagining that dazzling inky sky with white dots. All I can see of it is a red mass of course; a red mass that reminds me of her. Her wild hair and body curved and snaked through the earth. She was a child of Earth; too perfect for me or anyone. If I believed in fates or gods anymore than maybe I'd believe she was created by one of them.
Scott was thinking all this to himself as he watched the sky, unaware that the remaining members of the team were holding an essential meeting about him.
"Don't you think it's time we did something about Scott?" Kitty tested the waters uneasily.
Xavier smiled at Kitty. "You know I'd give nothing more than to help him, but the young man's lost so much. We've all lost so much."
"But that's not what Jean wanted Professor. You knew her better than any of us. What would she have wanted for her life?"
Professor Xavier looked into Kitty's innocent eyes with his years of intimidating experience. Kitty still believed in love, that much was clear. Her bright, clear eyes might not be able to penetrate all, but could clearly see that Xavier had no answers. But Xavier was never one to speak down to a child. To anyone for that matter, because some adults generally preferred to act as children.
"Jean," he began, "would not want him to mourn any more than I. But Jean knew he would if something were to happen. Just as much, if not more, I suspect would she mourn for him. I know we all loved Jean, and he took a risk."
Rouge had said nothing up to this point. For all they knew, she was hiding a smile behind her soda. She had taken, in these colder days, to wearing her knit scarf everywhere. Bobby had made it, of course, and it hid quite a bit of her behind it as well. She believed in love just as much as Kitty, but hadn't thought it appropriate to bring it up. But Kitty wanted to push.
All the training to ready them for these "Sentinel" beings was taking their tole on the bright, young wall shifter. She was getting antsy to have her leader, and her secret crush, back. Bobby had been a foolish power play, Rogue understood that now. As she matured, maybe she'd understand the deepness Scott felt. The survivor's guilt. But for now, she just sipped her soda and took Bobby's hand in her glove, under the table.
"What she did for us was incredible and in some ways I myself may never move on. I think, until the next attack comes, we must give Scott a bit of room. I wouldn't rush this any more than it could be."
Nightcrawler sharply interrupted the conversation by teleporting directly into his normal chair. Wolverine didn't sit for this meeting; stood hovering by the door like a soldier, but still intently listening. Although, as of recent, there hadn't been much to listen to. For months now, the world had rolled onward, oblivious to the death of one of its more beautiful creations. Wolverine couldn't blame Scott for mourning.
Logan had known her for a mere fraction as long as Scott. The devastation that had come out of that self-sacrifice hadn't even begun to quell the sorrow. However, for all the sorrow Logan had seen; he had adapted quickly to the strange new life. He had even stopped, as of yesterday, looking up when someone entered the same room, looking for her walk and the way her hips confidently swiveled.
Nightcrawler hesitantly tried to help. His speech was both very honest and clipped; it lacked a certain decency and civility, but possessed another foreign eloquence. But for all his words, he had failed to say anything to comfort any of them.
"God's mercy has been with us, but I fear we must help Cyclops to return to himself soon. I agree with Ms. Pryde that things much more dangerous are coming. I believe strongly in love, but how long has it been Professor since I became a regular member here? He's been living in dark shadows for at least that long. It is not healthy or human. Please, I understand. If I could be so bold; he must be taken out of himself."
"What do you suggest?" Wolverine's broken silence startled the blue devil.
"Merely a card game." Nightcrawler ventured a guess and a shrug.
A few nights passed as Kurt went to find Ororo for their nightly cup of coffee. He found her on the balcony, staring into the same sky that Scott stared into helplessly.
"You're still troubled, much like him."
"Its hard not to be, Kurt. We were like sisters. We grew up here together. She was there the first time I brought a tornado out of the sky." Ororo didn't even bother to look into his eyes. She wouldn't lie to him. And she was accustomed now to his breaking her train of thoughts. Truth be told; she was nearly infatuated with this German philosopher in blue fur. She and he were different and yet so much the same. She was never startled anymore when his presence was suddenly announced by a sharp sound. He tried his best, but often he interrupted things. It was a hazard of being a teleporter, she suspected.
"Come, I have suggested a card game. Let us all try and get our minds relaxed. Maybe that would do us all some good." Kurt beckoned Ororo back through the entrance of the balcony and she followed.
