The Fool

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice.

From what I've tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice,

I think I know enough of hate

To say that for destruction ice

Is also great

And would suffice.

Is this hate?

I'm not sure.

I know it's not love. Not even close.

"I have to go, Robert."

"I know."

Her hand slides out from under mine where it rests on my chest. My breathing is normal again. I feel her push away from me to sit up and look for her robe.

I don't want to look at her but I can't help a sideways glance to see the curve of her back as she leans down to pick her robe up off the floor. She shakes it out and stands up and I get a nice view of her ass before the robe slides around her body. I shift my gaze to the ceiling again as she turns to look at me.

She leans over and runs her fingers through my hair. "I underestimated you."

One side of my mouth twists up into a rueful half smile. People are always doing that, I think. No reason to fight it. It's easier to let them underestimate me anyway. No one pays attention to the fool.

The good news about that is that no one pays attention to the fool. The bad news is that no one pays attention to the fool.

She glides towards the door, obviously thinking she's paid me a compliment and pauses with her hand on the knob. "Good night, Robert. See you tomorrow."

"Sure."

She disappears into the darkness beyond my door, on her way to slipping quietly back into Scott's bed. I wonder if she showers first. I hope so. Scott's not stupid. Well, I used to think so. I've rethought that lately.

What the hell am I doing?

It's not the first time I've wondered that. How long has it been now? Two months? Yeah, that's about the right time frame. Jean and Remy had gone home after the Big Reveal and, two weeks later, I'm banging Emma against the wall behind the garage. I guess I thought Emma would pick a nicer spot but affairs were ugly things so why not pick an ugly place?

Not that any place at the Institute could really be considered ugly.

Except for that one corner of Hank's lab.

I've been having an affair with the girlfriend of one of my oldest friends for two months. What does that make me? Warren could get away with this kind of crap. Not me. What the hell am I doing?

Scott cheated first.

A part of me thinks that Scott's getting his just desserts for cheating on Jeannie with Emma in the first place. Doesn't mean I don't feel shitty about being the one meting out justice like it's my right.

I hate what Scott did to Jean. I hate it.

I also hate that I can't screw over Alex for taking Lorna away from me twice so I'm screwing Scott over in his place.

I hate that Emma's so unbelievably hot that I can't bring myself to say no to her when she shows up in the middle of the night or draws me into some secluded spot at any hour of the day.

I hate that I get such a dirty thrill out of the whole thing.

What the hell am I doing?

The Fool has pulled a fast one on the Favored Son but the problem is that I do give a damn about the Favored Son. Scott was the Professor's chosen one. The first X-man. Scott won Jean's heart just by breathing. Scott's the Hero. Scott's the one who sacrificed himself to save Cable from Apocalypse. Scott left a hole in our world. Jean and Cable got him back and he... screwed Emma behind Jean's back.

And then he cried foul when he got caught. "It didn't happen! Not really! Just thoughts! I never touched her!"

Jean finally put that to rest when she and Remy came to visit.

It wasn't pretty.

And Scott had to admit what really went down. Whether it's flesh to flesh or mind to mind, when you engage in anything with a telepath it's not 'just thoughts.'

So Scott has put on his hair shirt to suffer for his sins.

And Emma came to me. She's been in my head. She can push my buttons. I let her. For the dirty thrill.

I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed.

I've been acting out. I need to stop.

The shower is cold when I step in and it's a relief. I've had to take a few too many hot ones when Emma came to call. Not everyone is a fan of the cold shower. Most people use it to cool off raging hormones. For me, it's just how I like them.

I need to stop and I don't know how.

I'm addicted to the dirty thrill.

I'm not any better than Scott. I'm screwing over my friend. I need to stop.

I can't stop.

My mind is already made up when I get out of the shower. I move around my room robotically and throw some things into a suitcase. I write a note to Hank and slip it under his door on my way out.

I can't stop so I run away. It's what a fool would do.

A fool I may be but I'm not stupid, either. I'm running to something. Or at least someone. I'm heading to New Orleans because that's where Jean is. I need to talk to Jean. I can tell Jean anything.

New Orleans is far away from my dirty thrill. And Emma won't come near me if Jean's around.

I guess I'm a bit of a coward.

But I know what my limits are.

I'm not that big a fool.