"It is human nature to think wisely and act foolishly" - Anatole France
~ * ~
"Put him right here," Jean instructed Remy and Bobby, pointing to one of the empty beds in the Med Lab. "I have a lot of work to do," she added, her forehead knotted with worry.
"Are ya sure ya don't want any help, sugah?" Rogue asked with concern. "Logan's made a fine mess of himself."
"No, he's fine. It's mostly just cuts and bruises. A little antiseptic and some bandages and he'll be good as new," she said with forced enthusiasm, her voice sounding fake even to her own ears.
"Ya positive?"
"Yes, Rogue. Go be with your daughter. Dominique needs you right now," Jean responded, referring to Rogue and Remy's newborn. "And I'm sure Jean-Luc would love some extra attention, now that there's another baby in the house. I can take care of Logan."
"Okay, sugah. Good luck," Rogue said, waving her fingers in farewell as she took Remy's hand and followed Bobby out of the room.
Jean turned to her patient, the sight of his bruised and battered face bringing tears to her eyes. "Oh, Logan" she whispered, gently brushing a lock of ebony hair of his face. "What have you done to yourself now?"
With one hand Jean slowly dabbed at the cuts on Logan's face; she knew the antiseptic had to sting, but he was so far gone he didn't notice the pain. She rubbed her achy back with her free hand, her fingers kneading some of the tension out of the sore muscles. At six months pregnant her body still wasn't used to the added weight it was carrying around, and she was constantly achy and tired. But her pregnancy was worth the strain it put on her body; every time her baby kicked or moved it brought a smile to her face--and she desperately needed what little happiness she could find. Things with Scott were good, or rather as good as they could get. It wasn't that she was unhappy; how could she be with Scott treating her like a princess? But it was undeniable that something very important was missing: Logan. He'd taken off after their fight in the gym and disappeared from sight. No one had seen him or heard from him or even knew if he was alive until tonight. Tonight, when Remy had found him beat up outside some dive in the heart of Hell's Kitchen. He'd apparently gotten into a drunken fight with fellow patrons, and in his inebriated state, been to uncoordinated to fight back. And now he was lying on her lab table, cut and bleeding and so still it scared her.
She felt for a pulse and found it, beating slow and strong beneath the warm skin of his throat, and released a breath she didn't even realize she was holding. "Thank god," she breathed, her eyes misting over again. "Pregnancy really does do things to a woman's hormones," she thought to herself. From the way she was always crying and upset, you'd think she was watching "Love Story" twenty-four hours a day. Satisfied that she'd cleaned all the cuts on Logan's face, she tossed yet another cotton ball into the garbage pail and put the finishing touches on the bandage on his right cheek. With great effort she bent down and lightly brushed her lips across the healing cut.
Grabbing a pair of scissors she gently worked the blades down the front of Logan's shirt, separating the worn and stained fabric as she moved. The torn cloth revealed a map of now healing bruises and lacerations. "Of course he's nearly healed," Jean said out loud. "He has a healing factor like none other. He's practically back to normal now."
"Jeannie?" a feeble voice called and it took Jean a minute to recognize it as Logan's.
"Logan?" she asked excitedly as she rushed to his side. "How are you feeling?"
"Where the hell am I?"
"The Med Lab. Remy found you unconscious outside a bar in the city."
"I'm at the mansion?"
"The Med Lab," Jean repeated.
"I need to get outta here," Logan said, struggling against the tubes and bandages as he tried to rise.
"Stay put," Jean objected as one pale hand pushed firmly on his chest. "You need to heal."
"That's why I'm a mutant. Don't need to rest up after a fight."
Jean conceded a point, but she wasn't about to let up. "Then stay and talk to me. Where on earth have you been for the last six months?"
"Busy," Logan said, pulling at her offending hand. "Now let me go so I can get the hell out of here."
"No!" Jean raged, an angry red flush creeping over her fair skin. "Not until I get an explanation. At the least you owe me that."
"I owe you nothin'," Logan spat, just as furious. "Go back to your husband; I can take care of myself."
"That's not fair, Logan. You know I care about you."
"But not enough."
"That's not true either."
"Then leave with me--tonight. We'll hop on the bike and ride off. . . no one will ever find us."
"I can't," Jean explained.
"You love me, right?"
"You know I do--."
"Then come with me."
"And what? We'll live happily ever after like some fairy tale? I can't abandon my entire life--."
"If you love me enough you would--."
"Right, Logan. I'll forsake the vows I've taken, betray the promises I've made, abandon all the people who depend on me? I can't do that."
"Because of Scott."