The professor left the card game shortly after ten, claiming his age as an easy way out of his losing streak and sending Kitty off to bed as well. Rogue had left Bobby two drinks ago to defend himself against Kurt, Ororo, the steely Colossus, a professional Russian gambler Bobby was certain, Logan, and Scott. He was last to catch himself having fun in a simple game of cards. The others missed Jean, but this night almost made it seem as though she had just gone to bed.
Logan sat across from Bobby; his face as stony as always. His tell was the way his giant cigar moved across his lips. Bobby could at least tell that an ace meant it swept to the right; a four might mean a jump to the middle. Kurt sat to Logan's left, helplessly emotional and totally smitten with the reigning queen of hold-em poker. Bobby's trademark relaxed smirk studied her for a sign, but could find none. The Russian left and the dwindled number continued to banter. The four of them and Scott, that is. Scott didn't bother to get up. Didn't bother to drink, or give an evil eye every time Logan puffed acrid smoke into his motionless face. He played, not for thrill or skill, but to pass another lonely hour.
The game ended and Kurt had won, under Ororo's guidance. His wicked smile and assured manner had left with her. Scott continued to sit, looking far beyond an invisible hand, when Bobby tapped him sharply on the shoulder, impatient at how he had almost ruined the mood of the evening. He had the best poker eyes in the world. Bobby hoped he would get a chance to really play with him someday.
The soldier of loneliness marched through an empty corridor and back up the elevator. He went out past a painting and down another wooden hallway. He passed through the kitchen and grabbed a cookie to wolf down from his mini-fridge. Swirled snicker doodle crumbs lay all around his mattress. He looked at them, annoyed but helpless. He knew he wanted to clean them, but probably wouldn't bother once again.
Logan watched his descent from his bedroom window, claws tapping the rafters of his room. They made a human sound, but underneath he could feel the metal hitting the beam. His knuckles never cracked; his skin never seemed to bruise. But his patience was easily tested; his arrogance led to rise from time to time. He leaned his weight against the coolness of the window and watched Scott.
He had seen a lot of lovers in his time. He had even been one once. But he had never seen a man so down as Scott. It almost was infuriating; to see someone so capable being so debilitated at the same time. And by a ghost, no less; making everyone else suffer alongside him. Kitty was right about one thing. If Scott could not be revived than the team had no chance. Not even a loner like him. Logan could smell Kurt's wild scent from all the way across the room.
"Shouldn't you be in bed blue?"
"I hate to disturb you, Logan, and I know how much you hate it, but I knew you wouldn't be able to sleep either. It's like a spell pervading this castle."
Logan talked to the reflection in the window. "You're perceptive, Kurt, I'll give you that. And I'll tell you where it's coming from. It's coming from the last mourner at the funeral."
"Yes, I thought so. But the professor is wrong. Time is not a luxury we have. Somehow, he must be salvaged Logan. If only there could have been a grave or a body to bury. A monument he could be free to visit. Maybe then we could all be spared of this ghost and move on. But, oh well, and so is the downfall of emotions." Kurt's tail swung out of sight as he used the window for his exit, tired of teleporting for the evening.
The reflection of Kurt's eyes burned in Logan's memory. There was so few things as deep as love, and only one that Logan understood more. He hesitated, unsure. Logan would have to give Scott something deeper than even his love for Jean to fight for. It would have to be brutal and wouldn't wait.
He didn't leave a note and wouldn't explain; hoped that Storm and the Professor would be able to peace two and two together when morning came round. And, if nothing else, it was just another disappearing act. They'd had enough of those around here, and if this was a real family, he'd be welcomed back. When he came back; same or transformed.
Wolverine pulled a sweater out of his chest of drawers and shoved a couple more of everything in a duffel bag for himself and the sulking Romeo. He wasn't sure how long they'd be, but he hoped that once Romeo woke up, he wouldn't mind the lack of laundry facilities on the road to finding himself. At least, it had never stopped Wolverine.
Logan didn't say goodbye. He just threw the gear in the back of his Jeep and then tossed Cyclops on top of his duffel in the backseat. It was a long drive back to that haunting place. Logan had to will himself not to turn around. Take one for the team, he thought to himself as he continued to justify everything he was now doing and the heebie-jeebies he was getting that seemed to pace the car like demonic racehorses. Ghosts and shadows moved on these roads; even if he was the most fearsome thing in this, or most other, countries.
