Why is it always me?
The overused phrase ran along his thoughts more now than it ever had in his horrifying life prior to the X-men. Logan's life had never been easy, filled with enough monsters, both physical and metaphorical, to keep anyone paranoid until the end of eternity. He wasn't just anyone though. He was a fighter, practically animal.
Even an animal knows when to just give in to emotion eventually, and tonight was the night. Tears he was too manly to let anyone else know about cascaded down his windchapped cheeks. He had fought so hard, and yet they had still lost.
Correction. He had lost. Logan had no idea if anyone else had cared too much, considering they had just saved the world and the life of one of their own. They had also lost one, but she was only one in his eyes.
No one had trusted her, which Logan couldn't blame them for. He hadn't exactly trusted her either. She had just walked into his life like she owned it, which in all honesty, she probably could have.
The beauty hadn't had to control his mind with her telepathic abilities to control it eventually. He just let her, which he knew she knew he would.
Emma Frost had walked into the mansion with an agenda. He hadn't know what it was, though he had known it was there, and hadn't cared, as long as she didn't take the X-men down with her. She proved herself to be extremely valuable, at times even caring.
Their tense relationship had started off with glares, smirks, and enough smart-alec comments to fill three lifetimes. Eventually that tension melted away into a mutual agreement of space. Before he knew it, he had found himself less caring if Jean even came back into his arms and more about whether he could get Emma in her place.
Sure, he had fallen for Jean, but as he watched Scott tear himself into nothing with her disappearance, he realized he wasn't the one meant for the girl. Logan couldn't have imagined what it had felt like to have that piece of yourself ripped away. That is, until Emma had exploded into a million diamond shards.
Logan threw his head back in a howl of agony as he fell to his knees on the Canadian snow in the middle of nowhere. He was vaguely aware of collapsing into tears, something he hadn't done since he was a child, but knew he didn't care. Not even if someone found him. Nothing mattered now.
Their relationship, once tense and eventually an agreement of space, had melted once again into an agreement of together. A few stray brushes of bodies had found themselves passionately kissing in one of the rooms of the lower floors a late Thursday night. Long bottled up words of love were exchanged and when he saw the look confirming her proclaimations in her eyes, he knew he was complete.
Logan knew why Scott had let himself go. Logan knew why Scott hadn't given a damn what the risk was when there was a chance she was still alive. It hadn't been just Jean that had disappeared. It was also a very large piece of himself, just like with what was now happening to Logan with Emma's death.
Death. He knew she was dead and gone, but still he refused to fully believe it. A piece of him would always look out of a window or over his shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of his white queen.
He was going to leave the X-men...again. If he stayed...he just couldn't stay. Not now. The animal of a man picked himself off the icy ground, brushed himself off, and began his walk toward nowhere in particular.
Something that has been saved in my computer for a long, LONG time that I felt like finally uploading in five minutes of freedom.
Please review and be civil about my pairing choice in this one-shot. It was something I wrote on the fly one day when bored. If you didn't like it, please forgive me!