"No, not because of Scott. And not because of you either. Because of my life here. I matter here; my students depend on me for learning and encouragement; my medical skills are needed for research and healing; and the Professor depends on me to keep the Dream alive. I'm not just some straggler he pulled off the side of the road, Logan. I was his first student, the first one he taught how to live like a normal person in a world that has nothing to give. I can't give up what I have at this mansion, not even for you."
He took a step closer to her, gently taking her delicate hand in one of his big, callused one. "Not even for love?"
Pulling out of his grasp she turned her back on him, her fingers twining around the hem of her lab coat. "Don't ask of me what you can't give yourself."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm not like you, Logan. I can't just pack up and run when the going gets tough. I stick around and solve the problem. Running from your problems doesn't solve anything; they're still there at the back of your mind, always threatening to come out and haunt you. If you couldn't find peace by being a coward, how could I?"
"You think I'm a coward?" Logan asked incredulously, rising to his full height. While he wasn't a tall man, he was a big man--all hard muscle and solid bones. He was virtually indestructible, but he didn't scare Jean; maybe it was because she knew how vulnerable the man inside really was.
"I think you're a coward in the worst way, Logan," Jean said angrily, her coat flying around her body as she turned to face him. "A real man would have stayed and worked this out. But you--you disappeared for six months. Do you know how scared I was? I searched for you every day, but nothing turned up. You could have at least told us you were alive: a postcard, some psychic message--anything to let me know you weren't dead. . ." she trailed off, noticing that Logan was no longer listening to a word she was saying. Instead his eyes were fixated on her abdomen; or more accurately her very pronounced, very pregnant abdomen.
"You're pregnant," he whispered, his eyes never leaving her stomach. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Jean pulled the flaps of her lab coat around herself in a protective gesture, wrapping her arms around her enlarged belly. "You weren't here to tell."
"You could have sent me a message--" he started.
"Like the one you sent me?" Jean asked bitterly. "I don't think so."
Logan took a step forward, his fingers tenderly brushing against Jean's stomach. Beneath his hand the baby squirmed and moved, kicking against Jean's skin. His eyes widened in wonder, something that looked surprisingly like tears hidden in their blue depths. Jean's eyes drifted closed at the contact, her hand closing over his, their enjoyed fingers resting on the enlarged mound of the child.
"Jean," he whispered. "I. . .I . . .Am I the father?"
She pulled her hand away at his question. "I don't know," she said softly. "I just don't know. It could be either of you. . ."
"But you think it's mine."
"I honestly don't know. Sometimes I think it's yours, sometimes I think it's Scott's. But the genetics don't matter. Scott already loves this baby; he doesn't know the truth and I'm not going to tell him. As far as he knows, this child is his; I'm not going to let my mistake hurt him."
"Mistake? Since when is what we had a mistake?"
"Since the beginning! You knew what we were doing was wrong, but you let me continue--."
"I let you continue? It takes two to tango, darlin', and you seemed pretty happy to dance."
"That doesn't matter!" Jean argued, the earlier magic of Logan's discovery fading as their familiar fight began once again. "I made the mistake, I cheated on Scott--and I'm not going to make him pay for my sins. This baby is his, whether Scott is his biological father or not."
"So where does that leave me? I'm supposed to just let Scooter raise my kid?--"
"You don't know if it's your child! Don't say things like that!"
"But it could be. And I have a right to this kid--".
"Logan, think about what you're saying. What will happen to the team, the school, if the truth is revealed? What kind of respect will the school, will Scott or myself have if it gets out that I'm an adulterer? He'll be ruined, I'll be ruined, the Professor will be ruined. I will not let the school's reputation suffer because I was stupid. That's not fair to anyone."
"But it's fair that you let a man who might not be your kid's father raise him? And you say I'm a coward, darlin'. You're the coward--good, righteous Jeannie who never makes a decision for herself, never does what she wants to do. Have you ever put yourself first, Red?"
"That's not the point--"
"Yeah, it is. You'd rather let the wrong man raise your kid than hurt a man you don't even love--"
"I do love Scott!"
"More than you love me?"
"It's a different kind of love."
"I know. You might 'love' Scott, but you're 'in love' with me."
Jean couldn't meet his eyes. "Jeannie," Logan whispered, gently raising her chin so he could look her in the eye. "I don't want to fight with you. I. . .I just want the truth."
"The truth?" Jean said tearfully. "I don't even know what the truth is anymore."
"Don't cry, Jeannie. I hate it when you cry," Logan said quietly, pulling her into the shelter of his arms. He could feel the baby moving against him, it's tiny feet and hands kicking against the womb protecting it. If only he could protect Jean from the pain she was feeling. "It will be okay, darlin'" he crooned in her ear. "We'll make it through this."
"You don't get it, Logan," Jean said as a fresh batch of tears started. "There is no us, can't be an us. I'm married to Scott; whatever we were is no more."