They traveled for a day and a half. Not once did Scott move or question; just accepted his new reality. Good God, Logan thought, even Magneto might be able to use him in this state. He pitied the strange new creation, this man with a hole in his heart left by Jean's absence, somewhere in between throwing a bag of Cheetos over his carcass and ending up in Alberta, near the crumbled dam.
He wasn't prepared for Scott to come up not swinging. He handled the man like a carton of eggs as they faced the edge of the lake. Scott hadn't moved in two days. It wasn't enough to infuriate Logan any longer; just to make him more philosophical. This man had to grow past love. This was the only way to do it. Logan, careful to keep his glasses on, dropped Scott face first over the edge of the lake. Scott sputtered and flailed, but did not rage. He just stood and shivered from the waist up; not bothering to remove his wet shirt, or even to question his new status quo. He looked beyond everything; like he didn't know where he was at all. Logan broke the silence.
"Well, do you know where we are?"
"Maybe I choose not to."
"Who's giving you that option?"
"Don't Wolverine."
"Don't what? Don't let you walk around like a zombie for the rest of your life? Don't let you destroy everything the professor built just because she's gone?"
"I don't need your help. I can handle this on my own."
"Yeah, you've been handling it just fine. Pushing us all away; making us mourn her day in and day out. I want to move on for my own sake."
Logan would like to imagine Scott was glaring at him through those cybernetics of his as he rolled to his feet. That would be the first real emotion he'd shown in who knows how long. But, at that moment, all he was seeing was the infuriation he felt unloading out of his gut into an unsuspecting, but deserving Scott. Scott looked skyward and pictured her among the stars, twirling and smiling at him with that smile of hers.
"At least look at the watery grave, Cyclops."
"Don't tell me how to mourn the woman I love." Logan moved behind him; so close he was breathing on the back of his neck.
"I wasn't giving you a suggestion. That was an order. See, I loved her too. Not as much as you did, but she was beautiful and talented. She was strong and that strength drew you together. She'd pity you this way."
"Maybe that's all I'm good for now." Scott went to sink down on the nearest rock, but Logan grabbed under his armpits. Logan was beginning to grow in certain areas as his arms crossed around Scott's. He'd not held anyone like this before; not even that one girl he had let in. He was letting Scott's breaths line up with his tense abs; letting his growing and twitching member pace the line of Scott's ass. It wasn't love or lust, but a yearning to move on. Maybe this is the only way, he thought. He was at peace about it. Logan was sure it wouldn't mean anything.
"Look at her and say that."
"I can't."
"Look."
"I refuse."
"So help me, Scott, look."
"So help you, what?" Scott threw himself sideways and knocked Logan off balance. Scott charged and faced Logan; the unafraid beast. "You don't even know what love is."
"Yeah, but I sure and hell know what it's not. She's dead Scott; no amount of not eating or beating yourself up is going to bring her back."
"Liar", he bellowed. "I didn't do enough to save her."
Logan seethed. "She didn't want you to die too, Scott. Isn't that enough? Don't the rest of us deserve for you not to be so selfish? Don't the rest of us deserve to live?"
"Shut up!" is what echoed off the forest walls. A tiny beam shot through the corner of his glasses beyond the walls of stale emotion. A tree was breached and fell behind the Jeep somewhere. The reflection of the red danced off of Logan's retina. He moved forward, into the canyons of Scott's fragile and repressed mind.
"She's gone and you can't bring her back now. Just look at what she did for you, for us." Scott raised his hand and feebly punched Logan backwards. If it had been anyone else; Logan might have laughed and pummeled him, but Scott was different.
"Don't make me hurt ya. I'll let you get away with that, but not another."Scott was drunk and reckless within his own grief and rage.
"Oh yeah? What, the big bad Wolverine is afraid of hurting the fragile, poor Cyclops? You sad beast."
"You'd better stop before you say something you'll regret, Scott. I'm giving you a pass because you're in pain, but God help me, don't push your luck."