"Even if it created a child?" Logan asked, his hand splayed over her stomach.
"Yes," Jean said brokenly. "We can't be more than friends--"
"What's going on here?" Scott's angry voice interrupted, his eyes taking in his greatest enemy clasping his wife in his arms. "Jean?" he asked expectantly.
"I was just welcoming Logan back," she said awkwardly, pulling out of the cradle of Logan's arms. "He got into a bit of a fight tonight."
"I can see," Scott agreed, his eyes shifting over the cuts and bruises on Logan's face. "But I don't think he needs your help anymore."
"That's for Jeannie to decide," Logan broke in. "She's the Doc."
"He'll be fine, Scott. But I would like to monitor his progress, just in case."
A muscle in Scott's cheek jumped and his hands clenched into fists. "Jean, do you could excuse Logan and I for a moment? We need to talk."
Jean looked from man to man, her eyes laced with concern. "Scott, this isn't a good time. Logan's just begun to heal from a traumatic--."
"It's fine, darlin'" Logan assured her. "We're just talkin', right?"
"Of course," Scott said icily, his expression hidden behind his ruby-quartz visor.
"I'll be right down the hall," Jean said, her eyes scanning the room for weapons. A faint stream of blue light appeared in front of her as she mentally locked the scalpels and blades securely in a closet. "Just call me if you need me," she called over her shoulder as she left the Med Lab, wondering if either man would make it out again alive.
~ * ~
"Okay, Bub" Logan said. "You've caught my attention. What do you want?"
"Like I said. To talk."
"You don't just talk, Scooter; you order. So what are you going to tell me to do now?"
"I want you to stay away from Jean."
"Not a possibility."
"She's my wife, Logan--and she's pregnant. She needs to be relaxed as possible; with her workload and responsibilities to the team, she doesn't need the added stress of your problems. Leave her alone and get on with your life."
"She's my friend. I'm not gonna abandon her when she needs me."
"She doesn't need you at all. She has me, her friends, the Professor--"
"Trust me, that's not what she needs."
"Are you saying I'm a bad husband? I love my wife; nothing is more important to me than her and our child. And her priorities are the same; she always puts me and our baby first."
Logan's irises burned a blue fire, his eyes glaring into Scott's visor. "You don't understand the woman you're married to."
"And you do? What the hell would she see in you, Logan? You, who drinks and smokes and swears; those are the exact things Jean hates. She spends time with you because she feels sorry for you, feels sorry for the poor animal who lost his memory and doesn't know who he is or what he was. You're like some pathetic stray dog she took in and nursed back to health; and now that you're healed, you no longer have a reason to be here."
Logan didn't allow himself to feel hurt over Scott's words, having heard them hundreds of times before. Nor did he break it to Scott that his vices were Jeans' biggest turn-ons. If he had a nickel for every time Jean had told him how much she loved the smell of cigars on his skin or how he talked dirty to her in bed, he'd be a very rich man. It figured that Scott wouldn't really know the woman he was married to--if he did, he know how terrified Jean was of her pregnancy and how little she wanted to share it with Scott. From the few moments they'd spent together, bonding over the baby, he'd understood that she'd never shared the same experience with Scott--because Scott would never understand what she was going through the way he would
"Do you know she's scared out of her mind?" Logan asked, deciding to be nice for once and clue Scott in to what was going on with his wife.
"What are you talking about?"
"And you say you're a good husband. If you were half as devoted as you claim you are you'd notice that she's terrified of this pregnancy, of the kid. She's so afraid she'll mess up and screw the kid up--and you didn't even notice."
"Jean is fine," Scott protested. "She would tell me if something was upsetting her."
"You can't see your marriage for what it really is, can you? She can't turn to you Scott, because she knows you don't really care. The only things that matter to you are what are important to you: the team, your kid, the front Jean puts up. But you don't give a damn about what she wants or needs unless it affects you.
"That's not true and you know it."
"No, the truth is that don't really love Jean, Scott. Hell, you probably don't even want her either. You just want the image she provides; she's beautiful and smart and looks great on your arm. And even better, she buys into your shit and plays the part of the dutiful wife. But she doesn't love you. And she won't as long as you're such an arrogant piece of crap."
"And you're any better? You run off for months at a time and leave us high and dry. Do you know what a pain in the ass it was replacing your butt while you drunk yourself into oblivion? You didn't even tell us you were leaving; Jean almost went crazy wondering if you were dead or alive. Where were you all this time?"
"Trying to drink away the memory of your wife in my arms," Logan thought to himself. It was true that he'd spent the last six months in a drunken stupor as he tried to forget Jean. But every time he thought he'd gotten over her, he'd be haunted by dreams of a red-haired temptress with an angel's face and the devil's touch, and he'd know he was far from over her. "I was busy," he said instead, refusing to give Scott the satisfaction of knowing the truth. If he did, he'd just rub it in his face that he was the one who possessed Jean, that it was his wedding ring on her finger, his child she was carrying. Well, Logan had him on that one. He had a nagging feeling Jean did know the father of her child, and it wasn't her husband.
"Busy isn't an explanation, Logan; it's an excuse. I might be distracted and my priorities might not be the best, but at least I'm responsible. If I feel the need to take time off, I at least have the decency to tell people where I'm going and when I'll be back. We didn't even get a note or message from you, just six months of waiting for the Canadian fool to make an appearance. And in the short time you've been back you've managed to upset my very pregnant wife, something she can't afford to go through right now. So tell me Logan, where have you really been?"
"None of your business."
"That is so irresponsible, Logan. You are such a--"
"Excuse me!" Rogue's voice interrupted their argument. She stood in the doorway, clad in nothing but a short t-shirt, her auburn curls flying down her back in a tangled mass. "Ah don't know what ya two are doin' in here, but ya keepin' the entire house up! Ah have two babies who need their sleep, an you're makin' enough noise to wake tha dead. Either take it outside, or shut up!"
"Sorry Rouge," Scott said sheepishly, always the pillar of respect and dignity. "I'm sorry we kept the children up."
"Ya should be!" Rogue shot back. "My babies don't deserve to miss their sleep 'cause ya two are havin' some kind of testosterone war. Now go ta bed!" She stormed out of the room, leaving behind a trail of magnolia perfume and the righteous indignation of an angry mother. Logan genuinely felt bad about keeping her kids up; he knew how much she loved Jean-Luc, and from how she was talking, he guessed she felt the same way about the new baby. It wasn't fair that innocent children were suffering because he couldn't keep his jealousy in check.
"Good night, Scott" he said a bit wearily. He was tired of fighting, tired of defending himself, tired of justifying his actions.
"You're leaving?" Scott said incredulously. "We're not done yet!"
"No, we're not. But I'm not in the mood to get reamed out by Rogue again." He turned and left, his boots softly thumping down the hall.
Scott slumped against a lab table, his mind in shock. Jean and Logan didn't know how long he'd been watching them, listening to their conversation. They didn't know he'd seen Logan's fingers on Jean's stomach, seen the recognition in his eyes when he realized how questionable the baby's paternity was. They didn't know that he knew the baby wasn't his. But he wasn't about to fill either of them in; for all intents and purposes, he was the baby's father--and that was how things were going to stay.
~ * ~
"How did it go with Scott?" Jean asked Logan nervously when he found her hours later, watching the snow fall from a window seat in the living room. "What did he tell you to do?"
Logan chuckled at her question; she really did know her husband through and through. He sat down next to her and pulled her feet into his lap, gently massaging one through the thickness of her wool sock. "He told me to stay away from you."
"Are you going to listen?"
"I tried it once; didn't work. It's not worth it to run again."
"So you're staying?" Jean questioned, letting out a sigh of relief.
"I'm needed here. The Professor wants me to start physical training with some of the students. I always thought of myself as an adventurer; now I'm just your run of the mill gym teacher."
"It will be good for you to interact with the students. You'll learn a lot from them."
"I know what you're thinkin'. They won't replace you, Jean. Nothin' can replace you."
"You have to try."
"I can't, Jean. I might like my students, might form attachments with them like you always wanted me to. But nobody will ever take your place in my heart; nobody ever could."
Jean pulled her feet out of his hands and tucked them under her, pulling herself into a ball as best she could with the huge obstacle of her stomach in the way. She leaned her forehead against the window, her mind contemplating the hell she'd created for herself.
"Whatcha thinkin', darlin'?"
"That you must hate me."
"Jeannie, Jeannie," he whispered, once again taking her in his arms. "I could never hate you. I hate what you're doing, but I could never hate you. I love you. I'll love you forever."
"Logan, why does it hurt so much? Why does love have to hurt so much?"
"I don't know," he reasoned, his big, rough fingers stroking the silkiness of her hair. "But they say whatever doesn't kill you, saves you. I guess this is some sort of test."
Jean looked up at him, her sea-green eyes meeting his dark blue ones. "I didn't know you were a god-fearing man."
"I'm not. It's just that. . .everyone needs something to believe in. I believe that there is a plan for us, and that some day, when the time is right, we'll be together. Think about it, Jeannie," he added, slipping out of her embrace and disappearing into the night.
Jean went back to the window, her eyes never leaving the beauty of the winter scene outside, and her heart yearning that her life could be as peaceful and calm as the falling snow.