"Or what?" Scott began to lean closer to the edge of the pond. "What if I were to throw myself in this pond, Logan? You gonna strip down and come and rescue me? Call me a bad boy, wrap me in a towel, and whisk me back to the X-mansion? To my own private hell; where everything and every face I see reminds me of her?"
"Who says we have to go back? This is your choice; I'm just along for the ride."
"Ah, so I have a choice now; a choice to run away. How manly."
"Don't be a baby, Scott. The way you were behaving went far beyond grief. Every day I looked at you I wanted to punch you; thought that might bring you out of it. But everyone wanted to pity you. I know better. And I'd rather have you well and leading your team with your prissy, over-cautious manner than to be moping about and to be a liability."
"And that's the only reason?" There was a quality to his voice that changed. "There weren't any others? You get me alone, out here in the woods, and what? You expect me to be magically healed?"
"Well, what else did you want me to do?"
"Hit me." The brief answer stunned Logan, but somewhere inside him he understood. Scott hadn't been a good leader; maybe he felt he needed to be punished. Or maybe there was more. "Come on. One free shot; just what you've always wanted. If it makes you feel any better, I'll try and punch you back, you overgrown throw rug."
"I don't want to hurt you, Scott."
"Awww, is the big badass of X Mansion; stealer of stolen glances afraid to hit..."Logan's knuckles raked right across his chin. Scott fell backwards with a bemused look on his face. Logan's knee came down on Scott's stomach before he realized what he was doing and giving into Scott's need for abuse, for vindication.
Well, hell, if that's what it's gonna take to make this guy function again...he thought. Logan rolled him into a sleeper hold. He passed out just about the same second he would have tapped out. Scott even had to admit that his strong, hairy forearm around his midsection and those beefy legs entwining with his did something to him. Right before he passed out; he tried to flail and buck away. His fluid movements against Logan caused the Wolf to lose momentary ability to breathe. And it wasn't because he was being choked.
Scott awoke sometime later to rolling evergreens and the sound of Logan's lips smacking. He had a donut on each claw and a little pink bag next to Scott told him there were a couple in there for him. Scott peeked in the bag and saw two jelly doughnuts at the bottom of the bag. He wasn't sure if he was hungry, but the doughnuts were tasty looking. Bits of sugar fell onto his dirty shirt as he began to ravage the doughnuts.
"Mind telling me where we are going?"
"Not really sure myself, one eye. I want to show you this place I was at once, but I slept through most of the route so I'm trying to remember the area by smell."
"Oh, having any luck?"
"Mild." That was all the conversation they had for the next half hour. Scott was nodding off watching the trees roll by, one after the other, when Logan screeched to a halt. "We're here," he said between puffs of the cigar he had bought. Scott absentmindedly reached for the duffel bag and brought it inside the cabin. At least, that's what he thought it was. And he was pretty sure Logan didn't own it; what with the sound of breaking glass and a door turning. Scott shrugged; he probably would never tell anyone about this evening anyways.
Logan stared at a painting above the fireplace. All the furniture was draped in white fabric and paint cans lay strewn about. A large glass door to the terrace lay open and a slight breeze moved between them. Shadows cast themselves onto walls from the lone beam of searchlight from the outside, keeping the house looking occupied.
"What is this place?"
"When I was a young trucker after I escaped from my creators; a whole bunch of us single guys bought this place so we'd have an address. Usually, we would have a renter this time of year. Luckily, for us this place hasn't been used in a couple of months."
"Why is that lucky for us?"
"Because of what I'm gonna do to you." The words even surprised Logan as he uttered them. "I'm gonna fuck you, hard and raw. Because I think that's what you need right now. I think that's what you've needed, maybe even wanted since you meant me." He was stretching that last part, but it didn't matter.
"How could you know something like that?" Logan was startled by the question. He would have thought Scott would have come back with a you and what army type of stare, but Scott just stood his ground, accepting his fate under the schooling of Wolverine. It was rather unsettling to have this much control.
Scott's voice had a tinge of worry. "So, how does this work?"
Another question Logan couldn't really answer, but he moved closer to Scott anyways. Scott's voice was a mixture of sadness and worry, pain and fear, loss and loneliness. Maybe all he had really needed was someone to be there for him.