~ * ~
"Put him right here," Jean instructed Remy and Bobby, pointing to one of the empty beds in the Med Lab. "I have a lot of work to do," she added, her forehead knotted with worry.
"Are ya sure ya don't want any help, sugah?" Rogue asked with concern. "Logan's made a fine mess of himself."
"No, he's fine. It's mostly just cuts and bruises. A little antiseptic and some bandages and he'll be good as new," she said with forced enthusiasm, her voice sounding fake even to her own ears.
"Ya positive?"
"Yes, Rogue. Go be with your daughter. Dominique needs you right now," Jean responded, referring to Rogue and Remy's newborn. "And I'm sure Jean-Luc would love some extra attention, now that there's another baby in the house. I can take care of Logan."
"Okay, sugah. Good luck," Rogue said, waving her fingers in farewell as she took Remy's hand and followed Bobby out of the room.
Jean turned to her patient, the sight of his bruised and battered face bringing tears to her eyes. "Oh, Logan" she whispered, gently brushing a lock of ebony hair of his face. "What have you done to yourself now?"
With one hand Jean slowly dabbed at the cuts on Logan's face; she knew the antiseptic had to sting, but he was so far gone he didn't notice the pain. She rubbed her achy back with her free hand, her fingers kneading some of the tension out of the sore muscles. At six months pregnant her body still wasn't used to the added weight it was carrying around, and she was constantly achy and tired. But her pregnancy was worth the strain it put on her body; every time her baby kicked or moved it brought a smile to her face--and she desperately needed what little happiness she could find. Things with Scott were good, or rather as good as they could get. It wasn't that she was unhappy; how could she be with Scott treating her like a princess? But it was undeniable that something very important was missing: Logan. He'd taken off after their fight in the gym and disappeared from sight. No one had seen him or heard from him or even knew if he was alive until tonight. Tonight, when Remy had found him beat up outside some dive in the heart of Hell's Kitchen. He'd apparently gotten into a drunken fight with fellow patrons, and in his inebriated state, been to uncoordinated to fight back. And now he was lying on her lab table, cut and bleeding and so still it scared her.
She felt for a pulse and found it, beating slow and strong beneath the warm skin of his throat, and released a breath she didn't even realize she was holding. "Thank god," she breathed, her eyes misting over again. "Pregnancy really does do things to a woman's hormones," she thought to herself. From the way she was always crying and upset, you'd think she was watching "Love Story" twenty-four hours a day. Satisfied that she'd cleaned all the cuts on Logan's face, she tossed yet another cotton ball into the garbage pail and put the finishing touches on the bandage on his right cheek. With great effort she bent down and lightly brushed her lips across the healing cut.
Grabbing a pair of scissors she gently worked the blades down the front of Logan's shirt, separating the worn and stained fabric as she moved. The torn cloth revealed a map of now healing bruises and lacerations. "Of course he's nearly healed," Jean said out loud. "He has a healing factor like none other. He's practically back to normal now."
"Jeannie?" a feeble voice called and it took Jean a minute to recognize it as Logan's.
"Logan?" she asked excitedly as she rushed to his side. "How are you feeling?"
"Where the hell am I?"
"The Med Lab. Remy found you unconscious outside a bar in the city."
"I'm at the mansion?"
"The Med Lab," Jean repeated.
"I need to get outta here," Logan said, struggling against the tubes and bandages as he tried to rise.
"Stay put," Jean objected as one pale hand pushed firmly on his chest. "You need to heal."
"That's why I'm a mutant. Don't need to rest up after a fight."
Jean conceded a point, but she wasn't about to let up. "Then stay and talk to me. Where on earth have you been for the last six months?"
"Busy," Logan said, pulling at her offending hand. "Now let me go so I can get the hell out of here."
"No!" Jean raged, an angry red flush creeping over her fair skin. "Not until I get an explanation. At the least you owe me that."
"I owe you nothin'," Logan spat, just as furious. "Go back to your husband; I can take care of myself."
"That's not fair, Logan. You know I care about you."
"But not enough."
"That's not true either."
"Then leave with me--tonight. We'll hop on the bike and ride off. . . no one will ever find us."
"I can't," Jean explained.
"You love me, right?"
"You know I do--."
"Then come with me."
"And what? We'll live happily ever after like some fairy tale? I can't abandon my entire life--."
"If you love me enough you would--."
"Right, Logan. I'll forsake the vows I've taken, betray the promises I've made, abandon all the people who depend on me? I can't do that."
"Because of Scott."
"No, not because of Scott. And not because of you either. Because of my life here. I matter here; my students depend on me for learning and encouragement; my medical skills are needed for research and healing; and the Professor depends on me to keep the Dream alive. I'm not just some straggler he pulled off the side of the road, Logan. I was his first student, the first one he taught how to live like a normal person in a world that has nothing to give. I can't give up what I have at this mansion, not even for you."
He took a step closer to her, gently taking her delicate hand in one of his big, callused one. "Not even for love?"
Pulling out of his grasp she turned her back on him, her fingers twining around the hem of her lab coat. "Don't ask of me what you can't give yourself."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm not like you, Logan. I can't just pack up and run when the going gets tough. I stick around and solve the problem. Running from your problems doesn't solve anything; they're still there at the back of your mind, always threatening to come out and haunt you. If you couldn't find peace by being a coward, how could I?"
"You think I'm a coward?" Logan asked incredulously, rising to his full height. While he wasn't a tall man, he was a big man--all hard muscle and solid bones. He was virtually indestructible, but he didn't scare Jean; maybe it was because she knew how vulnerable the man inside really was.
"I think you're a coward in the worst way, Logan," Jean said angrily, her coat flying around her body as she turned to face him. "A real man would have stayed and worked this out. But you--you disappeared for six months. Do you know how scared I was? I searched for you every day, but nothing turned up. You could have at least told us you were alive: a postcard, some psychic message--anything to let me know you weren't dead. . ." she trailed off, noticing that Logan was no longer listening to a word she was saying. Instead his eyes were fixated on her abdomen; or more accurately her very pronounced, very pregnant abdomen.
"You're pregnant," he whispered, his eyes never leaving her stomach. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Jean pulled the flaps of her lab coat around herself in a protective gesture, wrapping her arms around her enlarged belly. "You weren't here to tell."
"You could have sent me a message--" he started.
"Like the one you sent me?" Jean asked bitterly. "I don't think so."
Logan took a step forward, his fingers tenderly brushing against Jean's stomach. Beneath his hand the baby squirmed and moved, kicking against Jean's skin. His eyes widened in wonder, something that looked surprisingly like tears hidden in their blue depths. Jean's eyes drifted closed at the contact, her hand closing over his, their enjoyed fingers resting on the enlarged mound of the child.
"Jean," he whispered. "I. . .I . . .Am I the father?"
She pulled her hand away at his question. "I don't know," she said softly. "I just don't know. It could be either of you. . ."
"But you think it's mine."
"I honestly don't know. Sometimes I think it's yours, sometimes I think it's Scott's. But the genetics don't matter. Scott already loves this baby; he doesn't know the truth and I'm not going to tell him. As far as he knows, this child is his; I'm not going to let my mistake hurt him."
"Mistake? Since when is what we had a mistake?"
"Since the beginning! You knew what we were doing was wrong, but you let me continue--."
"I let you continue? It takes two to tango, darlin', and you seemed pretty happy to dance."
"That doesn't matter!" Jean argued, the earlier magic of Logan's discovery fading as their familiar fight began once again. "I made the mistake, I cheated on Scott--and I'm not going to make him pay for my sins. This baby is his, whether Scott is his biological father or not."
"So where does that leave me? I'm supposed to just let Scooter raise my kid?--"
"You don't know if it's your child! Don't say things like that!"
"But it could be. And I have a right to this kid--".
"Logan, think about what you're saying. What will happen to the team, the school, if the truth is revealed? What kind of respect will the school, will Scott or myself have if it gets out that I'm an adulterer? He'll be ruined, I'll be ruined, the Professor will be ruined. I will not let the school's reputation suffer because I was stupid. That's not fair to anyone."
"But it's fair that you let a man who might not be your kid's father raise him? And you say I'm a coward, darlin'. You're the coward--good, righteous Jeannie who never makes a decision for herself, never does what she wants to do. Have you ever put yourself first, Red?"
"That's not the point--"
"Yeah, it is. You'd rather let the wrong man raise your kid than hurt a man you don't even love--"
"I do love Scott!"
"More than you love me?"
"It's a different kind of love."
"I know. You might 'love' Scott, but you're 'in love' with me."
Jean couldn't meet his eyes. "Jeannie," Logan whispered, gently raising her chin so he could look her in the eye. "I don't want to fight with you. I. . .I just want the truth."
"The truth?" Jean said tearfully. "I don't even know what the truth is anymore."
"Don't cry, Jeannie. I hate it when you cry," Logan said quietly, pulling her into the shelter of his arms. He could feel the baby moving against him, it's tiny feet and hands kicking against the womb protecting it. If only he could protect Jean from the pain she was feeling. "It will be okay, darlin'" he crooned in her ear. "We'll make it through this."
"You don't get it, Logan," Jean said as a fresh batch of tears started. "There is no us, can't be an us. I'm married to Scott; whatever we were is no more."