"Maybe I was a fool all along, maybe I..." but his words were cut short. Scott moved forward and nestled himself into Logan's shirt. He wanted to cry, but all he could do was sob dry tears. He slid downward, closer to Logan's crotch. Logan needed a second to think and breathe.
"No Scott, that would be too easy. I want you to fight for it, fight for yourself." Logan had to steel himself to say it. What Logan didn't realize was how much he wanted to touch the straight lines that had imprisoned Jean from him; how lonely he could get. That fell under the category of things he never even told himself.
Logan grabbed Scott by the hair and tried to pull him upwards. Scott squirmed away, and Logan was surprised by the man's speed, trying to run into another room. Not that it mattered; he really had nowhere to run at this point. Logan grabbed him by his shirt tail and pulled him into a bear hug. Scott began trying to flail, but he was smarter this time. His elbows kneaded Logan's ribs, but all his squirming was doing was to make Logan lose concentration. His cock was full-blown hard against Scott's hole.
Logan winced in pleasure; touch and thought were heightened. For just a second, he wanted to stay suspended like this, but then animal desire took him. Scott was thrown in a chair and Logan encompassed him. They kissed and fought; tongues lashing and bruising cheeks. Scott came up for air and Logan slashed his shirt away with his claw. Scott could feel the cool metal running down his small line of hair. Cool metal meeting hot skin, and he began to buck forward. His long, thin cock peeked from the top of his jeans. Logan crawled back on top and began to trace Scott's nipple with his tongue and his crotch with his hand. Scott moaned somewhere from a place of passion.
His pre-cum was slick against Logan's hairy chest. Within ten minutes all clothes were gone and Logan's head was enveloped in Scott's long, shaft. It slid down his throat and pulsated, a wonderful and unique sensation for them both. Logan came back for air and before Scott could beg him not to stop, he had began to cum all over Logan's chest. Scott began to lick at his own cum and Logan fell back onto the couch. Scott rolled on top of his master and began to use his tongue to trace a long trail down to his master's wide and thick cock. The most sensitive area of Logan's body was right below his bellybutton and when the tongue reached it, Logan groaned. He wouldn't be able to contain himself any longer. He wasn't seeing anything but Scott's hair bobbing in and out as he was deep throating Logan.
Scott stopped for a moment and thought. He watched Logan's face change and settle, and realized he wanted him somewhere no one had ever been. Fuck me was whispered on the wind and the men obeyed. Logan stood as Scott got on the couch on all fours. Logan traced every line in his back with his thumb and then brought it to Scott's hole. He licked his thumb and then inserted into the bucking Scott. It hurt fiercely but he pushed for more and before long, three fingers were inside Scott.
Logan wanted so much more, but he hesitated. Scott looked back into his face and twisted around to kiss him again, but in a different way. It was full of lust and gratitude, and maybe a bit of hope that both their desires would be fulfilled. Logan took that as a sign. Scott was tighter than many women Logan had been with. He groaned and Scott shuddered as Logan's head entered Scott's cavern.
Logan began to slowly pump in and out. It became a frenzy of seduction as Scott began to pound his ass backwards. Logan was fully enveloped in Scott and began to slide downward until Scott was on top of him and riding up and down. Logan's eyes wouldn't leave the top of the back of Scott's head as sweat began to roll down his neck. Logan licked the sweat away and the hyper-sensitivity of that touch sent Scott groaning. He was the most vocal fuck that Logan had ever had, that was for sure.
Logan grabbed onto the white fabric of the couch as he began to feel himself marching toward release in Scott. Scott could feel it as well and began to pump faster and more furious. Logan's pre-cum had lubed up his hole so well that it had been pleasurable for both. And now, on the edge of climax, and wrapped up in each other like earlier in the sleeper hold, Scott came again, long and hard.
Logan came at the same second Scott began gushing away. He shot about four good loads up into Scott as Scott shot onto himself. They lay there for five minutes, not thinking of futures or implications-just lying and staring into an empty fireplace. Scott joined Logan in the shower in the next ten minutes, and they got cleaned up with each other. Banter filled the house as they went to change. They fell asleep in each other's arms on the same couch where their private pains and wants had been consummated, Logan staring between his lover's hair to a small version of his favorite painting, Van Gogh's Starry Night.