"Even if it created a child?" Logan asked, his hand splayed over her stomach.
"Yes," Jean said brokenly. "We can't be more than friends--"
"What's going on here?" Scott's angry voice interrupted, his eyes taking in his greatest enemy clasping his wife in his arms. "Jean?" he asked expectantly.
"I was just welcoming Logan back," she said awkwardly, pulling out of the cradle of Logan's arms. "He got into a bit of a fight tonight."
"I can see," Scott agreed, his eyes shifting over the cuts and bruises on Logan's face. "But I don't think he needs your help anymore."
"That's for Jeannie to decide," Logan broke in. "She's the Doc."
"He'll be fine, Scott. But I would like to monitor his progress, just in case."
A muscle in Scott's cheek jumped and his hands clenched into fists. "Jean, do you could excuse Logan and I for a moment? We need to talk."
Jean looked from man to man, her eyes laced with concern. "Scott, this isn't a good time. Logan's just begun to heal from a traumatic--."
"It's fine, darlin'" Logan assured her. "We're just talkin', right?"
"Of course," Scott said icily, his expression hidden behind his ruby-quartz visor.
"I'll be right down the hall," Jean said, her eyes scanning the room for weapons. A faint stream of blue light appeared in front of her as she mentally locked the scalpels and blades securely in a closet. "Just call me if you need me," she called over her shoulder as she left the Med Lab, wondering if either man would make it out again alive.
~ * ~
"Okay, Bub" Logan said. "You've caught my attention. What do you want?"
"Like I said. To talk."
"You don't just talk, Scooter; you order. So what are you going to tell me to do now?"
"I want you to stay away from Jean."
"Not a possibility."
"She's my wife, Logan--and she's pregnant. She needs to be relaxed as possible; with her workload and responsibilities to the team, she doesn't need the added stress of your problems. Leave her alone and get on with your life."
"She's my friend. I'm not gonna abandon her when she needs me."
"She doesn't need you at all. She has me, her friends, the Professor--"
"Trust me, that's not what she needs."
"Are you saying I'm a bad husband? I love my wife; nothing is more important to me than her and our child. And her priorities are the same; she always puts me and our baby first."
Logan's irises burned a blue fire, his eyes glaring into Scott's visor. "You don't understand the woman you're married to."
"And you do? What the hell would she see in you, Logan? You, who drinks and smokes and swears; those are the exact things Jean hates. She spends time with you because she feels sorry for you, feels sorry for the poor animal who lost his memory and doesn't know who he is or what he was. You're like some pathetic stray dog she took in and nursed back to health; and now that you're healed, you no longer have a reason to be here."
Logan didn't allow himself to feel hurt over Scott's words, having heard them hundreds of times before. Nor did he break it to Scott that his vices were Jeans' biggest turn-ons. If he had a nickel for every time Jean had told him how much she loved the smell of cigars on his skin or how he talked dirty to her in bed, he'd be a very rich man. It figured that Scott wouldn't really know the woman he was married to--if he did, he know how terrified Jean was of her pregnancy and how little she wanted to share it with Scott. From the few moments they'd spent together, bonding over the baby, he'd understood that she'd never shared the same experience with Scott--because Scott would never understand what she was going through the way he would
"Do you know she's scared out of her mind?" Logan asked, deciding to be nice for once and clue Scott in to what was going on with his wife.
"What are you talking about?"
"And you say you're a good husband. If you were half as devoted as you claim you are you'd notice that she's terrified of this pregnancy, of the kid. She's so afraid she'll mess up and screw the kid up--and you didn't even notice."
"Jean is fine," Scott protested. "She would tell me if something was upsetting her."
"You can't see your marriage for what it really is, can you? She can't turn to you Scott, because she knows you don't really care. The only things that matter to you are what are important to you: the team, your kid, the front Jean puts up. But you don't give a damn about what she wants or needs unless it affects you.
"That's not true and you know it."
"No, the truth is that don't really love Jean, Scott. Hell, you probably don't even want her either. You just want the image she provides; she's beautiful and smart and looks great on your arm. And even better, she buys into your shit and plays the part of the dutiful wife. But she doesn't love you. And she won't as long as you're such an arrogant piece of crap."
"And you're any better? You run off for months at a time and leave us high and dry. Do you know what a pain in the ass it was replacing your butt while you drunk yourself into oblivion? You didn't even tell us you were leaving; Jean almost went crazy wondering if you were dead or alive. Where were you all this time?"
"Trying to drink away the memory of your wife in my arms," Logan thought to himself. It was true that he'd spent the last six months in a drunken stupor as he tried to forget Jean. But every time he thought he'd gotten over her, he'd be haunted by dreams of a red-haired temptress with an angel's face and the devil's touch, and he'd know he was far from over her. "I was busy," he said instead, refusing to give Scott the satisfaction of knowing the truth. If he did, he'd just rub it in his face that he was the one who possessed Jean, that it was his wedding ring on her finger, his child she was carrying. Well, Logan had him on that one. He had a nagging feeling Jean did know the father of her child, and it wasn't her husband.
"Busy isn't an explanation, Logan; it's an excuse. I might be distracted and my priorities might not be the best, but at least I'm responsible. If I feel the need to take time off, I at least have the decency to tell people where I'm going and when I'll be back. We didn't even get a note or message from you, just six months of waiting for the Canadian fool to make an appearance. And in the short time you've been back you've managed to upset my very pregnant wife, something she can't afford to go through right now. So tell me Logan, where have you really been?"
"None of your business."
"That is so irresponsible, Logan. You are such a--"
"Excuse me!" Rogue's voice interrupted their argument. She stood in the doorway, clad in nothing but a short t-shirt, her auburn curls flying down her back in a tangled mass. "Ah don't know what ya two are doin' in here, but ya keepin' the entire house up! Ah have two babies who need their sleep, an you're makin' enough noise to wake tha dead. Either take it outside, or shut up!"
"Sorry Rouge," Scott said sheepishly, always the pillar of respect and dignity. "I'm sorry we kept the children up."
"Ya should be!" Rogue shot back. "My babies don't deserve to miss their sleep 'cause ya two are havin' some kind of testosterone war. Now go ta bed!" She stormed out of the room, leaving behind a trail of magnolia perfume and the righteous indignation of an angry mother. Logan genuinely felt bad about keeping her kids up; he knew how much she loved Jean-Luc, and from how she was talking, he guessed she felt the same way about the new baby. It wasn't fair that innocent children were suffering because he couldn't keep his jealousy in check.
"Good night, Scott" he said a bit wearily. He was tired of fighting, tired of defending himself, tired of justifying his actions.
"You're leaving?" Scott said incredulously. "We're not done yet!"
"No, we're not. But I'm not in the mood to get reamed out by Rogue again." He turned and left, his boots softly thumping down the hall.
Scott slumped against a lab table, his mind in shock. Jean and Logan didn't know how long he'd been watching them, listening to their conversation. They didn't know he'd seen Logan's fingers on Jean's stomach, seen the recognition in his eyes when he realized how questionable the baby's paternity was. They didn't know that he knew the baby wasn't his. But he wasn't about to fill either of them in; for all intents and purposes, he was the baby's father--and that was how things were going to stay.
~ * ~
"How did it go with Scott?" Jean asked Logan nervously when he found her hours later, watching the snow fall from a window seat in the living room. "What did he tell you to do?"
Logan chuckled at her question; she really did know her husband through and through. He sat down next to her and pulled her feet into his lap, gently massaging one through the thickness of her wool sock. "He told me to stay away from you."
"Are you going to listen?"
"I tried it once; didn't work. It's not worth it to run again."
"So you're staying?" Jean questioned, letting out a sigh of relief.
"I'm needed here. The Professor wants me to start physical training with some of the students. I always thought of myself as an adventurer; now I'm just your run of the mill gym teacher."
"It will be good for you to interact with the students. You'll learn a lot from them."
"I know what you're thinkin'. They won't replace you, Jean. Nothin' can replace you."
"You have to try."
"I can't, Jean. I might like my students, might form attachments with them like you always wanted me to. But nobody will ever take your place in my heart; nobody ever could."
Jean pulled her feet out of his hands and tucked them under her, pulling herself into a ball as best she could with the huge obstacle of her stomach in the way. She leaned her forehead against the window, her mind contemplating the hell she'd created for herself.
"Whatcha thinkin', darlin'?"
"That you must hate me."
"Jeannie, Jeannie," he whispered, once again taking her in his arms. "I could never hate you. I hate what you're doing, but I could never hate you. I love you. I'll love you forever."
"Logan, why does it hurt so much? Why does love have to hurt so much?"
"I don't know," he reasoned, his big, rough fingers stroking the silkiness of her hair. "But they say whatever doesn't kill you, saves you. I guess this is some sort of test."
Jean looked up at him, her sea-green eyes meeting his dark blue ones. "I didn't know you were a god-fearing man."
"I'm not. It's just that. . .everyone needs something to believe in. I believe that there is a plan for us, and that some day, when the time is right, we'll be together. Think about it, Jeannie," he added, slipping out of her embrace and disappearing into the night.
Jean went back to the window, her eyes never leaving the beauty of the winter scene outside, and her heart yearning that her life could be as peaceful and calm as the falling snow.